Pokémon Detective Case Files.

It was this desire that gave birth to that crazy idea.

Hugo never forgot the look of horror on Leclerc's face when he heard, "Then let him be king in my place."

The Earl—at that time he was just a fledgling court clerk, who came to give a routine report about finding a vagrant who looked exactly like the king, but unexpectedly stumbled upon this long-planned defection.

"Your Majesty, this is far too much..."

“Too what?” the king interrupted him, casually tossing the scepter, a symbol of royal power, onto the table. “Either you help me complete this plan, or I leave now and let the kingdom wake up tomorrow morning to find the king gone. Your choice.”

Leclerc yielded. And so the plan succeeded.

In the first few months, this "debauchery" did indeed bring real pleasure.

He ate heartily at roadside stalls with the gold coins he had taken from the palace, frequented cheap inns and gambling dens, and enjoyed the rough pleasures of being unknown to anyone. He thought he had finally touched real life—a life filled with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and profanity.

But trouble soon followed.

His face was like a royal flag stuck in a pile of dung, too conspicuous.

In the first decent little town, the tavern owner stared at him for a long time, then took out an old coin and compared it back and forth. Suddenly, he knelt down and shouted, "Your Majesty!"

At times like these, any explanation seems pale and powerless. As a result, that night he was placed in the main seat, listening to the mediocre poet chant hymns, eating food cobbled together by the whole town, and surrounded by a group of excited and apprehensive gentry, as if welcoming a holy emperor on an incognito visit.

He wanted to lash out, to claim he was just a vagrant, but faced with those awe-inspiring gazes, he found himself unconsciously straightening his back and habitually flashing that perfunctory yet benevolent smile. That night, he was no longer Pitt; he was still Hugo XVI, playing a familiar role in an absurd, scaled-down version of the court.

This became the norm during his life on the run. His face became a mobile cage.

People either treated him as a king, carefully keeping him out of the real lives of ordinary people; or they regarded him as a fugitive monarch, scrutinizing him with suspicion, greed, or fear, keeping him constantly in danger.

A true king is protected by layers of guards, while a "someone who is suspected to be the king" is like a moving gold coin in the eyes of thieves, bounty hunters, or any farmer who wants to make a fortune by informing—the burning gazes staring at his face are just like the frenzy of a cat seeing a gold coin.

Even escaping to more remote places was of no use. Once, he finally found a job in a riverside village, driving away the rampant tadpoles. After only three days, the village chief nervously asked him to leave because a passing merchant glanced at him a few times. He even stuffed a few silver coins into his hand, looking as cautious as if he were sending away a monstrous flower rock that would bring bad luck.

"free"?

What kind of freedom is this?!

He no longer had to review memorials, but he still had to do tedious manual labor for a few copper coins; he no longer had to attend court banquets, but even eating a bowl of beans at a roadside stall would draw a crowd! What he longed for was to disappear completely from the crowd, to become a true nameless person, to be able to burp and fart freely, to fight over half a loaf of bread, and to truly and thoroughly "not care"!

But now? He's like a clown in an invisible cloak, thinking he's blended into the crowd, unaware that everyone can see that invisible, magnificent cloak called "the supposed king," making all his "degeneration" a farcical performance.

Finally, in the autumn of the fourth year, in a tavern in a border town, he heard the talk about the "king" again—not about him, but about the double in the palace.

People were saying that the "King" had been much more well-behaved lately; although he hadn't accomplished anything, at least he hadn't caused any more of the absurdities of the past. The flat tone made it sound as if they were talking about a... barely passable object.

At that moment, what welled up in Hugo's heart was not anger, but a kind of cold resentment and jealousy.

That double, that puppet, that fake!

What right does he have? What right does he have to sit comfortably on the throne with his own face, enjoying even limited power and comfort? While I, the legitimate one, have to wander like a wild wolfhound, experiencing even the most humble freedom in such a stifling way!

