Cthulhu Panel: One organ mutates every day

"But there are still many questions surrounding Bob's case. For example, who resurrected Benjamin? Where did the face symbol and the resurrection ritual come from? Or what about the painter...?" Wayne wanted to explore some more mysteries.

Matthew put down his pen and smiled helplessly:

"Not all cases can be handled perfectly. Besides, it has been determined that the face symbol is related to the Familia and even the Great Old Ones, which is of great importance. The higher-ups will not let our second group handle it all. The painter clue you mentioned earlier has already been assigned to a group by the newly parachuted-in section chief."

Hand it over to a group?

Is this newly appointed head of the Seventh Investigation Section, who also serves as the deputy director, going to start by cracking down on the Second Group?

Wei En looked puzzled:

"Huh? Wasn't the painter's case something our team two has been following? We were the ones who provided the clues, so why is our team taking over? Could it be that the new section chief is intentionally...?"

Matthew waved his hand to interrupt Wayne, and said earnestly:

"It's alright, it's alright. It's best to keep some of your suspicions to yourself. Tomorrow you'll be promoted to a full investigator, and I'll be taking you to meet the new section chief. Don't overstep your bounds then, after all, he's your superior."

I'm getting promoted to a full investigator tomorrow? I guess I'll have to be a little more discreet when I'm around my superiors.

"Understood, the team leader is right."

Wei En suddenly remembered that he had a painting given to him by the painter, which should also be an important clue in the painter's line of inquiry.

Logically, it should be handed over to Group A, since Group A is currently responsible for following up on the painter's line of work.

But since the newly appointed deputy director is acting this way, whether or not we hand over this project depends on his attitude towards our second group.

That's settled.

Just as Wayne was about to ask Ethan and Lillian where they were, he caught a glimpse of several newspapers on the edge of Matthew's desk.

One of the newspapers, called the Michigan Times, was casually spread out on the table.

Initially, he thought it was just an ordinary newspaper, but with the help of [Perception], Wayne quickly detected the anomaly.

One of the newspaper's columns featured a black-and-white headshot, or rather, a black-and-white portrait, which was exceptionally well-drawn and extremely lifelike.

Most importantly, the young man in the painting looked to be about thirty years old. Although he was somewhat handsome, he looked extremely familiar. So familiar that Wayne immediately racked his brains to figure out where he had seen the young man in the painting before.

I have seen it, I must have seen it, and I just saw it.

What did I just do? Where have I seen this before?

I was just reading the case report...

After a moment's thought, Wayne picked up the case report again, flipped through a few pages, and compared it with the report. He was shocked.

Those features, those eyebrows and eyes, that expression...

The young man in the painting is Benjamin! It's what Benjamin looked like when he was young!

Young, young... as young as the woman in that old photograph, they were practically a perfect match!

Based on this, it's reasonable to speculate that Benjamin did indeed want to resurrect the woman in the photo, who was most likely his sweetheart.

Strangely, according to the case report, this photo was not in the federal archives, yet it appeared in the Michigan Times, and in the form of a portrait.

It's that painter, it must be that painter.

But the investigation into Benjamin was only completed early this morning, so how could that painter know this information?

Did he know the progress of our Special Bureau's investigation from the very beginning? Or even earlier than the Special Bureau?

[Perception Lv.1 - Observation of the Microscopic] Progress 45.2%

Wayne picked up the newspaper, handed it to Matthew, and told him everything he had discovered.

"Team leader, although Team One is responsible for following up on the painter's case, given how many leads I've discovered, could you allow me to secretly investigate the painter on my own? For example, investigating the Michigan Times newspaper office. I promise I will absolutely not have any conflicts with Team One, nor will I let the section chief know."

After hearing this, Matthew looked at the portrait in the newspaper, fell into deep thought, then looked up at Wayne's pleading expression, and replied:

"You can try, but a private investigation can't utilize the resources of other departments in the bureau. Perhaps... you could consider contacting Ethan. In Michigan, Ethan is well-connected with all sorts of circles and has a very wide range of information channels. Sometimes, the intelligence department even needs Ethan's assistance when it encounters difficulties."

No wonder... Edward from the intelligence department seemed to get along best with Ethan last time.

It seems the team leader did indeed tacitly allow me to follow the painter's trail privately.

"Team leader, where is Ethan now?" Wayne asked.

"He's probably out drinking or boxing," Matthew said, putting down his newspaper.

Boxing and drinking?

A place popped into Wayne's mind: "The Black Gold Bar?"

