"Was that Lady Anne just now?" Carl watched the departing carriage, deep in thought.
"Yes," Carey nodded. "Anne Boleyn. After the Earl's death, all of his substantial estate went to her alone, making her a renowned wealthy lady in the city."
"However..."
"She really has become more beautiful."
As she spoke, Carey licked her lips subconsciously, her gaze on the departing carriage filled with longing.
Carl shook his head. A beautiful and wealthy widow often attracted trouble.
He too had heard Lady Anne's story. Born into a wealthy merchant family, she married into the aristocracy and became a widow at a young age.
Her late husband's substantial inheritance and her stunning appearance made her the target of many men's affections.
No one called her Mrs. Boleyn; they all referred to her as Lady Anne.
Yet, this beauty had never remarried, singularly enjoying the countess's title and wealth.
There were rumors that men, especially young and handsome ones, were never absent from her side. Over time, this had led to her being gossiped about by some as a wanton woman.
She was envied, JJealously desired, and scorned by many.
It was said a marquis was one of her bedfellows, and combined with her late husband's status, no one in the city dared to provoke her.
This was also why Carey, though clearly resentful, hadn't delayed the young man from boarding the carriage. Experience had taught her never to underestimate a woman's vengefulness, especially that of a beautiful and powerful one.
Of course, these matters were of no concern to Carl. He was more preoccupied with the sudden sense of danger he had just felt.
Murderous intent!
Or something else.
Whatever it was, the aura emanating from that man named Miles had alerted him.
He had never felt this sensation before.
Could it be that practicing the Poisonous Wolf Breathing Technique has increased my ability to sense danger?
Or is there something peculiar about that man called Miles?
Carl stroked his chin, his eyes thoughtful.
"AH!"
"Someone's dead!"
As he was contemplating, an exclamation came from behind.
The two turned towards the sound and saw a crowd in chaos; some were curiously craning their necks, while others quickly moved away.
"What happened?"
"It seems someone has found a body!"
"Let's go," Carl said, collecting his thoughts. "Let's go take a look."
As a city patrol officer, however irresponsible he might be, he could not ignore such an incident.
The body was discovered in a foul-smelling ditch. It was reduced to skin and bones, shriveled as if it had been dead for decades, or like a piece of wood drained of all moisture.
The scene was horrifying, disgusting, and eerie.
"From the clothes, she appeared to be a young woman, but it's impossible to ascertain anything further in this condition."
Carl, holding back the stench, bent down to examine it. "There are two red dots on the neck. Could she really have been killed by a vampire, drained of her blood?"
"A vampire?" Carey's eyes lit up. "That young man, Miles, whom we saw earlier, had unnaturally pale skin. Could he be the culprit?"
According to legend, vampires have exceedingly pale skin.
"Do you really believe in vampires?" Carl looked up at her. "Even if they do exist, vampires supposedly can't come out during the day. If you're truly suspicious, you could apply to have him arrested, but I doubt Lady Anne would consent."
"Then forget it."
Carey promptly abandoned the idea. "Let's investigate further first. Come to think of it, this is already the fifth such murder case in the city."
"The victims have all been young women."
"Oh!" Carl straightened up. "There have been five already?"
A few days ago, when he met Officer Dana at the Church, she had mentioned a similar case.
"Never mind." Carl brushed his hands together and looked towards several figures running towards them. "Leave it to the police officers... Are those Nightwatchers?"
The city had patrol officers and police officers to maintain public order; the Church also had similar personnel known as Nightwatchers.
However, very few cases were significant enough to involve the Nightwatchers.
Only those involving the worship of an Evil God, fire-stealers, or other bizarre and rare cases.
Carey also looked puzzled; clearly, she too had only just learned of this.
To someone untrained in autopsy, a corpse was merely a corpse, making it difficult to find any clues.
After the body was handed over to the professional police officers and Nightwatchers, Carl lost his appetite for a drink and went to Safi Street alone.
This street housed Sigerno City's most famous tailors and cobblers, along with the largest clothing stores, watch shops, and cane stores, among others.
His old clothes were worn out.
Moreover, since practicing the Poisonous Wolf Breathing Technique, his physique seemed to have changed, also necessitating new clothes.
"Sir," a clerk with a measuring tape around his neck called out enthusiastically, "is there anything you need?"
"I'd like to have several suits of clothes made," Carl said, standing before a display case, examining a few men's formal suits within.
He added, "Not too much silk."
Silk was apparently rare here, and currently fashionable formal wear, for both men and women, incorporated it.
Baroque or Rococo styles on women might still suggest elegance and luxury, but for Carl, men's collars and sleeves stitched with flamboyant silk and gauze were simply unbearable.
Lace and white stockings challenged his aesthetic sensibilities even further.
"No problem." The clerk, unperturbed by the customer's pickiness, asked, "Do you have a pattern? Or you could specify your requirements, and we can customize it accordingly."
"The primary materials should be velvet and brocade. Avoid layered cravats; the simpler, the better," Carl said, touching the fabric samples. "The coat should reach the knees. You have military uniform patterns here, don't you? I plan to adapt a military style."
"Yes," the clerk nodded. As the customer's requests flashed through his mind, he found them somewhat peculiar but raised no objections. "I'll get them for you," he said.
"Alright."
Carl nodded.
He preferred modern three-piece suits, which would undoubtedly seem too unconventional here.
However, a transitional style existed between Baroque and modern suits, and blending elements of both could meet his requirements.
In his view, the current fashion in the Gando Kingdom tended toward female-oriented, overly decorated styles.
This was quite normal. An abundance of materials was dazzling, leading people to naturally pursue luxury and desperately pile on all sorts of fabrics.
Eventually, once accustomed to such extravagance, people would begin to seek simplicity and freshness, no longer focusing so heavily on outward appearance.
"It should be taken in at the back seam or sides to allow the hem to flare, making it easier for horse riding and not restricting vigorous movement."
"The waist must be well-fitted. As for opulence..."
Carl thought for a moment, then said, "Add some gold thread embroidery, but keep it simple. Not the Nightwatcher style—no, I don't want that kind of style."
The clerk, having never encountered so many specific requests, simply called over the master tailor. The two of them then began an animated, gesticulating discussion.
The tailor seemed very interested in Carl's suggestions, listening intently, especially to the details.
At first glance, he looked more like an apprentice eager to learn.
"Hold on a second."
Carl suddenly paused the discussion and looked towards the front hall, where two familiar figures caught his eye.
His landlady, Mary, and her daughter, Jenny.
Mary looked at the ladies' formal dresses before them, her expression troubled. "Jenny," she said, "three pounds. That's far too expensive for us, and these dresses can only be worn occasionally; they aren't practical."
"I'm going to a party! Am I supposed to wear those old clothes you sewed?" Jenny stomped her foot. "Mother, I finally passed the Barro Choir audition! Don't I deserve a new dress to celebrate?"
"But..." Mary lowered her head, her voice weak. "It's just too expensive!"