Chapter 19: The Bureaucratic Abyss

The sudden intrusion caused both Peter and the children to stare at Simon in confusion. What do I say? Simon panicked; he had jumped in without a plan. His eyes darted around until they met Larry’s. Ah, of course!

“Pies! Who wants meat pies?”

Larry looked at him as if he had grown a second head. The children, too, watched with guarded eyes. Seeing their deep suspicion of a strange adult, Simon realized just how much effort Peter Mattison must have put in to win their trust. Simon winked at Larry frantically.

Help me out here!

Larry didn’t fully understand the situation, but he caught the drift. “Hey, this guy is the master of the estate where my aunt works. He’s loaded. Super rich.”

“Really?”

“Can we actually have pies…?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know this guy, don’t worry,” Larry reassured them. “You can eat as much as you want and even take some to go. Let’s get out of here and go eat!”

For children who were perpetually hungry, the promise of savory meat pies was far more alluring than colorful but hollow candies. With Larry vouching for Simon’s status, the children’s wariness vanished instantly. Larry skillfully ushered the group out of the shop.

Phew.

Simon exhaled, but the relief was short-lived. A sudden, sharp chill pricked the side of his face. He turned his head and locked eyes with Peter Mattison. Simon froze. Peter’s face had shifted entirely; the grandfatherly warmth was gone, replaced by a gaze so predatory and lethal it felt like a physical weight.

Before the tension could snap, Clint stepped between them. He lifted the basket of candy he had been holding and offered a breezy smile.

“We’d like to pay for these.”

It was a perfect intervention. Ashley—or Peter—slipped his murderous mask back into a facade of normalcy and processed the transaction. The two men managed to exit the candy shop without further incident.

Simon walked in silence, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt as though Peter Mattison might burst through the door behind them with a knife at any moment. Despite being curious about Simon’s outburst, Clint followed beside him quietly, offering a steadying presence.

Only after they reached the safety of the office did Simon feel his breathing return to normal. Clint handed him a glass of water without a word. Simon took it with trembling hands and looked up apologetically.

“I’m sorry. That was… sudden, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine. Though I am quite curious as to why you did it.”

Clint leaned back against the sofa, his green eyes shimmering with curiosity. Simon licked his dry lips.

“The thing is… that man…” Simon took a deep breath to organize his thoughts. “Ashley Lewin. His real name is Peter Mattison!”

Simon poured out everything he remembered from the newspaper articles of his past life. He didn’t know how a wanted serial killer had managed to steal an identity and settle here as a simple shopkeeper, but he was certain of one thing: the man was a monster, and he was destined to strike again soon. Specifically, he would target children.

I can’t remember exactly when it happens…

In his previous life, Simon had lived every day the same, locked away in his room. The passage of time had blurred, making the exact date of the murders fuzzy.

But at least it’s not today.

He recalled that the St. Kenyon’s Day festival usually passed with its own set of headlines before the darker news broke. However, there was no time to waste; Peter was already killing animals, a clear sign that his impulses were escalating.

“We have to stop him, Mr. Clint. We have to!” Simon declared solemnly.

Clint watched him with an unreadable expression. “And is this… something else you ‘personally experienced’?”

“Yes! I saw it in the papers with my own eyes!”

“Aha.”

Clint’s response was frustratingly neutral. He was smiling, but he didn’t seem entirely convinced of the supernatural nature of Simon’s “premonition.”

“Do you not believe me?”

“Well, whether I believe you or not isn’t the most important thing right now.”

“It’s important to me,” Simon muttered. Clint looked at him strangely but didn’t push. Instead, he shifted the focus.

“So, what do you want to do, Mr. Grayan?”

“Stop him from killing anyone, obviously!”

“How?”

Simon’s mind whirred. “If he’s a wanted criminal, the police will take him if we report it. We have to turn him in before he moves on from animals to people.”

“And do you have proof that he is a wanted man?”

“Well… no. Not yet.”

In the previous timeline, Peter’s true identity was only revealed during the interrogation after he was caught for the new murders. Currently, “Ashley Lewin” was a law-abiding citizen. The police wouldn’t arrest a popular local shopkeeper just because a nobleman had a “bad feeling.”

