Finally, the middle-aged man with gray hair took a sip of tea, smiled and sighed:

"Actually, this is much better than what I had before, and better than many people here, such as..."

He pointed outside the window at the homeless people huddled in a corner.

Klein and Mike looked over and saw a dirty place that provided shelter from the wind, with many homeless people lying on the ground, curled up. There were men and women, old and young.

In this cold late autumn, they may not be able to wake up again.

At this time, Klein noticed an old lady in her sixties standing on the street. Her dress was old and ragged, but relatively neat, and her hair was neatly trimmed.

The gray-haired old lady had the distressed look common among homeless people on her face, but she still insisted on not joining the crowd. Instead, she walked slowly on the side of the road, looking numbly and deeply into the cafe from time to time.

"She's a poor person too." The former tramp who had eaten the remaining black bread also noticed the old lady and sighed a few times, "It was said that she used to live a good life. Her husband was a grain merchant and she had a very energetic child. Unfortunately, she went bankrupt and her husband and child died not long after. She's different from us, really. You can tell at a glance... Alas, she probably won't be able to hold on for much longer unless she can go to the workhouse every time."

As he listened, Mike's expression changed from calm to gloomy. He slowly exhaled and said:

"I want to interview her. Can you invite her for me? She can eat and drink anything she wants here."

The middle-aged man did not find this request strange. He just glanced at Klein and Mike respectively, as if to say, you are indeed colleagues.

I think she would be happy with it." He took a sip of tea, stood up and walked out of the greasy cafe.

Not long after, the old lady in an old but neat dress followed him in. Her pale face faded a little under the warmth of the cafe.

She kept shivering, as if trying to dissipate the coldness in her body bit by bit and absorb the relatively high temperature in the cafe. Even after sitting on the chair, it took her more than a minute to really relax.

"You can order whatever you want. This is the payment for the interview." Klein said for Mike.

After Mike nodded, the old lady reservedly ordered toast, cheap butter and coffee, then smiled and said:

"I heard that you can't eat greasy food when you haven't had food for a long time."

Very polite and self-controlled, not like a wanderer at all... Klein sighed silently.

Before the food was served, Mike casually asked:

“Can you talk about how you became a homeless person?”

The old lady showed a look of reminiscence and said with a bitter smile:

"My husband is a grain merchant, mainly buying all kinds of grain from domestic farmers. Since the repeal of the Corn Laws, we have quickly gone bankrupt."

"He was already quite old, and was devastated by this incident. His body quickly collapsed, and he died not long after."

"My son, a fine young man who had been following his father in business, could not take the blow and jumped into the Tussock River on a moonless night."

"His first suicide attempt failed and he was taken to the magistrates' court, where the police and judge were very impatient and felt he was wasting their time."

"If you want to commit suicide, please do it quietly and successfully, and don't bother us... Well, that's what they wanted to say, but they thought it was too direct."

"My child was put in prison, and not long after, he attempted suicide for the second time, and succeeded."

The old lady spoke very calmly, as if it had never happened to her.

But for some reason, Klein felt a strong sense of sadness.

There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart... He suddenly remembered this sentence he had heard in his previous life.

In this world, suicide is not only prohibited by all major churches, but is also subject to legal punishment.

As for the reason, Klein knew it very well. First, many suicide victims choose to jump into the river. If they are not discovered in time, there is a certain probability that they will become water ghosts. Secondly, the emotions of suicide victims are often not right. In this state, ending their own lives is tantamount to "sacrifice", which may resonate with some strange and terrifying existence.

As a result, their bodies or certain objects around them after death will carry strange curses and harm others.

This is probably how the "doomed puppet" behind the Chanis Gate in Tingen came about.

Therefore, the seven major orthodox churches all prohibit their believers from committing suicide based on their own doctrines, and the royal family also promoted corresponding legislation.

Of course, this seemed a little ridiculous to Klein. Would a person who wanted to commit suicide be afraid of the law and punishment?

Mike was taking notes and was about to say something when the owner of the cafe had already brought the food over.

"Fill your stomach first, and we'll talk later." Mike pointed at the toast.

"Okay." The old lady ate her food in small bites, appearing very well-educated.

She didn't order much and finished her meal quickly.

After reluctantly drinking the last sip of coffee, she rubbed her forehead and pleaded:

"Can you let me get some sleep before we talk? It's too cold outside."

