Chapter 67 Bell Tower
But Nova did not get the convenience created by the "tricks" of the God-favored One.
Bill Farm was dead. His body was found in the clock tower of White Tower University by the town watchmaker who came to repair the clock.
According to the other party, the janitor at White Tower University had complained that the old clock was becoming increasingly inaccurate, and had recently even stopped. Old Mark, the only watchmaker in White Tower, had finally found time to check at dusk, when the crows were supposed to be out foraging. Unexpectedly, through the heavy stone door of the clock tower, he could smell a faint stench of decay. He assumed the array preventing intrusion had malfunctioned, allowing a crow or some small animal's corpse to fall in and damage the gears. But as he braved the stench to climb to the roof and light the oil lamp, a swarm of crows swarmed his face. In his panic, he kicked something heavy and wet.
The watchmaker protected his head and picked up the kerosene lamp tremblingly, but he looked at a bloody dead body - the corpse's face was covered with flesh and blood, torn to pieces by crows, revealing the white skull. Even the eyeballs were taken away, leaving only two bloody holes, and tiny white maggots were faintly seen wriggling in the empty eye sockets.
With a shrill scream, the terrified watchmaker crawled down the stairs. The news of the dead body in the clock tower seemed to spread like wildfire. Soon a professor arrived at the scene and drove away the frightened and curious students who tried to climb up the clock tower to find out what was going on, along with the crows.
When Nova arrived at the clock tower, the crows that could not return to their nests were circling and screaming outside the clock tower anxiously and angrily. He saw his colleague Professor Oswin vomiting downstairs.
"Don't go in there. It's hot and smelly." The man's face was pale, and he looked like he was about to collapse from vomiting. "Let's wait for the sheriff to come. Maybe one of the homeless people who came here to settle down died of illness..."
At the end he even hesitated. You know, this is the territory of the crows. What desperate homeless person would be willing to endure the attacks of pecking, claws and feces and insist on living in the bell tower?
But his colleague ignored him, stuffed something into his hand, said "Hold it" and rushed into the bell tower.
It was a piece of strong-smelling spice, cut into slices. Oswin, vomiting and dazed, subconsciously put it in his mouth and was immediately startled by the spiciness.
"ginger?!"
The top floor of the bell tower was narrow and dark, and the narrow windows were occupied by crows' nests. However, many people were crowded in at this time, and the heat and stench made it even more disgusting.
Nova's brow was furrowed, but the stench that had been irritating his brain was soon replaced by fresh air. He glanced at the calm and composed God's Chosen One, who glanced at him with a wink.
The body lay on its back near the window of the bell tower, its eyeless eyes staring blankly into space, and a pool of vomit emitting a sour, fermented smell was at its mouth. Fortunately, the people here were well-informed, so the scene had not been excessively damaged for the time being.
"Good evening, lights."
A professor who was carefully observing the identity of the deceased by the light and holding his nose was stunned for a moment. Perhaps it was because the man's tone was too matter-of-fact, he subconsciously let the other party take the oil lamp away.
Without waiting for him to react, the newcomer strode towards the miserable corpse, squatted down, and began to examine the body. Without turning back, he instructed, "I need your sense of smell now, and please write down what I say. Thank you."
His assistant teacher blinked and obediently opened the notebook. Then Nova squinted his eyes due to the sudden strong stench. He took a while to adjust before continuing the inspection.
"One, the deceased's gender is male; two, age is between 19 and 21 years old; three, race is Sylvie." The black-haired young man's calm voice echoed in the bell tower.
The Sylvies were the main ethnic group of the Silver Iris Empire, but this man's face had clearly been almost completely destroyed, and no one knew how the other party had made that judgment.
"Four, date of death..."
Then, with his bare hands—or rather, with gloves on—he picked up a maggot that was wriggling in the corpse's eye socket. He leaned in closer, squinting his eyes to examine the plump, struggling white larva. "The maggot is about 0.4 centimeters long. Considering the weather and the degree of decomposition, the deceased died within 48 hours. The exact time is pending further investigation."
Azuka: “…”
The pupils of the God-favored One, who thought his mysophobia was not serious, trembled violently.
"Five. Preliminary estimate of the body's identity."
Then the man suddenly squatted in silence, and the people around him who were still conscious grumbled uneasily, meaning that they should wait for the sheriff to come.
- Stop prying open the deceased's "mouth" which only has teeth left, and inserting your fingers into the other person's mouth to pick out vomit!
"…not just the sheriff."
The man clapped his hands, stood up, and turned to face the crowd. His smoky gray eyes were perpetually sharp and cold in the dim light. "Please contact Mr. Waijia immediately and tell him that Bill Fam's body was found in the bell tower of White Tower University."
