Wendel was no stranger to murder, so he was not frightened when he heard this. He calmly looked past the woman at the door and looked into the room.

He immediately saw a man lying on the ground, his chest covered in blood.

"Are you sure he's dead?" Wendel asked calmly.

The young lady in her twenties was confused at first, then answered uncertainly:

"I don't know..."

"If there is still hope, you need to be sent to the hospital immediately." Wendel spoke as if he was talking to the patient's family, not a murderer.

The lady holding the bloody dagger subconsciously turned sideways to make way.

Wendell took a few steps forward and approached the victim.

He didn't need to squat down, just a glance and made a judgment based on various signs:

"He is indeed dead."

The 20-something woman with messy flaxen hair had no obvious change in expression. She lowered her head and looked at her toes.

"Call the police."

"What's your name?" Wendel heard hurried footsteps coming up the stairs.

Obviously, the waiter or the hotel owner heard the screams and came up to check what happened.

"Tracy..." the wild and pure lady replied in a low voice.

She immediately fell into her own world and didn't say another word.

Wendel was about to say something when the hotel owner who had checked him in rushed to the door.

"Goddess!" The elderly man couldn't help but shout after seeing the situation in the room clearly.

Wendel pressed down with his right hand, signaling the other party to calm down, and then said:

"Call the police immediately. I'll keep an eye on this place."

His temperament and his words made people trust and obey. The hotel owner didn't say anything more. He turned around and ran downstairs.

For Wendel, he came to check out what was going on just out of a gentleman's habit. He had no intention of getting involved. After all, he still had a mission to perform. But Miss Tracy's blank, detached, and forced cold attitude made him feel some sympathy. This is a normal male reaction.

He looked around and said as if he was talking to the air:

"Not all murders are subject to severe punishment. There are many different situations."

Tracy slowly raised her head and cast her gaze towards the gentleman.

There was an indescribable brilliance in her seemingly dead and confused eyes.

Wendel glanced at her bruised face:

"He beat you?"

"Yeah." The other party seemed to have some kind of authority, so Tracy, who wanted to remain silent, finally answered.

Wendel's eyes moved down to the dagger that was no longer dripping with blood:

"Did you bring it here, or did he?"

Tracy responded a little slowly:

"he."

Wendel nodded slightly and said:

"Legitimate defense is in line with the law. I can prove to the police that you were having a fierce argument beforehand and a fight broke out. Obviously, men have a natural advantage in this regard. I am not discriminating against women, but science and experience tell us so."

He paused and asked:

"What is the relationship between you two? What happened?"

Tracy's eyes moved, and she recovered a little from the state of deep autism and detachment from reality.

As if answering the policeman's question, she said with a hint of hope and sadness in her eyes:

"I am, oh, I am his mistress."

At this point, Tracy showed a self-deprecating smile on her face:

"I was an ugly woman who had lost her mind in pursuit of money. Not long after leaving grammar school, I was seduced by him and became his mistress.

“He gave me a hotel to stay in and wait for him to come or call me every week.

"I gradually lost interest in this kind of life. I became more and more depressed and inferior. I wanted to return everything to him and get rid of him completely, but he disagreed. He threatened me in various ways and would not let me leave him. Our recent encounters were spent in quarrels.

"Just now, he said that there was only one way to leave him, and that was death. Then he beat me and took out a dagger. Afterwards, you know what happened next..."

Mistress... Wendell glanced at Tracy's face with regret and regret, and said:

"The traces at the scene also preliminarily prove what happened."

He originally thought that Tracy and the deceased were husband and wife, but his relationship was even worse than he imagined.

Tracy nodded woodenly and said:

"Thanks."

She didn't say anything until the Utopia police arrived, then she broke her silence, raised her hands and accepted the handcuffs.

Wendell glanced at Tracy's slightly staggering steps and said to the police:

"Take her to get her injuries checked first, treat them, and avoid any accidents."

The police didn't know why they had to listen to the orders of a witness. Anyway, they led Tracy and Wendell to the small hospital in the town in the pouring rain without any objection.

Because Tracy was a woman, Wendell and two police officers waited in the hospital corridor and did not follow her in.

As time passed, Wendell saw a pregnant woman being rushed to the delivery room. It seemed that something had gone wrong and she needed surgery.

