I sat on the chair in the police station and looked at the two men in black and white checkered uniforms. Their mouths were opening and closing as if they were saying something.
The one on the left had a cold expression as if he had seen too much misfortune. The one on the right was still young and inexperienced with a hint of pity in his eyes.
I didn't feel any pain, nor did I regret stabbing myself. At that moment, I even felt like I had been liberated. The warm blood that sprayed on my body was like redemption from God.
I only regretted chasing after money when I was young and sacrificing my dignity, body, and freedom.
In the past few days at the police station, I had found enough peace to think deeply about this problem. I had thought about it more thoroughly than I had in many years:
My weak will and immature mind were the root cause of my mistake, but it didn't mean that they were the whole reason.
Ever since I was a child, the education I received told me that hard work and struggle were for a big house, floor-to-ceiling windows with plenty of light, more than three servants, a garden of my own, silver-inlaid or gold-inlaid tableware, a dinner party filled with delicious food, a dance party resounding with melodious music, and so on and so forth.
The newspapers and magazines I read told me over and over again that only those with enough dignity could be called middle class, that they were the pillars of the kingdom, that they were refined, excellent, not vulgar, had character, and had compassion and knowledge at the same time.
At the same time, they also told me what it meant to be presentable. Presentable meant wearing a beautiful dress, matching clothes for different occasions, expensive skincare products, makeup, exquisite and fashionable women's handbags, a concert, afternoon tea, and a party filled with style.
And all of this was converted into gold pounds, gold pounds, and gold pounds.
I have to admit that the pursuit of a better life is everyone's instinct, but when a girl is told that by every aspect she comes into contact with, when the mainstream of society is dignity, refinement, and elegance, it's hard for her not to be affected.
I don't know what this phenomenon is called, but I know that if all of this doesn't change, tragedies like mine will continue to appear, and there will be more and more.
And at that time, there will definitely be people cursing:
"Look, these gold-digging girls, they sold their souls!"
Subconsciously, I turned to look outside the window and saw the beautiful and prosperous World. I saw the red blood flowing in this World.
"Miss Tracey, are you listening to us?" A voice pulled me back from my thoughts. It was the slightly immature police officer.
I smiled at him, not telling him that I had been thinking about something philosophical.
It was ridiculous that a gold-digger who sold her soul would actually think about such a boring thing when being questioned by a police officer.
The policeman nodded and said to me,
"Miss Trish, you'll be going to court next. We'll arrange a lawyer for you.
"I'm sorry, we didn't keep that witness, only his confession, which is quite disadvantageous to you."
"It's okay," I told him calmly.
I will try my best to defend myself and repent for the crimes I have committed. I only hope that I can have a new life in the future.
I thought for a moment and smirked. I said to the two police officers, "Yes, sir.
"While I'm waiting for the trial, can you help me borrow a few books from the library?
"Hmm, 'Phenomena of Social Thought and Education' …"
At that moment, I saw that the two police officers were a little dazed and a little surprised.
…
Sitting at the bottom of the long, mottled table, I heard Miss Judgment talking about Utopia.
After she finished, I looked around and said in a hoarse voice, "I'm sorry.
"This is a ritual."
As expected, I saw Miss Judgment's gaze freeze. I felt Mr. The Hanging Man and Miss Justice look over with a hint of speculation.
At that moment, I seemed to be able to guess what they were thinking.
They would definitely suspect that this was the World's German Sparrow's Sequence 1 ritual, and they had long used the Tarot's internal communications to know that with a Sequence 0 true god, it was impossible for a Sequence 1 to exist.
I had already prepared an explanation for this matter, which was to have them think about the ancient God of the Sun and his Eight Archangel Kings.
Unfortunately, no one raised any questions. Perhaps they had already made the connection to the Kings of Angels, or perhaps they believed that the ritual involved in Utopia was mainly to help Mr. Fool further recover.
…
I looked at the beautiful lady who was in a daze and deliberated for a moment.
I asked, "Miss Tracey, where do your parents live?"
"They've already passed away …" the beautiful lady whose soul no longer belonged here replied in an ethereal voice.
I lowered my head to record it.
"Do you have any other relatives?"
The lady turned her head to look out the window and casually replied,
"No …"
I exchanged looks with my colleague and raised my voice.
"Miss Tracey, are you listening to us?"
The lady opposite me retracted her gaze and smiled at me.
I didn't know what she was thinking, but she was as quiet as a flower blooming alone at night.
This analogy came from a book of poems. My brother told me that reading poems made me more charming.
Of course, up to now, that book of poems had only brought me mockery. My colleagues at the police station thought that it was worthless.