——The silver thread on the corpse's collar had been pecked into pieces by crows, but there were still some traces of needlework left, which when pieced together formed the family crest of the Fam family.
The bad premonition he had felt when he learned of the corpse in the bell tower had become a reality. As if finally unable to bear the stench, the black-haired young man raised one arm, turned his head away, buried his nose in his sleeve, and let out a muffled sigh: "This is a big problem."
The trouble is indeed huge.
It's not just because the deceased was a noble who could trigger the Soul Protection Chant, he was also a student at St. Bartolomeo's Warlock College and died at this critical juncture. Earl Fam was famous for doting on his only son. I don't know why there was no news even after 48 hours.
Nova guessed that Earl Fam was at a critical moment in the Silver Flower Mine auction - but it seemed that the relationship between father and son was not as harmonious as the outside world said.
The professor, like a nimble cat, circled the bell tower a few times before grabbing a raised brick wall and using it to reach the window sill, which was covered in branches and weeds. He was struggling to find the window when he suddenly felt an invisible force at his waist, which eased his mind considerably.
——Needless to say, it is the work of one favored by God.
"Crows love shiny things." When he jumped down, he saw everyone's complicated expressions, as if they were looking at a mad cat. The black-haired young man coldly showed one of his glittering cufflinks and said, "Some magical tools are missing from the deceased. It seems the murderer wasn't after money, and the possibility of indiscriminate killing is also low. It's probably a revenge killing."
"The murderer?" The professor whose light had just been stolen couldn't help but wonder, "Why couldn't this person have choked to death on his own drunken vomit?"
Apparently, he still had a fresh memory of the "drunkard beating" incident that this colleague had experienced.
"The pharyngeal mucosa was dark purple-red, the skin had erythema, and the trachea was blocked by vomit. Suffocation was indeed part of the cause of death." Nova paused and continued, "But why were there Datura seeds in the other party's vomit?"
Seeing his pharmacy colleague looking thoughtful, he added, "The specific species of Datura still needs professional identification, but excessive intake of belladonna alkaline plants or their extracts can cause extreme dryness of mouth, hallucinations, mania, and even coma and convulsions. It's clearly related to the deceased's death."
"One more thing," the black-haired young man said coldly, "Why did he come to Baita University on purpose?"
Everyone's eyes couldn't help but become a little subtle - the person in front of them didn't just happen to have an enemy with the deceased, it was possible that the other party came here deliberately for revenge.
Not long after, the vice-president, who had been away attending an event, finally returned, bringing with him the sheriff. They were able to remove Bill Fam's miserable body. A believer in the God of Light and Glory, the body was so miserable that a sheriff, who shared his faith, couldn't help but make the sign of the cross.
After a preliminary inspection of the body and the scene, the professor stood downstairs, staring at the circling crows, lost in thought. Perhaps out of awe at this man's recent "feat," everyone quietly walked around him. When everyone else had mostly left, Nova suddenly felt his wrists being gripped, held up in an oddly stiff position.
The professor came back to his senses and raised his eyes expressionlessly: "...What are you doing?"
The other man frowned, studying his hands with a seriousness that could be described as a formidable enemy. Today, the professor had changed into a pair of thin, cheap leather gloves, now covered in a sticky, disgusting substance. The other man first tried to remove them, but found himself at a loss. After a moment's deliberation, he simply summoned the wind, slicing the two weathered gloves into shreds without damaging the skin.
The professor, who was completely unable to stop him, said: "..."
"I was planning to take it back for disinfection." He frowned somewhat dissatisfiedly.
"I am willing to buy you ten better pairs." The God-favored One answered gently but firmly, taking out a handkerchief, dipping it in water, and carefully wiping his fingers.
The enemy's hands were actually quite nice-looking, with a slightly thin palm and long, bony fingers, a pair of hands suitable for holding a pen - but with a paleness that came from years of not seeing the sun, traces of chemical erosion on the fingertips, and the nails were neurotically trimmed very short, so that the gaps between the fingers were unhealthily reddish.
The other person seemed unused to being touched there, and his fingers shrank uncomfortably in the stranger's palm, but were quickly clamped by him neither lightly nor heavily, unable to move.
"Do you have the habit of biting your nails when you are nervous and anxious?" Without any warning, the God-favored One suddenly asked in a low voice.
"...What's it to you?" The man raised his eyelids and asked coldly.
Azuka once again felt resistance, vigilance, and a slight hostility stemming from self-preservation instincts from the other party, which had not appeared for a long time.
He paused, chuckled, and lowered his head to help the other person wipe his other hand. His voice became increasingly gentle: "I'm just worried that you might not be paying attention and lick this glove..."
“…No.”
The other person stared at him for a moment, as if to confirm his sincerity. Then, Azuka felt the resistance in his palm slowly relax a little.
"I can control myself." The black-haired young man said calmly.
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