The young man indifferently opened his interface, reading his own stats as he replied, 'I didn't ask for any reward for that. In the first place, why did she even get angry?'

He rolled his eyes and started driving to where he would meet up with an acquaintance. After shaking off the unnecessary thoughts in his head, he asked the system,

'I didn't know that Simonne's already back to Alina. What did he want help with this time? Another murder case?'

With his brows furrowed, he told himself, 'Let's hope it's not something done by that woman's witchy clone. Otherwise, I can only say my sorry and condolences to them.'

...

"..."

'It's really that witch's work, d.a.m.n it.'

The young man now suspiciously wrapped up in an all-black get-up cursed as he took a glimpse at the pictures shown to him by his older acquaintance, Simonne Gomez.

The two met up in a fairly unpopulated cafe near the Western Alina Police Station, Friendlies, a humble business now neglected by its owner. It was already late afternoon, around 5:30 pm.

After checking and looking around, confirming that no eyes were directed toward their direction, Chris lowered his dark shades past down his nose, so he could clearly see the colors in the unsightly photos.

"Simply poisoned," he concluded after a few seconds of studying the pictures laid out on the table.

"We know. Unfortunately, there's no clue who he met up with before his death. His wife also didn't know what happen prior."

"He's naked."

Impressively, no change appeared on the ever so cold handsome face of the police officer. As though he was merely reciting something eaten for breakfast, he replied. "Yeah. And traces of his s.e.m.e.n are found all over the bedroom. The victim could be simply jerking off when the one who poisoned him walked in and killed him. But he could also be having an affair, and his adultery partner was the one who did this to him. Unfortunately, this is no ground to narrow down the list of possible suspects to females. You should be aware that even two males in heat could do the deed."

'Is it because they're both men that this man could say those things with a straight face? But what's with the latter part?'

He weirdly stared at Simonne, a few hairs on his back stood up when he saw the serious expression of the other.

Chris chanted a word in his mind to clear up the undesirable thoughts. Looking down to the images, he said, "So, since you kept saying he's really killed and not accidentally or intentionally ingested the poison by himself, I can only a.s.sume that you people found somebody testifying against a suspicious individual."

"Yeah. The receptionist claimed to have seen a person in a get-up more bundled up than what you're currently wearing."

"But none whatsoever evidence is discovered on the crime scene?"

"Only the weird poison in his body."

"Hmm? No fingerprints, footage, voice captures or anything?"

The other man shook his head, and he too, after.

What else was to be said?

He'd been regularly helping this policeman for three years at Jasper, and he had no problem with that. But only if he could help.

Now, how would he do that if the criminal, from all the clues gathered, was obviously an immoral host?

Unless it was a newbie who had yet to discover the system's services, it would be almost impossible to convict people like them.

Note, even he, a mere half-host, could now do wonders about his traces and items. Needless to say, those clones and official hosts. So again, how would he lend a hand to solve something seemingly done by a careful host... which was also most likely that witchy secondary host?

Thinking of that person, a frown almost appeared on his face.

He looked straight to the man's eyes and advised, "If I were you, start looking now for wanted criminals or serial killers in the city who has a tendency to poison their victims."

Dumbfounded at first, Simonne asked, "You want me to find a scapegoat and put the charges on his head?"

"Suggesting, not wanting." He clarified. "It's an impossible case."

'Unless you are superhuman, which you are not.'

'Sorry, but just pray for another host or something to come along and punish that witch or whoever host that did this. No normal human yet could stand up against them. Only a host could execute or destroy another host. And it certainly will not be me. Anyway, this victim seems to be one of Alessa's targets too.'

Inside his head, a slightly childish being spoke up to reprimand him.

The young man shrugged as he put back his shades properly. 'This is why I said find a criminal with a similar modus operandi. So it wouldn't matter much. At least, no innocent people would be forced to bear the sentence.'

Simonne shook his head at him. "The oath I've taken when I became I police office won't condone me to do that. Don't bring that up again. I don't believe we won't be able to find the offender."

"Sure," he disinterestedly replied, in reference to not ever bringing up the matter about what was against their code.

But for the latter part of the man's speech, he asked, "But how will you find somebody who left no evidence or hint aside from probably being an adultery partner?"

"..."

"Whatever. My schedule is full and I probably would have to host a world-scale event too. So I can't help this time."

He was speaking the truth since even though he said to Alessa that he didn't want to take up the offer to be an emcee of the upcoming world sports event, he knew the Starlight's owner would threaten him otherwise.

He stood up and lightly bowed to the other.

"I hope you the best. Good luck."

And so, the meeting between him and Wendy's brother concluded with him leaving first. He most likely would have been reported by the cafe manager if it not for the uniform of the person he was speaking with earlier.

...

Just as expected, to ensure his partic.i.p.ation, a call from Sir George, the current chief secretary of Sofony Silver, came before nightfall, not taking 'no' from him as an answer.

Frowning badly, he stared at the call b.u.t.ton which had already turned red. The call timer which stopped at 1:03 was so much of an eyesore.

'The sorrow of being a contracted moneybag.' He mused, shaking his head as he closed the door to the driver's seat of the company-lent car.

He pocketed the phone in his jacket and strode towards the elevator of the underground parking lot. It was in the condominium at Eastern Alina, the opposite side of where he used to live in the city three years ago.

'...' Chris was speechless.

If he could only slap it, he would have done so for a thousand times. The useless thing... warning him right after he opened the door and saw a pair of deep maroon high heels neatly staying at the bottom of the shoe rack there.

Why didn't it do so at least when he was at the parking lot?

With a grave look on, he looked away from there. That color was seemingly burning a hole in his brain.

He took big strides towards the kitchen where he suspected to see the unwelcomed intruder. In his mind, he made a mental note to change his pin lock as he didn't want this incident to happen again. He hated how he forgot that last time he allowed this woman entry here due to a piece of important information and request. That time, she was quite in a dire strait. After the matter had been resolved, quite a long time had pa.s.sed and the woman did not try to invade his home again. This was why he had forgotten about it.

"Why are you here?"

The moment he saw the person facing the stove of his mostly unused kitchen, these words came out of his mouth, satisfactorily conveying how displeased he was at the trespa.s.ser.

"To cook our food. Why else? Can't possibly be discussing with an empty stomach, right?" Without turning around, the woman answered.

'To have something to vomit out if it gets to the revolting part?'

With black aura looming above his head, he approached the woman. Not bothering to know why she was here cooking rather than just ordering takeouts, or simply why she appeared here, he fiercely grabbed her arm and forced her to face him.

"... Alessa Morgan! I asked, why are you in my house?"

...

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