Chapter 48: The 1924 Train Murder Case (21)

“It’s precisely because you have a mild case of hemophobia that there’s even more reason to suspect you as the murderer. After all, the murder weapon—a dinner knife—was found in your suitcase.”

Watching Dale under suspicion, Tang Mu spoke up calmly, wary that the others might not follow her intended plan.

“Hmph, is it really important to identify the murderer right now? In any event, no one will vote according to who the real culprit is.”

…

“That’s right.” Hert Arnold grumbled, “Whether we deduce the murderer or not, they’ll still…”

Hert Arnold stopped mid-sentence, remembering how James had died—by self-detonation. The one who forced James into that fatal act was…

Hert Arnold glanced at Tang Mu.

Tang Mu recognized the suspicion directed at her by the players and said immediately, “Don’t fall for it, Hert Arnold. The NPCs want us to suspect each other, to tear us apart from within.”

“But…”

“I’m on the players’ side, Hert Arnold. You have to trust me.”

“Alright, I believe you.” At this point, Hert Arnold didn’t know whom to trust. Seeing even the faintest glimmer of hope, he clung to it desperately.

Survival is a human instinct.

He awoke to find his soul trapped in a corpulent body, cumbersome in all things. Moreover, during the killings, he was mostly unconscious.

Thus, during the deductions, Hert Arnold was powerless, utterly helpless.

“But surely there’s a process we must follow?” Bartholomew suggested, “Since Miss Tang Mu proposes we temporarily set aside the investigation of the dinner knife murderer, let’s not pursue that for now.”

“However, I believe cyanide is not something just anyone can obtain. Among us, who has a background in medicine?”

Bartholomew scanned the group, finally settling his gaze on Tang Mu and the physician Adela.

“If I recall correctly, Miss Tang Mu has yet to disclose her area of study.”

“Pharmacology. Why?” Tang Mu’s eyes were cold. “But that field is completely unfamiliar to me. My previous studies had nothing to do with pharmacology… So if you’re asking where I could acquire cyanide, I can tell you: unless someone has access to a private medical laboratory, it’s not something one can easily get on the market.”

“But your adoptive father is Baron John Joseph. If you truly wanted it, your father could surely procure anything you desired.”

“But not for murder.”

Tang Mu’s expression remained icy. “My adoptive father loves me dearly, but if he knew that a sheltered flower like myself was dabbling with something as dangerous as cyanide… he’d lock me in my room to reflect long before I could do anything wrong.”

“What about the doctor?” Bartholomew turned to Adela. “You have a medical background as well.”

Adela found the suspicion absurd.

“My dear friends, at the time of the victim’s death, I wasn’t even in the VIP carriage.”

“Moreover, friends, the cyanide syringe was found in the restroom. I’d like to know, among us, who used the restroom?”

At the mention of the restroom, everyone’s gaze fell upon Lady Ottilia.

Ottilia, seeing all suspicion directed at her, panicked.

“How could I be the murderer? I am the wife of a leather merchant—I have no means to obtain dangerous substances.”

“But precisely because you and your husband are wealthy, wouldn’t it be easy to get such things? By the way, what does your husband, Hert Arnold, usually do for business? Someone who frequents grand balls surely knows plenty of society people?”

Hert Arnold knew no such high society folk. He was merely a player, not yet fully awake or able to recall his identity, and was thrust into deduction.

But then, the fate of James…

Hert Arnold swallowed nervously, pondering for a moment before replying, “Yes, I know plenty.”

“For example?”

“John Joseph, the baron?”

At the mention of Baron John Joseph, Tang Mu couldn’t help but laugh.

“You know my adoptive father? Surely you jest. For someone of your and your wife’s standing, simply being aware of his name is impressive enough. As for actually knowing him… ha.”

Was it Tang Mu’s scornful tone that aroused suspicion, or something else?

Hert Arnold realized, “You’re not a player, you’re an NPC!” he exclaimed angrily, “Only an NPC would be so clear about their identity. You’re the murderer who used the cyanide syringe! You killed the victim when you stood up with Eli!”

“Oh.”

Tang Mu’s face was expressionless.

“But I never went to the restroom.”

“You…” Hert Arnold stammered, unable to produce a coherent argument.

“…So, who else went to the restroom?” someone interjected, “Aside from Lady Ottilia, I think the painter Hunt should also be a suspect. There was a period when Hunt was out of our sight. Who knows if he slipped into the restroom when we weren’t paying attention?”

Hunt found this suspicion utterly absurd.

“I’m a painter, not an anatomical illustrator! Sometimes we use human bone specimens for modeling and sketching, which borders on medicine, but there’s a vast difference between the two! Can’t you use your brains and stop making wild accusations?”

The deduction reached an impasse.

Yet, there were plenty of clever minds—unfortunately, none among the players.

After a moment’s silence, Bartholomew spoke steadily.

“The murderer is still between Tang Mu and Adela.”

“Suppose Tang Mu or Adela committed the murder, then left the weapon with Mr. Hunt or Lady Ottilia. When Hunt or Ottilia went to the restroom, they inadvertently left the murder weapon there.”

“The location of the weapon isn’t necessarily the scene of the first crime.”

“From the dinner knife found in Miss Dale’s suitcase, we can infer… if Dale truly was the killer, then her suitcase should contain more than just a bloodied knife. There should also be several garments soaked in blood—judging from the blood loss from the victim’s chest, there must be something we’re missing.”

Faced with Bartholomew’s accusation, Tang Mu replied bluntly, “NPCs have no right to speak.”

Bartholomew gave a mocking laugh. “It seems you don’t, either.”