A thought, like a serpent coiling around his mind, crept in: as long as the "King" was alive, this "Pete" of his would never be real.

It wasn't that he wanted to go back to being king—good heavens, he didn't miss that damned throne at all! What he missed were the fine wines in the palace cellars, the flaky pies made by the royal chefs, and the soft velvet beds of the dancers… but he certainly didn't miss those responsibilities and constraints.

What he wanted was a complete break.

If the identity of "Victor Hugo XVI" becomes a stumbling block to his experience of "true freedom," then he should remove it.

What he aims to accomplish is a transformation even more thorough than Zoroark shedding his "phantom"—not only changing his form, but also killing the soul of his past.

Only when the "king" is dead, and publicly and undeniably dead, can his face transform from a "suspected living king" to a "pathetic creature resembling the deceased king." The latter, while still attracting attention, will at least no longer draw kneeling, probing, or the gaze that links him to power and responsibility.

He could truly become an insignificant, unrestrained ordinary person.

So, following the course of that stream, he returned to the capital, like a drop of sewage flowing into the city's drainage ditch.

He sat down in the darkest corner of the Black-Eyed Crocodile Tavern, spent his last few silver coins on a drink, and then began muttering indistinctly to a seemingly bored old guard next to him—

“I used to have a friend who worked in the palace… that king is no longer him… no longer…” He had to make sure these words drifted intermittently to the ears of those who were interested.

Count Leclerc of the Black Moon, the former scribe, his loyal Leclerc who weaves information networks like a spider, will surely notice these rumors.

This is the bait that lured him out.

Less than a day later, Hugo saw Leclerc by the moldy bed in that cheap tavern.

The former scribe was now the powerful Earl of Black Moon, and his demeanor had changed considerably—his silver-gray hair was meticulously tied back, his clothes were luxurious, and he exuded an aura of high status and power. However, when he looked at Hugo, that familiar humility remained unchanged, as if he had long anticipated his return.

Hugo silently followed him, stepping once again into that familiar garden passageway.

To his even greater surprise, Leclerc had already put the imposter back into confinement without him even having to say a word.

Everything was arranged in perfect order, as if the power to rule the kingdom was merely a treasure temporarily entrusted to the earl, which was now being rightfully returned to him.

The process of returning to the court was so smooth it was almost unbelievable—after trimming the unruly beard that had grown over the past four years and applying some powder to his brow bone, his appearance in the mirror was not much different from four years ago, enough to fool all the ministers and guards—it was hard to tell whether this was something to be happy about or sad about.

Perhaps because the double had kept a low profile for four years, no one noticed anything amiss. The only minor incident came from a girl named Luna, who tilted her head, her bright eyes fixed on him, and suddenly screamed incoherently in front of everyone, spewing incomprehensible gibberish.

"Send this fellow to the garden; he's giving me a headache." Hugo waved to the unsuspecting servant, easily dismissing the minor anomaly.

Everything seemed to be back under control, proceeding smoothly and in an orderly manner.

Until Leclerc, in his study, asked the most crucial question in the calmest tone—

"Your Majesty, what would you like to do with that 'thing' in the tower? Send him home, execute him in secret, or exile him beyond the borders?"

"No, Leclerc."

Hugo, or rather Pete, slowly shook his head.

See the picture poorly.

"I need you to help me... kill 'myself'."

Chapter 452 The Branches of Four-Person Talk

"Now the timeline is completely straightened out."

In a room temporarily set aside at the Black-Eyed Crocodile Tavern, the travelers listened to Leclerc's narration.

The magician, Yueju, nodded thoughtfully.

"The day after our visit to the Black-Eyed Crocodile Tavern, after we entered the palace, you, Earl, arranged for a double to appear because you saw Luna's presence. At this time, the real king learned that we were investigating the bearded man and decided to change our plans at the last minute, intending to frame us as assassins of the king to silence us. To this end, he deliberately ordered the palace guards to surround the tavern, trying to lure us and Emily, who knew of the bearded man's existence, back into the palace. He planned to lead us to the garden where the murder was about to take place."

