Ke-style law enforcement officers

Chapter 301 Good Morbidity

"Hey, hey, hey? Still alive?"

Milo nudged Grasso on the ground with his boot.

In his understanding, sanity is usually a setting relative to ordinary humans. To be precise, it is only when ordinary humans encounter beings like the Great Old Ones or accidentally read some evil tomes that their sanity is weakened.

Logically, this shouldn't have happened to Grasso, because he wasn't an ordinary person, hadn't read anything strange, and hadn't encountered any Ancients or Great Old Ones...

"Uh……"

Milo suddenly realized that the ability to draw dreams was something he had gleaned from Glagi.
"Damn it, I've become a Great Old One."

Oh no, it's the ruler of today.

He left the body of the man in black behind and knelt down to carefully examine Grasso's condition.

The man's breathing became increasingly shallow, but the spasms in his limbs became more and more intense.

The intense exercise, coupled with insufficient oxygen, caused her complexion to turn from pale to dark purple.

"It can't be that fragile."

Milo turned Grasso over and quickly pressed on her chest, then pinched her nose, took a deep breath, and bent down to give her artificial respiration.

……

According to Glachi's theory of dream manipulation, those undead that were drawn and transformed by it are considered its servants, and Glachio is the servant of Valrocan.

Well, these days, a master like Milo who personally performs CPR on his servants is a rare breed.

"Hu Chi... Hu Chi..."

After confirming that Grasso had resumed breathing, Milo sat back down on the floor, panting. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said with self-satisfaction, "It would be a shame not to award me a J-girl medal."

Grasso, who was lying on the ground, finally calmed down. Her limbs stopped twitching, and she slowly regained consciousness.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Milo's bloodied face.

When I turned my head again, I found myself lying sprawled out on the street.

The whole scene felt exactly like the fantasy that Milo had created in his mind before, except that there were no onlookers.

In that unbearable (and actually recently I've been reliving) fantasy, she was like a slave, pinned down and ravaged in the street, overwhelmed by a mix of grief, shame, and pain.

Grasso opened his mouth and burst into tears.

"Hey, stop fooling around. If someone hears this, they'll really think I did something to you. Get up, get up, go do what you're supposed to do."

As Milo straightened his collar, he stood up. The way he tightened the weapon pouch around his waist after standing up made him look exactly like someone who had just finished doing his job and was now abandoning his accomplice.

As luck would have it, Grasso asked a weak question, as if he'd lost his mind:
Don't you want me anymore?

"Clam?"

Milo knew Grasso had some mental issues, but he didn't realize they were this serious.

"You've completed your mission. You did a great job. I'll give you credit for that. I'll tell you the location of the Sherman family's vault and collection later. You can do whatever you want. I promise I won't investigate you."

Milo picked up the Bowie knife from the ground, wiped all the blood off the blade onto the clothes of the man in black's corpse, put it back in its leather sheath, and turned to Grasso, saying:

"Over the next few days, use your talents and skills to survive as much as possible. I'll let you know once I've taken care of all of this guy's accomplices, if you're still alive by then."

Grasso sat blankly on the ground, staring at Milo who kept babbling on and on, his eyes filled with a strange expression.

She moved her lips, tasting the unfamiliar flavor on her tongue, along with a faint metallic taste of blood, before looking at the broken skin on Milo's lips.

Only now did she realize that Milo hadn't done anything to her on the street, but had instead pulled her back from the brink of death... In an instant, that strange sense of worship and subservience began to stir within her again.

Even before Grasso realized it, a sweet smile appeared on her face, and she obediently nodded to Milo.

……

In that instant, Milo also suddenly realized the beauty of the foreign woman's face.

Of course, the main reason is that she was invisible when I saw her before, and invisibility is ineffective against Milo. When a normal man is faced with a naked person, who would be distracted to appreciate their face? Looking back now, it is indeed an absolutely exquisite face.

However, unlike Emma's pristine and aloof aura, Grasso's charm only became more captivating when she was dirty and disheveled.

Just as Milo crouched down to lift the man in black's corpse, he saw this and, as if possessed, reached out and pinched Grasso's chin, lifting her face up:
"You'd better behave and listen to me, okay? Otherwise, I'll spank you."

She let Milo hold her chin, cooperating perfectly, nodding slightly and whispering, "Mmm~"

……

Milo wasn't immune to flirting with women; in fact, it would become commonplace if he spent a short time with Yan.

But this is the first time I've ever dragged a corpse around and made suggestive remarks to someone like this.

"Damn, that's so morbid."

But I really like it.

...

Milo knew that his dream-guiding ability would drag Grasso's thoughts into the evil scenes he imagined, and that those illusions would feel absolutely real to Grasso.

So before the other person started convulsing again, Milo quickly carried the corpse of the man in black and made a run for it.

Occasionally being a pervert can be beneficial to physical and mental health, but continuing to be a pervert will cause problems.

Besides, I have important things to do.

……

The fishing operation can be considered a complete success.

Milo caught a lone man in black.

Like the others he had killed before, he was just an ordinary human skilled in killing, and naturally wouldn't survive a single round against Milo.

Milo also left no survivors.

The interrogation process can be completely eliminated.

Even an autopsy is meaningless; just bury them and let them rest in peace.

But Milo had never peered into the spirits of those who carried out the funeral procession, nor was he a clergyman; such matters required a more experienced person to handle.

Dillah Shaw is the perfect choice.

So Milo rushed off to the church on the outskirts of the city.

……

To be fair, although there is an unwritten rule between the church and the law enforcement system that you manage the living and I manage the dead, it is the first time that a law enforcement officer like Milo has ever taken the initiative to carry the body of a criminal to the church after killing him.

I imagine Dillashau's expression would be quite varied when he sees Milo carrying the corpse.

(End of this chapter)