Chapter 1073: Justice Will Always Prevail Over Evil!
In the silent corridor, Bohemia perked up her ears and heard the faint rustling of papers coming from the meeting room. There seemed to be someone speaking softly, and the voice was likely the Sandwich Secretary's, so muffled and indistinct that she almost thought it was a hallucination. Slowly, she propped herself up using her knees and approached the meeting room, step by step, along the wall.
"I told you, the Investigation Bureau... already had suspicions about her... the names on the bank statement, they're all hers..."
Indeed, it was the Sandwich Secretary. He had been on the receiving end of quite a few blows, rendering him barely intelligible, making it a strenuous effort for Bohemia to hear from outside the door. Bohemia tried to move closer, taking a step forward, but she forgot that the daylight was coming from behind her, causing her shadow to flicker across the meeting room floor. The Sandwich Secretary abruptly ceased speaking.
The sound of pages being turned also came to a halt.
Realizing she had been exposed, Bohemia, with a determined expression, turned around, peeking her head behind the door and called out, "Wenda." The janitor was standing amidst overturned tables and chairs, with scattered documents at his feet. He raised his head upon hearing her voice, setting down a leather bag containing inmate records to the side. "Miss Winters, I just happened to find some of your belongings."
The Sandwich Secretary had long lost his usual clean and refined appearance, his face flushed red, hands bound to a table with plastic ties. He fixed his gaze on Bohemia, heaving with heavy breaths.
"Aren't you the one who despises these parasites in the prison, who live off taxpayer money?" He averted his gaze, as if Bohemia didn't exist, and continued to persuade the janitor. "Let a Bureau worker kill a parasite. Yes, legally, I have broken the law... but morally, have I really committed a significant wrongdoing? She secretly took money from the inmates—"
"Those were all hints for you. Listen carefully," The Descartes Spirit interjected. It had to say this; otherwise, Bohemia wouldn't have heard the second half of what the Sandwich Secretary said clearly.
Wenda lowered his head, avoiding Bohemia's gaze, and examined the scattered documents on the floor for a few seconds. Suddenly, he picked up an envelope — if she remembered correctly, it was one of the bank statements.
She recalled that this person seemed genuinely unstable. He had mentioned from the start that his children had somehow disappeared, and the culprit responsible for their deaths was serving time in this prison. Considering the clues, he appeared to harbor irrational hatred for all the incarcerated, even taking opportunities to mistreat the female prisoners. Figuring out how to handle the current situation would require careful consideration.
"What are you talking about?" Bohemia furrowed her brow. "Me taking money? Are these things mine?"
Wenda suddenly lifted his head. "Aren't these your documents?"
"I remember those document bags, they seem to be inmate records, right?" If there was one thing that Bohemia excelled at, it was denial, framing, and shifting blame. "These case materials are managed by the secretary in the archive. How did they end up here? What's in your hand?"
"It's bank statements," the janitor said, hesitating. "It's an account belonging to someone named Emma Greens... and it has a lot of money."
"Who is this person?" Bohemia widened her eyes, blinking her long eyelashes.
Wenda looked a bit embarrassed as he pursed his lips. Before the Sandwich Secretary on the floor could speak, she quickly preempted him, shouting at the secretary, "Why did you take all the archive materials out? What are you planning to do with them? The two detectives informed me that they were investigating collusion inside and outside this prison. Does this have something to do with you? Did you take the inmate records out? These are confidential documents!"
"It's not that confidential—" The Pocket Dimension host's voice suddenly chimed in like a needle in a seam. "Hmm, you didn't say it professionally, but we can interpret it as you trying to deceive Wenda... Anyway, let's peel another layer of the onion for you later."
Bohemia could almost feel the onion on her head shudder.
Once this brief interlude was over, a sense of doubt crept over Wenda's face. His mind wasn't as sharp as Sandwich Secretary's, and after a few words from Bohemia, he wavered. "Yeah, you're right, but these accounts opened in strange names, they could be Miss Winters', but they could also be yours!"
"You secretly conspired with Detective Gell, leading to the death of a crucial witness, and you attacked me because I discovered it... you've been caught red-handed. If you want to accuse me of something, then go talk to the judicial officers and follow the proper procedures—Wenda!"
Wenda lifted his head.
"Pick up these documents on the floor; they might be crucial evidence. After you secure them, lock the door and follow me!" Without giving him a chance to ask questions, Bohemia snorted, "Maybe we'll see him on the other side of the wire mesh!"
