Chapter 1058: Prison Storm (3)

Less than five seconds after the two investigation detectives sat down, Bohemia gave them nicknames in her mind. The slightly older man, with deep wrinkles that seemed to soak in solemnity, was secretly dubbed 'Old Shoes' by her because of the deep furrow on his forehead. The younger detective, though wearing a serious expression, gave off an impression that he was desperately trying to conceal his lack of experience. She named him 'Virgin.'

"We have reason to suspect that someone in this prison is secretly communicating with the outside world," the Old Shoes detective said, looking at Bohemia with furrowed brows. "Although all mail and phone calls are monitored, this contact is happening in a way we're not aware of... It could be commands sent from inside the prison to the outside, such as destroying evidence or hunting down enemies. It could also be messages entering the prison from the outside, providing illegal services to detainees awaiting final judgment, and helping them evade responsibility. You're young and inexperienced. I didn't think this position suited you from the beginning. But now that you're the warden, you should be able to provide us with some useful information, shouldn't you?"

This Old Shoes had quite an arrogant attitude. Even if Bohemia didn't consider herself the warden, she couldn't help but put on a serious face. Before she could speak, the Descartes Spirit suddenly spoke in a low voice, completely fascinated by the NPC's words and completely forgetting about its recent choking incident. "Hey, have you noticed? The content of the small game seems to be advancing the plot of Prison Storm!"

Of course, she noticed.

She cleared her throat and carefully observed the two men in front of her. If there was anything off about them, it was that they seemed too relaxed—sitting there so casually with the possibility of being stabbed at any moment. There were even two steaming cups of water on the table, but they didn't even think to take a sip of the precious clean water...

Huh?

Just as Bohemia was momentarily stunned, the Descartes Spirit seemed to sense her confusion and voiced its own, "Who poured them water?"

There didn't seem to be any paper cups on the table when the woman doctor left—did they pour it themselves?

"Hey, Miss Winters!" Perhaps because Old Shoes noticed her lack of reaction, he raised his voice and said, "Have you heard what I said? Do you have any information you can tell us?"

Of course not.

"I need to conduct a thorough investigation..." she mumbled vaguely, waving her hand at the two men. "Please, drink some water."

Virgin took a big sip from his cup. Two deep red scratch marks were imprinted on the edge of his hand. Old Shoes snorted and leaned back in his chair. "Appointing a young girl to oversee the largest prison in the area... I knew it would be like this. Useless."

Bohemia cursed silently in her mind.

The wounds on Virgin's hand could have been caused by struggling with a victim or maybe he just had a cat. As for Old Shoes, he looked like he had never crossed the street on a red light. With just this bit of information, how could anyone determine who the serial killer was?

"I didn't have much confidence in your investigation," Old Shoes increasingly grew dissatisfied with her silent attitude and his tone became more assertive. "Inform me right away. I request a meeting with inmate No. 1759. You better come along too. You won't be able to handle this job comfortably in your office."

Before Bohemia could react, Virgin's face turned pale. Even though he had just drunk water, he couldn't help but lick his lips.

The last person was suspected of being a cannibal, and now who was this inmate No. 1759?

Bohemia couldn't pretend to be clueless anymore, so she called over the subordinate who had delivered the sandwich earlier and assigned him the task of notifying the inmate about the meeting. In Old Shoes' eyes, this undoubtedly confirmed her incompetence.

The meeting was scheduled for thirty minutes later. After a brief staring match between the two detectives and her, they finally stood up to leave, probably wanting to smoke. Bohemia let out a long breath and slumped on the table.

"Why are you relaxing?" The Descartes Spirit floated on the table, seemingly looking down at her. "Did you forget what the host said? 'Among the people who will enter your office next, there is a serial killer'... After you go to the prison, there probably won't be anyone else coming in. Those who come in are all looking for you, advancing the plot. In other words, you still have about twenty minutes to welcome the next candidate for the killer—if there is one."

"So what if someone comes in? I still can't tell them apart."

"Miss Winters?"

Just as she murmured, she heard someone call her from outside the door, startling her upright. It was an ordinary-looking man with messy hair, wearing overalls. "Who were you talking to?"

