Chapter 229: Chapter 229

The detective instantly recognized the bottle's uniqueness. He pushed past the others, strode forward, and picked it up. He gave it a few shakes to gauge the liquid's level, then held it up to the sunlight pouring through the window before reaching for the stopper...

Jenkins quickly stopped him and suggested, "I think it would be best not to handle the deceased's property. We can leave that for the police to inspect."

Ignaz glanced at the bottle, then at Jenkins, and finally at the maid, Joyce, before giving a slight nod.

In that very instant, Joyce suddenly lunged past Baxter, who stood between her and the detective, snatched the bottle from the man's hand, then turned and ran to the window, holding the bottle up toward the other four people.

"Some detective he is, letting it get snatched just like that."

Standing at the back, Jenkins was too far away to intervene. He had assumed that a detective like Ignaz would have been more alert.

"Ma'am, what do you think you're doing?"

the detective demanded. He started to take a step closer, but froze, startled when the maid made a move to open the bottle.

The woman shrieked, backing away steadily. She shoved the window open and glanced down in fear before turning back to face everyone in the room with a look of grim determination.

"Stay back, all of you! I know what's in this bottle! If you come any closer, we all die together!"

As she spoke, she used her free hand to drag a chair over from the bedside, then, trembling, she backed up and climbed onto the windowsill.

"Don't come any closer!"

She shrieked hysterically again, her finger pressed against the stopper as she waved the bottle erratically. Gripping the window frame, she tried to pull herself to her feet.

Her foot slipped. To the astonishment of everyone watching, she lost her balance and tilted backward. A short scream escaped her lips as she plummeted from the window.

The four of them rushed to the window just as the policemen and the coachman were arriving at the yard's fence, watching helplessly as she fell.

The bottle was surprisingly sturdy, so there was no fear of it shattering on impact. Although a few specks of blood dotted the ground, she had only fallen from the second story onto soft turf. Her hair a mess, Joyce scrambled to her feet and stumbled right into the chest of the policeman in the lead.

With that, the case was considered perfectly solved. They had witnesses and physical evidence. Even the police detectives arriving to examine the body felt a stroke of incredible luck.

Jenkins said nothing more. Once the bottle reached the police station, the Orthodox Church would surely identify it as problematic. Detective Ignaz had already warned the responding officers that the bottle might contain a volatile poison, so there was no danger of anyone carelessly opening it.

Jenkins had expected to be taken to the station to give a statement. To his surprise, when the lead detective heard he was an apprentice from Pops Antique Shop, he was told he could leave whenever he wished and simply file his report later when he had the time.

He had no desire to get tangled up in this messy affair anyway, so he bid the detective farewell and took his leave.

As he walked out of the yard, he muttered a complaint under his breath. He had hoped for a big sale, but it had turned into this. With Mrs. David dead, only God knew who would end up with her collection of antiques.

He had been held up at the David house for too long. He had originally planned to get his pocket watch repaired after work, but by the time he got back and reported to Pops, the watchmaker's shop would likely be closed.

He glanced back one more time at the David house, now cordoned off by the police, sighed, placed Chocolate on his shoulder, and merged into the evening crowd of commuters.

The David house was a long way from Pops Antique Shop, on the other side of the city. As he walked, he was still wondering where to find a carriage when he turned a corner and heard the jingle of a bell ahead.

A coachman was ringing his bell to warn pedestrians. Jenkins held his hat and stepped aside, surprised when the clatter of hooves came to a halt right beside him.

He looked up to see the coachman remove his hat and gesture in his direction. A moment later, the carriage's side curtain was pulled back, and a red-haired young woman smiled.

"I wonder if I might have the honor of inviting Mr. Williams for a ride."

"Another few shillings saved."

Naturally, Jenkins accepted.

Hathaway was alone in the carriage. Jenkins asked, and she explained that she and Miss Mikhail had already been to Pops Antique Shop. They had come looking for him specifically to discuss the black market auction.

She was wearing the same form-fitting, ruffled blouse as before, but with the arrival of autumn, she had added a thick, plush overcoat.

"Awful luck, running into a murder."

Jenkins grumbled, his face a mask of frustration, the moment he settled into the carriage.

Hathaway's interest was piqued, and she asked Jenkins to recount the afternoon's events. He, of course, omitted the part about guessing the outcome from the start, instead painting the detective as a brilliant mastermind. It was clear from Hathaway's expression, however, that her mind was on something else entirely.

"You said the pattern on the bottle was openwork red petals? Do you remember the exact shape of the petals?"

"I don't remember. Why? It just seemed like an ordinary bottle."

The girl played with her long hair for a moment, and as she lowered her head, she saw the iron ring on Jenkins's finger. She raised an eyebrow but didn't ask about it.

"It's not about the bottle, but about the pattern. Do you remember when I mentioned the Witch's House?"

Jenkins's eyes darted for a moment before he nodded hesitantly. "You mean the organization made up entirely of female Enchanters? The one that worships some unknown entity called... the 'Hanging Mother Goddess's Shadow'? Are they in Nolan now?" Thɪs chapter is updated by noveⅼfire.net

"Yes. The same red petal symbol appeared in a murder last week. It's the signature emblem of the Witch's House. The victim was a nobleman, and when Briny told me about it, I noted the symbol on the dagger used as the murder weapon."

Hathaway paused, recalling something, then hesitantly said to Jenkins, "Those whores will stop at nothing. By getting involved in that case, you might have put a target on your back. Be extremely careful."

He nodded, his mind already drifting to another question. She was right about the danger... but the "Hanging Mother Goddess's Shadow"? What exactly was that?

Every theological text made one point abundantly clear: neither the great Righteous Gods nor the Pseudo-Gods had ever claimed to be the Creator.

The point was unequivocal. Therefore, any higher being that called itself a "creator," a "genesis god," or anything related to those concepts, was most certainly not a true god.