Silence began in front of number 23 and then spread across the entire Hanberning Street.
After the initial fear and shock, the people did not disperse but gathered around from a distance.
"It's the Joker..."
"The Joker did this!"
"God..."
"What is the Joker? Someone from a circus?"
"Who exactly is dead?"
People on the street gradually crowded around, and the word "Joker" spread further with the occasional exclamation from the crowd.
Many began to educate those around them who didn't read the newspapers about who the Joker was.
"She is a mysterious person who stopped the blood sacrifice in Ibiza and killed the Foremen who withheld wages..." This was the impression most people in Ibiza had of the Joker.
Unlike the middle class in most other districts, who only thought a serial killer had appeared in Ibiza, the people of Ibiza regarded her as a hero.
They even secretly hoped that the Joker would one day tear their own factory's cruel Foremen and greedy factory owners to pieces.
There was still a long time before work started, so people were not in a rush to return to the factories. Instead, they gathered here, whispering to each other, all guessing who the person hanging was.
"Thud—"
With the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, a man pushed his way into the crowd, yelling as he did so:
"Make way! Make way! Damn it—"
Seeing the corpse made up as the Joker right in front of him, but unable to squeeze through, the man cursed, "Damn it!"
"It's no use, call for reinforcements."
The man took out a vial of reagent, uncorked it, and tossed it into the air. He muttered a spell, and a green spiritual light shot straight into the sky.
Soon, reinforcements from the God of Generosity and Wisdom arrived, and a large number of Investigators began to help disperse the crowd.
With the start of the factory shift approaching, the crowd gathered on Hanberning Street began to disperse, but they were still excited, imagining who the person hanging might be.
If only it were their own boss—almost everyone thought so.
After dispersing the crowd, the Investigators entered number 23, dragged the hanging corpse up to the third floor, and arranged for personnel to search the room for physical evidence.
"Is the cause of death the penetrating wound to the head... What kind of cruel killer would treat another person like this..." A male Investigator squatted beside the corpse, unable to bear looking at the victim's gruesome state.
Just as he prepared a "Magic Imprint" to preserve the scene, a shout came from behind.
"Her Highness Vera—"
"Her Highness Vera..."
"May your reason remain constant, Her Highness Vera!"
Hearing these shouts, the man quickly stood up, stepped aside, and respectfully called out to the newcomer behind him, "Her Highness Vera."
The girl known as Vera was wearing a single-breasted black coat that reached her calves, with a detachable cape on the shoulders.
She wore a brownish-black deerstalker cap, and her brown hair was cut short to about chin-length, seemingly cut that way for convenience.
She had a serious expression on her pale, clear face, and a pair of large glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
"Hmm." The girl known as Vera just nodded slightly, then shifted her gaze to the corpse on the ground.
It seemed that the greetings from those around her were less attractive to her than the corpse in front of her.
"Record it," Vera said calmly, giving instructions. "Call me when you're done."
Then, like the other Investigators, Vera began to look for other possible evidence left in the room, taking out a small notebook and quickly recording something.
"Just as I thought... She's doing this for fame... Was it yesterday's newspaper?" Vera thought of something and ordered the Investigator nearby, "Go and ask who paid for the letter on yesterday's headline."
"Yes!" The Investigator who received the order quickly trotted out, as if Vera held a very high position in their minds.
The Investigator who had been squatting on the ground using the Magic Imprint had now finished, and he stood up and said, "Her Highness Vera, the recording is complete."
"Good work." Vera nodded, then took a small box from her coat pocket, opened it, and found a clean white cloth inside.
Vera knelt beside the corpse and used the white cloth to wipe away the white crystalline powder on the deceased's face, revealing his bloodless face.
Vera put the cloth stained with blood and powder back into the box and handed it behind her without looking back:
"Take this back for analysis."
"Yes!" The Investigator took the box, along with the original Magic Imprint, and trotted away.
Vera focused her gaze on the corpse again, looking at the penetrating wound on his neck.
"This is..."
Then, Vera turned her head, looked at the busy Investigators, and pointed at one of them: "You, come here."
The person pointed at was a young girl about 1.6 meters tall. She didn't seem to have realized it yet and pointed at herself: "Uh... eh? Me?"
"Yes." Vera beckoned, "Come here."
"Yes, Her Highness Vera." The girl walked over to Vera hesitantly, seemingly a bit scared. She closed her eyes and asked, "May I ask what you need?"
"Cut a piece of flesh from the neck and take it for testing—I suspect the wound was caused by an Extraordinary item, possibly a weapon used by the perpetrator. If we know what kind of Extraordinary weapon it is, we can trace its origin... What's wrong with you?" Vera instructed while teaching at the same time.
But for some reason, the girl in front of her kept her eyes closed and didn't open them even when Vera turned to look at her.
"I... I'm squeamish about blood, Her Highness Vera..." The girl said this tremblingly, then lowered her head, not daring to say anything more.
"Her Highness Vera, Pasha is indeed squeamish about blood..." a male Investigator nearby added.
"Hmm..." Vera nodded helplessly. "Then go join the search team and search the vicinity, though I doubt you'll find anything. It's been about two hours since the time of death."
"Go on." Finally, Vera patted Pasha on the shoulder, signaling that she could leave.
After Pasha finished thanking her, stood up, and walked out of the room, Vera called someone else to help cut the flesh for testing.
Pasha, having found an excuse to leave, immediately frowned after walking out the door.
She carefully recalled the corpse from just now and yesterday's news, unable to understand the Joker's line of thinking at all.
Generally speaking, isn't it better for fewer people to know about a crime? Why did the Joker's crime seem like she wanted everyone to know about it?
Provocation? A crime of passion? Antisocial personality disorder?
Under normal circumstances, these were all possible, but Pasha held a clue that no one else knew: the Joker came from a mysterious and powerful organization, and it was still unknown how many people were in that organization.
Pasha vaguely felt that the green-haired woman who called herself the Joker was preparing to do something big.
But for now, no one knows what the Joker is planning.