"I... I was talking to myself," Bohemia couldn't directly ask him who he was, so she coughed. "Is there something you need?"

The man in overalls looked more bewildered than her. "Didn't you call me to report on the safety and hygiene situation in the institution? I've even written up the list of repairs and cleaning that need to be done."

One of the principles cherished by prison administrators was the 'Broken Window Theory.' An unattended broken window creates a chaotic environment, attracting more destruction and crime. Even within a prison, graffiti or a clogged urinal can lead to an escalating lack of order and unlawful behavior.

After the Descartes Spirit showed off this obscure piece of information, the man in overalls also sat down on a chair and handed her a document. When he looked at Bohemia, his eyes were filled with concern, as if he were an older brother worried about his unreliable sister. "Miss Winters, I don't think you should come with me."

"Hmm?" She hadn't spoken a complete sentence since entering this game.

"I understand that you mentioned during the meeting that you wanted to create a humane environment for the inmates, but after all..." He hesitated, as if unsure how to phrase it. "But... you, well... you're not really suitable for prison inspections."

"Why not?"

The man in overalls became even more awkward, his face slightly reddening. He vigorously rubbed his thighs a few times. It caught Bohemia's attention, and she noticed a few strands of long hair hanging on the edge of his pocket. His own hair was light brown, but these strands were pitch black, clearly belonging to a woman.

"Because... because you..." He scratched his head vigorously. "You're young and a woman. Those guys might... say some disrespectful things."

"So what? I couldn't care less," she spoke the truth.

"That's easy for you to say... but, um..." The man in overalls sighed, finally making up his mind. "I'll accompany you then. I'll make sure to control them for you."

"Okay," Bohemia replied, but her mind was focused on those strands of hair caught in his zipper. If her eyes hadn't been sharp, she wouldn't have noticed... Why would another woman's hair be in that position? Could it be that the woman had lost consciousness, and her head was being swung and dragged around in his hands...

She shuddered.

"If we talk about suspicion, it seems like everyone, except for Old Shoes, has something suspicious about them. In that case, it must be Old Shoes!" the Descartes Spirit started its nonsensical reasoning. "No, that's not right. If the questioner deliberately set such a trap..."

This information alone was not enough. Bohemia decided to take the initiative and ask for more information. She smiled at the approachable man in overalls. "Is everything fine with your family?"

This seemingly ordinary question caused the man's face to turn pale. His face tensed, and the corners of his mouth curved downward like a hooked knife. He stared at her in silence.

"Mistake! You spoke words that the actual warden would never say to an NPC, arousing suspicion!" The Pocket Dimension host suddenly shouted, raising his voice. "After the small game ends, an onion stripping will be immediately initiated!"

Bohemia wished she could flip the table onto the man's face—was this person an orphan? No family?

"No, not good."

The man in overalls took a deep breath and regained some composure. "I think you're referring to my parents, right? They still live in the small town near South Forest... But they lost a pair of grandchildren in the accident, so things aren't going well."

What's going on?

Bohemia couldn't inquire directly, so she had to suppress her burning questions and nodded solemnly.

"Speaking of which, thank you very much, Miss Winters." The man in overalls calmed down and stared into her eyes. "After my ex-wife remarried, she changed our children's last names. For so many years, hardly anyone knew they were my children. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have been able to continue working in the prison where that guy is serving his sentence..."

As he spoke, his cheek bulged with visible veins, but he forced out a chilly smile. "If it weren't for your help in keeping it a secret, I would have been transferred long ago. I value this job opportunity here, truly... Not everyone has the chance to encounter the damned every day... Sometimes, I really don't understand why the country wastes taxpayers' money like this."

The Descartes Spirit made a sound as if it were being choked.

"Excessive sense of justice, combined with the trauma of losing children," it murmured. "It must be him!"

Filled with doubt, Bohemia didn't know whether or not to believe it when a hurried series of footsteps approached the door. The male secretary who had brought her the sandwich rushed in, panting. "There's a riot in the prison! And, and Detective Gell, who was smoking earlier, suddenly had spasms and has been taken to the infirmary!"

Gell—it was the Virgin who had drunk the water, right?

Bohemia glanced down, and the water in the two white paper cups still emitted a faint heat.