Quick Travel: Save the poor little villain

The meeting with Sheriff Bruce and John Olga ended in a slightly strange atmosphere.

Bruce felt that bringing in key figures would be very helpful to the progress of the case, but Alric did not give any further comments and politely sent them out the door.

Very polite, Bruce thought about it and unilaterally announced that this was Alrick's sign of weakness to him!

After seeing off the guests, the cylindrical room became quiet.

Jinchen stood by the window and watched John's carriage disappear at the end of the street.

They didn't go anywhere else. They went to the desk, picked up the notes they had made before, looked through them, and sorted out the clues again.

The sky gradually darkened in the evening.

"I need to go out tonight." Jinchen said suddenly.

Alric looked up from his notes and nodded without interfering.

"Be safe," he added. "Do you need any help?"

"No need," Jinchen turned around and gently hugged Alric, "It's just a personal matter. I'll be back soon."

Alric didn't ask any more questions and lowered his head again.

He gave Cyril enough space as long as it didn't interfere with the case.

Night completely enveloped Book Harbor.

Jinchen came alone to a rather remote house.

The house has dark red brick walls, the lights shining through the windows are dim, and many sturdy men can be vaguely seen guarding the door.

Jinchen went around to the side and back of the building, and using the drainage pipes and decorative protrusions, he nimbly climbed up to a window on the second floor that was not completely closed.

The room was filled with a sickeningly strong smell: the sweet aroma of burnt opium, cheap cigarettes, and the pungent scent of perfume.

Dizzying turbidity.

Jinchen thought for a few seconds and made a decision between turning around and leaving.

【? 】

Zero Gun Gun was just in time, [Host can block his sense of smell first! ]

Ok.

In the room, John Olga was sunk deep into the large sofa in the middle of the room, his legs casually resting on the coffee table.

He closed his eyes, his expression was almost intoxicated trance, and he was greedily but painfully inhaling the little bit of tobacco paste left in the pipe under the light of a small glass lamp.

Several boxes of opium paste, pipes, and other smoking tools were scattered on the table beside him.

The scene was in a mess.

He was completely immersed in the illusory pleasure until he heard very light footsteps approaching.

John opened his eyes hazily and looked towards the shadows of the room with blurry vision.

In a trance, he saw a figure that could never appear here.

Vincent stood quietly at the intersection of light and shadow. His face was unclear, but his expression seemed to be shrouded in deep and inextricable sadness.

“Vincent…?”

John's voice was so hoarse that it was almost inaudible, trembling with disbelief and cautious for fear of disturbing the phantom.

"Is... is it you? You came back to see me?"

Vincent didn't answer, but just looked at him quietly. His eyes, which seemed to be filled with sadness in the shadows, made John's heart twitch violently.

He hurriedly lowered his head again and took a deep puff of the remaining smoke in the pipe, trying to make this beautiful illusion last longer.

Only in hallucinations could he see him again.

"Vincent..." John's voice was filled with tears, immersed in the false comfort brought by opium and great sorrow.

"You look at me like that...are you doubting...that I killed you?"

He shook his head vigorously, and the pipe slipped from his weak hands.

"No... not me, Vincent, my dear brother... I thought about it, I really thought about it... it would be best if you disappeared without a trace left... but I can't do it... I can't do it..."

John's words began to become confused, and he muttered nervously, "You are so mean... It's not enough for you to have Eleanor... Why do you need Joshua too? Why... Why can't it be me?"

He didn't seem to expect an answer, but rather immersed in self-expression, his fingers pulling at his hair vigorously.

"Joshua! That boy who doesn't fit in with us and has an unknown background can do it? Why can't I? Vincent! You owe me this! You should have compensated me with your love! Vincent... say something! Answer me!"

Vincent, who was standing in the shadows, finally spoke softly, with a sigh, his voice vague and sad.

"elder brother."

Just this name made John burst into tears.

"Who killed me? Brother." the voice continued to ask.

"...I don't know," John answered blankly, his eyes empty.

"I really don't know...how could you have been killed...you should have died in my hands..."

Vincent: "When you came to see me that night, didn't you see the murderer?"

"I..." John was stunned.

A few seconds later, he suddenly woke up from his dream and tried to struggle to stand up, but his body, hollowed out by opium, was weak and powerless, and he fell back onto the sofa as soon as he stood up.

His eyes began to focus hard, and he looked at the figure in horror.

"You...who are you..."

John murmured hoarsely, his consciousness gradually pulling back to reality from the illusion.

"Vincent" in the shadows took a step forward, stepping into the dim light.

"Mr. John Olga," Jinchen said in a calm, even polite tone.

"It's nice to see you again. Even though it's under such... less than pleasant circumstances."

John: "..."

The intoxication and sadness on his face faded away in an instant, leaving only shock and dejected dejection.

He subconsciously glanced at the mess on the table that he had no time to clean up, his fingers trembling violently and uncontrollably, his voice dry.

"My men were guarding downstairs... How could they not notice you? No one has ever... been able to break in here like this..."

Jinchen took out a clean handkerchief from the inside pocket of his suit, folded it gently, and covered his mouth and nose to block out the uncomfortable air.

He sat down on the single sofa opposite John, his posture calm.

"I'm sorry, your people really couldn't stop me."

Jinchen said, "In fact, since our meeting this morning, I have wanted to come and talk to you alone."

He glanced at the opium paraphernalia. "You've been taking opium... Perhaps this is one of the reasons why Count Olga ultimately didn't choose you as her heir?"

Jin Chen paused for a moment, carefully observing John's twitching eyes and subtle facial expressions, before continuing slowly, "Moreover, you didn't tell the whole truth when you described it to me and Inspector Alrick."

"That latest climbing mark outside Mr. Vincent's study window...was left by you, right?"

After hearing this, John's facial muscles twisted, trying to force a polite or sarcastic smile, but he only twitched the corners of his mouth nervously.

With shaking hands, he tried to pick up the pipe again, but found that it was already empty.

Finally giving up, he suddenly rested his forehead on the back of his hand and let out a suppressed growl that grew louder and louder.

“…Yes! Yes!”

Jinchen calmly watched him vent uncontrollably.

After John's breathing subsided a little, he spoke again, "You think Master Vincent owes you something. Are you referring to love... or the inheritance of the Olga family?"