"But the king didn't expect that Luna would lead us through a secret passage that should only be known to the king and the count, bypassing his surveillance and allowing us to see the double directly."

The thief Lian Wu took over the conversation—

"Because of this variable, the real king did not know the exact time when our group entered the garden, and may have thought that his plan had failed—after all, the guards surrounding the tavern failed to lead us into the palace, so the plan to frame us naturally failed. But what really caused the plan to fail completely was not this incident, but the king's carelessness when attacking the double."

"The king was instead knocked unconscious by the double who used the scepter."

The monk, Gadriya, crossed her arms in front of her, assuming a stance as if she were about to swing her staff.

"Judging from the double's behavior in front of us at the time, he must have guessed the real king's murder plan based on the information we provided. The double had already been imprisoned by the count before the real king returned, and perhaps he only realized the real king's return after confirming that someone was commanding the guards on the king's orders."

"And after knocking the king unconscious, this double did not panic and choose to run away—after all, the count was sitting in his office at the time, and the entire garden was a closed, enclosed space. If he had run away, he would have been caught immediately."

Lingju looked at Earl Black Moon with a half-smile, her fingertips lightly tapping the table—

"So, he decided to go all the way and swapped clothes with the unconscious king. Then, posing as the real king, he walked brazenly to your office window and, in a tone you knew all too well, ordered you to leave the room. Afterward, he stayed inside alone and beheaded the real king with an axe."

The magician glanced at the wine barrel placed beside Leclerc.

"Speaking of which, there's still a question I've never understood. Theoretically, the double shouldn't have had any way of knowing the real king's plans to kill the double. How did he know about the gardening axe and the fake bloodstains? And how was he able to push the cart so quickly and naturally after escaping, and sing nursery rhymes all over the capital—and where did he get that big beard later on?"

"It can't all be deduction, can it?" Lian Wu interjected in a muffled voice. "Don't tell me that the stand-in was a private detective before entering the palace. That's not funny at all."

"No, things are simpler than you think."

Leclerc finally spoke—

"He must have seen the plan in His Majesty's arms while he was changing clothes. I used to be the king's scribe, so he habitually had me make a memorandum. As for the fake beard... His Majesty brought it into the palace himself. He seems to have often used similar props to disguise his appearance when he was wandering among the common people."

A brief silence fell over the room.

It seems that everyone underestimated the true King Hugo XVI's mastery of stupidity.

After a few seconds, Lingju finally spread her hands, making a gesture of submission to Leclerc—

"So, the murderer who killed the king was the king's double—the 'Hugo XVI' we met. Considering that he was forced to retaliate after being ambushed by the king, if the deceased had not been a monarch, this case could at most be considered self-defense."

The magician paused, his eyes narrowing slightly—

"So, Count Leclerc, now that we have uncovered the truth, what do you intend to do with us? And how do you plan to explain the King's death to the people?"

Leclerc raised one eyebrow.

“What do you think?” he countered. “You have recovered the king’s head and have the right to make suggestions. Of course, I will consider whether to accept them.”

"Then let's just reveal the truth." Yueju, always eager to stir up trouble, boldly suggested, "Even ordinary people should have the right to know the truth, right?"

"Let me remind you all," Leclerc said, his voice tinged with weariness.

"The regent of a country on the verge of collapse cannot be paid a satisfactory fee."

He sighed silently—the king's outrageous deeds must never be made public. If the people knew that their king of the past four years was nothing more than a country bumpkin who appeared out of nowhere, the last vestige of the country's prestige would vanish.

"Then how about we stick to the original plan and target the Prince?" Lian Wu suggested.

Since it's part of the game's mechanics, he wasn't bothered by it; he was purely considering it from a practical standpoint.

