Ke Xue: I picked up a bottle of sherry at the beginning.

Without saying anything, Bai Quanyi silently took a step forward. Just as he was thinking that he had to save her no matter what, he suddenly realized that there was a woman standing next to him: Artemisia's mother, Melara Rothridge.

Artemisia, come down quickly!

Her voice sounded strange. It wasn't the tone of a mother who didn't want to worry about her daughter, but rather like a dorm supervisor scolding an unruly student. The black-clad bodyguards seemed to want to push her back, but she pushed them away and called to her daughter again:

Artemisia, didn't you hear?

Artemisia seemed to hear it. She turned toward her mother, her expression reflected in the flames, dignified yet stiff as a mask. She spoke, her voice not sounding at all like a plea for help.

Are you anxious? You deserve it!

It was a voice that mocked my mother, a voice that reveled in her panic and disarray. An intuition seized me, stopping me in my tracks. Could it be that Artemisia had started the fire?

Melanie Routledge's eyes, which should have been light blue, looked dark red to me, and the fire of delusion in them was even more fierce than the actual fire itself.

·· ·······Request flowers····· ·····

Artemisia!

She screamed hoarsely. Ryoko's hand was still clasped around Shiraizumi's left upper arm, and she watched the tragic exchange between the wealthy mother and daughter without a word.

What do you think you can do? Your body belongs to me!

She took two or three steps forward, her steps unnatural, as if being pulled by an invisible rope. Dr. Mosha gestured, and the black-clad bodyguards followed, grabbing the hostess's shoulders and wrists, and pulling her back as respectfully as possible.

How could I possibly hand this body over to you! Unfortunately, right here, I'm going to turn my body into ash. I've had enough, it's time to end it!

Artemisia laughed, her laughter echoing in the night air, even drowning out the sound of the raging fire.

.. .. 0

Not even a single cell fragment will be left for you. Serves you right!

Faced with her daughter's ridicule, the mother screamed, but it didn't sound like a wail, but rather a roar of curses.

Artemisia!

The crowd around them was frozen in terror, while the heat of the fire rose above the hotel and embers flew everywhere.

Bai Quanyi took two or three steps forward and was immediately pulled back by the firefighters with sullen faces. At some point, the fire truck finally arrived.

The flames surged, gradually engulfing the clock tower completely. The dial itself turned crimson, swallowing up the figures within.

Artemisia burned herself at the stake.

Everyone let out a mix of screams, some louder and some quieter. Among them, Melarotridge was already mute, being dragged backward by the black-clad bodyguards, followed by Dr. Mosha, dressed in a thin, dirty white coat.

Hello, ambulance, call an ambulance! If anything happens to me, it will be a loss to the country.

The hoarse, weak voice belonged to the perverted secretary-general. He collapsed on the grass, his short arms and legs struggling, as if he had twisted his ankle while trying to escape. A thin, middle-aged man, presumably his secretary, ran around, frantically shouting, "Ambulance! Ambulance!" But no one else heard him. Everyone stared blankly at the swirling vortex of flames and black smoke not far away.

The massive stream of water erupting from the bell tower seemed to have little effect on the raging fire. Qin Xuan had no choice but to intervene. In front of everyone, a flash of light and shadow passed by, saving Artemisia from death.

Genetic Factory

Last night, there were as many witnesses as one could wish for in the fire at the Mikasa-no-Mori Hotel, all of them of high social standing. The first to bear the brunt of the fire was the perverted secretary-general of the Reform Truth Party. Perhaps the most important thing to him was to avoid unnecessary trouble.

It was just the mother and daughter of the Routledge family who set the fire in anger after a quarrel.

The strangest one was Artemisia. She wouldn't answer any questions, as if she was stupid.

This is a good thing, Artemisia won’t expose Bai Quanyi’s incredible rescue scene.

So, this is the conclusion reached by the Nagano Prefectural Police.

I can't deny the superficial fact that Artemisia set herself on fire. The problem is her motive. It's not uncommon for her to lose her composure in the heat of the moment after arguing with her mother. The burned-down restaurant was actually owned by the Routledge family, and no one has demanded compensation.

The hotel had fire insurance anyway, so as long as the Routledges were left alone, everything would be fine.

Ryoko stared at Shiraizumi's face and reached for the back pocket of her shorts. She pulled a photo from her tightly closed pocket and handed it to me. To be more precise, she poked it at me. It was a portrait of a young woman.

