Mysterious: The Innate Sacred Body of Destiny

Chapter 400 Each and Their Own Witch

"The Aurora will have twenty-two divine messengers—"

"They use letters as code names —"

Lorne sat at his desk organizing the information he had recently gathered about the "Aurora Society" from Sharon, Ian, and other sources.

"So, Mr. A, who hosted the extraordinary gathering, really is one of these so-called 'Twenty-Two Divine Messengers'—"

"No wonder the gatherings he hosted haven't been held recently. Did he go to lay low? Otherwise, given the commotion the Aurora Society caused in Backlund a while ago, there would probably be a bunch of official Beyonders and bounty hunters lining up to seek revenge on him."

"Backlund is really lively—" Lorne smiled helplessly, "It's supposed to be the capital of a great kingdom, but it feels less safe than those small cities—"

"Of course, not including Tingen."

"However, it seems the Aurora Society was behind that accident in Tingen. They wouldn't be planning to repeat the same trick in Backlund, would they?"

As someone who had witnessed certain incidents, Lorne instinctively recalled some unpleasant memories.

In addition, there was Will's meaningful warning in the dream earlier, saying that Aurora would be making some "small moves" in Backlund.

He suddenly had a strong premonition.

"Please don't let my words come true—"

15 Minsk Street.

"Oh~ the great detective isn't asleep yet?"

Late at night, Irene pushed open the door and was surprised to find that the gas light in the living room was still on, and a familiar figure was still sitting in the living room.

"Yes, the work isn't finished yet."

Klein was flipping through documents at the table. He only glanced at Irene briefly before refocusing his attention on the documents in his hands.

He's been incredibly busy lately. He has to act as a mouthpiece between Charles and Scott, handle all sorts of tedious investigation tasks assigned by the Truth Guild, and also take care of his regular detective work.

This intense work schedule brought back a long-lost feeling of being a corporate slave, working overtime every day and desperately chasing KPIs, just like before he transmigrated. Fortunately, his boss, Charles, was kind enough to pay him a generous overtime wage, which prevented him from quitting on the spot.

"Still busy so late—are you waiting for me?" Irene's voice suddenly drew closer.

"Well----"

Klein didn't react for a moment until a faint fragrance wafted into his nostrils, and he realized that Irene had somehow appeared behind him.

Immediately afterwards, something warm and soft gently pressed against his back, and a peculiar sensation was clearly transmitted through his thin shirt.

Klein was stunned at first, then his body trembled as if he had been burned. He quickly stood up and took a few steps back in a slightly flustered manner to create some distance.

"Seriously—it's been so long, and your reactions are still so adorable."

Seeing his tense expression, Irene sighed softly, but a mocking smile appeared on her lips.

"Are you even a man?"

"You're making me feel really frustrated!"

She leaned lazily against the table, raised her arm clad in a black lace glove, gently brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear, and let it slide slowly down her slender neck, finally resting on her collarbone.

"Gulp—" Klein swallowed instinctively, his Adam's apple bobbing. Reason was screaming alarms, but his body...

However, their natural reactions are difficult to completely control.

"hey-hey."

Irene keenly noticed this tiny detail. She smiled and licked her rosy lips, her smile deepening.

"It seems you're not as innocent as I thought."

Calm down! Calm down! She's a witch! The kind of witch who eats people without spitting out the bones!

Klein repeatedly warned himself not to be tempted by the witch's beauty.

"Sigh—we've been working together for so long, yet you're still so wary of me—" Seeing Klein's tense and serious face, Irene's smile faded, and her tone became somewhat resentful.

"No matter what, I've helped you a lot."

"I----"

Klein opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but found himself speechless.

Images from the past flashed through his mind. When he was ambushed by Lorne Disenke and found himself in dire straits, if it weren't for Irene, he probably would have been captured long ago and wouldn't have survived until the arrival of the "Club 5" to rescue him.

Later, in various role-playing tasks, although she liked to tease herself, she never let herself down at crucial moments.

He even helped him conceal his identity on several occasions.

Thinking of this, Klein's tense expression eased slightly, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. He looked at Irene and sighed softly.

"Great detective, I need your help with something." Seeing that the time was right, Irene suddenly spoke up.

"What is it?" Klein asked.

"I have received some intelligence, and I hope you can pass it on to Charles for me."

"I hope you can say that you found this out yourself."

After a pause, Irene added, "If there's a bonus, we'll split it 20/80. You get 20%, I get 80%."

Uh—Klein's lips twitched. This woman, she really is pragmatic.

He didn't dwell on that point but focused on another issue: "Why? Can't you just hand over the intelligence yourself? You're a member of the society, aren't you?"

"My situation is rather special—" Irene gave a bitter smile, a hint of loneliness flashing in her eyes.

"To be honest, I'm the kind of person who betrays others," I was fed up with that previous situation—being powerless and filled with...

"It was the twisted and painful life that led me to join the organization."

"Didn't the society have some kind of talent recruitment program?" That's how I got in.