Matthew nodded: "Probably."

"Where's Lillian?" Wayne asked.

"Lillian is still catching up on sleep. According to her usual routine, she'll probably go out shopping later," Matthew said.

Going shopping at night? Buying new clothes? These kinds of activities are usually done in groups, right?

The image of that little professor, Daphne, popped into Wayne's mind.

"Alright, I still need to organize the case report tonight. You've all worked hard these past few days, you can take a rest now. Many things can't be rushed, they need to be considered carefully..." Matthew continued to flip through the case files.

"Okay, team leader, you've worked hard too."

After saying goodbye to Matthew, Wayne walked out of the office of Section 7, Group 2 and into the corridor.

As I passed by the office of the seventh department, I secretly peeked inside but didn't see anything noteworthy.

It's 8 p.m. now. In my past life, the nightlife wouldn't have even started yet.

After being under stress for two or three days, it's time to take a break.

Go to the Black Gold Bar to hang out with Ethan and ask him about the painter and the Michigan Times while you're at it.

The corridor wall lamps cast a warm, soft yellow light, and the thick plush carpet swallowed all footsteps. The brown-red carpet stretched along the long corridor.

Wayne went downstairs to the lobby of the Ritz Hotel.

Multi-tiered crystal chandeliers hang from the high dome, their shimmering light reflecting off the polished marble floor.

The hotel staff on duty at the front desk quietly checked the receipts under a dim desk lamp. The floor lamp in the leather sofa area by the window was dim, and the room was empty, with the hazy night view of Michigan visible through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows.

Stepping out of the hotel, you'll find yourself in Michigan's bustling Midtown business district.

Wayne strolled along the street.

Night fell. A damp breeze from Lake Mian swept across the asphalt road. The cafes, cigar shops, and department stores along the street were still open, their windows dimly lit, from which came the soft sounds of voices and the faint strains of a gramophone jazz.

Black Ritter sedans and old-fashioned convertibles slowly drove past the intersection, their headlights bright, with the occasional tram clanging past.

"I won't become a formal investigator until tomorrow. I guess I'll be exposed to the scoring system and maybe even be equipped with pollution characteristics. I wonder what kind of pollution characteristics I'll be equipped with. I'm looking forward to it."

"But now that I'm off work, I should relax and clear my head."

Enjoying the pleasant time, Wayne arrived at a lavishly decorated cigar shop. Following his memory, he exchanged a secret code with the clerk, activated a hidden compartment on the counter, pushed open the heavy steel door, and entered the basement.

As we walked, we arrived at the Black Gold Bar.

A warm, heavy breeze swept over us, dispelling the chill of the autumn streets.

The rich aroma of cigars, the sweltering sweat of boxers, and the faint scent of blood lingering in the ring intertwined with the sharp fragrance of whiskey, creating a symphony of scents that enveloped the entire hall.

"Ethan should be here, right? Is he drinking in some corner?"

The area around the arena in the center of the hall was already bustling with excitement and noise, the savage atmosphere of underground boxing was palpable.

Most of the gamblers, dressed in suits, leaned forward, their eyes gleaming with excitement, occasionally shouting and cheering.

The match on stage also came to an end. The referee checked the fallen boxer's breath, made a gesture to announce that he was dead, and then the body was carried away.

"Who else?!"

The victorious boxer remained in the ring to provoke, pounding his bloodied chest and roaring arrogantly that no one could withstand a single punch from him.

"At this moment! Our new underground boxing champion has achieved a twelve-game winning streak! Please welcome the next challenger, number 34, to the ring!"

Soon, as the referee announced the start of the next round, a new challenger took the stage, and the cheers from the audience grew even louder.

Challenger number 34 was a muscular man around twenty-five years old, with sharp eyes, dark brown hair, bare-chested, wearing boxing gloves, and with well-defined muscles.

Wayne recognized him after just one glance from afar.

That's Ethan.

Amidst the lingering cheers of the previous round's conclusion, Ethan took to the stage.

His gaze was calm as he calmly performed basic warm-up exercises; he was noticeably smaller than the boxing champion opposite him.

When the referee saw that number 34, Ethan, was coming up to the stage, he frowned and remained silent.

Several men dressed in black, collecting bets, stood between the booths around the ring, their leather bags stuffed with cash, chips, and registers, weaving through the noisy crowd.

Ethan challenges the underground boxing champion?

Wayne looked around at the other customers placing bets and was both amused and exasperated.

"So Ethan enjoys experiencing life like this. Well, since I'm already here, I'll place my bet too."