The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 97

Sometimes, things that seem harmless on their own can create strange reactions when combined. Lloyd had eaten many odd foods in his time, whether during his service with the Order hunting demons or on his adventures in Gallunaro with Seyru. He'd encountered worse situations and tasted more terrible things, but none had ever struck him as forcefully as the abomination before him now.

During his six years in Old Dunlin, Lloyd had heard of this dish, but only in passing. He rarely dined out, preferring to eat at home. Yet, staring at this plate, he felt a strange sense of disorientation.

Fish heads, cheese, pizza—individually, these ingredients were fine. Edible, even. But together, they became an absurd monstrosity, like a demon's concoction. The fish heads, upright on the plate, made Lloyd's face darken. They seemed to be staring at the sky, eyes wide open, accusing Lloyd of some profound injustice.

"Enough, enough," he thought, looking away. He grabbed a sandwich and left the restaurant without looking back. Today was a new day, with no troublesome people or events—a rare blessing.

Lloyd boarded a steam tram, the iron serpent rumbling along the tracks towards Suaran Hall. His routine had become quite predictable: wake up, eat, head to Suaran Hall. Old Dunlin was vast, with countless strange cases requiring his attention daily. As an external consultant detective, Lloyd never lacked for work.

Reflecting on his official role, Lloyd couldn't help but appreciate the structure. There was assistance available for investigations, expenses covered, and the only downside was the increased bureaucracy and restrictions on using firearms—at least within the city limits.

Soon, the imposing structure of Suaran Hall came into view, a tall castle oddly situated in the heart of the city. Many parts of it had been dismantled. Originally a noble's estate, the castle had changed hands several times before ending up in the government's possession. Initially slated for demolition, its historical significance and fortified nature led to its conversion into the police and security headquarters of Old Dunlin.

Passing through security with ease, Lloyd entered Suaran Hall. This wasn't his first visit; in his previous life, he often infiltrated under various guises. As a consultant, he could now walk in openly. It was a good feeling.

Officers eyed Lloyd curiously. Although he had been working here for over a month, many younger officers still viewed him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Understandably so—Lloyd, the enigmatic detective from the Lower District, was a living legend, known for the Red River massacre that had reshuffled the power dynamics there. To them, he was more of an urban myth now standing among them, clocking in like any ordinary worker.

Greeting familiar faces, Lloyd made his way through the crowded office space and stopped at Pres's desk.

"Any work for today?" he asked, beginning his day anew.

...

A carriage sped through the streets of Old Dunlin. Despite the advent of automobiles, their inefficiency and the city's rough roads made them a toy for the wealthy, unsuited for Old Dunlin's complexity. Lloyd and Pres sat opposite each other in the carriage. The door still bore bullet holes, and cold air seeped in, making them pull their coats tighter.

"A murder?" Lloyd asked, reading through the file's contents as they headed to the crime scene. This travel time was Lloyd's chance to grasp the case details.

"More accurately, a brutal torture-murder. Very gruesome. Our officers nearly vomited, and some young ones were crying," Pres added.

"That bad?" Instead of disgust, Lloyd felt a spark of excitement. Such bizarre cases were rare, and he wondered just how horrific the scene was.

Humans had a natural aversion to seeing their own kind killed, unlike with animals. A brutal torture-murder suggested the perpetrator either had extraordinary psychological resilience or was a complete psychopath. Either way, it made the case more intriguing.

The crime scene was in the outer district, near Old Dunlin's new development areas. With the nation's technological advancements and growing population, the government continuously expanded Old Dunlin. These new areas were not yet completed, but cheap rent attracted many immigrants who took early morning trams to factory jobs.

The crime scene was in an apartment building. Suaran Hall's carriage occupied most of the street, with mounted police setting up a perimeter. Everyone looked grim.

"Oh my god, it's horrific."

"I don't think I'll eat meat for weeks."

"I need to find a place to vomit."

As Lloyd stepped out, a chorus of distressed voices met his ears. Officers, faces pale, sat on the steps, looking dazed.

"Not a good sign," Pres remarked, taking a mask from an officer and handing one to Lloyd.

"What's the story?" Lloyd asked the nearby officer as he put on the mask. Even outside, the metallic scent of blood was strong—hard to imagine what the scene inside was like.

"The victim is a middle-aged woman, a recent arrival working in a factory in the western district. Her landlord found the body after smelling blood and noticing signs of forced entry," the officer explained.

"Doesn't sound like a robbery. Nothing worth stealing here," Lloyd noted, following the officer up the stairs. The scene was on the fourth floor, at the corridor's end. Even from the other end, Lloyd could feel the oppressive atmosphere. Dried blood covered much of the corridor—a shocking amount from a single body.

"I hope you're prepared. I've never seen anything this bad," the officer warned, stopping at the crime scene tape.

"Coming with me?" Lloyd asked Pres.

Despite his curiosity, Pres hesitated, the officer's words making him doubt. After a moment, though, he nodded, and they entered together.

The sight was overwhelming, the stench of blood thick in the air. It felt as if the room itself was soaked in madness, a bloody canvas that greeted them as they stepped inside.