Lord of Mysteries

Chapter 91 Solution

The image began to distort, blur, and disappear.

Klein emerged from that dreamlike experience, his vision adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom.

He knew that his brother Benson was earning £1.10 sulphurs a week, which was 30 sulphurs, and that it was quite difficult for him and Melissa to support themselves by the standards of a normal commoner.

He assumed that most workers would earn 20 soulas per week.

He had heard Melissa mention that on the lower street of Iron Cross Street, some families of five, seven, or even ten people lived in the same room.

He learned from Benson that the kingdom had experienced an economic downturn in the previous months due to the situation in the southern continent.

He knew that maids who did odd jobs and had room and board could earn 3 to 6 pence per week.

Klein reached out and pinched his brow, remaining silent for a long time until Sir Deville, lying on the bed, spoke:

"Officer, aren't you going to say something? The psychologist I consulted before would talk to me and ask questions in this kind of environment and at this time."

"However, I did feel a sense of peace. I was almost asleep, but I didn't hear any groans or cries."

"How did you do that?"

Klein leaned back in his rocking chair, offering a question instead of an answer, and said in a calm voice:

"Sir, do you know about lead poisoning? Do you know the dangers of lead?"

"..." Lying on the bed, Deville was silent for a few seconds before saying, "I didn't know before, but I found out later. You mean, my psychological problems, or rather, my mental illness, are because I feel guilty, guilty towards those lead-making and glazing women?"

Before Klein could answer, he continued, just as he always did when he seized the initiative in negotiations:

"Yes, I did feel guilty at the time, but I made amends to them long ago. In my lead and porcelain factories, each worker could earn much more than in the same places. In Backlund, lead and glazing women earned no more than 8 sulphurs a week, while I paid them 10 sulphurs or even more."

"Ha, many people accuse me of making them lose their morals and having difficulty recruiting workers. If the Grain Act hadn't been repealed, many farmers would have gone bankrupt and moved to the city, and they would have had to follow my lead and raise their wages."

"I also told the factory supervisor to make workers who had experienced headaches or blurred vision leave the areas where they could come into contact with lead. If they became seriously ill, they could apply for assistance from my charity fund."

"I think I've done enough."

Klein spoke without the slightest fluctuation in his tone:

"Sir, sometimes you can never imagine how important a salary is to a poor person. Even if they are only unemployed for a week or two, their families will suffer irreversible and extremely tragic damage."

He paused for a moment, then asked:

"I'm curious, if you're so compassionate, why don't you install protective equipment against dust and lead poisoning in the factory?"

Deville stared at the ceiling and gave a bitter laugh.

"That would make my costs unacceptably high, making it impossible for me to compete with other lead and porcelain factories. I'm no longer too concerned about the profits in this area, and I'm even willing to subsidize some of it, but what's the point if it's always like this? It can only help a small number of workers and cannot become the industry standard to drive them to make changes."

"This would turn into me simply spending money to support people. I've heard that some factories are even secretly using slaves in order to save costs."

Klein clasped his hands together, remained silent for a moment, and then said:

"Sir, your psychological problems stem from this accumulation of guilt, which you thought had faded and disappeared. Normally, this wouldn't have had any significant impact, but something triggered it, igniting all the problems at once."

"Something has upset me? I don't know anything about that," Deville said, both doubtful and certain.

Klein let his body sway gently with the rocking chair and explained in a calm tone:

"You actually fell asleep for a few minutes and told me something."

"Hypnotherapy?" Deville habitually guessed, drawing conclusions in advance.

Klein didn't give a direct answer, but said directly:

"You once saw a female worker who died on her way to work in a carriage. She died of lead poisoning and was glazing your porcelain before she died."

"..." Deville rubbed his temples and muttered uncertainly, "There seems to be such a thing... but I don't remember it very clearly..."

His prolonged insomnia had left him in poor mental condition, and he vaguely seemed to see similar scenes.

He thought for a moment, then stopped straining his poor brain and asked instead:

"What was that female worker's name?"

"Um, I mean, what should I do to treat my mental health issues?"

Klein answered in a low, concise voice:

Two things.

"First, the female worker who died by the roadside was named Hailey Walker, that's what you told me. She was the most direct victim of the trauma, so you need to find her parents and give them more compensation."

"Second, widely publicize the dangers of lead in newspapers and magazines, and make your charitable foundation help more affected workers. If you can become a senator, then push for legislation in this area."

Deville slowly sat up, gave a self-deprecating laugh, and said:

"I will do everything else, but legislation, ha, I think it is impossible, because there are still foreign competitors. Legislation will only plunge these industries in the kingdom into a general crisis, bankrupt them one after another, and cause a large number of workers to lose their jobs. The poor organizations cannot save so many people."

