Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

This is a beast dressed in a suit.

Jason very politely wiped non-existent dust off his shoes on the doormat.

Good morning...

Orion heard his own voice, dry and rough, as if it had been rubbed on sandpaper.

He stepped aside, making way for the passage, his movements as stiff as a puppet.

"Please come in, Detective Moriarty... he's inside."

Jason smiled and nodded, then stepped across the threshold with the fruit basket in his hand.

In the instant he passed by Orion.

Orian could even feel the heat radiating from under the man's suit, the heat emanating from the extreme compression of physical strength.

It was like a live volcano wrapped in silk, brushing past his shoulder.

As long as the man is willing.

He could reach out and crush Orion's throat in 0.1 seconds, just like crushing an apple.

But he didn't.

Jason stepped into the room, his gaze sharp as a sophisticated radar.

Without making a sound, he glanced at the landscape painting on the wall and the steaming black tea on the table.

The final image focuses on Klein, who is sitting on the sofa.

But he did not sit down immediately.

He suddenly stopped and turned around.

Jason's brown eyes pierced through the air of the living room and were fixed on Orion, who had just closed the door and was about to turn around.

The gentleness from before was gone from those eyes.

Instead, there is a suffocating sense of playfulness and probing.

"Sir."

Jason didn't look at Orion's face.

Instead, he lowered his head slightly, his gaze like that of two cold, venomous snakes.

It wrapped around the handmade leather shoes on Orion's feet.

He smiled slightly and asked a question that would seem baffling to most people, but was utterly shocking to the person involved:

"Your shoes are in very good condition."

"It reminds me of...that night two days ago."

"I also met a friend with similar tastes in that sewage-filled alley in the East District."

Jason paused, looked up, his eyes turning sharp as knives in that instant, his voice carrying a chilling undertone of offense:

"However, that friend didn't seem to be very clean."

"He seems to prefer..." to shaking hands with people.

"Stealing other people's things?"

boom!

These words were like a depth charge, detonating directly in Orion's mind.

He's playing his cards openly!

This madman! He didn't even bother with pretense; he laid his cards on the table the moment they met!

He was saying: Stop pretending, I know you were the one who stole my extraordinary abilities that night!

At this moment, Klein, who was sitting on the sofa, looked up in confusion.

The great detective's keen intuition instantly made him notice the strange smell in the air.

"Stealing?"

Klein pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the smiling banker and the stiff assistant standing at the door.

Although he didn't know what the conflict was between the two, he subconsciously chose to protect his own people.

He closed the file, his tone calm yet conveying an undeniable firmness:

"Mr. Jason, this kind of joke isn't funny."

"My assistant, Orion, is well-paid and a respectable man."

"He never had the bad habit of stealing."

This is a perfect step.

If Orion goes along with it and says, "You've mistaken me for someone else,"...

So this dialogue might be able to maintain a semblance of peace.

but……

Orion met Jason's aggressive gaze without backing down.

He saw doubt deep within those murky brown eyes.

As a naturally suspicious devil, Jason did not immediately attack and kill the person the moment he entered the room.

It wasn't just because of that so-called politeness, but also because of the "risk assessment scale" that was running wildly deep inside him.

Although, according to his keen demonic intuition, the spiritual intensity emanating from the two guys in front of him was at most Sequence 7.

But he didn't dare to gamble.

He was wary of the mysterious "recorder" who had been there that night, capable of using both "wall-penetrating" and "stealing" abilities at will.

He suspected that this seemingly ordinary detective agency was a deadly trap set to lure him in.

More importantly, he was wary of time.

This is the Joewood district.

In the towering Storm Cathedral in the next block, a group of extremely irritable "substitutes" are always stationed.

He wasn't 100% sure he could do it without making a fuss.

They killed everyone here and disposed of the bodies in just three minutes.

Then, before the group of lightning madmen arrived, they escaped unscathed.

