A Confession For Persephone 01

To the lawyers at A&H, one of the firm's partners, Herstal Armalight, was a legendary figure.

He was undoubtedly a handsome young man with questionable ethics — there was no point in discussing the ethics of anyone who took a job at his firm, despite knowing that he was a gangster lawyer — but in any case, among those who witnessed a gruesome murder on Sunday morning, Mr. Armalight was certainly one of the most calm people who went to work on Monday.

It was a day after the Sunday Gardener's murder. This was when people were talking about the case the most fervently. During lunch break at A&H's law firm, if you stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of Herstal's office, you could see a group of reporters waiting in front of the door, trying to stop everyone who went out of the office.

It was at this moment that a hesitant knock on the door sounded.

Entering through the door was Herstal's secretary Emma, a pretty blonde girl sitting in the cubicle just outside Herstal's office door, blocking calls from every reporter trying to get an interview on him. Now she looked tired, apparently having rubbed off a little lipstick onto her tasteless sandwich during lunch time, not having had time to touch it back up yet.

"Mr. Armalight," she said with a frown, "the front desk called to say there's a man downstairs looking for you."

"It's not a reporter who snuck in, is it?" Herstal asked with a frown.

Emma shook her head. "No, he said he was from the Forensic Bureau. His name was Albarino Bacchus."

Faced with this sort of thing, even Herstal was startled for a second. He was wondering what the forensic pathologist who always smiled came to him for. That smile made him feel uncomfortable, although it seemed warm enough; but he was quite sure that, hidden beneath this almost human and gentle appearance, was the smile of a wolf.

Yet he had little other choice; he wisely did not leave the chief forensic pathologist of the Forensic Bureau hanging at the door. He would have to deal with this man later when they went to court. So he could only say wearily, "Let him in."

A few minutes later, Albarino entered. He did not look like the kind of person who enjoyed wearing a suit, so he came in wearing a casual jacket and jeans, looking out of place in this beautiful office building full of lawyers in suits — after all, anyone's tie might be more expensive than his whole attire.

But that didn't matter at all; he had beautiful chestnut curls and gentle mint green eyes, the type that can turn Emma into a little girl just with a smile.

However, since Herstal himself wasn't affected by this, he watched coldly as the man wandered in with a hand carry bag, like he didn't have to work at the Forensic Bureau. Before the other man could say anything, he rushed to ask, "Is it Officer Hardy who needs me to take a statement again?"

"I'm here for the same reason as the reporters outside who've been guarding the door all morning." Albarino cocked his head and looked at Herstal like a curious waterbird.

Herstal said, "Can I ask you to leave?"

"No!" Albarino laughed, faint attractive creases forming at the corner of his eyes with his motion. "You see, here's the thing: the Sunday Gardener never contacts anyone, and unlike the Pianist, he doesn't send any provocative messages to the police. He always displays his work in a public place for random passersby to discover his work – but this was different. He texted from the victim's phone, and he chose to let you discover the body."

"What does that tell you?" Herstal asked pointedly.

"No one knows, except the Sunday Gardener himself." Albarino smiled, actually appearing unworried. "But apparently, those reporters out there think that means you're very important to the Gardener. Bart is worried that you're playing an important role in this case that you don't even know about yourself. Really, the people at the Westland Police Department are worried about you."

"But from the evidence available, they don't have enough to file for witness protection for me or anything like that." Herstal pointed out.

"Exactly, which is why Bart suggested that the few of us following this case with free time pay a little more attention to you, so that you don't actually get kidnapped by the Sunday Gardener without us knowing about it." Albarino smiled, "So I came here to have lunch with you. The Forensic Bureau is quite close to your office, so I think I'll have enough time to make it back before the lunch break is over."

Herstal stared unbelievably at the smiling man across the table; for a moment, there must have been a look on his often emotionless face akin to "what did I do wrong to suffer through this?" He raised his voice slightly: "Dr. Bacchus, don't you think you should let that person know before you decide to have lunch with them?"

