When Lofan opened his eyes, his mind was already filled with information about his current body.
Name: Lofan Shenayevich
Nationality: Fontainian
Gender: Male
Build: Slightly frail
Thank you for the invitation. I just came from the House of the Hearth, being a trivial intelligence collector for the Fatui.
Lofan's current residence was a small, clean apartment in the Court of Fontaine's residential district. His money only covered a week's worth of living expenses.
His handler was a street vendor, also an orphan from the House of the Hearth. Lofan needed to organize and deliver potentially useful intelligence every week.
So this is what a 300-point body feels like. Lofan had never experienced the sensation of extra memories in his head before—it was quite peculiar.
These memories didn't cause any confusion. They were stored in an information repository, automatically surfacing when Lofan needed them.
Enough leisure time. He should start considering how to die.
In truth, Lofan felt that even if he had simply jumped from a tall building in a crowded area like before, he would have earned over three hundred points. After all, those who died previously were all undocumented migrants. But now, aside from his orphan status at the House of the Hearth, he also possessed a fabricated identity created for him in Fontaine by the same organization.
Once the Maison Gardiennage uncovered his true identity and made it public, the Fontainians would undoubtedly connect this to the mysterious killer shifting their target from undocumented migrants to citizens of Fontaine. This would inevitably spark greater panic among the populace.
However, this approach had its drawbacks. First, if his identity could be traced, his daily movements would no longer remain untraceable. Second, repeated incidents of suicide by jumping would prompt the Maison Gardiennage to tighten surveillance, greatly complicating future operations. Finally... suicide by jumping simply yielded too few points!
Having finally accumulated three hundred points, it was time to make a grand move!
To create a major stir in Fontaine and ensure maximum public awareness, there was no better way than becoming a protagonist at the Opera Epiclese. This would transform his story into an opera, allowing more Fontainians to enjoy it and turning it into dinner table conversation.
What recent event could be bigger than his eight consecutive suicides?
Lofan couldn't help but chuckle. He placed the nearby bowler hat on his head and whistled as he strode out.
At the Steam Bird newspaper office, Charlotte stared at the recent string of jump-suicide cases, her beautiful eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Charlotte smoothed the pink strands of hair by her ear and sighed softly.
"Fontaine hasn't been safe lately, has it?"
Though Charlotte worked as a reporter for the Steam Bird, newspapers thrived on explosive news that sold more copies and earned more Mora. Yet she despised seeing such horrific crimes dominate the headlines.
True, the scenes showed no obvious flaws, but the Maison Gardiennage had already linked all eight jump-suicide cases as a single instance of particularly heinous random crime.
Within three short days, eight such incidents occurred, all victims being undocumented black-market residents. No one would believe these events were unrelated.
The police currently theorized the victims had likely been threatened into committing suicide, but they were completely clueless about the culprit.
Of course, one couldn't really blame the police. Investigate? All black-market residents! What's there to investigate?!
Of course, ordinary people would never understand the Maison Gardiennage's difficulties. They'd only criticize the police for their incompetence and live in constant fear each day the killer remained free.
Charlotte wanted to cover the case in-depth, hoping to speed up its resolution. But since even the police were at a loss, she couldn't find any direction to pursue.
This was more troublesome and dangerous than the unsolved young girl disappearance case. Eight victims in three days—how many more would die if the case remained unsolved?
The victims included men and women, old and young. That made it even more terrifying. The killer was clearly a complete madman!
And this madman was probably somewhere in Fontaine right now, drinking sweet beverages while leisurely watching the panic on pedestrians' faces, wearing a satisfied smile...
At this thought, Charlotte couldn't help but shiver.
After reviewing the case details again, she took a deep breath. Finally, she closed her notebook and stood up.
No, I can't just sit here. Even without clues, I should go out and try my luck. Maybe I could stake out from higher places in Fontaine. If I see someone acting suspicious, I could grab them back just before they jump.
It's not a very effective plan, but it's better than doing nothing.
If she was lucky, she might even save someone from jumping off a building. Plus, wandering around more could help her bump into the culprit.
Charlotte left the Steam Bird with a heavy heart. The moment she stepped out, she collided with someone trying to enter the building.
She felt the person's body was surprisingly light, and they fell heavily to the ground upon impact.
"Sorry, sorry! I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?" Realizing she'd caused trouble, Charlotte immediately crouched down to check the person's condition, her voice full of concern.
It was a very small boy wearing a crooked old bowler hat. The hat didn't add any gentlemanly air to him, since his clothes were both plain and wrinkled, as if he'd been wearing them for days.
Next to the boy lay an overturned cup of orange Fonta drink, its contents nearly drained.
"I'm fine," the boy replied in a youthful voice. But as Charlotte saw him looking at the spilled drink, a pained expression crossed his face, making her heart clench.
It was clear the boy wasn't well-off. Perhaps he was an apprentice at some shop, eating poorly and showing signs of malnutrition.
Today might have been her payday. The young man had finally mustered the courage to treat himself to a Fonta after a month of hard work, only to have it all ruined by this minor incident.
So kind-hearted was the young man that he didn't even consider blaming her. He simply watched with heartache as his newly purchased Fonta poured out of the bottle.
At this thought, Charlotte couldn't help but speak to the young man.
"To express my apologies, I'll treat you to something to eat."
As expected, when she said this, the young man's eyes lit up with hope.