Mr. Zhongli, we can't slack off anymore!

I was originally just a corpse collector, but it seems I'll soon have to switch careers to become a forensic pathologist.

The traveler sighed, put on the gloves used by the corpse collectors at the Hall of Rebirth, opened the body bag to reveal the entire corpse, and began an autopsy based on experience rather than professional expertise.

Of course, the traveler had already obtained the consent of Navilette and Linni.

The flashlight shone a cold white light from directly above, making the originally handsome young man's face appear even paler.

The traveler stood by the platform, with Villette's silent gaze behind him and Linnie's slightly tense breathing. Linnie stood a little further away, her expression as calm as ever, but her eyes blinked more slowly than usual, as if she were suppressing something.

The traveler's attention was entirely focused on the cold skin beneath his fingertips.

She gently pressed her neck. Through the thin gloves, she could feel a distinct coolness upon contact. It was the last warmth the body returned to the world after life had completely departed.

The skin has lost the elasticity that a living person should have; when the fingertip sinks in, there is no rebound force, only the kind of submission unique to inanimate objects.

The closed eyes, the brows and eyes that may have been secretly gazed upon by many girls, are now tinged with a bluish-purple hue, a clear mark left by the cessation of blood flow.

Because of the supine position, blood settles to the back and back of the head due to gravity, forming clearly defined purplish-red livor mortis. The traveler gently pressed one spot; the livor mortis showed no signs of fading, remaining congealed beneath the skin.

If the time of death exceeds 24 hours, the livor mortis becomes fixed and no longer fades due to external pressure.

She squeezed Béranger's fingers.

My knuckles are stiff as wood, as if locked in a half-bent arc by some invisible force. I can't straighten them, nor can I bend them any further.

That is a characteristic sign of the most severe stage of rigor mortis, where the muscles throughout the body reach maximum stiffness 24 hours after death.

24 hours.

The security detail's estimate of the time of death was remarkably accurate.

The traveler straightened up and moved his gaze upwards from his neck.

There were dried bloodstains in the nasal cavity, which extended in thin lines from the edge of the nostrils to the philtrum.

There was also blood in the ear canal, a dark brown color, as if it had seeped from deeper inside.

Both eyes had obvious purplish-red bruising around the eyelids, and the soft tissue inside the eye sockets was swollen, pushing the eyeballs slightly outward, making those originally beautiful eyes appear somewhat...protruding.

She gently lifted the deceased's head and probed the occipital region with her fingers.

The moment she felt the touch, she paused for half a second.

There was a large patch of purplish-red bruising behind his ear, covering almost the entire lower half of the back of his head. And deeper down, one could vaguely feel an abnormal indentation in the bone under their fingertips—irreversible damage left by a blunt force trauma.

The skull is concave.

The fatal wound is here.

A blunt object. A single strike. Extremely powerful, hitting precisely below the occipital bone. There is almost no room for struggle; the victim may even lose consciousness completely within seconds of being struck.

In addition, the traveler carefully examined every inch of the corpse's exposed skin. Arms, palms, sides of the neck, collarbone... there were no other wounds.

There were no signs of defensive injuries, no signs of grappling, and no marks of binding or strangulation.

In other words, Béranger was killed from behind without any warning.

The traveler gently placed the deceased's head back in its original position, his movements even lighter than before, a gesture of respect and compassion from the officiant.

Then she took off her gloves, got up, walked to the trash can in the corner, and threw them in accurately.

The room was completely silent.

Navelette remained standing to her side and slightly behind, his gaze shifting from the corpse to the traveler. He spoke without a word, yet his gaze carried an unspoken question.

Linni stood on the other side of the inspection table, and a barely perceptible crack appeared on his ever-present, effortless magician's mask.

His knuckles were slightly white, marks left from gripping something tightly.

Lynette remained standing in the shadows, as quiet as a life-sized, exquisite doll.

"Mr. Linni."

The traveler began to seek answers to his questions one by one.

"You two seem to be on good terms, don't you? Can you tell me about him?"

Linni's eyelashes fluttered slightly. He didn't answer immediately, but instead turned his head slightly, looking at the traveler with a sense of re-examination.

“Before this…” His voice was lower than usual, lacking some of his usual theatrical intonation: “How did you know this, Miss Traveler?”

He raised his hand and gently rubbed his chin with his knuckles.

