Chapter 19: Identity Exchange

In the dining room, Dewitt Nair glanced at Jesse Holmes, who was sitting beside the corpse with a wide grin on his face.

He felt a chill run down his spine.

He rubbed the brass handle of his cane and couldn’t help but strike up a conversation with Dennis Sandek, who was standing by the doorway.

“Mr. Sandek, Miss Moulton, Mr. Bobby, and Mr. Rhys haven’t returned yet.”

“Could something have happened to them?”

“Should we go look for them?”

‘Gods of Fate above, I just want to find an excuse to leave this room right now!’

‘Anyway, for the vote, let’s just choose Holmes, that madman.’

Dennis opened his eyes, his gaze resting on the middle-aged gentleman who had spoken, and shook his head.

“They will be back soon.”

After speaking, he closed his eyes again.

Dewitt was half-convinced, half-doubtful.

He hesitated for a moment but didn’t continue the conversation with the man.

Instead, he took Bev Hardy’s hand, comforting his mistress while whispering sweet nothings to her.

‘This is my precious vote, after all!’

About a minute or two later, the sound of footsteps came from the doorway.

Everyone in the dining room, except for the already mad Jesse, shifted their gaze to the half-open door.

Creeak—.

The door was pushed open.

Then, a dark figure swayed past, followed by a dull thud.

Staring intently, they saw a person lying prone on the floor!

The man had black hair, a rare sight in the Kingdom of Soth.

His once gentle features were now contorted with ferocity.

His right cheek, in particular, from his jaw up to near his eye, was covered in small, scarlet dots and blisters of varying density.

And close to his right ear, there was a gray eschar, looking like old leather.

Although the burns were severe, they could still faintly recognize him.

This was Hermann Rhys, the man who had set off on his own not long ago!

What was even more surprising was that Hermann’s hands were bound together with a rope made of twisted cloth, tied behind his back.

Their gazes followed the rope upwards, landing on a rather cold face.

Pale lips, misty-blue eyes, and a head of smooth, cool-toned tea-brown hair.

Who else could it be but Rosie Moulton?

She was holding the rope with one hand and, incredibly, a pistol in the other!

This unexpected combination truly astonished everyone present.

Seeing the pistol in the viscount’s daughter’s hand and the miserable state of the man before her, Dewitt took an unconscious step back.

Immediately after, he saw Rosie turn her head and cast her gaze upon him.

The middle-aged gentleman fought back a wave of dizziness, forced a smile, and tried his best to keep his tone steady.

“Miss Moulton, what is this?”

Honestly, he was terrified that the young lady would raise her gun and shoot without another word.

Fortunately, she didn’t do that.

She simply lifted her leg and stomped on Hermann’s back.

“This person attacked Mr. Bobby and me just now.”

“Mr. Bobby, in order to protect me, has already…”

As the young lady spoke, she lifted the leather boot that was on the man’s back and brought it down hard again.

As if that wasn’t enough to vent her anger, she ground it left and right a couple of times.

“Hah—hah!!!”

Hermann struggled.

His vocal cords seemed to be damaged, and he couldn’t speak, only letting out some meaningless roars like a cornered beast.

‘Already? Could it be?’

Dewitt couldn’t help but press on, “Miss Moulton, you mean Mr. Rhys killed Mr. Bobby?”

Rosie tilted her head to look at him, and suddenly, the corner of her lip curled up.

She didn’t answer but asked in return, “Mr. Nair, are you saying you don’t believe my words?”

The young lady’s neurotic smile made the middle-aged gentleman’s eyelid twitch wildly.

“I believe you, of course I believe you,” Dewitt hastily declared.

“Mm.”

Rosie nodded in satisfaction.

Then, she retracted her gaze and repeated her earlier action: lifting her leg, bringing it down, and kicking the man on the floor again and again, as if tireless.

“Murderer.”

“Murderer.”

“Murderer.”

How similar was this scene to Jesse Holmes’s situation from before?

Dewitt just felt a throbbing pain in his temples.

Only one night had passed, and out of eight people, two were dead, two were mad, and one was crippled.

‘Five days.’

‘Can I really survive this?’

Just then, Dennis, who had been silent since the young lady entered the room, suddenly spoke.

“Miss Moulton, you said Mr. Bobby has been killed.”

“Could I trouble you to take me to see where his body is?”

Rosie kicked him two more times before stopping.

She frowned, as if thinking very hard, and after a long while, she finally answered.

“It’s a room on the second floor.”

“Unfortunately, it caught fire due to the fight.”

“But luckily, the fire was already out when I left.”

Hearing the young lady’s words, four words popped into Dewitt’s mind.

Destroying the body and erasing the evidence.

‘Sure enough, how could the place mentioned by Holmes, that person who was tempted by a demon, fell, and descended into madness, be safe?’

‘There’s definitely a big problem with the second floor.’

“Shall I take you to have a look?” Rosie tilted her head and smiled again.

Worried that Dennis hadn’t realized the problem with the second floor and would agree to Moulton’s offer, Dewitt quickly cut in, “Since it’s already been burned, there’s not much difference whether we see it or not.”

“Compared to that, Miss Moulton, the gun in your hand is?”

Dewitt began to change the subject.

Rosie looked down at the revolver in her hand, then raised it, pointing the muzzle at Dewitt Nair.

“I found this in the room. Do you want it?”

Facing that dark, gaping hole, the wealthy merchant, who was over fifty, once again felt the sensation of youth.

However, it was a bit too young.

It was as if he had returned to infancy; he almost lost control of his bladder on the spot.

“Th-thank you, no need, Miss Moulton. You should keep it.”

Dennis also seemed quite wary of the gun in Rosie’s hand and didn’t bring up the previous topic again.

Instead, he said, “Miss Moulton, would you mind if I searched Mr. Rhys?”

Actually, Rosie’s explanation just now was full of loopholes.

For example, she clearly had a gun, and it was two against one, so why did Donahue Bobby still die?

And the “murderer,” Hermann Rhys, had no visible bullet holes anywhere on his body besides the burns.

So how did she subdue him?

Not to mention Hermann’s vocal cords, which were “coincidentally” damaged and unable to speak.

Everyone knew in their hearts who the “real” murderer was.

However, because of the gun in Rosie’s hand, her “power” had now surpassed the “rules.”

Since she wanted to put on a show, the others would play along with her.

As for Hermann, no one cared what role he was playing in this drama.

Only a day had passed since the eight of them had first met, but indifference had already seeped into their very bones.

Rosie stepped aside, gesturing.

“Please, feel free, Mr. Sandek.”

Dennis gave Hermann a simple search.

It was less about searching the “assailant” for dangerous items and more like checking the “victim” for injuries.

As expected, not only were there no knives or guns on Hermann, but not even a single steel coin could be found.

Rosie calmly watched Dennis finish his search, then turned her head, her misty-blue eyes gazing at the dining table, her rose-colored lips parting slightly.

“Everyone, shouldn’t we be casting today’s vote?”

That soft, sweet voice fell upon everyone’s ears like a demon’s soul-reaping curse.