Ling Shaomiao smiled slowly, a playful spark glinting in her eyes. "There's no need to answer that question," she said, "My name is Aria Nightshade."
Ling Shaomiao then looked at the man sitting in the front seat of the car. He had a light beard, golden-framed glasses, a cap on his head, and a dark black coat. His face showed a calm but alert expression.
In the dim light of the night, he appeared to an ordinary gentleman, but deep in his eyes was a sharp habit of observation. Just as Klein had suspected while reading novels, in reality, he was even more perceptive.
The man slightly turned his head toward her and said in a calm voice,
"I am Sherlock Moriarty, a private detective."
They arrived in front of the police station. Ling Shaomiao stepped out of the car and looked at the man sitting in the front seat. Though his blue eyes showed fatigue, there was a faint firmness on his face.
"Thank you," she said quietly, "You don't need to come any further. I can manage from here."
After speaking, she closed the car door.
Just as the car began to move slowly, Ling Shaomiao suddenly seemed to remember something and exclaimed, "Wait!"
The driver hit the brakes.
Ling Shaomiao unclasped the small white pearl from her necklace. Then, leaning toward the window, she handed it to Klein.
"There isn't much I have left… so I can only give you this," she said.
Klein shook his head. "It's not necessary. I didn't help you to receive anything in return."
He tried to return the necklace, but Ling Shaomiao raised a slight eyebrow and shook her head. "Ah, keep it. Consider it a token of my gratitude."
Then she smiled faintly. "Why not? Maybe one day, you can give this to a woman you love… or even your wife. Women like jewelry like this."
She paused for a moment, thinking to herself, Why did I even say that?
In the novel, Klein had never shown any special feelings for a woman. She wondered silently how he would have felt hearing this.
Shaking off her thoughts, she said, "Then I'll leave now, Mr. Sherlock Moriarty."
With that, Ling Shaomiao bid farewell. The car began moving slowly again.
Klein looked at the necklace in his hand. It seemed very simple a small white pearl in the center of a slender golden chain but in the soft, pale light, it appeared strangely exquisite to him.
Finally, he put the necklace into his pocket.
Looking out the window, Klein saw Ling Shaomiao had already reached the front of the police station.
Night had grown deep. A gas lamp in front of the station cast a soft yellow light onto the dark street. A sign above the door read West Borough Police Station.
Ling Shaomiao pushed the door and entered.
Inside, the faint creak of wooden floors could be heard. In the middle of the room was a large wooden desk, covered with papers, ink, and an oil lamp. The lamp's light made the room half-dark, half-illuminated.
Behind the desk sat a duty officer, a middle-aged constable in a dark blue police uniform and cap, writing on some papers.
Seeing Ling Shaomiao, he raised his head. In the corner of the room, a young constable stood holding a baton, likely on night watch duty.
Upon entering, the duty officer at the desk noticed Ling Shaomiao's condition and furrowed his brows wet hair, dusty clothes, and dried blood stains in some places.
"Miss, what happened?" the constable asked, standing up from his chair.
Ling Shaomiao took a deep breath. "I… was attacked," she said, trying to remain calm.
The constable signaled another officer. Moments later, a sergeant emerged from an inner room.
"Please sit," he said, pointing to a wooden chair in front of him. He then opened a notebook and took a pen.
"What is your name?"
Ling Shaomiao paused for a moment, then replied, "Aria Nightshade."
The sergeant looked up at her briefly, as if trying to memorize the name.
"All right, Miss Nightshade. Now tell me where did this incident occur?"
"In my home.... " Ling Shaomiao answered.
"Who attacked you? Did you see them?"
Ling Shaomiao was silent for a few seconds. A strange shadow flashed in her eyes for a moment, as if what she had witnessed would be hard for any ordinary person to believe.
"I'm not entirely sure…" she said slowly, "but it wasn't a human."
Suddenly, silence fell in the room.
The sergeant paused, pen in hand, looking at her.
"Not a human you mean?"
Ling Shaomiao lowered her eyes.
She knew that if she told the whole truth, perhaps no one would believe her.
...
The sergeant and the duty officer stood in the adjacent room. Though small, the room was well-lit the wall lamp cast a soft glow. The sergeant sat in the chair, and the duty officer stood beside him, listening attentively.
"Do you believe it could have been a normal human?" the duty officer asked directly, his voice mixing doubt and concern.
