Chapter 25 The nightingale is calling

"Is it the victim?" Redtress said, yawning, taking a puff of cigarette to stay awake. He didn't sleep well last night. He went to bed at eleven o'clock and was woken up at four in the morning.

Because someone found the reporter dead in the newspaper office.

And the office also caught fire, and nothing survived.

The reporter was burned to a charred body, and it was hard to tell whether it was homicide or some other cause of death.

"Did he see anyone last night?" Redtress asked.

"He went back directly in a carriage. The homeless man on the side said that he went in by himself and never came out again, and there was no one else in the newspaper office."

"Many people say that he was driven crazy by this perverted serial murder case, so he set himself on fire." The young policeman said softly, obviously full of sympathy for the deceased. Redtress patted his shoulder to comfort him.

"After all, not everyone can bear such deep darkness and evil." Redtress sighed routinely, "You were tired last night, go back to sleep first, I will sort out the relevant information of this case."

Self-immolation, Redtress sneered in his heart, this murderer, this son of a bitch, is really capable.

He must catch him with his own hands, let him show his ugly face in court, let him be judged by the world he mocked.

"I want to ask, what is the current situation of the survivors of the Jack the Ripper case." The visitor was a pale and gentle doctor. Redtress raised his eyes from the pile of case files and glanced at him. He had some impression of him. He talked to this person when he rushed back to deal with the funeral of his students and took over the case.

"Doctor Allen, right?" Redtress said, "Mary is recovering well and has been under police protection."

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked, standing up. "This fog is really annoying, cold and damp. When I went to the Mediterranean for vacation some time ago, the sunshine there was so good. I really want to never come back." He chatted casually, making the other party feel that he was quite amiable.

I don't know who made the indicator, he thought to himself, although he didn't support punching the nose of the witness who was vague, but if you can't chat, you can't be a good police officer?

"Mediterranean," Allen smiled, "I like the Mediterranean too."

"Are you going to the Mediterranean for vacation to find friends, Officer Redtress?" Allen asked, "What good friends are there?"

Redtress poured a cup of black tea and handed it to him. His muddled brain was too lazy to react, so he hummed in response.

"Excuse me, are there any Greek police officers in the police station?" Allen asked. "I seem to have heard from my people that someone wants to imitate Jack the Ripper to commit crimes in order to clear Sherlock Holmes' suspicion. Jack the Ripper mostly chooses women with Near Eastern appearance features, but he has publicly mocked the police station, so everyone in the police station should also pay attention to safety."

Redtress sat down, his eyes fixed on the ripples on the black tea, and he blew on the black tea gently. "There is a man named Telfair." Redtress said calmly.

"Oh my God," said Doctor Allen, "I seem to have seen this name. Has he received any commendation or something?"

"He has been investigating cases secretly recently. At this time, we don't know where he is. This is troublesome." Redtress said, his fingers gathered into a fist silently behind his back.

He wanted to knock the man opposite him down with a punch right now, and then shout loudly that Jack the Ripper is here.

But he couldn't. The newspaper office had been burned down. It seemed that there was crucial evidence inside. He couldn't convince the judge with a single inference, not to mention that only he, Watson and the deceased were present in this inference.

Redtress made himself look panicked.

"Thank you for your reminder," he said. "We have agreed on a designated meeting address. We will contact him as soon as possible."

"Do you need us to send more people to protect your personal safety?" Redtress smiled amiably.

"No, I have a regular schedule every day." Allen replied, "I won't waste precious police resources."

"And if I die, everyone I have seen in the past few days will be checked, and he can't run away, right?" Allen said with a smile, "I am quite respected there, and there are always people in the clinic."

Redtress held the cup tightly and watched the doctor walk out of the police station.

Then he turned around and rushed into his own office in the police station. He closed the door, and his brain was working like the sea in a storm.

"Tonight, tonight I will trap Jack the Ripper." He muttered to himself, pressing his palm tightly against his throbbing temples. "I will make him take off all his disguises and peel off his tightly-fitting human skin."

This guy, this guy is well-dressed, and is indeed a widely respected doctor in the slums. Moreover, his attitude is always friendly. Even if Redtress racked his brains, he would not suspect him.

He is too normal, with a normal appearance, normal personality, normal career, and normal interpersonal relationships. This killer hidden in the crowd was finally caught.

But Redtress did not hold a celebration party for himself in advance.

He remembered that Douglas was very good at fighting and had good grades in fighting in school. However, he had read Douglas' autopsy report, and he was killed by a person who was much stronger than him.

In the hands of that person, Douglas could not even deal with and defend himself.

Does this doctor have some unfathomable martial arts?

Or, he has come into contact with some potions that can make him extremely powerful.

In short, he is an extremely dangerous enemy. Redtress knew that Jack could check the records in his police station, so he had no way to believe that his men could play a role at that time. He could only keep them in the dark and pretend to play a real role, which was just a little bit of a role.

