The guard and Ariane stayed on the first floor. Courtney led the two upstairs. Compared to the first floor, the living area clearly had more signs of life. Randomly placed items, footprints on the floor, tools left out in dangerous positions, withered flowers in vases, scattered dried leaves… In comparison, the first floor was so clean and tidy that it looked like it had just been cleaned.

Selene narrowed her eyes, staring at Courtney, who was walking in front of her. She saw Courtney lead them past her own room and stop in front of a closed door. Her voice was low.

“This room… this is where he died…”

She’s really persistent with this “murder” conclusion… Why? Why would she go against the police? Though Duquesne wasn’t the type to hold grudges, it was still awkward… What’s the basis for their conclusion?

Selene smiled at Courtney, making her pause for a moment.

“Thank you for your cooperation. Would you mind letting us take a look? Don’t worry. We won’t touch anything.”

This was obviously nonsense. If Courtney didn’t want them to look, she wouldn’t have brought them here… Perhaps it was because of Selene’s captivating appearance. It took Courtney a moment to reply.

“Fine…”

Richter twitched the corner of his mouth, seeing Courtney blush—weren’t you very composed downstairs?!

He opened the door and said with a smile,

“Miss Courtney, please wait outside.”

“What? Wait, why are you opening the door?” Courtney reacted and protested, “I’m the owner of this house.”

Richter’s expression became serious. He pondered for a moment.

“We suspect this case involves a superhuman. Some of our investigative methods aren’t suitable for ordinary people… It might be dangerous. I’m sure Jose wouldn’t want you to risk your lives.

“There have been cases like this in the Divine Construct. For example, in Haranduvi, there was a serial murder case. The city guard, the predecessor of the Haranduvi police department, used methods like astrology and ritual magic to obtain information in front of the victim’s families. They eventually found the perpetrator…

“But in the process, one after another, the victims’ family members died. It wasn’t until right before the execution that the perpetrator revealed the reason—it was a kind of curse transmitted through information. It was so subtle that the superhumans in the city guard hadn’t even noticed it. But it quietly weakened the bodies and minds of ordinary people, causing them to wither and die.”

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Richter spoke seriously and solemnly. Perhaps it was his sincere tone and persuasive argument that convinced Courtney, or perhaps it was the respectful way he referred to her as “family,” but she finally nodded hesitantly, agreeing to wait outside.

… Such eloquence! This isn’t the kind of guy who gets fixated on a “pen pal!”

Selene clicked her tongue. Richter nodded slightly at Courtney, as if they had reached a shared understanding, a strange sense of mission and solemnity. Then he closed the door.

Click.

The sound of the lock echoed. Selene frowned and glanced around the large room, not immediately starting her investigation, but asking,

“What did you notice?”

Richter’s behavior, from his request to examine the scene to his insistence on keeping Courtney outside, clearly had a purpose. Selene guessed that he had probably discovered something he didn’t want to share with outsiders… What was it?

Richter looked at the circle marked “chair” on the floor, recalling the description in the police report—the artist, Jose, had died sitting peacefully in his chair, a satisfied and serene expression on his face. The cause of death was a large dose of hallucinogens. A suicide note was found on his lap…

He pondered for a moment, then said,

“I know Jose, or rather, I know a painter named Jose Jesus Farias.”

“I know. You just said that,” Selene nodded and leaned against the wall. “Is he famous?”

“At least, in the South Continent. He specializes in religious and portrait paintings. His skill is extraordinary. He’s not only famous in Mittal, but also very popular in the Allinge Tribal Nation and among the elves—he’s a devout believer, not of any specific deity, but incredibly respectful of all fourteen deities. You might not have a good understanding of what this means, so let me give you an example. He once said he wanted to paint ‘The War God’s Feast.’ Before he even started, King Moros of the Allinge Tribal Nation paid him thirty thousand White Staves for the painting…”

Selene took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and looked around with reverence and regret, as if muttering something incomprehensible, like “Bless me, master” and “I only ask for a fraction of your skill.”

Richter paused, as if recalling something. His brow furrowed.

“You must be wondering why such a person would come to a place like this.”

Selene, who had been praying, nodded seriously.

“It’s simple. He was expelled from Mittal three years ago for the crime of ‘heresy,’” Richter said in a low voice. “Disrespecting the fourteen deities, believing in a Evil god, performing heretical rituals… They found evidence in his house, but he didn’t try to defend himself, calmly accepting his exile. I didn’t expect him to be here until I saw the station manager’s file…”

Selene’s eyes widened slightly. She had PTSD from the word “Evil god” and instinctively wanted to leave, but then remembered that she’d also signed a deal with a Evil god, so it wasn’t like she could judge.

“If that’s true, this is going to be troublesome… He might not have committed suicide,” Selene said hesitantly.

“It’s more than that,” Richter shook his head, sighing, “Do you know why his paintings are so valuable?”

“Because of his extraordinary skills? Though it is a little strange that he was able to sell them for so much while he was still alive…”

“Because he’s a superhuman, a ‘Grandmaster,’” Richter said, emphasizing each word. “His paintings aren’t just beautiful. They’re alive. The people in his paintings can talk, move, walk out of the frame. The scenery in his paintings is so real that you can enter them just by touching the frame. Reaching this level is one of the conditions for becoming a Grandmaster. Not being restricted by materials, not limited to static states. To be able to freely express the scenes and scenery in one’s mind.

“And Jose is one of the best. He can even overwrite reality with his paintings—”