"I don't know," the sergeant said slowly. "What Aria Nightshade described if it's really as she says we've never had an incident like this before. This kind of attack, red eyes, enormous size… it's not a crime or robbery we know of. We need more information."
The duty officer opened his notebook. "So what should we do? Do we investigate as Aria Nightshade says, or just increase surveillance of the house and surrounding area?"
"Both," the sergeant said. "First, we make sure Aria is safe. Then we examine the surrounding area, all possible entry and exit routes. If something truly 'extraordinary' is happening, we'll find traces of it."
The duty officer nodded. "All right, I'll send some people around the houses. And we'll check the dust and blood stains in that room to verify whether it's normal or not."
...
Inside the room, only Aria Nightshade and the young constable remained. Aria leaned back in the chair, her hands lightly crossed over her chest.
The young constable slowly approached her and said,
"Miss Nightshade, if anything unbelievable or dangerous happens to you, you must inform me."
Aria understood what the golden-haired young man meant.
She smiled faintly at the corner of her lips.
"That means… you'll be helping me, right?"
Aria told the young constable everything—except for Klein's involvement, as she didn't want the Nighthawks to notice Klein at night.
The sergeant emerged from the adjacent room, keeping one hand to the side, and stepped lightly toward Aria under the lamp's glow. "You have nothing to fear. We will do our utmost to keep you safe. Just rest, you are secure."
Aria replied, "Thank you."
The atmosphere in the room gradually settled into a calm rhythm. The yellow lamp cast long shadows across the walls. Ling Shaomiao remained leaning in the chair, eyes half-closed, as if resting.
The young constable stood silently for a few moments. Then, as if a thought had struck him, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me… I'm just stepping outside for a moment."
Though he tried to keep his voice steady, a slight hint of urgency seeped through.
Ling Shaomiao slowly lifted her head. Her gaze lingered on the young constable for a few seconds. In that brief moment, she understood exactly where he was headed and why.
A faint smile flickered at the corner of her lips, yet she said nothing.
The young constable lowered his head and moved toward the door. As he opened it, the cool corridor air swept inside, making the lamp's flame tremble slightly. The door closed softly behind him. Silence returned to the room. Now, only four people remained inside.
...
The young constable stepped into the corridor. It was nearly empty; in the distance, the echo of another officer's boots reverberated. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then swiftly proceeded toward the small telegraph room inside the station.
The telegraph room was modest in size. Against one wall was a wooden table, on top of which rested a metal telegraph device, along with a coil of wire and a notebook. In the lamp's glow, the metallic parts of the machine shimmered quietly.
The constable closed the door behind him and stood silently for a few seconds, making sure no one was nearby. Then he seated himself at the table and opened the notebook.
He quickly wrote a few brief words. Though they appeared to be ordinary report notes, they were actually coded signals. The station's general staff would not comprehend their true meaning.
He then placed his fingers on the telegraph handle.
Tick… tick… tick…
Amid the room's silence, the metallic clicks carried clearly. Each short signal was transmitted through the wires to the other side of the city, to the office where reports of abnormal and inexplicable incidents were collected.
The message was concise: a direct eyewitness. Potentially supernatural attack. Location: 17 Moonlit Crescent, West Borough, Backlund.
After sending the final signal, the constable slowly removed his hand. He lingered for a few moments, gazing at the telegraph, then closed the notebook, stood up, opened the door, and returned to the corridor.
...
Under the massive dome of Saint Samuel Cathedral, the night was dense and dark. The soft lamp light in the corner illuminated a table, notebook, and telegraph device with a gentle glow.
A Nighthawks representative, eyes sharp with caution and experience, approached the table. Silently, he opened the police report, which had come from a direct eyewitness—regarding a suspicious, potentially supernatural attack.
"According to the eyewitness," he said, "the incident is not normal. We cannot confirm it was human. Only red eyes and unnatural movements in the dark were observed."
Another Nighthawks member, standing to the right, glanced at the report on the table. "So what kind of preparation should we take? Attacks like this tend to be highly powerful and possibly premeditated."
The representative replied in a low voice, "We must be cautious. The eyewitness deemed this attack completely unnatural to the human eye. I suggest we increase night-time security in the rooms and enhance surveillance around the city."
The telegraph device, placed at a distance, emitted a brief sound, reminding them of its presence. The members calmly turned their attention to it, one by one.
"Is this report just for documentation, or does it require immediate action?" asked the member on the right.
"And for our investigation, what meeting do we need to have with the eyewitness?" another asked.
( Happy International Women's Day)