"No problem," Mike replied without hesitation.

The old lady thanked him several times with gratitude, sat down on the chair, and curled up to fall asleep.

Mike looked at the middle-aged man next to him and said:

"You seem very familiar with this place? I would like to ask you to be our guide. How about 3 soli a day? Sorry, I forgot to ask your name."

The middle-aged man shook his head quickly and said:

"No, no, no, that's too much. I work at the dock and often only earn 1 soli a day."

"Just call me Old Kohler."

"Well, two soli a day, that's what you deserve." Mike made the final decision.

After witnessing this strange bargaining, Klein snorted some snot into the paper and planned to refill his coffee, but suddenly he realized something was wrong and turned his head to look at the old lady who was curled up in a chair and sleeping.

Her face, which had been rosy from drinking coffee, turned pale again, and the color of her aura and emotions disappeared.

“…” Klein stood up and subconsciously reached out to feel the old lady’s breath.

In the surprised eyes of Mike and Kohler, he said solemnly:

"She's dead."

Mike opened his mouth but couldn't say anything. Khloe tapped his chest three times and smiled bitterly:

"I knew she wouldn't last long..."

“In the East End, this happens every day.”

"At least she had a full stomach and died in a warm place. I hope, haha, I hope I can be like that in the future."

Klein was silent for a moment and said:

"Khloe, go get the police."

"Okay." Kohler tapped his chest three times again and ran out of the cafe.

The boss glanced over here but didn't come over, as if this was not something that needed to be taken seriously.

After a while, a policeman wearing a black and white checkered uniform, carrying a baton and a pistol, entered the cafe.

He looked at the dead old lady, asked Mike and Klein a few questions, and then waved his hand and said:

"It's okay. Just wait for me to find someone to take the body away and you can leave."

"That's it?" Mike asked in surprise.

He was obviously not very familiar with the East End.

The policeman snorted:

"There are many such incidents in the East District every day!"

He rolled his eyes and looked at Klein and Mike:

"You don't look like you're from here. What's your name? What's your identity?"

Mike took out his press card, and Klein said he was a private investigator protecting him.

The policeman immediately frowned and looked at Klein and said:

"I suspect you are illegally carrying a gun!"

"I'm going to search your personal belongings. Please cooperate, otherwise it will be considered resisting arrest!"

Mike suddenly became worried because he knew that private investigators often illegally carried guns.

Klein spread his hands expressionlessly and said:

"OK."

He allowed the policeman to search him, but the policeman found nothing.

After the old lady's body was taken away and the disappointed police left, Mike clenched his fist and pounded the table:

"A living person died here, and he only wanted to investigate illegal gun possession!"

Having said this, Mike turned his head to look at Klein and asked doubtfully:

"You didn't have a gun?"

Klein shook his head, pulled out the gun bag and revolver from under the table, and said calmly:

"As a detective, I have a lot of experience with this."

As a "magician", he can put a gun in front of the opponent's eyes without making the opponent notice it.

Moreover, since he did not buy ordinary bullets, the extraordinary bullets were temporarily thrown above the gray fog. His revolver was currently empty. However, this did not prevent him from shooting with the pistol. He only needed to simulate a "bang" with his mouth when pulling the trigger.

Seeing this, Old Kohler next to him whispered:

"So you're a detective."

Klein pointed at Mike and explained casually:

"I was also commissioned by this gentleman last time."

Mike sat there without refutation. After a moment of silence, he said:

"Although I have investigated gangs and witnessed the miserable lives of some prostitutes, I don't know much about the situation in the East District. Can you help me take a look at this investigation and interview plan to see if there are any problems."

As he spoke, he took out a few pieces of paper from his inside pocket and spread them out on the table in the cafe.

Klein glanced at it and said:

"Interviews with East End residents of different age groups?"

"This is too much trouble. I think it can be divided according to location, better apartments, apartments with five or six people in one room, sheltered corners of the street, benches in the park, as well as bars and poorhouses."

“Also, you can divide it into working time and rest time.”

Mike listened carefully and nodded:

"Good idea, what do you think, Kohler?"

Old Kohler pinched his nose and said:

"I don't know the words...but I think what Mr. Detective said is fine."

Mike thought about it, modified his plan, and then said:

"Then let's go to a nearby apartment building and pick one at random."