"If I had told you what I wanted to do, would you have let me in?" Albarino asked.

... That was true.

So, even Herstal was stunned for two seconds, then he exasperatedly waved his hand: "In any case, you have chosen to come to the whole city's only place without an actual lunch to eat during lunch break. Almost all people in the entire office building rely on the vending machine downstairs at noon to get by; there is not much resting time in our line of work. "

"Actually, so is our profession. No one wants to buy convenience food from the vending machine across the street from the dissecting room full of rotten bodies." Albarino replied matter-of-factly, "But it's also a bit miserable to spend your lunch hour like that, for the salary of someone in your profession."

"It's inevitable that you sacrifice a lot of time when you want to do a job well." Herstal replied noncommittally.

Albarino smiled as he fumbled around in his hand carry bag for a while, then lined up a few tupperware containers on Herstal's desk and continued, ignoring Herstal's comment, "That's why I usually bring my own lunch to the Forensic Bureau."

Herstal looked at Albarino as if the other man was a moose which had accidentally run into the middle of the interstate highway, never escaping the fate of being hit by a car in the end.

The tupperware containers contained some salmon sandwiches cut into neat triangles, several fruits cut into pieces and a few muffins wrapped in paper towels. Albarino, as if not seeing what his expression meant, pushed the two boxes in his hands in front of him: "I prepared for your portion too."

Herstal stared at him steadily. "Albarino, as we have discussed last time, you do have some problems with interpersonal distance."

The two of them had only met twice; how had they already progressed to the point where they could ask each other to bring him lunch? This person hadn't even thought to tell him before storming into his office. Herstal hated things out of control, especially when it came to this forensic pathologist he hadn't even spent more than a few hours with – there was something in the other man's green eyes that always made him feel very on guard, even more so than when he was dealing with Officer Bart Hardy.

Albarino shrugged and gave a small, wounded animal-like smile, probably faking it just to stir up some sympathy: "Maybe, but most people I know actually quite enjoy it."

"Perhaps it's because they indulge you for having a pretty face." Herstal pointed out, "Or they simply want to pick you up."

"It would be better if you complimented people with nicer words, like 'you have infinite charm'." Albarino let out a laugh. "Do you want to eat it or not? If not, I'll go share it with that sweet Miss Emma sitting outside your office."

– So, somehow, the two of them ended up sitting at the small table by the side of the office to finish their lunch. Herstal's office was huge, and the sofa chairs in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows were as soft as clouds, although no one actually ever rests in this spot. Given the ... jobs of Herstal's clients, they probably prefer to see their lawyers on their own turf.

The infamous lawyer's office was simply the perfect place for OCD sufferers to be: everything looked spotlessly clean, picture frames and books were neatly arranged, and every office item on the desk was parallel to the edge of the desk. It looked impersonal to the point of looking like a prototype design which a designer had just tidied up, rather than a place where a person spends at least eight hours a day.

Just being in such a place would make one feel that dropping food scraps onto the floor was definitely an offense. It deters people from proposing to eat in it, yet Albarino was clearly not put off by this intangible but frightening atmosphere; he seemed to be sitting quite happily on the sofa.

And Herstal had to admit, although the lunch was not very complex, what Albarino had cooked was quite tasty. Also, he cut fruit very well; this was unsurprising, from what Herstal had seen at the Forensic Bureau anyway, the man was also very good at cutting people up.

"So that's what you people have decided on for now?" Herstal asked as they ate the last bit of dessert; according to Albarino, the muffins were baked by himself as well. "Taking turns to see if I've been killed by the Sunday Gardener?"

"It's just a concern that, at the intervals he commits his crimes, he probably won't kill you very soon." Albarino shrugged, an odd smile on his face, "But after all, he's only texted you, which is very rare, so Bart is worried he'll contact you again."

"If he contacts me again, I'll call the police." Herstal pointed out.

