Mystery: Mr. Witch and Ms. Hunter

Chapter 83 I'm a little angry

"…That's it. We received a report from him, and the reporter asked us to find the senior inspector of St. Samuel's Church to talk to him, otherwise he would not say anything."

In the corridor of the police station, Lorota and Britton, wearing the senior inspector uniforms unique to the Night Watchmen, walked towards the interrogation room while listening to the report of the young policeman.

"Oh my god, that was the first time I saw that scene. The poor guy's stomach was cut open..."

The young policeman was still chattering away, but Lorota and Britton were no longer paying attention to his story.

"He's not one to make a big deal out of things."

Lolota said to Britton abruptly, "He should be tracking down something."

"Yes."

Britton rarely argued with Lorota. "We have to find a way to figure this out. Although Altaïr's moral standards are...flexible, his moral bottom line is still trustworthy."

"In other words, even the kindest guy among those he can track down should have been a researcher in the basement of St. Samuel's Cathedral for at least 20 years."

After waving goodbye to the young policeman, Lorota concluded.

"Come on, let's go take a look."

Britton took a few steps forward and pushed open the iron door of the interrogation room. Altaïr was sitting quietly inside, just as he was standing quietly among the bodies of the Rand family.

Britton was somewhat surprised when he saw the other's face hidden in the darkness. Altaïr's facial lines seemed to have become softer, but under his clean, beardless face, the emotions hidden made him, who was already a Sequence 6, feel a little scared for no reason.

"Altaïr, you..." Britton wanted to say something, but for a moment he was speechless because he didn't know which question to ask first.

"I'm tracking down a craftsman, a wild craftsman."

However, before he could ask, Altaïr spoke calmly.

"A dangerous craftsman who is suspected to be affected by the 'Mother Tree of Desire'. In order to prevent people from investigating him, he placed a cub of some strange creature in the body of the poor little girl Lope, which would burst out of her body once his name was mentioned. This may be one of the benefits that the Mother Tree of Desire brought him."

Britton and Lorota looked at each other, and a serious look appeared in their eyes.

"Tell me more about it."

Luo Luota took out her notebook and asked, "Does it have anything to do with the file you asked me to investigate that day?"

"Have."

Altaïr nodded. "In fact, those files are used to analyze his behavior patterns and trajectory. He seems to have been influenced by the Mother Tree of Desire, and he has committed many tragedies in order to eliminate the negative effects of magical items."

"Then why didn't you tell us at the beginning?"

Lolota frowned.

"My client did not express his attitude. In other words, I don't know whether he wants the craftsman to make items or to eliminate harm for the people. Don't ask me who he is. I just received the task indirectly through my own channels."

"The client who knows the Mother Tree of Desire and can recognize its influence, the organization behind it cannot possibly not be able to produce even one craftsman. It is impossible for you not to consider this."

Britton's face was as gloomy as water. "It is also our job as the Nighthawks to eliminate these guys!"

Altaïr shook his head. "It is your job to eliminate these guys, but it is not my job. My job is only to find this guy. In fact, by now, his information has been exposed, so my job is done."

However, Britton did not take offense at these words. Instead, he continued to gaze at Altaïr with something similar to his previous emotion, yet something completely different, a trust in the character of someone he recognized, and he looked forward to Altaïr's next words, to his decision.

Altaïr did not disappoint him.

"My work is over now. I plan to follow my hobbies for a while."

Altaïr spoke slowly and firmly. His voice was not loud, but the determination contained in it was decisive enough.

"I will not hinder your continued investigation, and I will give you all the information I have previously investigated."

"Altaïr..."

Luo Luota couldn't help but call his name softly.

"It's okay, Lorota, Britton..." Altaïr tilted his head and smiled at them, "Have you heard this joke? The joke about the gentleman of Loen being reserved."

"If a Loen gentleman says that he is very happy, then what he really means is 'you did a good job'; if he says 'you did a good job', you should reflect on what you did that did not meet his expectations; when he says 'I am not very satisfied with you', you have probably already made a big mistake; but if he tells others that he is a little angry now, it is best to stay away from him, because he is probably thinking about how to beat someone's head off."

There was a brief silence in the interrogation room. After a moment, Britton seemed to have let go of a heavy burden and breathed a sigh of relief: "What about you now?"

"Me?...Okay, I have to admit that I'm a little angry now."

Altaïr shrugged in a nonchalant manner.

……

On the other side, in Mr. Buffett's factory, old Lynch saw Mike and his group off, shouted at the female workers, asking them to continue working, then walked out of the workshop and turned into the toilet.

Instead of entering the cubicle, he lit a yellowing cigarette, as if waiting for something.

After a few minutes, what he was waiting for arrived.

It was a gray-white mouse with a missing piece on its front paw and its fur was a little bald.

"How is it, nothing is wrong?"

Old Lynch flicked the ash off his cigarette and blew a puff of smoke at the gray rat.

The mouse quickly climbed onto the windowsill, took a puff of the cigarette with enjoyment, and then actually started to speak. It made sounds by vibrating the air, and the tone was exactly the same as that of Old Lynch.

"That female reporter is not simple. She almost discovered me... I dare not send my children to observe casually. She gives me a dangerous feeling. Maybe her methods are also very unfriendly to us animals."

The gray and white mouse straightened its whiskers that were stuck together, hesitated for a while, and spoke slowly.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to tell Mr. Smith again? He's very evil, even compared to those things in the warehouse." Here, it paused briefly, as if out of fear. "Those things are not even one ten-thousandth as scary as him!"

"So what should I do? Just walk away? Take your rat friend with you?"

Old Lin Qi scratched the few remaining hairs and said, "If it weren't for the extraordinary potion I secretly mixed into the food, many people would definitely not survive this winter..."

The mouse and the old man were silent together.

(End of this chapter)