Chapter 62: The Murder Scene
Jima deliberately created suspense as she leaned close to George’s ear and whispered, “You go first. How many lies did she tell?”
“Many, yet very few,” George replied. “The first lie was when she said to her daughter, ‘I’m just looking out for you. Don’t end up like me, never having met the right young man for half a lifetime…’ But she seemed to realize something while chatting in the living room; almost everything else was the truth.”
Jima said, “Perhaps she used the truth to lie,” just like I do.
“What’s your conclusion?”
“She wants you to elope with Lis, escaping the grasp of the Benefactor.”
“Oh?” George looked at Jima in confusion.
Jima continued, “Because, from a bloodline perspective, the Benefactor’s daughter is still his daughter.”
“What?”
George was shocked.
Jima shared her reasoning, “I overheard a noblewoman refer to the owner of the garden as Lady Blancy. I initially thought she was referring to the Benefactor’s wife. But upon arriving here, I only saw Lis’s mother.”
“So?”
“I guess Lady Blancy refers to Lis’s mother, the daughter of the Benefactor, still his daughter,” Jima said. “Her line ‘don’t end up like me, never having met the right young man, and only able to marry your…’ refers to her being forced to marry the Benefactor, her own father.”
Such malice and evil shook George’s worldview. He unconsciously retorted, “This reasoning is too far-fetched. Perhaps Lady Blancy simply wasn’t on the ship. Maybe her original phrase was: ‘I could only marry your father’… How could someone freely speak of such disgrace?”
“This is Shalin City; flesh slaves can casually be paraded. Here, assisting slaves is abominable, both morally and legally,” Jima asserted confidently. “It must be like this.”
“Incredible.”
“This makes sense,” Jima said. “Otherwise, why would Lis’s mother so nonchalantly want to send her daughter to you? Honestly, I thought she wanted to develop you into a lover. And didn’t you notice? In that recent worldview exchange, she seemed very satisfied with your answers. She likely believes you are a conscientious man who would help Lis escape from her father and grandfather.”
George remained silent for a moment before speaking, “This is the only explanation at the moment, but it’s both wicked and absurd.”
Jima said seriously, “Alright, I believe you, as a templar knight. Faced with the Benefactor’s daughter, you would surely maintain a polite distance, never engage in compromising actions, even if she were to passionately embrace you on the way to elope, shedding her clothes. You would not hesitate to kick her into the pond to cool off.”
“Jima,” George also became serious.
“Hmm?”
“Are you… jealous?”
Jima jumped up from the carved pear wood chair, “Absolutely not! You’re imagining things, you virgin!”
George exhaled, saying, “Well then, I won’t worry.”
Hearing your tone, it seems like you really disdain this skin of mine. Tsk, ungrateful guy. Looks like I need to expend more effort to win the affections of this virgin.
Jima did not sit back down but stood up to stretch her tail. Having coiled it around her thigh for too long, sitting was uncomfortable.
Her tail swayed inside her skirt, resting on the carpet with its tip curling. She caught a faint scent of peach blossoms in the air, smiled, picked up a teacup, touched her lips to the now-cold tea, and set the cup down.
She said, “It’s been too long; the tea was steaming hot when I poured it, but now it’s cool.”
George felt that they had indeed waited too long.
Too long, making things feel amiss.
“Shall we call her from the garden? Would that be rude?” George looked at Jima.
“Yes. Perhaps if we push the door open, we’ll see her with her backside in the air, fertilizing the garden’s fruit trees. Or something equally embarrassing.”
“Jima, what kind of messy things are in your inherited memories?”
“I’m a succubus, okay? If I didn’t have some strange things, would I even be called a succubus?”
“Then we should just keep waiting?”
Your social skills are truly inferior to mine.
“Of course, we should call out a few times.” Jima said as she stepped onto the carpet, approached the door leading to the garden, cleared her throat, knocked, and shouted, “Lady Blancy, are you there?”
The knocking echoed through the living room, fading against the walls adorned with tapestries.
There was silence behind the door, no response.
George said, “Isn’t it inappropriate to address her directly as Lady Blancy?”
“I’m just testing my guess,” Jima replied, knocking harder and raising her voice.
Still, no one answered.
Jima exchanged glances with George. He stood up, bent down, preparing to shoulder the door open. But Jima stopped him and said, “Let’s go call someone first.”
What if she’s gotten into trouble? What if we end up taking the blame?
Jima thought this way as she walked out of the living room with George to find a maid.
Jima said, “The lady has been in the garden for a while, and we’re worried something might have happened.”