"Because of a detail. You mentioned before that you and he checked the magic props in person before the performance to make sure they were in order."

"Such important magic props should usually be checked by the magician himself or by his most trusted assistant before going on stage. This is because any small mistake could turn a carefully prepared performance into a stage accident, or even lead to more serious consequences."

The traveler explained slowly.

“If the situation on stage were to occur, and the body were found in the magic box, the impact on your reputation, the reputation of the magic troupe, and even on any subsequent actions the Fools would take in Fontainebleau would be immeasurable. Yet you entrusted him with the final inspection with complete confidence.”

"This trust cannot be based solely on work ability. It is highly likely that it is mixed with other emotional factors."

Linni was silent for a few seconds, then chuckled softly. That smile was different from his usual charming smile on stage; perhaps it was a genuine expression of letting his guard down.

"Yes."

His voice was softer than before.

"He was like an older brother to us."

“Berlanger… he has no talent for missions. He knows that himself.” Linni’s gaze fell on the cold body on the examination table. “He can’t fight, he can’t stealth, he doesn’t have any of those skills that we… can’t talk about openly. But he does provide us with irreplaceable support in other ways.”

"In our eyes, he has many virtues. For example, his caution and sense of responsibility. He can often spot details that we don't even notice, such as a very fine crack on a magic prop, a barely visible wear mark on a rope, or an extra piece of junk in the backstage corridor that doesn't belong to anyone..."

"Therefore, I can confidently entrust him with the final inspection."

After the traveler listened, the wrinkles between her brows deepened, as if something amiss was gradually forming in her mind.

"That's even stranger."

"They're obviously lying!"

A voice, deliberately lowered but still carrying obvious emotion, came from beside me.

The traveler turned her head and saw that Funina had somehow gotten close to her. Her delicate face was full of the certainty that "I told you so," and her heterochromatic eyes were shining as she looked at her, waiting for confirmation that "you have finally discovered the truth."

The traveler looked at her, and a complex emotion welled up in his heart that was hard to describe.

A subtle smile unconsciously curved the corners of her lips. That smile carried a mixture of helplessness and acceptance.

I really want to reach out and touch that fluffy head.

She simply gave her a "trust me" look and looked back at Linnie.

The reason is simple: if Linni really wanted to kill Béranger, he wouldn't have allowed him to touch any magic props.

"Yesterday. Around the same time today, what caused you to be briefly separated?" the traveler asked again.

Linni was taken aback.

“Yesterday…at this time…” His gaze shifted slightly upward, as if replaying the scene from the previous day in his mind: “It was almost exactly the time when the final rehearsal ended.”

“After the rehearsal,” Linette’s voice suddenly broke in, she stood in the shadows: “After the rehearsal, as we left the opera house, I saw Béranger turn back alone. He said he was going to check the zipline system in the secret passage. It’s his habit—he checks it separately before and after every performance.”

A person inspects the zipline.

He happened to be alone.

If Béranger had been murdered back then...

"What if we meet again?"

She asked questions very quickly, almost subconsciously.

"Before dinner. Around seven o'clock in the evening. He came back and had dinner with us. After dinner, he went back to his room to rest and didn't go out again. The next morning... we went straight to the opera house to prepare for our performance." Linni seemed to have anticipated the traveler's question and answered quickly.

七点。

The traveler calculates in his mind.

The rehearsal ended around 4 or 5 p.m. There was a two-hour gap between then and 7 p.m.

If Béranger was murdered while inspecting the zipline, the killer could have used that time to dispose of the body, and then have a "person" with his face appear before Linni and the others precisely at seven o'clock.

Let's have dinner together.

Let's discuss the performance for the next day.

We stayed together in the magic troupe's rest area until late at night.

The next day, they boarded the carriage together, arrived at the opera house together, walked through the backstage corridor together, and stayed together until just before the performance began, when the "person" finally "disappeared," and the real Béranger's body appeared in the corridor.

The traveler suddenly felt a chill rise from his back.

She slowly raised her head and looked at Linni. In his eyes, something similar finally appeared—an uncontrollable instinctive reaction after truly beginning to understand a terrible truth.

"That is to say..."

The traveler's voice was very soft, almost swallowed up by the silence of the room.

“Another person who looks exactly like Béranger, has an almost identical personality, and is indistinguishable even to you, his close companions.”

"I've been with you all since 7 p.m. last night until today before our performance."