He slowly rolled out of bed, straightened his collar, and looked at Klein, saying:

"Halle Walker, right? I'll have Karen go to the porcelain factory to get her file right away and bring her parents over. Officer, please wait with me and keep an eye on my mental state."

"Okay." Klein slowly stood up and patted his black and white checkered police uniform.

…………

At 11:00 AM, in the living room on the first floor of the Deville family home.

Klein, who hadn't said much, sat on the single sofa and silently watched as a man and a woman were led in by the butler, Karen.

The two guests had rough skin and wrinkles on their faces. The man's back was slightly hunched, and the woman had a mole on her eyelid.

They were basically the same as the ones Klein saw through Helier, but older and more haggard, so thin you could almost see their bones, dressed in old and tattered clothes, and supposedly they could barely make ends meet even on the lower street of Iron Cross Street.

Uh...

In Klein's inspiration, a cold wind began to swirl.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned his gaze to Sir Deville, where he saw a pale, transparent, and distorted figure that had appeared behind him at some point.

"Good morning, Your Excellency, sir," Helene's parents greeted with unusual formality.

Deville rubbed his forehead and asked:

"Are you Hailey Walker's parents? Doesn't she have a brother and a two-year-old sister?"

Helene's mother replied fearfully, "Her brother broke his leg at the docks a while ago, and we've left him at home to take care of his sister."

Deville was silent for a few seconds, then sighed and said:

"I feel deep sympathy for Helière's misfortune."

Upon hearing this, both of Hailier's parents' eyes immediately welled up with tears, and they each spoke in a jumbled, incoherent manner:

"Thank you, thank you for your kindness."

"The police told us, told us, that Hayley died of lead poisoning, or something like that? Oh, my poor child, she was only seventeen. She was always so quiet and so stubborn."

"You sent someone to see her and funded her burial; she is buried in Raphael Cemetery."

Deville glanced at Klein, shifted his posture, leaned forward, and said in a heavy tone:

"This was actually our oversight, and I need to apologize."

"I've thought about it. I have to compensate you, compensate Heliette. Her weekly wage is 10 soles, right? That's 520 soles a year, um, 26 pounds. Let's assume she can work for at least another 10 years."

"Karen, give 300 pounds to Heidi's parents."

"3,300 pounds?" Herie's father and mother were stunned.

Even at their most comfortable time, they never had more than £1 in savings!

Not only them, but the bodyguards and servants in the living room were also shocked and envious. Even Sheriff Gates couldn't help but breathe heavily—his weekly wage was only two pounds, while his only "V" officer earned only one pound.

In an unspeakable silence, the butler, Karen, emerged from the study, carrying a bulging cloth bag.

He opened the bag, revealing stacks of banknotes inside, some 1-pound notes, some 5-pound notes, but mostly 1-sol and 5-sol notes.

It's clear that Deville had someone exchange "small change" from the bank beforehand.

"This is a token of the master's appreciation." With her master's approval, Karen handed the bag to Helier's parents.

Helene's father and mother took it, rubbed their eyes, and looked at it again and again.

"No, this is too generous, we shouldn't accept it," they said, clutching the cloth bag tightly.

Deville said in a deep voice:

"This is what Haley should have."

"You, you are a noble and kind knight!" Helier's parents bowed repeatedly with emotion.

A smile spread across their faces, an uncontrollable smile.

They praised Sir Deville over and over again, repeating the few adjectives they had, and repeatedly saying that Helene would surely be grateful to him in heaven.

"Karen, send them back. Hmm, take them to the bank first," Deville said with a sigh of relief, instructing the butler.

Helier's father and mother clutched the cloth bag tightly and hurried toward the door without pausing.

Klein saw the pale, transparent figure behind Sir Deville trying to reach out to them, trying to leave with them, but they smiled brightly and did not turn around.

The figure grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely.

In Klein's perception, the coldness of the living room suddenly returned to normal.

He simply watched quietly from beginning to end without offering any opinion.

"Officer, I feel much better now. Can you tell me why my butler, servants, and bodyguards could also hear the crying and groaning? Shouldn't this be a psychological problem unique to me?" Deville looked over curiously.

Inspector Tolle, who knew the inside story, immediately became nervous.

Klein replied without much expression:

"In psychology, we call this phenomenon mass hysteria."

P.S.: The female workers in the previous chapter were based on Jack London's novel, *Inhabitants of the Abyss: Observations from London's East End*.

(End of this chapter)