Chapter 31: Buying Out a Life (Special thanks to Zuogesuren0723 for becoming a grand patron!)

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Ethan carried a gas lamp in his left hand and a detector in his right, searching every room in turn. The needle on the detector remained in the blue zone throughout, and not a single shrill sound was emitted. That meant everything in the house was normal.

Judging from the information sent by the Containment Bureau, Loxan did not seem the sort of person who would turn into a ghost and return for revenge.

The attack on neighboring Riverside Town had left everyone on edge. Thus, the moment Imperial Reserve employees discovered the body, they sent it, along with the clown uniform and hood Loxan usually wore, to be cremated. The Guild dispatched three professional demon hunters to accompany the entire process, using the same rites they observed for fallen comrades.

The rite would grant the dead peace and prevent them from becoming vengeful spirits.

Ethan had been inside the haunted apartment for nearly an hour when the sound of a key entering the lock finally came from the door.

Ivy stepped inside. She looked somewhat weary.

“It was the rain. Marshall said that the branch in Creekwood Town held a social gathering that day and invited Loxan to liven things up. The staff said that by the time he arrived, he was soaked through and seemed completely distracted. His performance at the gathering also went wrong. While performing an acrobatic routine, he knocked over a bottle of expensive red wine and was reprimanded.”

Ivy did her best to summarize, as concisely as possible, the information Marshall had passed on to her.

After Ethan left, Marshall had still been furious, so his choice of words had been far less… temperate.

He believed Loxan was a useless coward, incapable even of handling the most basic performance. All it had taken was a reprimand and a bout of rain for him to lose hope and kill himself.

Marshall had felt nothing over Loxan’s death. After Ethan left, he complained to Ivy that such dregs from the bottom of society did nothing but cause them trouble.

They had given Loxan a job and provided him with a means of making a living—but what had come of it?

Even after his death, that ungrateful clown had continued making trouble in the apartment, greatly delaying their work.

“He wouldn’t kill himself over something so trivial,” Ethan said, stating his conclusion.

Ivy had mentioned that Loxan had made mistakes at work that day. That suggested something abnormal had happened before then. At present, all they knew was that Loxan had ended his life in this apartment; they had no way of determining whether his death had also been influenced by a cursed artifact.

Ivy looked somewhat surprised. “You knew him?”

“More or less. At the Guild’s annual meeting, I was the one who handled the handover with him. In my impression, he was an optimistic and dedicated man.”

To be honest, Ethan admired Loxan.

Loxan’s existence had allowed Ethan to witness an entirely different kind of life. If Ethan had failed to find free lodging at the Guild when he first arrived in Creekwood Town and had instead borrowed a large sum of money from the Imperial Reserve to buy a house, he would probably be living beneath a mountain of debt every day by now.

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For those unable to repay their debts, the Imperial Reserve thoughtfully prepared work for them.

Loxan was cheerful by nature and skilled at making people laugh, so he became Creekwood Town’s “official” clown. In reality, however, every job he took was arranged by the Imperial Reserve. Where he went, whom he entertained, and how many hours he worked each day were all decided by others.

There was a saying commonly heard in the Guild:

Once you owed money to the Imperial Reserve, your life was as good as sold to them.

Until your debts were paid, your strength, your mind, and your freedom would all be controlled by the Lofic Consortium.

And in this age, there was no such thing as labor law.

Ethan later learned that those without any particular skills were sent to the mines around Creekwood Town to perform manual labor. When Gear City had been frantically building military factories, another group had been sent away as well. Their workdays began at ten hours and went upward from there, all of it grueling physical labor. Some left and never returned to town. Before long, no one spoke of them anymore.

Being a clown was no easy task. Aside from the demanding performances, Loxan had to rack his brains during every break, thinking of ways to entertain everyone.

A joke had only one life. He had to replenish his supply without end.

Ethan had learned all this during a conversation with Loxan after the Guild’s annual meeting.

They had been sitting before the fireplace on the Guild’s ground floor, with celebratory beer on the table. Loxan had told Ethan about many new jokes he had come up with and asked him, as an audience member, to judge them.

Loxan took genuine pleasure in it. He loved the feeling of making other people happy.

Ethan had also seen people nitpick Loxan during his performances. In the eyes of the public, a clown was someone of inferior standing, and whenever the Imperial Reserve’s people spoke of him, they made no effort to conceal the contempt in their eyes.

The clown who always brought laughter to others reminded Ethan of a saying:

There is only one kind of heroism in the world: to see life for what it truly is, and still love it.

Ethan believed that if he and Loxan had been forced to exchange paths in life, Banker Marshall would very likely have been struck by a fireball spell on his way to work one day.

As it turned out, even heroes had days when they could no longer endure.

After finishing her inspection with the detector, Ivy said, “There’s nothing abnormal in the apartment. It’s possible that some action of Marshall’s triggered the curse. It could also have been the witch’s doing.”

“It could also have been time-based—for instance, the curse might take effect at a specific moment,” Ethan added.

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Ivy did not know that Becky and her seven old butlers had already been buried in the earth outside the woodland cabin. She remained constantly on guard against the witch and her minions infiltrating the town.

Unfortunately, the Imperial Reserve had cremated Loxan’s body. Otherwise, a resurrection scroll might have helped them learn what he had experienced during the final few days of his life.

“Yes, that’s true.” Ivy paused. She suspected this was probably why detectives always needed assistants. Working with Ethan made her feel as though she had grown a second brain; solving cases had become twice as effective with half the effort.

Just like now, Ethan had already formulated an investigative plan.

“Miss Chloe and I will stay in the apartment. You investigate where the deceased went during the three days before his death and whether he displayed any unusual behavior. After all, you’re also the town’s constable, and the residents will be more willing to provide you with leads.”

Ivy neither agreed nor disagreed. “I’ll bring you something to eat tomorrow morning. I won’t forget this time.”

After a moment’s thought, she added, “I hope you and Miss Chloe don’t dig up another corpse this time.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Ethan had to emphasize that this was a world full of danger, and that this case involved some unknown cursed artifact. The level of danger was obvious.

The only thing he could promise Ivy was that he would not create a corpse deliberately.

But if a corpse tried to attack him while he was asleep, the outcome would no longer be under his control.

And now, as an E-rank investigator of the Containment Bureau, Ethan had witnessed a familiar name hanging himself in this apartment. It was only natural for him to have an instinctive reaction.

He wanted to know why Loxan had died.

The case was shrouded in mystery, and Ethan currently had not the slightest clue. Perhaps he should try solving it through a process of elimination.

First, Miss Becky and her seven old butlers could be ruled out.

They had solid alibis.

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