In the decisive battle, the only forces he could rely on were his own and Watson's. Although Dr. Watson had been on the battlefield, he still felt powerless in his heart.

He needed to make more preparations, to make some preparations to pass the information that Allen was Jack the Ripper back to the police station even if he was killed.

Redtress leaned on the table. He had to go to bed immediately and make up for his sleep. Then at night, under the moon and in the white fog, he would declare war on the most vicious killer.

But he did not feel fear.

He just felt angry.

The anger of being fooled and the anger of being hurt.

The former comes from the strong, and the latter comes from the weak.

"Miss Luna." When Watson returned to 221 Baker Street, the girl was sitting on the sofa eating a small cake. She stared at the flow of people outside the window, and she turned her head when she heard the words.

"If we fight Jack the Ripper at night, can you help us without being discovered by Inspector Redtrace?" Watson asked.

"Ah," Luna blinked, and she seemed to think about the cause and effect.

"It's not necessary." She said softly.

"Why?" Watson took off his coat in a hurry and sat opposite her.

"You can fight him without any scruples." Luna said softly, "Gold won't let him escape."

"Gold will always follow him until the noose is tightened." Luna said calmly, "and Sean has gone home."

Watson remembered Luna saying that Jack the Ripper accepted Sean's blessing. Sean has gone home, which means that Jack the Ripper should be no different from ordinary humans now, at least in terms of physical fitness.

"Speaking of which, Gold said that she was very grateful that humans gave her a feast for the eyes last night." Luna said softly, and then she patted a suitcase on the side, "So she took this out of the fire."

Watson opened the suitcase. He felt a huge emotional fluctuation at this loss and recovery, and almost went into shock on the spot.

Luna looked at him quietly, "But Gold was able to take it out because he soaked it with blood."

"So for Gold, if the reporter didn't die, she wouldn't have been able to save the box." Luna said, and seemed to think about the message Gold left her for a while, "She said that this is probably the case, and if the reporter asked him to choose between this box and this box, he would probably choose this box." "

Although I don't think it's necessarily the case." Luna added cautiously.

Watson let out a long breath. The great joy made him collapse all over, and he collapsed on the sofa. He tried to move his fingers, and found that he was really tired, and his fingertips were numb.

"That's great," he murmured to himself, "although it seems that I won unfairly."

"There is no unfairness." Luna said lightly, cutting a piece of cake, "Because he can see the information from the police station, can easily kill others, or can confuse others' memories."

"It's all because of our help." She said calmly, "So it's normal for us to give a little help to the other side now."

"You really do whatever you want." Watson couldn't help but sigh, "So do you have the concept of justice and evil?"

"Yes." Luna answered seriously.

"Then what do you think is justice and what is evil?" Watson asked.

"Everything the gods do is justice." Luna answered seriously and methodically.

Watson was a little surprised by this, "Huh?"

"Because our nature was born before existence, we appeared for a certain function, and this function is exactly what the world needs." Luna said calmly, "So everything the gods do is just."

Watson felt that this logic seemed to be really correct to a certain extent, and he didn't have the strength to refute it.

"So, the Jack we are going to deal with tonight is just a mortal Alan." Watson let out a long breath.

"Well," Luna said, "Gold thinks this is very interesting."

"Sean thinks so too." Luna said, cutting off another small piece of cake and putting it in his mouth.

"What about you?" Watson asked softly.

"What about you?" Luna looked at his face and threw the question back to him.

"He killed so many people, and in the end he just strangled his neck with a rope on the gallows, which was too easy for him." Watson said softly, "So it's normal for your friend to think this kind of thing is interesting."

"We also hope that he can feel more pain." Watson couldn't help but say.

Luna blinked, "Is this what humans call revenge?"

"But the person is already dead, and it seems meaningless to make the murderer suffer." Luna whispered.

"Revenge is never a villain's success." Watson whispered, "There is no real winner. Maybe it's just a warning to those who come later."

"The law of nature is clear. It's not that there is no revenge, but the time has not come." He said, "Maybe."

Then the young doctor couldn't help his sleepiness and lay on the sofa and fell asleep.

Luna stood up and imitated their usual behavior to find a wool blanket and put it on Watson's shoulders.

She squatted down and looked at his face, which was still wrapped in tension, anxiety and uneasiness in his sleep.

Humans are so weak, Luna thought.

But the human spirit seems to be very tenacious.

Even if there is only one breath left, they will bite the enemy's neck tightly.

Because humans are creatures whose existence precedes meaning, they can pay unexpected things for meaning and generate unexpected power. It should be like this. So

Frey said that all mortals will die, and all mortals need to serve.

Luna sat down and continued to eat her strawberry cake. They were going to catch Jack the Ripper tonight. She thought, humans will be defeated by humans.

She looked at the streets covered by white fog. We should go back to our hometown.

The girl hummed a ballad softly. Watson seemed to see the grass-covered hillside in a half-awake state. The elves in white were holding a solemn funeral for someone.

