Fantasy Writers 1860

After the general plan was finalized, the group briefly discussed the specific action measures and some details. Not long after, Dorian and Clancy came out of the main entrance and stood behind the human wall formed by the police. Many other editors carried out tables, chairs and a brass-cased megaphone from inside.

Dorian stepped forward and patted the copper tube of the megaphone. The built-in magic circle was activated, and the three speakers spread out in a fan shape. A piercing whistling sound swept across the entire street, and everyone covered their ears.

"Gentlemen!" He paused for a few seconds before continuing, "I am... I am a staff member of the Lentinion Weekly. First of all, we sincerely apologize for any inconvenience our story has caused you. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, you have suffered unnecessary losses."

"Therefore, our magazine has decided to compensate all victims who suffered unnecessary losses in this incident!"

Everyone: ?

This doesn't make sense, does it?

After Dorian finished speaking, the crowd outside fell silent. They slowly lowered the wooden signs and banners they had been holding up and looked at each other in bewilderment.

Those who were just there to make up the numbers and had no idea what was going on were now at a loss. They looked around at the people who had been shouting slogans so enthusiastically, as if they knew what was going on. Meanwhile, some people who actually knew a little about the situation were also stunned.

The script I was given mentioned that there was this part!

Those who actually suffered losses were in a state of utter disbelief. They were mentally prepared for shirking responsibility, denial, and a long struggle, but they never expected that the other party would actually take responsibility and offer compensation.

"In order to realize your just demands more quickly and efficiently, we will divide the work into two teams to handle this matter simultaneously."

Dorian pointed to the left side of the magazine's main entrance, where Clancy and two editors had set up a table covered with a dark green velvet cloth, upon which lay a thick stack of forms and a locked iron box.

Behind the table sat Inspector Lesder, Lily, Editor-in-Chief Clancy, and another editor—four people in total. Only one chair sat in front of the table.

"After registering here on the left and being questioned, we will verify the situation with Detective Inspector Leeds of Scotland Yard and provide compensation based on the actual losses."

Inspector Rasde stood up and showed his identification to everyone.

This caused a huge uproar among the crowd.

What's going on here? Nobody said a Scotland Yard inspector would be personally overseeing things here!

How did they manage to bring such important figures here?

Those who were paid to do the job began to have second thoughts, and some even started to suspect that they had been set up.

I just wanted to make a little money.

"In addition, to assist in the identification process, we specially borrowed a mysterious little gadget from Scotland Yard."

Lily opened the large iron box on the table without changing her expression, revealing the machinery inside.

It consists of three copper canisters, seven pipes, and a panel covered with indicator lights. The gears and linkages around it appear to be intricately interlocking and are moving slowly, emitting a low hum. Two rubber hoses connect two iron bracelets, giving it the feel of some kind of torture device.

Dorian added without changing his expression: "This is a lie detector. It is equipped with five precision measurement spells that can accurately determine whether a person is lying based on their physical reactions. The false positive rate is no more than two percent."

"I'm here today to assist with the investigation and verification," Inspector Reid chimed in at the opportune moment, but did not acknowledge the polygraph test.

Some people in the crowd were confused: ? ? !!

There are more tough jobs?

Scotland Yard has such a secret weapon?

No one doubted the authenticity of this thing; after all, it's magic, and it's not surprising that it can do anything. The origin of the great explosion in magical technology in recent years was actually the discovery of some strange ancient magic in old documents.

Moreover, with a Scotland Yard inspector personally attesting to it, it's unlikely to be fake.

However, this is indeed fake.

This seemingly fancy device was just a random collection of clocks and other odds and ends from Clancy's office.

This is also part of the detailed measures, using a fake "lie detector" to more thoroughly shake the mentality of those who are paid to do things, forcing them to give up voluntarily.

But wouldn't it be incredibly awkward to just run away at this point? Wouldn't it be like having "I'm here to cause trouble" written all over my face?

Therefore, in order to dispel the resistance of these people, Dorian has a more detailed procedure:

"Those who register here on the right can immediately receive 5 florins for travel expenses, and then proceed to the review process."

As soon as Dorian finished speaking, some people in the crowd understood that he was giving himself a way out, instead of directly exposing the truth in front of so many people.

After a brief silence, the crowd gradually split into two lines.

Many people went to the right side to queue, where the editors mechanically handed out forms and 5-florin bills. Those queuing there took the money, signed their forms, and left in a hurry, some not even bothering to pretend to fill out the forms.

The queue on the left was much slower and shorter.

People queuing here first put on the iron rings of the "lie detector" on their hands. Facing Dorian and Reid's detailed questioning, although they occasionally stuttered and their voices were weak, they could generally answer the questions without any inconsistencies or contradictions.

These people are essentially the real victims.

Their stories are all similar: they heard about the "strange rich man" named Samuel from their parents/relatives/friends, then met him through the introduction of relatives and friends, and were fooled by his sweet talk and investment advice into paying for "information asymmetry".

The losses ranged from a few guilders to tens of denarii, none exceeding one gold pound.

In the process, Inspector Leeds also continuously improved his portrait of Samuel based on the descriptions of others, and gained a deeper understanding of the criminal's style of doing things.

Dorian noticed an interesting detail: none of the real victims had actually seen Samuel's "one hundred pound note".

They all felt that their parents/wife/husband/brother/relative/friends said they saw it with their own eyes, and that he/she wouldn't lie to them about such a thing.

As a result, everyone was just repeating hearsay.

After about seven or eight people had passed by, a man in his thirties, wearing an ill-fitting set of work clothes, walked up to the table and sat down.

He sat down calmly, glanced at the buzzing "lie detector," then quickly scanned the faces of the four people behind the table before finally settling on Dorian.

"Sir, please state your name and occupation." Dorian's tone was no different from that of everyone else he had greeted before.

"William Price was a tailor."

Please describe your loss.

"I was scammed out of a whole 8 gold pounds! That person told me that there was a subway project company that was still being formed internally and was soliciting investors because the construction of the subway was proving more difficult than expected, so the royal family was secretly setting up a special subway company..."

Eight gold pounds? That much? No one in all those previous scams had ever been cheated out of more than one gold pound on their own.

Dorian, perking up, asked, "Did he show you that hundred-pound note?"

"He showed it! Of course he showed it! Right in front of me!" Price's voice suddenly rose, filled with indignation. "A hundred-gold-pound note! From the Bank of Britannia! I saw it with my own eyes!"