The Crown Prince Who Raises Alt Characters

#Chapter 159 Suspect Isaac (3) - Request and Investigation The two people's reaction to the sudden knocking sound was immediate. Isadora sat in the chair at the very back of the office, looking toward the window to set the mood, while Isaac opened the door with naturally flowing movements to greet the visitor. Whether that performance had an effect, the client who stepped foot into the office briefly flinched and trembled. She was a small-framed woman who appeared to be around her mid-thirties. Her rough work clothes, far from glamorous, were worn and frayed in places, and the smell of metal shavings and oil wafted from her body. Deep fatigue could be felt from her red, bloodshot eyes and dark circles around them, as if she hadn't slept properly for several days, but her gaze alone gleamed with a strange fervor. "...I came because I want to make a request." At the client's words, Isadora, who had been puffing smoke from her pipe, turned around and sat facing her. Her languid gaze toward the client conveyed an extraordinary sense of experience. "I am..." "You're a technician working at the Forellati factory, aren't you?" At Isadora's single remark, the client briefly caught her breath. "...H-how?" "There are many female workers in Chaudronbourg's factories, but most of them work in textiles, food processing, or lastly match factories. If you were from a textile factory, your skin should be pale and lifeless from working indoors for long hours, or you should cough frequently due to respiratory diseases, but that's not the case. If you were from a match factory, your jawbone should be swollen or your teeth should be falling out, disfiguring your face, but that's also not the case. If you had worked in a food factory, your body or clothing should carry a distinctive aroma, but I don't see that either." (E/N: Maybe I'm stupid but that sounds like BS, she has been here for barely 10 seconds...Then again I'm not a master detective.) The blonde hair blue eyes female detective puffed smoke from her pipe and continued speaking. "The wrinkles that are sparse elsewhere being concentrated only around your brow area must be because you've been straining your eyes to catch the minute movements or errors of machinery, and under your fingernails and in your palm lines, oil stains and metal shavings that can't be easily washed away even with soap are embedded. Your build itself is small but your muscles are quite solid, especially your arms and shoulders are well-developed. The fact that your skin is burned in various places is evidence that you work in a place that handles high heat, and among places that satisfy all these conditions where a woman can work as a technician, there's only the Forellati boiler factory in this vicinity. Ah, of course, assuming you're not an outsider." At Isadora's final playfully added remark, the client quietly shook her head. "No, I'm not an outsider. I'm a technician at Forellati, just as you said." Isaac, who was watching from the side, realized that the client's attitude toward Isadora had changed considerably. If the emotion she felt when first seeing Isadora's appearance was doubt and distrust, now it was closer to wonder and trust. She had realized that this detective office wasn't just a pretty young lady's hobby. More precisely, it wasn't so much that the client herself had realized it, but rather that Isadora had forcibly spoon-fed her to make her realize it. Having secured control of the conversation through her performance, Isadora skillfully drew out the information she wanted from the client. "So you're asking me to find the missing children?" "Yes, please, please I beg you. Those police bastards can't be trusted. You're all I have left, detective!!" The client's name was Cecile Lemaire. Originally working at the boiler factory with her husband, after her husband died in a boiler explosion accident, she had been working alone at the factory while raising her young siblings. It wasn't easy work. Although there was her husband's inheritance and money the factory had given as consolation, the amount wasn't much, and Cecile had to earn all the living expenses herself. She had to repeat the routine of practically living at the factory almost every day and only returning home late in the evening, while the siblings managed their meals with the money Cecile left behind. But one day when Cecile came home, the children were nowhere to be seen. Cecile went to the neighbors and continued making inquiries, but the only response she got was that they didn't know. She had reported it to the police as well, but even after several days passed, there was no credible progress. No, it was even questionable whether they were conducting an investigation in the first place. It wasn't a murder case that would attract much public attention, nor was it a case that high-ranking officials urgently requested to be solved. If Cecile herself had been financially well-off, she could have slipped money under the table to the police on the scene to boost their motivation, but if that had been possible in the first place, Cecile wouldn't have needed to suffer from overwork every day. And this also meant that she couldn't pay much of a fee to the detective office. "Hmm." When Isadora showed signs of contemplation while touching her lips, anxiety settled on Cecile's face. But suddenly Isadora turned her head to look at Isaac. "What does my assistant think?" At first glance, one might mistake this for a beautiful organizational culture of seeking opinions from coworkers, but to Isaac's perception, this was closer to a test. Therefore, he answered simply. "My answer doesn't seem like it would be very important." "Why is that?" "You're going to accept it anyway, aren't you?" Isadora didn't open her mouth, but from her expression alone, it wasn't difficult to infer that she had answered 'how boring.' "Fine. Madam. Let's accept the request. The fee will be this much." The amount Isadora proposed must have been quite reasonable, as Mrs. Cecile