"Didn't you want to use this opportunity to bring down the king's uncle? If we can also increase our pay, then our previous proposal is not out of the question."

"Contradictory? Not at all."

Leclerc shrugged and said calmly.

"After all, I have no attachment to the title of regent. Since His Majesty Hugo has no children, it is only natural to choose an heir from the collateral branches. To be honest, it might be more beneficial for the kingdom to hand over power to the princes. After all, after the king's death, the royal family does need a powerful clan to stabilize the situation."

"What's even more disadvantageous is that the prince has deep roots in the provinces and a considerable number of guards around him. Even if we pin the charge of regicide on him, the palace is not capable of bringing him to justice immediately. Doing so will not only fail to weaken his power, but will also create unnecessary blood feuds between the two sides."

"Then why did you suggest that in the first place?" Yueju was genuinely surprised this time.

“Because at that time I thought His Majesty was still alive,” Earl Black Moon said calmly.

“If His Majesty has indeed escaped from the palace, then the prince who has always coveted the throne will be his greatest threat—after all, a country cannot have two kings at the same time. Therefore, even if it is just a bluff, I must plant the seed of the idea in the prince’s mind that ‘the king is definitely dead.’”

“It’s like when a double appears before you with a king who’s not dead yet.” Cattleya nodded with amusement. “The more you make a big fuss about preventing something from happening, the more likely the other party is to subconsciously assume that it will inevitably happen.”

"I just don't understand why someone as smart as you would be so loyal to that guy Hugo XVI." Lian Wu couldn't help but lean forward.

Although the real King Hugo XVI only appeared before the travelers in the form of his head, the things the travelers witnessed along the way were enough to show him what a foolish, crazy, and self-centered man he was.

The thief stared directly into Leclerc's eyes: "Don't you understand that assisting such a foolish monarch is tantamount to personally pushing this country to its grave?"

"I know what you mean, and I've thought about this kind of question over the years."

He raised his head, his gaze unsettlingly calm.

“But I am not such a smart person. Among my former colleagues, I was just an insignificant little figure. If I have any seemingly wise or farsighted qualities, it is entirely due to my experience in the position bestowed upon me by His Majesty—simply put, I have reached this position today precisely because of that person’s incompetence.”

The man smiled bitterly—

“A wise king would not choose a scribe by lottery, nor would he hand over the entire kingdom to him on a whim. That person may be a scoundrel to others, but in this world, I alone cannot accuse this scoundrel of anything.”

"Although it is completely contrary to the great stories of rulers and ministers in history books, it is indeed the gratitude for being recognized and appreciated. I cannot not repay it, I cannot not be indifferent to that person's plight, I cannot not... be that madman's only ally."

"It feels like the opposite of Lionel Skoratos."

Cattleya suddenly interrupted, mentioning a name that had nothing to do with the present moment.

"So, even knowing it's the king's nonsense, you're still going to assist him?" Lian Wu's thick eyebrows furrowed tightly.

“I have done everything I could to minimize the impact,” Leclerc’s eyes dimmed. “Yet it still ended up like this.”

"Ha, you actually consider that king a friend? How interesting." Yueju chuckled. "In that case, do you harbor hatred for the double who murdered the king?"

“Self-defense is human nature. I don’t hate him.” The count shook his head.

“How could I, an accomplice in murder, possibly harbor hatred for an innocent person I failed to kill? Besides, strictly speaking, his life was twisted because of me. Knowing that he can regain his freedom, I actually feel a sense of relief.”

"Since there's no need to pursue the murderer, I do have a solution that satisfies both sides."

Suddenly, the topic shifted—

"Leclerc, are you sure that only five people in the entire palace witnessed the king's death?"

Count Black Moon nodded blankly.

"Then can you ensure... that they will remain silent in a peaceful manner?" the magician pressed.

"Yes, that was my original plan when I placed them under house arrest."

"That makes things easier." Yueju snapped her fingers, mimicking someone else's gesture.