Ch.175012 Investigation Record – Tail Chasing (1)

“Ah, so… the police currently believe that this group called the Old Gourmet Society was targeted by people who lost family members to them. We think they likely bribed a human who worked as a bodyguard for these ogres, but we haven’t discovered anything beyond that. I can’t share information about the sole survivor. If that person wishes to contact the press, we can provide information then…”

Another murder. Another mass killing. Nine ogres dead. There was also a human corpse wearing a suit covered in ogre blood—apparently killed by the ogres.

But this wasn’t a tragedy. Those ogres were man-eaters. They mostly captured vagrants, it seemed—and the use of “mostly” suggested the survivor wasn’t a vagrant.

When cannibalism was mentioned, the ogre journalist sitting there looked like he might vomit. I placed my hand on his knee and patted it gently, which helped him calm down bit by bit.

How should I write this article? Should I focus on revenge, or on those who remain? I thought it might be good to focus on those who remain, since everyone else would write about revenge and cannibalism.

It was an incredibly sudden event. Without any warning, extra editions flooded the streets. “New York’s Cannibal Ogres Executed.” Most headlines were along those lines.

Nothing was certain yet. Most newspapers hailed the bodyguard or broker—who was found dead in a suit soaked with ogre blood, his body completely shattered by the ogres’ strength—as a hero, but there was no way to know who he really was. The police only gave a perfunctory summary of the case.

The ogre journalist sitting next to me slumped. He looked worried that all ogres would be labeled as cannibals because of a few noisy people.

After barely suppressing his gloom and nausea, the ogre journalist raised his head. He looked down at me. Only after confirming I wasn’t a fellow ogre did he sigh and speak.

“Thank you. I feel a bit better thanks to you. Ah… since you seem kind, could I have a word with you?”

Kinship was a strong and powerful thing. No matter how hard the ogres of New York tried to draw a line, people would condemn all ogres as cannibals. That’s why he seemed to be calling on me.

I was glad I’d shown kindness. It was just a habitual gesture, but it helped. I followed him out the back door of the police station. The cigarette smell was acrid—practically poison to elves.

Nevertheless, I was somewhat used to the smell of cigarettes now. Whether it was from accompanying Michael, or from becoming accustomed to the color and smell of smoke, I couldn’t say.

I walked with the ogre to a corner of the parking lot. Even just holding and fidgeting with a cigarette released the smell of tobacco, but he wasn’t the type to smoke in front of an elf.

“You probably know why I asked to talk. Since you seem like a good person, I was wondering if you could publish a statement from the New York Ogre Association. Our newspaper is essentially an ogre community paper, so even if we publish it, not many people will see it. And most readers would be ogres anyway.”

I had some affinity for ogres—I knew Paulina, who was half-ogre, and a few months ago I’d interviewed an ogre who had started a new business.

Besides, this was something I wanted to do. I was about to accept wholeheartedly when the ogre shook his head as if asking me to wait and continued speaking.

“I’m not asking for a favor without offering something in return. If you promise, I’ll give you information that other journalists don’t have. It’s about ogre customs, and it’s not insignificant.”

He seemed to think I would naturally refuse. There weren’t many favors without compensation in this city. If there were, one should be careful.

“Well… I’ll try to convince our editorial department. We’re not that big of a newspaper anyway, so I can speak directly with the editor-in-chief. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

The ogre journalist’s face brightened at my words. He crouched in front of me and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, making sure others couldn’t hear. It was enough for my elven hearing, though.

“That human broker—he probably didn’t betray them. We ogres share meals with people we work with. It’s common practice… but what do you think those Old Gourmet Society guys fed him at their first meal? After eating that, would a human really betray them just for money?”

Come to think of it, there had been a lavish meal when I went to interview them. His point certainly made sense, but I had seen Michael betray his father.

He might have actually pretended to be bribed and betrayed them precisely because he had shared meals with the Old Gourmet Society. I shook my head briefly.