After a while, he heard the sound of a baby crying, which was the announcement of a new life coming into the world, and at this time, Tracy just came out.

"Do you feel it? The beauty of life." Wendell said to Tracy seriously.

Tracy listened attentively to the baby's crying mixed in with the sound of wind and rain, and her expression was obviously touched.

Her face had been wiped and looked very plain.

After a few seconds, Tracy came back to her senses, nodded to Wendel, and said again:

"Thanks."

This time, she was no longer so dull, stagnant and autistic.

Wendell secretly breathed a sigh of relief, then went to the police station and gave a statement.

After finishing what he was supposed to do, Wendel walked to the street, ready to take a cab back to the Iris Hotel.

However, in this stormy night, there was not a single pedestrian or carriage to be seen on the road.

"That's the downside of a small town. It's not convenient enough." Wendel muttered, opened the umbrella he brought with him when he went out, identified the direction, and returned to the "Iris" Hotel along the same route.

As a former "sheriff", he has a mystical memory of the routes he has traveled and is not worried about getting lost in an unfamiliar town.

At this time, the rainstorm had subsided a lot, but the strong winds were still raging. They blew in gusts, bringing rain and hitting Wendel diagonally.

This made Wendel unable to help but raise his right hand and block it between his chest and abdomen.

The confidential document was hidden inside the clothes at that location.

——Even before going to bed, Wendel would keep the documents close to his body so as not to separate them from him. For this reason, he has developed a habit. As long as he reminds himself accordingly in advance, he will not turn over after falling asleep.

Utopia is not a big town. Wendel walked for about a quarter of an hour before he saw the "Iris" Hotel. At this time, his hat and clothes were a little wet due to the strong wind.

This made him a little worried, fearing that the confidential document would be soaked by water and damaged.

Strictly speaking, I have violated the rules of the mission, but how can I not help a lady like that? This is the cultivation of a gentleman... Wendel felt a little annoyed, but he didn't regret it at all.

After entering the room, he immediately took off his coat, took out the document and placed it on the table.

The paper bag covering the documents had obvious signs of soaking, and several places seemed like they would break if touched with the slightest force.

Wendell immediately rang the bell, called the waiter, and asked him for a coal stove, hoping to raise the temperature in the room and speed up the drying of the sealed document bag.

While waiting, he found that there was no sense of quietness of late night around him. It seemed that the previous screams and the police's visit had woken up the guests here and nearby residents, and they had not yet fallen asleep again.

The howling wind weakened a lot, and Wendel heard the crying of children, the quarrel between husband and wife, the sound of violin like sawing wood, intermittent sobbing, the footsteps walking back and forth upstairs, and the discussions that were sometimes suppressed and sometimes forgotten to control.

He was not moved by this scene full of life, but just felt that they were noisy and made him unable to calm down.

After a while, the waiter brought the coal stove with charcoal added.

Wendel relaxed a little and asked casually:

"Do you know Miss Tracy?"

The thin waiter shook his head:

“No.”

He then added:

"I heard that she is indeed a local, but I have been living on a plantation outside the city until this year."

"What do you know about her?" Wendel asked subconsciously.

"She comes to our hotel three to five times a month with the dead man." The waiter suddenly sighed, "She is not happy at all."

Wendell was silent for a few seconds, sent the waiter away, and sat back at the table.

As time passed, the bag containing the confidential documents gradually dried up.

At this time, it had become relatively quiet inside and outside the hotel, with only the sound of raindrops hitting the ground and the sound of wind rustling through the windows occasionally echoing.

The energetic Wendell recalled the things that had happened before, sighed for Miss Tracy's life, picked up the file bag and turned it over.

Just at this moment, he discovered that the part of the file bag that was covered underneath was slightly damaged, and the papers inside were faintly visible.

Wendel frowned, knowing that he was going to be punished.

Of course, the punishment would not be too severe, because if the confidentiality requirements of the documents were high enough, he would not be allowed to escort them alone.

Wendel originally planned to keep the current state and show the damage to the handover party, but when he glanced at it, he saw a word on the document through the hole:

"Utopia".

Wendel's spirit tensed up, and he felt that the sound of wind and rain outside suddenly stopped.