Who do you think this is?

Artemisia Routledge.

Ryoko shook her head slowly:

This is Mela Routledge thirty years ago.

what?

Bai Quanyi looked at the photo again. It was natural for mother and daughter to resemble each other, but they were truly as close as reflections in a mirror. Artemisia was Mela thirty years ago, and Mela was Artemisia thirty years from now. Although Artemisia's age couldn't possibly have increased any further, the thought of this made me feel a little bitter, and I turned my gaze away from the photo.

It sounds a bit strange, but they really are like twins.

At this moment, I seemed to have missed my boss's expression. Ryoko's expression seemed to change several times in an instant. Attracting my gaze, she replied in a strange tone:

Yes, it's more than just similar. By the way, do you know corundum?

I know.

Corundum is a substance second only to diamond in hardness. Only the red ones are called rubies, while those of any other colors are called sapphires. They are precious gems.

The same stone, red is ruby, and other colors are sapphire, right?

That's right, is there anything you want to explain?

Ryoko seemed to be hinting at something, but Shiraizumi Yoshi couldn't understand it accurately at the time.

Computer-printed material. A quick glance reveals that the text is printed in landscape orientation.

It's from the west coast of the Pacific. It's more efficient to contact the local know-it-alls rather than messing around here. Even simple rumors are included, all gathered together and sent here.

Who is the source of the information?

A New York lawyer specializing in corporate crime and consumer protection. A Harvard Law School graduate, he earns millions annually.

Oh.

What a vivid image of an elite.

About fifteen years ago, there was an anime called Pretty Girl Detective Bridget Maggie, which is currently being shown on American cable TV and is very popular.

I promised to send him a box full of poster albums. He immediately put down his work and collected all the information in half a day.

Ryoko seemed to have forgotten about the breakfast she had prepared for me and had only finished half of it when she started looking through the information.

Um, Aubrey Wilcox.

An elite, too, right?

No, not really. Born in southern Arkansas, she moved to New York City to be a backing dancer in musicals. While she's appeared on Broadway, she's always had minor supporting roles. She's been arrested twice for drug possession.

He certainly wasn't the type of person that one of America's wealthiest families would welcome as a guest.

Artemisia truly loves him, but what is that unknown dancer thinking?

Where is he now?

Under the headstone.

It seems he died of a heart attack from a heroin overdose. The syringe was found next to the body.

Didn't Aubrey have any family?

It seems that he has parents and a younger sister, but his father died in an accident due to alcoholism, his mother committed suicide after being admitted to a mental hospital due to the blow, and there is no news about his younger sister.

The whole family is destroyed.

It's quite convenient for the Routledge family, as they don't have to deal with the aftermath.

Ryoko scoffed. Indeed, this situation was too coincidental and too convenient. However, it was merely circumstantial evidence at best. There was no physical evidence proving the Routledges were behind this, and no one would be so focused on investigating the Routledges as to delve into the matter.

You said the Routledges could still control what the newspapers said.

They control one of the four major television networks in the United States and own over 200 newspapers of all sizes nationwide. Of course, there are also less powerful independent newspapers, television stations, and some state legislatures that stubbornly persist in reporting and investigating, but in the end, the situation ends with a newspaper being acquired by the Routledge Company, a reporter being transferred abroad, or a legislator losing his seat.

One of the shining points of American society is the persistent pursuit of truth by journalists and politicians, no matter the circumstances. However, their efforts and courage are not always rewarded. Take the assassination of President JFK, for example. Despite numerous questions raised by the public, the government remained unmoved.

As an ordinary religious group, why can the Golden Angel Temple maintain a relationship with the Routledge family?

It seemed like a tradition that had been passed down through generations. The so-called "ancestor" was Mera's father, a man named Inhofe. He was superstitious about a global war at the end of the 20th century and planned to build a massive nuclear bunker in the mountains of Idaho. However, he died just before construction could begin, and the plan was abandoned.

I see. This kind of person isn't the type I want to get close to.

As a layman raised in a polytheistic society, I've always tried to avoid delving too deeply into religious issues. Sects like the Golden Angel Temple are probably a nuisance even for orthodox Christians.