“It wouldn’t be for money. How much would those guys pay a broker anyway? But if family members of the victims were coming after them, maybe he thought the Old Gourmet Society was finished and betrayed them. He took the money as a sort of severance pay. Then he failed. He might not deserve to be called a hero, but he probably wasn’t a bad person.”

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. The ogre journalist nodded a couple of times. I was now familiar with the nature of trust on the streets.

If both can survive, cooperate. If you think only you will die while the other survives, betray. If you think both will die, betray. If the other will die but you can survive, don’t worry about it.

“That makes sense too. If the information isn’t that important, you’re essentially doing this for free…”

“I would have done it without getting anything in return. I have pretty firm principles. I don’t like keeping quiet about what’s right. Realistically, when something like this happens, ogres need to be cautious. I also don’t like when people impose their own version of reality. So I’ll do it.”

I couldn’t be the only journalist who thought this way. So while the incident was caused by those ogres and the people seeking revenge against them, we could potentially shape public opinion.

The ogre smiled faintly at my outpouring of words. This was no longer a childish thought. I had a gun in my bag to confront those who would try to silence people who spoke such words.

“I’m glad I asked you to come with me. The New York Ogre Association is probably working hard to prepare a statement explaining that this isn’t an issue with all ogres, so please come by anytime. I really appreciate it.”

Just as the conversation seemed to be wrapping up nicely, something suddenly occurred to me. I looked at the ogre journalist as he was about to stand and said:

“By the way, that person… didn’t fire a single shot, right?”

“Huh? Ah… yes. That’s what they said in the briefing. He didn’t even have a gun, so he must have engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Don’t you think?”

Something seemed off. I thought I could see a clue… That’s it! Ogres were a race naturally gifted with strength and stamina, enough to typically be hired as bodyguards.

It was strange that such a race would hire a human without even a gun as a bodyguard and treat him with such importance.

“Then why would ogres hire a human? Not as an advisor, but as a bodyguard, you said. A bodyguard entrusted with such an important role that they shared meals to instill loyalty.”

The ogre journalist nodded as if this was something he hadn’t considered until now. All attention had been on the Old Gourmet Society, and the bodyguard seemed like a mere side note that no one had paid attention to.

After thinking deeply for a moment, he offered another opinion. This too was something only ogres would know.

“Ah, right. Ogres don’t keep gunpowder or tobacco near their dining areas. They probably stored them somewhere near the building entrance…”

But there was still something strange about this. If there was a separate place to store firearms, why didn’t he bring and use a gun? A human would have no chance against ogres in hand-to-hand combat.

Perhaps he brought a gun but was beaten to death by the ogres before he could fire it? No, that can’t be right. Then his suit wouldn’t be covered in ogre blood. So there was only one possibility.

The bodyguard and the attackers weren’t on the same side. The attackers took the bodyguard’s gun, then subdued the ogres… but again, the blood on the suit was the issue.

No matter what scenario I considered, there was no way he could have been beaten to death by ogres while wearing a suit soaked in ogre blood. Guiltily, my heart started racing.

“I think there’s more to this story. If he didn’t have a gun, the attackers must have taken it, but then it’s strange that he would fight until his clothes were soaked in ogre blood and then be beaten to death.”

Like a puzzle where once you start matching pieces, the empty spaces become visible, the story started coming together. The ogre, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, nodded.

“Ah, perhaps one of the ogres who died there wasn’t part of the Old Gourmet Society. Maybe there was an ogre among the family members. Led by that ogre, they took the bodyguard’s gun and entered, but even though he was human, the bodyguard joined the fight. His body got soaked in blood from the ogre on the family’s side. So…”

The idea that there might have been an ogre among the family members was quite plausible. Mixed-race individuals were common, after all. This might turn into more than just writing up an article for the New York Ogre Association.

“That’s a good hypothesis! Still, we should look into it more. Just talking about it here won’t get us anywhere. If we could actually find evidence… it’s kind of exciting.”

