She is not an investigator.

"This is not surprising."

"If I report you, I can get a substantial reward, far more than I would earn by fulfilling your wish."

You don't have that chance.

This is not a threat, just a simple statement of fact.

He was confident that he could take care of Constantine before Constantine could react.

But he didn't want that to happen, because there weren't many people in the city who could help him, and were willing to help him.

“I know your identity, Constantine. You were once the leader of a cult, a priest, and I even know everything about your conversion.”

"Investigating me wouldn't make much sense."

“I know you can help me, Constantine, and you have no chance to refuse.”

Constantine took a deep breath and tapped the table in front of him dejectedly.

“If you need genuine help, threats of force are not a good idea.”

As the words fell, the light in the room suddenly became even dimmer.

The man sensed something, but he didn't care and simply shook his head slightly.

“I had no choice. My coming to you was a gamble. If you hadn’t chosen to help me, you would have released my information to the relevant authorities without hesitation after I left.”

“You’re right, and I have no reason to help you, to help a… punisher.”

The Bizarre Stage Play – The Book of Secrets: Chapter Twenty, Everyone Has a Tragic Past

The term "punisher" does not refer to an individual, nor does it represent a group.

This might be a title, a completely new identity bestowed upon someone.

They are butchers who despise the law, but also chivalrous heroes who punish evil and uphold justice. They are outright violent individuals, but they are not actually that dangerous.

If we were to define these guys, there's probably no good word to describe them.

Without pay, without being understood or respected, I simply do what I want to do and advocate for the path I desire.

They are a bunch of complete lunatics, and also a bunch of... indescribable fanatics.

In many cases, they are not even worthy of being called justice.

So, you're prepared to refuse.

“I will repeat myself again, I have no reason to help a punisher, it does me no good, and I have no intention of helping you.”

He fell silent, then reached out towards the revolver on the table.

In the increasingly dark surroundings, he simply picked up the gun, stood up, and prepared to turn and leave.

Constantine hadn't expected things to turn out this way; he had even prepared for a confrontation.

“Aren’t you going to do anything to me? You should know that after you leave, I will not hesitate to report you to the police.”

“...I will leave here, leave this city. As for what you will do, that is not my concern. Also...I am no longer the Punisher.”

"?"

“You know a lot about the Punishers, but most of the time, you probably only know about them from rumors and information. So you don’t know that the Punisher doesn’t represent anything. It’s more like a crime, a crime of resistance and rebellion. But now, or rather a long time ago, I was tired enough. After I’ve done everything I needed to do, the last Punisher will disappear.”

He put his hood back on and covered his face, preparing to leave.

"and many more."

Constantine stood up and called to the man who was about to leave.

"May I have your name."

"My name doesn't mean anything."

"But I need to know your name, since you are no longer the Punisher."

"..."

He turned around, sighed softly, and uttered a name.

"Wilson."

“Wilson, now… sit down, I’ll have a good talk with you about your commission.”

The man named Wilson stood frozen in place. He remained stunned for a long, long time before finally sitting back down in his chair and lowering his head.

"…Thanks."

"Actually, I don't have any aversion to you. I was just resistant to dangerous individuals before, not targeting anyone in particular... Getting back to the point, are you sure your abnormality is caused by this gun?"

"I'm not sure, but it was definitely after I got it that I experienced this change. I've never had one before, and I rarely even dream."

"You didn't even manage to find out the identity and background of the person who gave you this?"

"Ah."

Wilson nodded.

"I didn't get any useful information, not even a name, only the title of Earl."

"...That does sound very strange."

Constantine's gaze fell on the gun in his hand.

"Could you show it to me?"

"Please go ahead."

The revolver was placed on the table, and Constantine hesitated for a moment before taking it in his hand.

This revolver looks very ordinary, with nothing special about it. There are no bullets in the magazine, no signs of use, and even very few signs of maintenance. It looks like an ordinary weapon without any abnormalities.

Constantine had seen many special weapons, but compared to those, this weapon seemed far too ordinary.