“What did she say before leaving?”
“Just that we should rest in the living room.”
The maids filed in, and an older maid with graying hair walked ahead toward the door leading to the garden. The other maids stopped ten steps away, aware of the need for distance.
Jima pulled George to a stop as well. A sense of foreboding washed over her; too many unusual things were happening today, and it felt as if they were caught in a web woven of conspiracy.
The older maid stood at the door, holding a bronze bell, shaking it to produce a resounding jingle, and knocked on the door.
“Madam, madam? Are you there?”
Silence was her only reply—deathly quiet. Despite the lively festivities outside, the only sound in the living room was the breathing of the living.
The maid shook the bell again, and still, there was no response. Sensing something was wrong, she turned the bronze doorknob and pushed the door open, sunlight bathing her wrinkled face.
Her eyes widened suddenly; she dropped the bell, which fell to the ground and rang sharply, spinning around. The old woman fell to the ground, stuttering:
“Madam…”
The maids were frozen in place, unsure of what to do.
George rushed forward, but Jima couldn’t hold him back as she watched him kneel to help the old maid up.
George asked, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
The old maid squinted her eyes, motionless.
George looked up at the open door and froze as well.
“What are you standing there for?”
With a wave of her small hand, Jima finally got the dazed maids moving. She joined the throng, walking toward George, unable to contain her curiosity as she looked at the open door.
In the center of the garden, filled with lush fruit trees and flowers, under the thickest banyan tree, were white wooden tables and chairs.
A piece of hemp rope was knotted around the neck of a woman with an egg-shaped face, her corpse hanging from the tree. Her wide-open eyes stared directly at the door, and her abdomen had been cut open with a sharp blade, a deep wound running from her stomach down.
Looking at it made Jima’s stomach ache.
The white robe on the corpse was soaked with thick blood, and the still-wet blood dripped from her bare feet onto a book on the white chair.
The cruel perpetrator was not satisfied.
The chest of the egg-faced woman had numerous stab wounds, and Jima could vividly imagine the scene where the murderer vented their fury on the corpse with the weapon.
Laughter from the outside celebration reached her ears. Jima’s neck hairs stood on end.
Although she was the former Demon King, this scene did not make her vomit. But the thought of a brutal murder happening mere inches away in the garden, while they remained completely unaware, sent chills down her spine.
The living room was the only exit; how did the murderer sneak in? Did they jump straight into the garden using extraordinary power?
No, wait!
Jima suddenly thought of something important and quickly covered her ears with both hands.
In the next moment, the maids screamed in unison, like banshees wailing, causing the glass windows to tremble.
Jima’s young eardrums were being tortured as if they were being scraped with a nail.
George quickly stood up, clapped his hands to shut the door, turned around, and said, “Everyone, don’t be afraid; I’m here. Go inform your master. The rest of you, take care of the fainted ones.”
The wails then subsided, and Jima lowered her hands, her ears buzzing.
But at that moment, a slow-reacting maid came to her senses and let out a sharp scream:
“Ah!!!”
Jima quickly covered her ears again and waited until each maid had finished screaming before lowering her hands, complaining:
“The Benefactor is not feminist enough; he should set up a servant quality training course so that women don’t scream incessantly at the slightest provocation, just like men.”
“Jima, are you alright?” George asked.
“Sigh, of course I’m fine; I’m not a woman who can only scream.” Jima tugged George, walking toward the door. “But soon, we’ll have some trouble.”
George’s expression darkened as he thought of something.
“You understand,” Jima whispered, “as the two who last had contact with the deceased, even if we’re just powerless little girls, we will definitely be questioned thoroughly, to the point of being asked the names of our ancestors.” And coincidentally, we have a big problem.
George pondered.
Heavy footsteps echoed from outside, growing louder.
“So, do we just escape?” Jima leaned close to George and whispered, “How many gold coins did the Benefactor offer for you? Ten thousand? I think he shouldn’t be willing to spend that much on his daughter.”
“I want to stay and try to clear our name,” George replied. “Perhaps this is the murderer’s plot; if we flee, the murderer will be much safer.”
“What a good person,” Jima complained again.
“If we clear ourselves, we can gain trust and better find New Delhi.”
“Freedom is valuable, but life is more precious.”
At that moment, Chamberlain, wearing a helmet, rushed into the living room, followed by the lean Benefactor Blancy.
The master of Shalin City was devoid of his usual calmness. His face showed rare panic as he grabbed one of the maids lying on the ground and shouted at the sobbing maid:
“Where is my daughter? Where is she? Tell me quickly!”