"Er fiel hier für Recht und Ehre, (He fell for justice and honor)

and sein Grab mahnt Euch alle, dir ihr weint: (His grave is remembered by the weeping ones)

Steht vereint! (Let us remain united!)"

Hearing this, Watson couldn't help but feel his eyes a little dry. Even in the confusion of sleep, he still felt something wet and warm rolling down the corner of his eyes.

Humans can be good or bad. This should be his common sense.

But why would a good person be killed by a bad person?

Perhaps this is why humans came from ancient times and created their dominance on Earth, because their strong will choose to die for the weak, because they will bravely pursue their own meaning.

Rather than just being satisfied with their own existence.

However, this does not mean despising existence itself.

"How pathetic." The blonde woman sighed softly, "Since he thinks he is above instinct and above humans, why did he choose to kill when he was in danger of being exposed?"

"Shouldn't this game end with him being found, so that it can be called a real game?" Gold said softly, "But after the game, everyone will hug and wave, and agree to meet tomorrow."

"But if he is found, he will probably be killed." Luna said softly.

"That's right." Gold smiled, "So he doesn't understand the game, nor does he understand humans. In short, it's so sad that it makes people want to laugh and want to put on an absurd show for him."

Luna smiled, "Gold always likes these things."

"I ate waffles here last time." She raised her hand and pointed to the sign of a tavern. Gold moved his nose, "It seems that the waffles here are not top-notch."

"His pianist said that mediocre people also have their uses among humans, and most things in the world are done by mediocre people." Luna explained seriously, "So I think he is right. If I don't want to go too far, there are sweet waffles here too."

Gold looked at Luna's face, and after a while, she laughed softly.

"Humans are interesting, aren't they, Luna?" she asked.

"I don't know." Luna replied, "They are very complex and difficult."

"I don't know why you find such complex things interesting." Luna turned her head slightly and exhaled, "I find it difficult."

"Everyone is like a closed book, or a complex crossword puzzle." She raised her hand and gestured in the air, "In short, it is very difficult."

"Then are you going to give up?" Gold asked.

"No." Luna shook her head, "We should return home, we must return home."

Gold turned her head and looked straight ahead on the road. Although she was blocked by the thick white fog and could not see anything, her eyes were still firm and steady, "We will definitely go home."

"Return to the place where we were born, return to the utopia of eternal spring." She said firmly.

Luna nodded, "We will go back, just like humans will save themselves, right?"

Gold laughed, "You are unexpectedly perceptive."

"That's right," she quietly stretched out a hand, as if pointing at a passerby, or as if pointing at nothing, "Only humans can save themselves, and it has always been like this."

"All we can offer is a miracle," Gold said softly, "Like a miracle where someone is killed and his blood accidentally prevents the thing he wants to protect the most from being ignited." "

That is, if you keep thinking about it, there will be a response." She said softly, "If humans keep trying and have the courage to move forward, the world will stand on their side." "

So miracles are born." Gold said lightly.

Luna was silent for a while.

"So miracles all require blood?" she asked.

"Miracles are always nurtured by countless blood and tears." Gold said, "This is a voluntary exchange of mankind."

"Behind every miracle or hero is this." Gold said, "Just like I can never get rid of Lilith."

"I did tell Lilith not to continue to pester you." Luna said earnestly.

Gold laughed, "How is that possible?"

"It's really hard to separate us, Luna." She smiled, "But tonight is not her home court."

"Speaking of which, Luna hasn't seen the feast of the King of Despair yet." Gold said with a smile, she raised one hand and snapped her fingers.

"Nightingale."

"It's starting to sing."

The nightingale was singing, and Allen Cosmins did hear the sound of the nightingale, "Do you hear the nightingale singing?" He couldn't help asking the patient in front of him, who was an old woman.

She slapped her ears. "I have lost my hearing since ten years ago unless I speak loudly. Dr. Allen, do you have any way to cure my ears?"

"It's caused by aging. I really can't do anything about it." Allen said politely, and then he patiently helped the old woman out of the clinic, and even kindly sent her home.

He has always been a well-known good man in this neighborhood, completely different from the annoying weirdo Sherlock Holmes.

He did hear the nightingale.

But who reminded him that he would hear the nightingale? He suddenly realized this problem, but the person was hazy and he couldn't remember it no matter what. It was like a translucent curtain was lowered in his brain, making him completely unable to remember the person's face and all related information.

He only remembered a voice, but he couldn't even tell whether it was a man or a woman, nor could he tell the age.

It said, did you hear it, the nightingale is calling.

What does the nightingale mean? What kind of ghost story is this? He couldn't help thinking, but it doesn't matter. A nightingale can't save the life of a huge human from his hands.

The nightingale is just a small grey bird.

However, he remembered the fairy tale of Hans Christian Andersen, where the nightingale successfully drove away the god of death.

The principle is simple, because love always lives longer than death