"What if he 'contacts' you through something like, hiding under your bed with a knife? Anyway, it never hurts to be cautious." Albarino finished the last bit of his muffin and subconsciously licked his fingertips. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and smiled embarrassedly at Herstal. "We'll stop by when we have time, but Bart and Bates are most likely[1] unavailable on their side, so you'll probably see Olga and me more."

[1] 八成: 80%

"Then, I'd rather deal with Miss Molozer." Herstal didn't even bother hiding the self-centered mocking expression on his face, although he had obviously just eaten lunch prepared by the other.

Albarino let out a short laugh: "While I admit Olga is good-looking enough, you'll find her annoying when you spend time with her – really, extraordinarily annoying, so don't let appearances fool you."

"And what about you?" Herstal examined him and suddenly asked, "Are you fooled by any part of my appearance? I don't think I have anything in particular to be enough to catch your attention."

"It is inspiration, my muse goddess, that gives me intangible guidance." Albarino said sweetly and ambiguously, "The reason why I appear here is to know you well, for only when I have become familiar with you will I be able to understand thoroughly where you should be."

"You'd better not leave any place for me, because most law enforcement officers hate people like me." Herstal snorted.

Albarino shrugged unconcernedly and sank comfortably into that sofa, showing his determination to become one with the comfortable fabric sofa: "I'm not a law enforcement officer. Besides, I became a forensic pathologist just because I like the job."

Herstal didn't say anything, only looked at him quietly.

"Since I have little real impulse to uphold justice, I also do not feel too disgusted by the things you are doing." Albarino was smiling. "Lawyer Armalight , you must have broken the hearts of so many innocent people when you defended the accused?"

"That sounds like a rather emotional accusation." Herstal said slowly.

"... emotional." Albarino nodded thoughtfully. "I was going to ask the day you went to the Forensic Bureau to sign the authorization forms. You don't feel anything at all about what you've done, do you?"

He remembered the look in the man's eyes as he gazed at the corpse; the dead man was even his employer who he had served for many years.

Herstal looked at him as if he wanted to answer something, but he was quickly interrupted: the moment before his lips were open, they heard a gunshot from outside the office.

The sound was so close that it was obvious that it was imminent. A confused scream was let out somewhere outside in the office. At the same moment, the two of them jumped up together almost at once.

"I bet you don't have a gun, do you?" Herstal asked.

"I'm a forensic pathologist, not a cop." Albarino replied with a frown, "I wouldn't bring a gun to work every day even if I had a permit."

But now, it was already too late to say anything. The two of them had rushed out of the office together. Poor Emma was cowering outside, under the desk panels of the cubicles, although with his experience Albarino estimates that if someone with a gun actually rushed in, the panels of the cubicles could not withstand any bullets.

Herstal's office was in the most remote corner of this floor, so you had to walk a long corridor to get to the common area. Most of the higher ranking lawyers have individual offices to sit in; only the newcomers and interns sat in the outermost big office, which was still spacious and bright, but was undoubtedly more crowded in comparison.

That office in particular was now in complete chaos[2]:

[2] 一锅粥: idiom, lit. a bowl of congee/porridge, meaning a complete mess.

An agitated man was standing in the middle of the office, holding a gun high in his hand. By the looks of it, he must have just fired a shot at the ceiling. The gun was now swinging around with his trembling gasps as he aimed the pistol at the chest of one of the office staff, whose entire body went rigid, closely clinging to his desk.

"You liar!" The bald man shouted hoarsely, "Now I have nothing! It's all your fault!"

The staff member's face was stiff and his voice was small like a mosquito: "No ... it wasn't like that. At that time, I, too, didn't think..."

"You bastard! I'll never believe a word you say again! You will suffer the same loss as I had– " The man's voice was shrill. His hand, holding the gun, was shaking.

The entire office staff had panicked and half had already ran away. Albarino hid in the back, inconspicuously sending a text message to Officer Hardy; it was only a matter of time before the police department arrived. The clerk was trembling, unable to say a word.