"I see—" Klein nodded slightly. As a former Night Watcher, he knew very well that almost all witches came from witch cults. If Irene had betrayed them for freedom, that made sense. This also explained why Charles kept a certain level of observation and restriction on her.

Even if I passed that tedious screening, my identity destined me to have an insurmountable barrier between myself and the society —

"So, there are some things I can't do directly. I'd like to ask you to help me out and act as a middleman. Just consider it a favor since we've been working together for so long."

"--good."

Klein didn't hesitate for long before agreeing.

Although he didn't completely believe Irene's explanation.

After all, if you could believe everything a witch says, then she wouldn't be a witch.

Moreover, no matter what, the other party had assisted "Rustig" in completing missions, which meant that they had joined the organization's core plan and were not completely in a state of distrust.

He could tell that Irene had other reasons for doing this, but he didn't want to delve into them—it probably involved…

Her complicated past.

But in any case, the other party has never done anything to harm themselves or the organization. That's the most important thing.

Moreover, Klein knew Charles's character very well. This director was extremely cautious and would definitely verify intelligence himself, so there shouldn't be any major problems.

At worst, I can go back and do some divination above the gray fog—Klein silently calculated in his mind.

"Hmm, not bad, great detective. I knew you'd say yes."

Irene flashed a seductive smile, then lazily stretched. With her movement, the astonishing curves of her chest rose and fell, making onlookers dizzy.

She met Klein's slightly evasive gaze and teased, "How about we sleep together tonight? I can give you a special reward~"

"No, it's not necessary." Klein forced himself to lower his gaze, forcibly drawing his attention back to the documents on the table, and refused righteously.

"Ugh—how boring." Irene pouted and muttered under her breath, "You've definitely never been in a relationship, you're such a blockhead."

o

As she spoke, she turned and walked towards the bedroom on the second floor.

As the rhythmic "clack-clack-clack" of high heels faded into the distance, Klein let out a long sigh of relief and prepared to get up to get a glass of cold water, trying to calm the restlessness in his heart.

The allure of witches is truly terrifying!

Living together with your partner is a double test of your heart and willpower.

However, at that moment, Irene, who had already reached the corner of the stairs, suddenly leaned down, her silver hair falling down, and a mocking smile appeared on her face.

"However, your clumsy yet trying-to-stay-calm demeanor is quite adorable~ Goodnight, great detective."

After saying that, she truly disappeared around the corner of the stairs.

Klein rubbed his temples weakly.

"It gives me this feeling—like a little boy being teased by the older sister next door—"

The next day, Loggert Arms Factory, office.

"So, this is your plan?"

Lorne looked at the radiant young woman behind the desk.

"Let's have the foundation partner with charitable hospitals and community clinics, and have the foundation donate medicine to them regularly and in a targeted manner." "Yes, this is a plan my dad and I came up with after discussing it for a long time," Hazel nodded. "Dad said that instead of distributing medicine haphazardly on the streets, we should leverage the existing healthcare system. Charitable hospitals and community clinics already have experience and channels for screening patients and distributing medicine. We only need to provide the medicine, which will not only reduce the foundation's manpower burden but also allow the medicine to reach those who truly need it more precisely."

"Doing this also enhances the foundation's credibility and professional image. At the same time, it can alleviate potential conflicts with medical professionals to some extent, and more clearly distinguish between 'charity' and 'market.'"

"Hmm, not bad." Lorne nodded, approving of the plan.

While it may seem somewhat naive, such as how to regulate clinics to prevent them from reselling drugs, it is indeed a highly feasible solution at this stage.

The "Hope" drug already had a certain reputation, and its effectiveness in the Eastern District was widely recognized. With free and effective drug assistance available, most charitable hospitals with perpetually tight budgets would not refuse.

Not to mention that my relationship with the Church of the Night is quite good now, which can be considered a win-win situation.

Of course, some irregularities will inevitably arise, since once the drugs are in someone else's hands, how they are used is no longer up to them. However, as long as they control production volume, conduct regular audits, and retain the right to terminate cooperation due to the partner's violations, these risks are still within a controllable range.

"Once the new drug is produced, I will allocate some to you. Just do it your way."

"Okay—that—" Hazel nodded slightly, then looked at Lorne with hopeful eyes, hesitating to speak.

"I understand. I'll give you the potion once the plan is officially implemented," Lorne said with a smile, having seen through the other's thoughts.

"Sequence 8 of the Thief's Path is actually quite suitable for use when discussing business —"

"What is my Sequence 8?" Hazel asked curiously.

"You'll find out when the time comes. Anyway, it fits the style of a 'thief'—" Lorne deliberately kept everyone in suspense.

However, the name "fraudster" certainly doesn't sound good.

"Oh, right—" Hazel suddenly remembered something else, and her expression became somewhat serious.

"You asked me before if there were more sick people in the East District this year than in previous years. I specifically investigated, and it's true."

"Oh, how so?"

"I asked some workers who came to collect their medicine before, and they said that although people often got sick before, it was mostly due to catching a cold or overwork. But recently, many people have developed symptoms such as fever, cough, and even skin ulcers, and it seems to be highly contagious. The situation is even more pronounced among the poor who live near sewage rivers or garbage dumps. Some families don't even have..."