"Perhaps the problem doesn't lie with the weapon itself..."

Constantine had a bad idea, but it seemed like a good one to get information.

"Perhaps you could try sleeping here."

"I don't think this is a good idea."

Wilson shook his head. He didn't quite agree with the method. In any case, the risk was too great. After all, it wasn't nighttime, and there were still many people on the street. If something really went wrong and Constantine couldn't stop him, the consequences and disasters would not be easy to resolve.

"Not now, but later on, perhaps there won't be so many concerns."

Even in the darkness of night, Constantine's power will be greater than it is now, making many things much easier for him.

"...Then I'll have to trouble you."

"No trouble at all, this is just a request... Now, would you mind telling me about your situation?"

What do you want to know?

Wilson did not refuse; perhaps in his view, this was also part of the deal.

"I want to know how you became a punisher."

"It's very simple, I killed someone, someone I shouldn't have killed."

Wilson lowered his head even further, looking almost as if he were lying face down on the table.

"I was fourteen years old that year, and I killed my first person, out of anger, out of fear, and out of resentment."

He shook his head and said with some regret.

“I have a terrible family. My mother was a drug addict, and my father had no money, so he did dirty work. He was no good person, and neither were they. I saw my father kill people. He sold contraband to others, killed the witness, and buried him in the ground. I helped. I was the one who filled the hole.”

“I never went to school and I don’t know much. They treated me very badly. My mother often had hallucinations and she would hit me, but not very hard, because her body had long been hollowed out by those things. My father never said anything, but he would always ask me to help, to help bury the body, to help destroy the evidence.”

“Until one day, I returned home and found my mother dead, dead in her bed. Perhaps she had been dead for a long time, but she only breathed her last now. I don’t know if it was because of those things or my father, but he was sitting on the floor, holding a knife, looking at me.”

“He was going to kill me. He said my mother was finally dead and he was going to start a new life, so I couldn’t live. I had to die so that those secrets could be gone forever. I didn’t want to die, so I killed him and buried them both.”

“But I’m not like my father. I didn’t do well enough and I was found out quickly. The first person to find out was a policeman. He knew about my family’s situation and advised me to turn myself in. He said that killing someone is a mistake, but making a mistake doesn’t mean you can’t be forgiven. He said that everything would be better when I got out of prison.”

"He's a good man, really, I've never met such a good man."

"He died later because of drugs. Someone was selling those things, and he found out who it was, and then he died."

“He did nothing wrong, he didn’t kill anyone, but nobody feels sorry for him because those guys are all the same.”

"So... I killed a lot of people. Some may feel innocent, but in my eyes, they are all the same, they all deserve to die."

Finally, he raised his head and took a small pouch out of his pocket.

“I always carry them with me.”

As the pocket was emptied, countless police badges scattered across the table, stained with crimson grime.

“I killed those guys, and I thought I would die too, but before that, someone found me and took me safely away from that city, away from…Molkens. Since then, I have become the Punisher you speak of.”

The Bizarre Stage Play - The Book of Secrets: Chapter Twenty-One, The Commission

In this era, many people have such tragic pasts, but most people can calmly recount their past experiences, because those who cannot would most likely not be alive today.

It may be somewhat tragic, but Constantine finds it difficult to offer much sympathy for it.

After all, for many people, sympathy is worthless.

"You can do as you please for the rest of the time. You should be able to tell that I am not actually a very talkative person."

As Constantine spoke, he walked to the front door, intending to close it to prevent anyone else from coming in and causing trouble.

However, just before that, a sword hilt reached in just before the door was about to close, blocking it from shutting out.

Constantine recognized it, and he also recognized its owner.

"Igris? What brings you here today?"

"I originally came here to cause you some trouble, but I didn't expect to overhear such an interesting thing."

Igris slowly pushed the hilt of her sword open, and squeezed in.

Constantine made no attempt to stop her; he simply closed the door again after she entered and turned away.

"When did you start listening?"

“From the moment he came in.”