Two and a half hours later.
11:30 PM.
A light snow began to fall.
Due to the late hour and the scarcity of pedestrians, the snow had only been falling for a few minutes, yet a thin layer of white already blanketed Walker Street.
Outside the entrance of Apartment 33 on Walker Street, police sirens flashed.
Neighbors, drawn by the commotion, stood in the darkness of their own rooms, watching the scene unfold outside the apartment building.
"The deceased is Geralt Sif, 22 years old, an unemployed vagrant, previously incarcerated three times for theft. A repeat offender."
The tall police officer stared at the young Asian man standing in front of the apartment, trying to find some clue on his face. But he quickly failed.
The young man's expression was calm; he didn't show even the slightest hint of panic over a petty thief dying in his home.
Information about this young Asian floated through the officer's mind.
Chen Yan, male, 23 years old, a new immigrant from the distant East. His major is Animal Medicine.
In short, a veterinarian.
The officer was somewhat wary, as there were few professionals among the Asian immigrants.
The Asian immigrant population was highly polarized: they were either hard laborers doing the heavy lifting, or wealthy tycoons throwing fortunes to acquire properties in Yharnam City.
Professionals like Chen Yan could almost be described with the word "rare."
Due to this extreme polarization and varying levels of education, their reputation in Yharnam, and indeed the entire Empire, wasn't great. Even professionals representing "justice" like this police officer harbored prejudice against them.
Not to mention, he and his colleagues hadn't found any clues in this old apartment regarding a murderer.
This was obviously abnormal.
Either the killer's method was too bizarre, or this was an extraordinary supernatural event.
There was no way Geralt Sif just had a sudden heart attack on his own.
Supernatural events weren't his jurisdiction, but homicides were.
He had personally witnessed an Asian fugitive who knew "martial arts" throw a punch from 1 centimeter away, piercing right through heavy winter clothing to shatter a law enforcer's heart.
That scene had forever remained a shadow over his mind.
So he questioned roughly, his tone stiff.
"Mr. Yan, do you have anything to say about the death of Geralt Sif?"
Chen Yan shivered in the intensifying snow.
"First, it's not Mr. Yan, it's Mr. Chen."
Then came a yawn.
"Second, officer, if there's nothing else, I'm going back to sleep."
He didn't answer the officer's question directly because he was genuinely exhausted.
After a whole day of running around downtown, he couldn't even keep his eyes open.
The officer stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then raised his flashlight, shining it into Chen Yan's face.
Chen Yan instinctively flinched, but quickly opened his eyes, calmly meeting the gloomy face of the officer behind the glare.
The mouth on that gloomy face opened and closed:
"Geralt died of heart failure, which is almost impossible for a young man like him."
"He was scared to death."
"Mr. Yan, what terrifying thing is in your apartment?"
Chen Yan didn't bother correcting him again, but hardened his expression:
"Do you have a search warrant?"
He still didn't answer the officer directly.
Having lived here for a month, Chen Yan knew how to deal with these arrogant white-skins.
You had to be tough, and your tone had to be even tougher. As long as it wasn't illegal, never show weakness. This was the rule of survival forged with blood and tears by the older Asian generations.
The officer stared into his eyes, his voice somewhat hoarse.
The officer hadn't drank water all day, but he forced himself to stay alert, speaking more words to Chen Yan with his dry throat:
"Klein."
He shone the flashlight into Chen Yan's eyes.
"I am the patrol officer in charge of Walker Street's security, Klein Justus."
"Remember this name."
"I'll be watching you."
Chen Yan yawned, turning around and walking into the apartment.
Carefully stepping up the three iced-over stairs in front of the door, he entered the doorway that the officers had forced open.
Looking at the broken lock, Chen Yan shouted to Klein's departing back:
"Klein, you broke my lock. Please send the compensation money to my house."
Klein, with one foot already inside the police car, turned his head to glare at him, then stepped his other foot inside.
The engine roared.
Klein left with several officers and Geralt Sif's corpse.
Chen Yan closed the door expressionlessly, not caring about the broken lock.
He had a guest arriving tonight.
It would be the first tenant since his apartment opened for business.
The guest's arrival time was unfixed, maybe after midnight, maybe before sunrise.
This meant he had to pull an all-nighter.
He walked into the foyer, placed his keys on the key rack on the side counter, and took out a kerosene lamp from the cabinet below.
Twisting the lighter mechanism under the lamp, with a *psst*, a pale yellow flame ignited inside the yellowed glass shade.
This room had no chandelier.
First, because the old one was broken, and after buying this apartment, Chen Yan had no spare cash for a new one.
Second, kerosene in Yharnam City was ridiculously cheap. Filling this 1-liter lamp cost only 5 shillings.
In summary, because he was poor.
Because he was poor, he didn't turn on the lights.
Because he was poor, he had to wait for a guest all night.
Tonight's late-night visitor would be his first.
This guest was a "distant relative" introduced to him by a hall master of the Asian gang "Tai Sheng He" (Great Victory Union), Yharnam Branch.
A guest arriving late at night definitely didn't enter the Empire through legal channels.
A stowaway.
The Empire didn't welcome everyone; certain dangerous elements were kept outside customs.
Whether the people defined by the Empire as "dangerous elements" were actually dangerous, only the Empire knew.
When Chen Yan first went through customs, he saw two impoverished elderly people defined as "dangerous" and denied entry.
Fundamentally, the Empire only wanted those who could contribute.
Broke old people obviously weren't on that list.
Chen Yan walked into the living room, frowning at his ransacked counter.
Under the counter was a slip of paper.
Chen Yan didn't have a habit of littering paper.
Where did this come from?
Did the police accidentally leave it?
Or did it belong to Geralt Sif?
No, it shouldn't be Geralt's. If it belonged to the thief, the police would have taken it as evidence of the murder, not left it here in this house.
The moment he saw the note, the surrounding sounds seemed to diminish.
The blizzard outside the window seemed blocked by an invisible barrier, completely isolated from the apartment.
He picked up the note and looked.
[Between 10:00 PM and 10:00 AM, you must not fall asleep.]
Chen Yan frowned.
"What the hell is this."
"You tell me not to sleep, so I just won't sleep?"
"Though I really wasn't planning to sleep tonight anyway..."
The surrounding space underwent an imperceptible disturbance, as if some binding had been undone.
Chen Yan didn't notice.
Frowning, carrying his kerosene lamp, a realization suddenly struck him.
"Fuck! This was left by the killer!"