Only one person gets sick.

"Many diseases are related to the environment, and the pollution from factories is indeed very high now," Lorne said, a conclusion that aligns with common sense.

"So my father and his colleagues in Parliament have been advocating for the use of anthracite in hopes of improving this situation," Hazel said with a hint of pride.

"Actually, I've been thinking—" He tapped his fingers on the table, "because of the previous financial crisis, many factories in Backlund closed down or reduced production, so there should have been less smoke coming out of the chimneys than in previous years, and environmental pressure should have been alleviated in theory—why are there more cases of people getting sick instead?"

"Hmm—perhaps it's because many people have lost their jobs and can't afford enough food, leading to long-term malnutrition and a decline in their physical condition, which is why they are infected by germs," ​​Hazel suggested a seemingly reasonable conjecture.

"After all, hunger and malnutrition make people more susceptible to illness."

"That makes sense." Lorne did not deny Hazel's conjecture; economic depression leads to increased poverty and deteriorating health, which is a common chain reaction.

But deep down, he always felt that something was not quite right.

After signing some foundation documents, Heyzo was sent away.

Taking advantage of a brief moment of free time, Lorne leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began to sort out the various events that had recently occurred.

"The financial crisis has alleviated environmental pollution to some extent, but it has also created many unemployed people and made society more unstable —"

"The Aurora Society seems to have gone into hiding due to the previous incident and the church's attack, but there are still some clues that indicate they are active in the shadows —"

"Both the authorities and that mysterious witch are investigating me—"

"Witch—a disease?!"

Lorne suddenly opened his eyes.

"Witches—they have the ability to spread diseases—"

He was well aware of this. Back at sea, he had been silently and brutally defeated by Tracy's "disease" ability, a lesson he had learned firsthand.

"Could there really be some connection?"

"And the witch next to Sherlock."

"And that possible 'fool'—"

"Damn, when did Backlund become such a 'land of outstanding people'?"

Outside the factory.

"I'm going to be busy again. But it would be great if I could get promoted smoothly—"

After leaving the arms factory, Hazel was in relatively good spirits. Her conversation with Scott went smoothly; the new plan was approved, and there was a clear prospect for the potion. She felt she was doing something truly meaningful.

Just as she was about to hail a horse-drawn carriage to go back to work at the foundation, a voice suddenly called out to her.

"Miss Hazel?"

Hazel was startled and turned around abruptly, only to find a woman wearing a veil with a head of alluring black curly hair standing beside her.

"Ms. Cassie?"

"What are you doing here?"

Tracy didn't answer, but glanced at Hazel and then asked, "What are you doing in the East End? This doesn't seem like a place where a lady should wander alone."

"I—" Hazel subconsciously took a step back, feeling somewhat guilty.

"The foundation has some matters that need my attention. I'm here to conduct on-site investigations of the people they're helping."

She quickly came up with a reasonably plausible reason.

Upon hearing this, Tracy shook her head slightly. She glanced at the gun factory not far away, a meaningful smile playing on her lips, and said, "You're here to see James Scott, aren't you?"

"Just came from his factory?"

"I—" Hazel was momentarily at a loss for words. Her face flushed red, her eyes darting around nervously, unsure how to respond.

Hmph, she really is his mistress.

Judging from his happy face, he must have just finished a secret rendezvous.

Seeing Hazel's flushed face and stammering, Tracy rolled her eyes and then said to herself, "I heard a rumor that James Scott has returned from his business trip. Now it seems it's true."

"I happen to need to talk to him."

With that, she took long strides and walked towards the gate of the gun factory.

"Um, Ms. Cassie! Let's discuss the donation back at the foundation. Scott has some very important work to attend to right now, but he'll arrange a time to meet with you later."

Seeing this, Hazel hurriedly stepped forward and stopped the other party.

"I'm not here to talk about donations, I'm here to talk business," Tracy said calmly.

After saying that, she flashed away, nimbly dodging Hazel's obstruction.

"But Scott is really busy right now—" Hazel said anxiously, trying to stop him again.

"Aren't you afraid that word will get out that you met with him privately today, Miss Macht?" Tracy stopped and turned back, interrupting Hazel meaningfully.

"I--"

"I'm just doing this for work, everyone in the fund knows that." Hazel paused for two seconds, then raised her head stubbornly.

She'd thought it through; it was the truth, and she didn't need to hide it. As for the rumors, they were already circulating anyway—she was somewhat used to them.

Most importantly, she didn't want to appear weak in front of this inexplicably assertive woman.

Tracy chuckled, a hint of disdain in her voice: "Don't worry, I won't compete with you for this 'great hero'."

"I just wanted to talk business with him, but I didn't expect to run into you."

With that, she walked around Hazel and headed toward the gun factory without looking back.

Watching the other person's back, Hazel hesitated for two seconds before finally gritting her teeth and choosing to follow.

She had to go and see, at least—find out what this woman was up to.

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