What had been a passing incident was now a case where not all the truth had been revealed. Whether it was delusion or truth would require more time to investigate.

“Exciting, that’s a bit… Hmm. But yes, it is exciting. I’ll ask around at the police department. As for you…”

“Ah, I have my own connections who can help with this sort of thing! More than just one or two, so I’ll leave the police matters to you. Here’s my card—please contact me if you find anything!”

I could ask Michael for help, or perhaps inquire with Willem. Still, since this required making deductions without evidence, Willem might be the better choice.

A detective was more skilled at handling than deducing. Could a detective have done this? With a body enhanced by the rituals of the Argonne Invincibles, he could have fought the ogres…

No, no. The detective wouldn’t have done this. If it had been the detective, he would have cleanly entered with a pistol and shot all nine ogres plus the bodyguard. He was an efficient man.

The police clearly stated that the weapons used to kill the ogres were meat knives brought by the ogres themselves. Using such things instead of preparing other weapons seemed more like an act of revenge than professional work.

After giving my card to the ogre journalist, I returned to the newspaper office. I immediately knocked on the editor-in-chief’s door and entered, then spoke to him as he was reviewing other articles.

“I heard the entire police briefing! But, um, there seems to be something strange about this case that makes it not so ordinary. Even though nothing’s certain yet, could I investigate a bit more?”

The editor-in-chief finally looked up from the article to look at me. He wasn’t the type to refuse, and this time too, he just added a caution.

“Whenever Rose says something like this, she always comes back with an exclusive, so I’ll permit it… but don’t try to find that sole survivor. You know why, right?”

I recalled the detective’s words. Surviving means not dying. But sole survivors often misread that as meaning they couldn’t die.

“Yes! No matter how much I’m holding a shovel, I shouldn’t dig all the way to the grave. I know that much… I’m not looking into the victim, but rather that human broker who died there.”

“I don’t know who told you that, but it’s fine. Then instead of interfering, I’ll be expecting great things, Rose. Understood?”

The editor-in-chief smiled warmly again. Now that I had built up quite a track record, it wasn’t difficult to make seemingly unreasonable requests, which was fulfilling and pleasing in its own way.

I left the newspaper office immediately. Instead of going home, I entered a public phone booth in front of the office and dialed. Willem had said he’d returned to work since last time, so it should be fine.

The connection tone rang. The call connected immediately, but I heard a voice that wasn’t Willem’s. It wasn’t a human voice, and it was female.

“Hello, Straessen Police Investigative Consultant and Private Investigator’s Office. Would you like me to connect you to Mr. Straessen?”

Last time he had mentioned several times being a retired detective who had just returned… and now he had a new secretary.

“Yes, please. He’ll know me as Rose Leafman, reporter from Golden Age Press.”

A moment later, I finally heard the familiar voice. Willem’s voice was always dignified but had its own charm. Like his uncommon beard.

“Willem Straessen here. It’s been quite a while, Miss Rose. Is there another case that prompted your call? Or were you just trying to have a normal conversation but got confused when my secretary answered?”

I giggled a bit at that. The manner of speech I hadn’t heard for a while in New York, and the image of the detective unfamiliar with this city, inevitably made me laugh.

“This time there is a case. And I need someone to put our heads together with rather than someone to do the legwork. Can you help? Ah, about the fee…”

“I always charge based on the client’s satisfaction. To me, the case is more important than the fee. Explain what’s going on, then come visit me, and I’ll be thinking about it until you arrive.”

I told him almost everything I had discussed with the ogre journalist. This time, I think I got every detail right. After hearing the full story, I could hear Willem tapping the armrest of his chair.

“So a man being treated as a hero turns out to be neither hero nor villain? That is quite intriguing. Very well. This time, I hope the case will be solved just by clarifying this mystery.”

Still, it was time for me to visit the New York Ogre Association. Finding the truth was important, but it wasn’t as urgent as the words that needed to be shared right away.