Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Suspicious Murder
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A crowd had gathered in the open lot marked with a sign reading [Witness], all huddled together to watch the trial. The guards snapped to attention with brisk salutes the moment I arrived. After commending their hard work, I decided to kick off the formal proceedings.
"Guard. Explain the incident."
"Yes, my lord! Last night, a villager named John rushed to the patrol guards and pleaded, 'Screams are coming from Henry's house. It sounds like someone's been killed—please come with me.' Two guards armed themselves and headed to the scene. When they arrived, Henry's wife was already dead, bludgeoned with a club, and Henry was passed out drunk, clutching the weapon."
"Are you certain the wife was dead at the scene?"
"W-Well... one look at the body, my lord, and you'll be convinced she was gone."
The guard added that the body in question was now lying in the corner of the trial area as evidence, covered by a mat that hid her face. He lifted the edge slightly and asked me,
"Sh-Shall I show you?"
"What happened after you found the body?"
"We brought back the witness, John, and the suspect, Henry, to the guardhouse first. Then we assembled more men to secure the scene and retrieve the corpse."
"Didn't you conduct any further investigation? There might have been evidence of the crime left behind."
"W-Well... we were certain it was Henry's doing, so..."
"From what you've told me, the only facts the guards can confirm are that 'screams came from Henry's house' and 'Henry was collapsed with the club in hand.' John's testimony doesn't add anything beyond that. Aside from what I've heard, is there any other evidence proving Henry is the culprit?"
"That's..."
The guard trailed off. I got the sense the investigation had been sloppy. In a case like this, the exact time of death wasn't the pressing issue. I put off examining the body for now and turned to Henry.
Henry looked flustered the moment our eyes met, then promptly bowed his head. I asked him,
"Henry. Did you kill your wife?"
"...I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I have no idea if I did it or how it happened. I remember drinking and heading home, but nothing after that."
This screamed frame job. Sure, it was possible Henry had blacked out and beaten his wife to death, but it was just as plausible someone had set him up. A guy who could drum up five enemies in the village willing to rush in and testify at night? It made sense he'd kill his wife, and it made sense someone would frame him to get rid of him.
"I hear you beat your wife regularly."
"...Yes."
"How? Did you swing bottles at her? Use tools?"
"W-Well..."
Henry clamped his mouth shut and darted his eyes around. He clearly lacked the guts to confess his sins in front of so many people. I said,
"Speak, Henry. The lord is asking."
"Mostly... kicks... and punches..."
"Why? Were you trying to kill her?"
"I-I was just so angry... Lost my job, nothing was going right..."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I heard insults calling Henry trash, a hopeless case. I declared,
"Anyone making noise in this court again will be identified and punished."
Only then did the trial area fall silent. I turned back to Henry.
"So you lost your job. What did you do before?"
"I was a carpenter, but I got injured on the job and couldn't work anymore."
"What injury?"
"My arm. My right arm has no strength now, so I can't swing a hammer..."
"Right-handed, then."
"Yes. I still use my right hand for most things, but I can't lift heavy stuff or exert force."
I looked back at the guard and asked,
"The club Henry was holding—which hand was it in?"
"His left."
The guard answered readily. It was just last night, so the detail was fresh.
"So, based on the testimonies from you guards and John, Henry has a history of beating his wife, his whereabouts that night are unclear, he can't remember anything, and when they arrived at the screams, only he and his wife were there. In that scenario, you'd assume he bludgeoned her."
"Yes. Exactly."
The guard nodded. Henry hung his head. But I shook mine. Something was off. Unnatural. Deeply so. I asked Henry,
"Henry. Did you only use your left hand when beating your wife?"
"Probably... both hands."
"After losing your job to the right-arm injury, did you ever rehab to use tools with your left?"
"...No. My wife earned money, and I was... busy drinking..."
The onlookers stared at the scene, lips pursed, faces brimming with frustration, clearly itching to see Henry executed. But I had no intention of obliging. This case was undeniably fishy.
A blackout-drunk right-hander—no rehab with his left—who's an alcoholic to boot. Would he rationally decide his left was stronger and grab the weapon with it? And succeed in beating his wife to death?
Something was wrong. Definitely.
Honestly, whether this drunk was framed or actually murdered her wasn't my concern. The real issue was that someone was trying to fool me, the lord. If I fell for it now, they'd get bolder next time, and if it kept happening, I'd be trapped in endless headaches.
You uproot suspicions firmly when they sprout. I needed to resolve this cleanly. Leaving it murky would keep me up at night.
⚔ STATUS ⚔ 📛 Name: Henry 💼 Occupation: Drunkard ⭐ Level: 8 Stats
⚡ Strength: 3 💨 Agility: 4 🧠 Intelligence: 3 🍀 Luck: 2 Traits
Muscle Disorder
Aftereffects of an injury have left abnormal muscle function.
Penalties apply to Strength and Agility stats. Cannot properly wield weapons.
Henry might be scum who beat his wife, but he wasn't the killer here. With stats that pathetic, killing anyone would be a stretch. Even if his wife was frail with tuberculosis, dying to a hit from this half-cripple would just be natural causes.
I ordered the guard to uncover the body. He pulled back the mat, revealing Henry's fallen wife.
She was quite the beauty. No eye for husbands, though.
Her occiput was utterly shattered. I winced involuntarily, Henry turned away from the horror, and the crowd gasped "Oh no..."—it was that gruesome. With the back of her head smashed like that, she was surely dead by the time they found her.
I scanned the surroundings. A few nuns and Sieri from the church were watching too. I asked the first guard on scene,
"Guard. How was the body positioned?"
"Face-down."
"Lie down and show me exactly how she fell."
The guard hesitated, but at my gesture, he dropped to the ground, mimicking the pose: prone, arms and legs straight out.
"Was the body facing Henry?"
"No. Her back was to him."
The guard said, standing up again.
"Where's the murder weapon?"
"Right here."
The guard fetched the club from where it was stored. I'd expected oak or something, but it was a solid iron rod. Swinging that at the back of the head? Instant death. The grip fit perfectly, weight balanced just right. But could a guy with tremors land such a clean blow?
I waved the guard back and stripped off the body's top. The sudden move flustered the guards and villagers. Her back had bruises, but no marks from an iron rod. If he'd beaten her and it turned fatal accidentally, her body should show wounds too. Arms, torso—nothing.
If he'd hit other spots with head-crushing force, bones would be broken or flesh torn. From the body's state, it was like Henry precisely struck only the head a few times, then suddenly sobered up and passed out? Too perfect.
It was more believable someone else killed her and shoved the rod in Henry's hand.
"This is weird."
"What's wrong, my lord?"
"Too clean."
"Pardon?"
"Henry can't swing his arm properly. How'd he land such precise blows? You know yourself—a weapon in your off-hand loses power."
"Well..."
"Plus, per your testimony, the victim didn't fight back."
The body's state was odd too. Too straight for someone fleeing. Like she never saw the blow to her occiput coming.