The janitor seemed somewhat confused for a moment, subconsciously following her lead. He collected the documents, locked the conference room door, and then caught up with her, asking, "Where are we going?"
"Right," the Descartes Spirit chimed in as it floated alongside. It seemed a bit dizzy from the recent events. "Where are you taking him? I'm telling you, your previous nonsense might not hold up for much longer. The seeds of suspicion have already been planted in his mind..."
"I know, I know," Bohemia retorted impatiently. "Enough with the seeds. You want to start reciting poetry?"
When the Descartes Spirit huffily floated away, Wenda's voice came from behind, "Miss Winters?"
"Oh, well, it's like this," Bohemia's mind was working at lightning speed in situations like these. She suddenly remembered the complaint about him mistreating female inmates. "Over in the men's prison earlier, there was a complaint filed against you, stating that you had rough behavior and language... No, of course, I don't believe that. But, you know, for the sake of appearances, we need to address the matter. Most importantly, I hope you can help me investigate which inmate has conspired with the secretary."
Handing this task to Wenda might have raised some doubts in his mind, but he followed Bohemia without saying anything. The Descartes Spirit's choice of words had earned it some mockery, making it seem quite unhappy. It had to endure the journey to the prison and waited until they passed through two iron doors before finally asking, "So, what's your plan?"
Bohemia looked around in all directions.
Each cell, on every level and in every corridor, was within her view at the entrance. The sound of tapping on the iron bars, the footsteps of the patrolling guards, and the occasional shouts were all echoing within the prison, like waves crashing against the walls.
"You're not a stranger to criminal psychology," she whispered, using her Higher Consciousness to encase her voice. "So you must understand one thing... in a prison, in principle, negotiations with inmates won't happen."
This was something she had learned from TV shows, especially from pre-apocalypse entertainment like 'Jade Lament Abyss,' which was quite popular due to its low cost and widespread viewership. Most areas had fixed viewing points for such programs. After a brief contemplation, the Descartes Spirit responded, "Yes, if prisoners were to catch on to any conditions for negotiation, it wouldn't work."
After a moment, it suddenly understood. "I know what you're planning!"
"You... you're really skilled at this, turning even bad people to your advantage." The Descartes Spirit, which had desired to eat people not too long ago, was now full of surprise. "You want him to get caught!"
No matter how heavily fortified a maximum-security prison was, it was ultimately managed by humans, and accidents were bound to happen. There were more non-inmate personnel entering the prison than most people would imagine: visitors, members of the judiciary, law enforcement personnel, reporters, and sometimes even students coming for field trips. In the unlikely event that a prisoner captured a hostage, law enforcement agencies would absolutely not negotiate with the inmates or offer any conditions for the hostage's release.
To avoid setting a precedent and discourage future inmates from trying similar tactics, aside from some persuasion and rescue efforts, the unfortunate hostage had no other choice but to fend for themselves.
"Not just captured," Bohemia huffed, "I have to make sure he dies here today to prevent future complications."
"But he saved your life!"
"Are you daft? This is a game NPC, not a real person."
Strangely enough, in the past, even repaying kindness with enmity towards real people seemed less problematic. Who could guarantee that someone who saved her today wouldn't kill her tomorrow? What couldn't she do to ensure her survival? However, over the recent period, her methods had softened, and she even felt the need to explain herself to the Descartes Spirit when questioned.
It's all Lin Sanjiu's fault, her nagging must have rubbed off on me.
Her luck wasn't great, and unfortunately, she didn't spot a single prisoner being transferred or walking on the road at this time. While passing Snake-Skin's cell, Bohemia's peripheral vision caught a tall, muscular figure leaning on the railing, with one eyelid lowered in deep contemplation.
She pretended to casually glance behind her and then quickly turned around, lightly pinching her own throat where Wenda couldn't see.
What happened next was both logical and sent shivers down one's spine. Even though she was confined behind iron bars, when Snake-Skin suddenly launched his attack, it left everyone struggling to react. Those hands reached forward like they were capturing a small bird, grabbing the neck of the man in overalls and pulling him to the railing with such force that the railings made a dull thud.
The guards were all alarmed, shouting as they rushed over. Countless batons fell on Snake-Skin's arm, which hung outside the railing, clanging noisily but not affecting it in the least. His arm was like a piece of well-aged wood, strong and solid. As the bulging muscles gradually tightened and swelled, Wenda's body grew limp, and he finally slipped to the ground.
"So, you're the biggest antagonist in this game," the Descartes Spirit mumbled.