Chapter 12 The Day of the Incident_1

A month ago, at 12:10 pm, in the downtown district.

The Oak Pub, which should have been open for business, had its doors tightly shut, and two cross-shaped seals sealed off the entrance.

"...It's not like we're the only ones mixing other liquors to sell, why only target us, huh?" the pub's proprietress stood in front of the bar, slamming the table indignantly, "And to seal off the pub and arrest people in the middle of the night, how are we supposed to keep running after this!?"

"Yeah, yeah, that woman, she's quite the loner in the police department, completely ignorant of the rules." the fat man sitting at the bar let out a boozy belch, reeking of alcohol.

He had already drunk a lot, his hand unconsciously trembling when he lifted his glass, spilling the strong liquor down the side and onto his hand.

He noticed his soaked hand and subconsciously wiped it with the sleeve of his uniform.

The uniform of a mounted policeman.

"That woman just wants to drive us to death! I heard before that when those werewolves kill, they slice off the flesh from the body piece by piece, torturing others for fun, such inhuman monsters should be locked up from birth!" the proprietress continued to seethe through her teeth, "How can they let werewolves become police officers, the world must have gone mad!"

"Ah, if the chief wasn't always protecting her, how could she manage to stay in the police force?" the man swayed his glass in agreement.

"She must have slept with someone, right?" the proprietress said with a sniff of disdain.

The man did not respond, the proprietress's words triggering unpleasant memories for him.

"...For a woman like you, it's not easy to get by in the police force, but it's a different story if you have a patron." He had leaned close to the expressionless Veronica and whispered, "You must have heard, my father is that Anthony Roton, the legislator. I'm not boasting, just take a good look at this pocket watch..."

He took out an exquisitely crafted rose-gold pocket watch, raised it to Veronica's face, and rambled on, "Look at the siren crest on it, that's the Rotun Family's coat of arms, my father is the head of the Rotun Family, and I'm his only son... You get what I'm saying, right? I'm quite a figure in Silvertown, at that Crown Hotel in the city center, I can eat and rest there on tabs whenever I like, you've probably never been there, have you? How about tonight..."

Emboldened by the alcohol, he reached his hand towards Veronica's shoulder.

But at that moment, Veronica swiftly raised her hand, catching his wrist with a grip so strong it made him involuntarily gasp for air.

He tried to pull back his hand, only to find it clamped as if in a blacksmith's iron tongs, unable to move.

"So, you're hoping I'd be your mistress?" Veronica asked coldly, her glance cutting to the side.

"No, that's not... " He sensed a clear threat, sweat beading on his forehead.

"I believe you're the legislator's son, otherwise I can hardly imagine you would have the gall to get drunk on duty." Veronica said icily, detecting the scent of alcohol on him, "But remember two things, first, I detest drunkards. Second, I loathe physical contact with others. If you lay a hand on me again without permission... I might overreact and ruin your hand!"

Just then, he suddenly felt Veronica applying pressure, sending a sharp pain through his wrist that made him cry out uncontrollably.

...It was as vivid as if it were yesterday, the memory made his wrist ache.

Damn it, what a bitch who doesn't appreciate favors, if she wasn't somewhat good-looking, who would give her such opportunities?

Thinking this, he sullenly took another big swig of alcohol.

It's been several days since I touched a woman, might as well take a walk down the fireworks alley tonight. After all, using the title of a mounted policeman means I don't have to pay...

The effects of the alcohol surged up in waves, making him feel increasingly light-headed, as if his brain was soaking in warm water, all woozy and fuzzy.

The landlady watched as the most expensive liquor in the shop quickly disappeared into his mouth, flowing into a bottomless cave, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of loss.

"I'm saying, you can really get this matter sorted out for me, right?" the landlady asked with a face full of doubt.

This man had promised her faithfully that he could get the case against their tavern dropped and her husband fished out. That's why she'd taken out money as he said and even let him drink as much as he likes in the store.

To be honest, it's a minor matter that the damn ghost at home is locked up for a few days, but if we don't find a way to overturn the case about selling fake alcohol, this tavern can't continue.

"When I say it can be done, it can be done. What's with the questions, don't you trust me?" the man said irritably, slamming his glass down hard, causing the leftover liquor to splash. The alcohol went to his head, making him unusually irritable.

"Who knows? If you cheat me, I have nowhere to reason it out," the landlady retorted, showing no weakness. She was naturally a fiery woman who dared to make trouble at the police station, and she was used to dealing with the drunks in her tavern every year, so the man's tactics had no intimidating effect on her.

This stupid woman is such a hassle...

The man fumbled around on his person impatiently, the drunkenness making him momentarily forget where he had stuffed his pocket watch.

After a good while, he finally pulled out the gold pocket watch and showed it to the landlady, "Open your eyes and look closely, this is the Rotun Family's crest! You know Anthony Roton, the councilman, right? That's my dad... I have a lot of connections, what's helping you with such a small matter to me?"

The landlady eyed the pocket watch, still somewhat skeptical. She didn't know much about councilmen and the like, but the gold watch did look quite valuable... Maybe this policeman really had some connections.

"Alright," the landlady sighed, placing an envelope on the counter and pushing it over, "The money's here, you better do the job well."

The man grabbed the envelope with a scowl, stuffing it in his pocket after several attempts.

Damn bad luck, running into an uncooperative woman, doesn't she know to be a bit more polite when asking for a favor? When I collect stuff and money from other shops, don't those lowlifes all bow and scrape?

He didn't lack money, he just enjoyed that feeling of being high and mighty, and this boring public office had only that bit of fun to speak of.

The women in the fireworks alley too, they should be grateful and ecstatic that I deign to give them my attention, yet they hurry to get it over with just because I don't pay, not enjoyable at all...

Now that I've had my fill of alcohol, might as well take a stroll there... wait a minute, it seems about time to return the gun, and that damn place seems to be in the opposite direction... curse it, why can't it be near the police station...

The man mused hazily, his drifting gaze settling on the landlady's ample bosom.

"What are you looking at?" The landlady immediately noticed his gaze and glared at him warily.

"This..." the man suddenly had an idea, his mouth wide in a grin, "I've received the money, let's talk about the rest of the compensation."

Urged on by the alcohol, he reached out and grabbed the landlady's hand.