“What do we do? Without evidence, the police won’t even listen…!” Simon groaned. He knew how lazy the local constabulary could be.

“If he’s a notorious criminal, wouldn’t his wanted posters be sent to every station in the country?” Clint suggested.

Simon’s eyes lit up. He remembered seeing a bulletin board full of wanted posters once when he had been forced to visit the station for some paperwork.

“We have to go to the police station!”

Simon stood up, ready to bolt. However, Clint remained seated, hesitating. Simon looked at him, confused.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I…” Clint trailed off, looking uncharacteristically reluctant. Simon wondered if Clint had some personal reason for avoiding the law. Simon could go alone, of course, but he didn’t want to. Beyond his feelings for the man, he had come to believe that as long as Clint was with him, things would work out.

He wasn’t good at persuading people, so he went with the only weapon he had: honesty.

“I want to go with you, Mr. Clint.”

Clint looked taken aback.

“I mean… you’re experienced and smart,” Simon added quickly, his face flushing. “You handle things so skillfully, and you’re… well, you’re impressive. I’d feel much better with your help than going alone.”

“Alright, alright. I get it,” Clint said, looking genuinely embarrassed by the shower of praise. “If you put it like that, I suppose I have no choice. Shall we?”

Clint raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He looked a bit flustered, but not unhappy. If he’s asking for help this earnestly… I suppose one little trip to the station won’t hurt, Clint thought, shaking off his own reservations.

They boarded a carriage and headed toward the local precinct.

The carriage pulled up in front of the stone building of the police station. Inside the lobby, large bulletin boards were covered in policy notices and old announcements. One board caught their eye: the Wanted List.

Dozens of sketches of grim-looking men were pinned to the cork, with descriptions of their crimes underneath. The board was a mess—posters were layered on top of each other, some were half-torn, and yellowing tape marks were everywhere.

Simon and Clint scanned the faces, looking for the balding man with the friendly eyes. They even looked for sketches of men with hair, just in case he had recently shaved his head to change his look.

“I don’t see anyone who looks like him.”

“Then let’s look for the name Peter Mattison instead.”

They spent a long time squinting at the fine print. But neither the face of Ashley Lewin nor the name of Peter Mattison appeared anywhere on the board.

How is this possible? Simon felt a wave of panic. Did I get the name wrong? No, I’m certain.

As he stared at the posters, his eyes caught the official stamps on the corner of the pages. Each one had a distribution date.

“Look at this. These dates are all old. The most recent one was posted three years ago,” Simon pointed out.

“Wait, you’re right.” Clint leaned in, his eyes widening as he checked the other sheets. “There hasn’t been a single new poster put up in the last three years!”

Wanted posters were supposed to be updated and displayed by law. The absence of the last three years of data meant only one thing.

“The officer in charge hasn’t been doing their job.”

“Or there is no officer in charge.”

The two shared a long, exasperated sigh. The administration in this region was famously riddled with holes. Tasks were forgotten, files were lost, and staff were often spread too thin. But they couldn’t just blame the low-level clerks; the problem started at the top.

This region had been ruled for generations by the Loraine family. Three years ago, the old lord had died, and his grandson inherited the title. However, the new lord had never once stepped foot in his territory, leaving it completely neglected. The old lord’s widow was too frail to govern, and the heir was a ghost. Consequently, the lower officials were left without leadership or order. While Sir Eustace, the acting deputy, worked hard, he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

The police force, in particular, had become notorious for their incompetence and laziness.

“What do we do now?” Simon asked.

“They must have received the posters since they come from the central office. They’re probably sitting in a pile in the back somewhere,” Clint said, checking the room. “The officers here are famous for being unhelpful, so it’ll take forever to get them to look.”

Simon sighed deeply, dreading the bureaucratic red tape.

“Do you have any money on you?” Clint suddenly asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

Simon blinked in surprise.

How much money do you need, and what do you plan to do with it—bribe an officer or something else?

📚 Also on NHV Novels

A 90-Year-Old Ace Agent Retires to Become a Mom in a Gacha Game

another worldGender BenderOriginal

Read Now →
Not interested