Of all the people I know who are truly orthodox Christians, the only one is Inspector Abe Mario, known as the Truth. He seems to go to church every day off, busy with charity work, cleaning the streets, supporting the homeless, and so on. Women who are victims of domestic violence are especially grateful to him when they seek refuge in the church. The men who perpetrate violence are so frightened by Inspector Abe's glare that they sneak away.

Wouldn't it be terrible if a fight really broke out?

I asked him. Inspector Abe smiled like a man-eating lion and replied:

No, I can only crush apples with one hand in front of them.

Colleagues always said that Inspector Abe would sooner or later resign from his job as a police officer and become a priest.

Even so, the more Bai Quanyi listened, the more he felt that Dr. Mosha had the Routledge family in his grasp. What kind of leverage did he have?

This is where the problem lies.

Ryoko angrily picked up a piece of cantaloupe with her fork. If the cantaloupe was a living thing, it would have been dead on the spot...

Ryoko used a fork to pass the cantaloupe that had been stabbed in the vitals to her. Shiraizumi opened his mouth and ate the poor cantaloupe's remains, the sweet aroma was indescribable.

My intelligence said that the previous generation of the Routledge family, Inhofe, once provided Mosha with tens of millions of dollars to build a genetic gene factory?

Genetic factory?

Yes, that was a famous idea for a while, right? It was a plan to collect the genetics of Nobel Prize winners, boxing world champions, and others, and have them produce outstanding offspring from outstanding women.

I've heard that many women don't plan to get married but want children, especially high-quality offspring, so many people strongly support the Gene Factory Project. However, I don't know if this is related to Dr. Mosa.

It sounds stupid, but there are still people who hold such wishful thinking.

If genes determine everything, doesn't that mean the son of a hero is bound to be a hero, and the father of a genius is bound to be a genius? Then, who were the fathers of Hideyo Noguchi, Hirobumi Ito, or Ryoma Sakamoto? What about the fathers of Napoleon, Beethoven, and Einstein? A closer look reveals this is truly muddled thinking.

At a banquet, George Bernard Shaw, the British playwright who won the Nobel Prize for Literature, was introduced to a dancer who was famous for her beauty. She smiled and said to Shaw:

Mr. Shaw, wouldn't it be perfect if we got married and had children with your intelligence and my looks?

Shaw said helplessly: "It doesn't have to be that perfect. If a child were born with your intelligence and my looks, wouldn't that be a disaster for humanity?"

A famous joke. However, there are still some people who don't understand Shaw's blunt satire, and it's these people who always hold power and wealth.

Does that factory still exist?

It closed five years ago.

At this time, Lucien came over and handed Ryoko a stack of newspapers, including national and local newspapers, a total of five kinds.

Can I take a look?

There is no need to read it.

Please let me take a look. You can't read five newspapers at once.

Lying on the bed reading the newspaper, it’s such a big shelf and the newspaper was delivered by my boss himself 5.5.

Ryoko put down two newspapers while shooting out mocking needles. I opened one of them with great trepidation and looked for the Nagano Prefecture edition.

Indeed, there wasn't much widespread coverage. The only news was that a fire had broken out in one of Karuizawa's most historic and traditional hotels, resulting in one death. Beyond these facts, there were also comments from cultural figures who lamented the destruction of the historic building.

Also, the perverted secretary-general who attended the banquet was unharmed and returned to Tokyo as planned this morning to attend a party cadre meeting.

There was no mention of the subsequent handling of the incident. There was no mystery or inside story. It was obvious that they wanted to treat it as a simple accident. This is what everyone hopes for.

Lucien reported quietly to Ryoko and handed her something. Ryoko tilted her head slightly and waved the object at me:

Quan Yijun, this.

Shiraizumi was initially curious about what was in Ryoko's hand, but he quickly realized it was a handkerchief. It wasn't a towel or cotton, but a silk brand.

Is this your handkerchief?

No, I've never seen it.

If you say so, it was Artemisia who put it in your pocket.

Taking the folded handkerchief that had been handed to Shiraizumi Masaru, Ryoko unfolded it and looked at it carefully, unable to help but exclaim in surprise.

Spreading seeds all over the world

The handkerchief was densely covered with hundreds of tiny bugs. No, it only looked that way, but it was actually rows of text. These tiny letters, were they a message from Artemisia? It couldn't possibly be a love letter, but to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings from Ryoko, Qin Xuan read it out loud:

My name is Artemisia Routledge.

My mother is Mela Routledge. I don't have a father.