If Orion denies it now, it will appear weak.

In the devil's logic, this is equivalent to "the prey revealing a weakness".

The next second, Jason would be certain there was no ambush, and then he would tear everyone present to shreds without hesitation.

No refunds!

This is a high-stakes gamble on "cognition"!

Orion let out a desperate cry in his heart.

But in that instant, his body was instinctively taken over by the "magic master's" performance, which was etched into his very bones.

There was no panic, no explanation.

Orion simply turned around calmly.

She did not avoid Jason's piercing gaze.

He not only refused to accept the way out Klein offered.

Instead, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket.

He slowly wiped his fingers, which were not dusty.

The movements were elegant and composed, much like a surgeon who had just finished an operation and was cleaning up blood.

Then, he raised his head, meeting the devil's gaze, and a perfectly timed, ironic yet compassionate smile curved his lips:

"Stealing? That's a very rude word, Mr. Jason."

Orian's voice was no longer dry, but carried a relaxed tone, as if discussing afternoon tea flavors, yet every word felt like a razor blade coated in frosting.

"For people like us, that's called... 'environmental disinfection'."

He gently flicked the handkerchief, as if it were contaminated with some invisible germs:

"As you know, there's always too much disgusting filth hidden in the gutters of Backlund."

"Sometimes, in order to prevent the spread of the plague, we have to use some... more intense, more sacred 'sunlight' to carry out a thorough purification."

"This is just a necessary hygiene procedure. Don't you think so?"

Sunlight.

Purification.

These two words were like two red-hot nails, driven hard into Jason Beria's eardrums.

Jason's pupils suddenly contracted.

Admit it!

This guy actually admitted it outright!

And what did he just say? "Sacred sunlight"?

Jason's mind was filled with conspiracy theories and fears.

Orion's seemingly riddle-like words were instantly translated into the most deadly intelligence:

【I stand right here. I admit it was me that night. But I will not only 'steal,' I will also represent the Church of the Eternal Sun to judge and purify you, such a defiled creature!】

A bead of cold sweat instantly slid down Jason's spine.

Damn it... I should have thought of that sooner!

Although the spiritual fluctuations of the detective assistant in front of me seem to be only Sequence 7.

But that must be some kind of sophisticated "breath-concealing technique"!

This guy is definitely a skilled disguiser, a Sequence 6 "recorder"!

Only a "recorder" could be so composed in front of him!

Moreover, since this guy dares to mention "purification" so casually...

A more terrifying thought instantly flashed through Jason's mind:

This guy not only possesses powerful skills from the "Sun" pathway.

He may even possess some means of communication that allows him to directly contact the Church of the Eternal Sun, or the Church of Storms right next door!

This is a trap.

As long as I dare to make a move.

The next second, it wasn't just those "holy lights" that restrained me.

I'm afraid even that group of irritable "punishers" will break through the wall in an instant and surround and kill me here!

Fear grew wildly like weeds.

Jason's previously taut muscles stiffened due to the brainstorming.

But what if this unfathomable "recorder" in front of you... is just an assistant?

Jason subconsciously glanced at Klein, who sat calmly on the sofa the whole time, out of the corner of his eye.

The young detective was holding a teacup, looking at him expressionlessly.

Those deep brown eyes were unfathomable, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, as if the demon before him, who could erupt at any moment, was nothing more than an insignificant ant in his eyes.

Did he also use the "Concealing Breath Technique"?

His spiritual fluctuations were even more subtle than those of his assistant…

A man who can make a Sequence 6 "Recorder" willingly become his subordinate, and even too lazy to get up when facing a demon...

Could he be a high-ranking member of some "mysterious and extraordinary organization"?

Jason gritted his teeth inwardly, feeling his throat go dry.

Damn... This is definitely not simple!

This is no ordinary detective agency...

This might be the secret base of that mysterious and extraordinary organization in Backlund!

It might even be their headquarters!