After telling the lady opposite me about the matter of the court, I saw her reveal a faint smile and ask us to help her borrow a few books from the library that I found difficult to understand from the names.
That smile, combined with the names of the books, had an indescribable beauty.
After sending Miss Tracey back to the temporary detention room, I packed up the case materials and prepared to visit the lawyer. This was something I had long since arranged.
…
I leaned back in my chair and listened to the fellow, Emlyn, describe his dream.
After Father Utravsky's "appraisal," this dream didn't originate from the divine revelation of Earth Mother.
This makes one cast suspicious gazes at the moon, at the Mother Goddess of Depravity, and then suffer corruption … I was nearly amused by my own thoughts.
As a senior Seer, a master at interpreting dreams, I didn't act humble and frankly spoke of my understanding.
"There are three possibilities. The first is that this dream is luring you to seek something or pursue something, and to a certain extent, it's interfering with your fate. The second is that this dream hopes that you will deeply interpret it and understand it. Then, it will use this to slowly and imperceptibly corrupt you. The third is that you're too worried about the Goddess of Beauty, so you dream of the most terrifying scene.
"There's no need to mention the third possibility. The way to deal with the first two possibilities is the same. Don't think about it, don't probe it, and don't leave Baekeland if there's no need."
With that said, I saw Emlyn nod without any hesitation.
I knew that this was the way he liked to handle things.
…
"A murder case?" I browsed through the case information in my hand and used the change in my voice to express my doubt. "You should hire a lawyer."
I was only a solicitor. Strictly speaking, I didn't have the right to appear in court.
Of course, this was the strictest case. In reality, it didn't exist. As long as the case wasn't big and didn't involve the criminal courts, solicitors could appear in court to provide help.
The policeman in the black-and-white checkered uniform smiled and said, "Utopia is only a small city.
There's no lawyer in Utopia, so we have to hire one elsewhere.
"Besides, this case is being prosecuted for excessive self-defense. The sentence is very short, and the amount involved is less than 400 pounds. We can first place it in the magistrate's court for trial. Once it's determined that excessive self-defense isn't established, it can be transferred to the criminal courts."
You know a lot. You want to become a lawyer? However, normally speaking, a murder case that is prosecuted for excessive self-defense has to be handed over to the criminal courts. Heh heh, this is the benefit of a small city. Many things aren't that strict … I thought for a moment and tersely acknowledged.
"Then I'll try to plead not guilty.
"Also, please arrange a time for me to meet Miss Tracey as soon as possible."
After flipping through the information, I already had quite a bit of confidence in this case. The biggest problem now was whether Miss Tracey's image could garner sympathy.
Yes, although my solicitor's license was forged elsewhere, it doesn't negate my professionalism. It just so happened that I made a mistake during the exam.
…
Bansy? Verdu wants to go to Bansy? I sat at the bottom of the long, mottled table and looked at The Hanging Man, who was reporting to Mr. Fool. I was somewhat puzzled by the development of the matter.
Verdu, who is obsessed with mysticism and wants to use this to save Mr. Door, does have a certain reason to explore the abandoned Bansy Harbor. Furthermore, he has lived in Bayam for about half a year, so it's normal for him to come into contact with Bansy's information … The main problem is that the surveillance footage of The Hanging Man didn't provide any corresponding signs, making Verdu's actions appear a little abrupt … I have to raise the attention on this matter … I nodded inwardly and heard Mr. Fool instruct:
"Continue monitoring."
…
I played the lyre by the fountain in the municipal square. I used a knife and fork to cut the steak. I was in the cathedral, explaining the teachings of the Goddess to the believers. I extended my right hand and left the carriage with the help of a gentleman. I received the new dress I had been looking forward to for a long time and couldn't wait to change into it. I strode forward with four legs and was chased by a child. I laughed loudly and stumbled as I played with a dog …
Suddenly, we jolted and looked up at the sky. We saw illusory and fine lines emerge from our bodies and extend to an infinite height above the grayish-white fog. It extended into an ancient palace and landed in the hands of a tall figure shrouded in fog.
During this period of time, Klein's state had been very strange. It was as if he had completely split into thousands of living beings. Each avatar had its own will, thoughts, cognition, and destiny.
However, above the many consciousnesses, there was a main consciousness that occupied a dominant position. It constantly suffered all kinds of impacts, as though it would be assimilated by the sea of consciousness that it had formed at any moment. However, it ultimately persisted, allowing Klein to maintain a certain level of lucidity.
His main body had been lying underground in Saint Arianna Cathedral. His consciousness would occasionally rise to Sefirah Castle and sink into his body.
The various scenes that the marionettes experienced constantly flashed in his mind, like a dream formed from a large number of fragments.
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