Herstal took a tentative half-step forward, held his hands high, and said, "Mister-"

Unfortunately, that mister clearly had no intention of negotiating. He had just shouted at the top of his lungs, and now he could finally concentrate on looking around. He found that the people were all staring at him in terror, hiding under the table; it was obviously a matter of time before the police arrived. The man didn't lose his nerve, but he unhesitantly[3] – or panickedly[4] – started shooting.

[3] 当机立断, idiom, make decision promptly

[4] 慌不择路, idiom, too panicked to choose a path/road

The situation in the next second was simply too chaotic to describe. That staff dropped to the ground with a large bang, like being charged at by a train, not even letting out an unnecessary scream. The pistol in the hand of the bald man was still loaded with plenty of bullets, and they randomly shot at the confused people still standing in the room. One of the obvious targets was Herstal, who had been trying to negotiate.

This was too sudden and too illogical. Herstal obviously did not react, or rather, his reaction was precisely the subconscious reflex of an untrained ordinary person in this situation. No one could really dodge a bullet like in a movie, at least not in this kind of abrupt situation. At the sound of the piercing gunshot, Herstal subconsciously raised his left hand – a weak blocking action, so instinctive, fragile and defenceless – then he was tackled by Albarino, and the two rolled into a pile of scattered printer paper.

It wasn't that Albarino was very well-trained; he didn't need to receive police training as a forensic pathologist. The only reason he reacted was, really, just that he wasn't even listening to the guy with the gun, but was on guard staring at his moving gun; so that when he suddenly fired, Albarino had the advantage in comparison with Herstal, who was trying to talk to him.

The two of them fell rather inelegantly into a pile. The imposing and polished floor of this office was really quite hard. But Albarino had shoved Herstal's entire body underneath him, cushioning some of the impact.

Albarino got back up with his hands and knees just in time to see the gunman dash out in a panic; what a novice. More employees crawled out from under the table shivering in fear, while the one who was shot was lying on the floor, bleeding like crazy.

It didn't seem like the right time to think too much. Albarino rushed to the wounded employee just in time to see him pressing his shaking fingers against the wound in vain, but unable to exert any pressure at all. Albarino reached out to help him put pressure on the wound, while directing the employees who were already crying to call an ambulance.

At this moment, Herstal knelt beside him.

When Albarino looked back at him, he saw the ever cool-headed lawyer looking down at his bleeding employee – he actually still looked calm, except his hair, which had always been neatly fixed with hairspray, was a little loose; but otherwise unharmed.

Albarino recalled some of the moments just now in his mind: the gunman shooting at Herstal. Unfortunately, he was standing behind the lawyer and could not see the expression on the other's face at that moment.

Albarino, after all, was not the same as that Westland Pianist. He didn't not get cheap pleasure from these people's near-death moments. He was just instinctively curious about the state of the man in front of him when he was in between life and death; he needed to know more about the man before he could make the right piece ... In any case, he was grateful that the shoddy gunman hadn't hit Herstal; he didn't need any more outside forces interrupting his plans since the Norman Brothers thing.

He was now pressed against a man's bleeding wound, scalding blood between his fingers, with his mind in a different place.

Herstal asked in a low, hoarse voice, "You did call the police, didn't you?"

Yet Albarino only recalled the moment just now, when Herstal subconsciously raised his left arm, as if that action could really stop Death in its tracks–

Albarino was stupefied all of a sudden.

"Yes, of course I called the police," A brief moment later, he laughed and blinked implicatively at the lawyer. "I always think very far ahead, Herstal."

"The harmonious daily life mini theater for psycho serial killers"

Q: When a psycho serial killer tells you,"only when I have become familiar with you will I be able to understand thoroughly where you should be", what does this psycho serial killer mean?

Al: He means, "only when I have become familiar with you, I will understand what flowers are suitable to arrange onto your body".