"The doors and windows of the room were completely locked from the inside. The only object in the room, aside from the body, was an overturned stool."
"Although the deceased's hands and feet were bound, there were no signs of struggle or altercation on her body, nor were any drugs detected in her system. All evidence points to her kicking over the stool herself and completing the act of hanging."
"Therefore, we conclude that the death was suicide."
Hearing this deduction, the public exploded in anger.
"Doesn't your conscience ache for spouting such nonsense?"
"Why would someone planning to commit suicide bother binding their own hands and feet first?"
"And how could she even manage to tie herself up like that?"
"Do you think we're all fools?!"
"Uh..."
The Maison Gardiennage officer tasked with calming the crowd forced a wry smile. He didn't understand it either, but the airtight locked-room mystery at the scene, coupled with the complete absence of any signs of struggle on the deceased, could only lead to one conclusion: the victim had willingly been bound and willingly hanged herself.
If the two victims hadn't been married, the Maison Gardiennage might have suspected a connection to the serial suicide case. After all, the modern Maison Gardiennage had shattered conventional wisdom and risen from the ashes of the "Aba Aba" incident. No matter how absurd a suicide might seem, they could now accept it with unwavering composure.
However, the investigation revealed that the victims were not only married but also had a child around ten years old—a stark contrast to the victims of the serial suicide case. For now, they ruled out any connection between the two incidents.
The immediate priority was managing public sentiment. While the officers themselves could calmly accept even the most outlandish suicides, the public clearly could not.
"Please trust in the professionalism of the Maison Gardiennage," the officer pleaded. "While this conclusion may seem counterintuitive, we assure you it's entirely reasonable. The victim did indeed take her own life."
"Bullshit!"
"That woman was too short to reach the rope even while standing on the stool! Are you seriously suggesting she jumped from the stool onto the noose?"
"Please trust the Maison Gardiennage," the officer repeated. "The autopsy report confirms this sequence of events."
"I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you!"
"You're not even bothering to put on a show anymore, are you?!"
The crowd's anger only intensified with each explanation from the Maison Gardiennage officers.
Though the officers presented evidence, public trust in the force had plummeted to absolute zero. The people felt utterly betrayed, as if they were being treated like fools.
Suicide? Do they think we're idiots?!
Evidence could easily be fabricated. After all, the Maison Gardiennage served the nobles. How could they possibly produce evidence that might implicate their patrons?
Many secretly thought that after the massacre of the Fleuve Cendre residents just days ago, it was clear that few, if any, of the Maison Gardiennage officers were innocent. They were all corrupt parasites!
Just then, someone in the crowd shouted that another body had been found, and the scene fell silent.
After a brief moment of stunned confusion, the Maison Gardiennage officers quickly dispatched some men to the crime scene. They arrived at a tightly locked door and saw blood seeping from beneath the crack.
The location wasn't far from where the woman had died, intensifying the officers' growing sense of dread.
When they forced the door open, they found the same locked windows and doors, the same barren room—their worst fears were confirmed.
Then they saw a child lying on the floor, his back riddled with gunshot wounds and bleeding profusely. Clutched in his hand was the murder weapon—a gun. The officers stared in disbelief.
No way... not again?!
Though no thorough investigation had been conducted yet, a grim premonition settled in their hearts: this, too, would be ruled a suicide.
As expected, it wasn't long before the investigation results were announced, amidst the crowd's forced suppression of their anger and grief.
"The deceased was found dead in a locked room. Both the door and windows were bolted from the inside, and no one else was present when the body was discovered. There were no signs of any other person having been in the room."
"The fatal wound was a gunshot to the back. Examination revealed high-temperature burn marks on the skin, indicating the gun was fired at point-blank range. The gun found in the deceased's hand was identified as the murder weapon."
"While the investigation into how the deceased obtained the firearm is still ongoing, the case has been preliminarily classified as a suicide."
The Maison Gardiennage withheld one crucial detail: the deceased was the child of the previous two victims. But even without this information, the public's fury was undeniable.
After waiting so anxiously for such a conclusion, many in the crowd could no longer contain themselves.
"Are you even human?" one voice shouted. "He was just a child—ten years old! How could a ten-year-old child learn to use a gun? What reason would he have to take his own life? And why would he shoot himself in the back?"
"Everyone, please remain calm. This is the result of the Maison Gardiennage's investigation."
"If an eighty-year-old woman could scale walls and leap across rooftops just recently, it's perfectly reasonable for a ten-year-old child to be proficient with firearms!"
"Please, everyone, maintain your composure and trust in the Maison Gardiennage!"
"Composure? How can you ask for composure when you spew such shameless lies? You're nothing but lapdogs of the nobles! Arrest them immediately!"
"That's right! Arrest them!"
"Wait a minute! I remember Mr. Baker had another child besides his wife. Could this child be theirs?!"
The crowd froze at this suggestion, then their gazes turned even colder as they stared at the Maison Gardiennage officers.
Sensing the shift in mood, the officers considered fleeing, but they were completely surrounded by the frenzied mob, leaving them no escape.
The crowd surged forward, overpowering the officers and binding them tightly. Then, hoisting their captives onto their shoulders, they marched in a thunderous procession to the Viscount's estate, the target of the accusations, and surrounded it.
"Get out here, you damned bastard! Do you think we're all fools, swallowing your ridiculous lies?!"
"Even a Viscount dares to act so arrogantly! You nobles all deserve to be strung up on lampposts!"
Terrified, the Viscount retreated to his mansion's secret chamber, ordering his guards and Gardemek to secure the estate and protect him.
Wary of the Gardemek's combat capabilities, the crowd merely surrounded the mansion, making no move to storm it.
As more people arrived, they found the Viscount's mansion already ringed three layers deep with protesters. Unable to penetrate the throng, they shifted their focus to the estates of other nobles, surrounding them instead.
These corrupt nobles were all in league together—none of them were innocent!
"Come out, you murderers! Come out now!"
Hearing the uproar outside, Marquis Relf peered through his window to see his mansion besieged. His face darkened to the color of soot.
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