immediately offered the money without even a hint of hesitation. Normally, they would need to go through various procedures like calling a notary to create a contract, but even that time seemed precious. After sending the client away, saying they would send someone to Cecile's house to inform her of the results, Isadora immediately put on the coat that had been hanging on the wall. "Well then, shall we begin the investigation?" *** A detective is someone who must constantly walk, ask, search, and wander. This is something no one can avoid unless they reach the supreme realm where their very existence attracts cases, like a bow-tie wearing boy who unhesitatingly fires lethal tranquilizer darts at acquaintances, or a spiky-haired youth who treats his grandfather's name as a mass-produced commodity. In that sense, Isadora's appearance had both advantages and disadvantages. Because she was so glamorous, it was disadvantageous for quietly gathering information without drawing attention, but conversely, that brightness made people's tongues loose. Even if the other party was a considerably taciturn and irritable man, there were few people who would immediately start cursing when a blonde hair blue eyes beauty smiled brightly and spoke to them. Of course, there was the limitation that this didn't work well on other women (unfortunately, Isadora's appearance wasn't the prince-of-the-lily-garden type), but this time even that was meaningless. Because the assistant she had newly recruited was suspiciously skilled at earning the favor of the opposite sex. Watching approximately the thirtieth woman enthusiastically waving her hand from afar, Isadora spoke up. "Assistant. It seems you've charmed quite a few women somewhere?" "I could turn those words right back around and say them to you, detective?" "Ah, so you're saying to me right now, 'haven't you been flirting with men too?' Going one step further, you'd probably ask if I've ever been belly-to-belly on a bed?" It was a level of eloquence that left even the great Isaac momentarily speechless. Despite having the face of a bright young lady, her boldness and roughness were at the level of grabbing any street thug by the collar and beating them. Isaac, being a wise employee, didn't bother trying to win against his boss with words. Getting kicked out from the very first case after finally moving into the employee dormitory would be difficult even for someone like him who enjoyed novel experiences. Instead, he spoke about the essence of this matter. "By the way, what's the reason you accepted the request?" "What do you mean?" "The fee. To be honest, it didn't seem like it would even break even." At Isaac's question, Isadora smiled and answered. "Because I felt sorry for her. It's not a bad thing for people to feel sympathy for others and try to help them, right? In this harsh world, there should occasionally be someone who performs good deeds." It was truly a Saintess-like answer, and so Isaac didn't bother to argue. Pointing out lies as lies only has meaning when the other party is trying to hide them, or when they're turning a blind eye to their own contradictions. A different approach was needed for a liar who had no intention of hiding that they were a liar. *** "A twelve-year-old boy and a ten-year-old girl? What, have children disappeared again?" The effect of active investigative questioning became apparent when they reached a location about an hour's walk from the client's house. The witness was a craftsman who sold sculptures and such on the street, with a robust build and not particularly active in business. Despite this, his clothing was luxurious and his skin had a lustrous quality, so it seemed more like he was running the shop as a hobby after retiring from his main profession rather than sculpting to make a living. This meant he was someone who wasn't particularly short of money and could live according to his own personality without worrying about what others thought. As a witness, he was extremely valuable. "When you say 'again,' do you mean this kind of thing happens often?" "Well, if you're asking whether it happens often, I'd say it's been getting noticeably worse recently." "Just a few months ago, it wasn't hard to see children around here. Whether pickpockets, shoe shiners, or newspaper sellers. But from some point on, they started disappearing one by one, and recently you can't even catch a glimpse of a child unless they're with their parents." Simple passersby might not notice, but merchants doing business in one spot would immediately realize such a change unless they were extraordinarily oblivious. But the reason related stories weren't circulating was clear. "There are people who've been taking the children? And threatening enough that people can't speak carelessly about it." "That's right. But if I tell you, can you handle it, miss?" "It's fine. I may not look it, but I'm quite strong. Rather, are you going to be alright, sir?" "Ha! I've beaten those petty thugs who swagger around back alleys countless times during my active days." The craftsman held his carving knife in a reverse grip and grinned wickedly. He had the presence where it wouldn't be strange if he swung his hand and stabbed someone's eyeball. "There's a gang called Tolendo, bastards who swagger around claiming they arrange jobs for kids. Just the other day they tried to pull some nonsense in front of my shop, so I quickly chased them off." "I see." Once they learned the name, extracting additional information wasn't very difficult. Because even those who initially didn't want to talk would gradually spill what they knew when Isadora and Isaac gave off the nuance that they already knew enough, repeatedly promising to keep secret where they got their information. "Those Tolendo guys are just low-level pawns. They have backing from elsewhere, and it seems that side is taking the children, hmm." "What will you do?" To Isaac's question, Isadora answered. "If you want to gather bugs in the middle of the night, you just need to light a lamp, right?"