Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1063: Prison Storm (14)

Chapter 1063: Prison Storm (14)

A true warden wouldn’t ask the question, “Why did you drug Inspector Gell?” So, does that mean… the warden knows?

“Oh no, no wonder he casually told you everything,” even though it said, “Oh no,” the Descartes Spirit sounded like it was gloating, “It looks like you two were in cahoots from the beginning! Congratulations, you found an alliance so quickly… Ah!”

Bohemia slowly released her grip on her Higher Consciousness, watching as the mosaic in the corner of her field of vision tremblingly unfolded into a chaotic and blurry ma.s.s of colors in mid-air.

The gaze of the Sandwich Secretary still bore into her.

“Um, I mean…” she steadied herself, though she was getting a bit nervous. After going through several mental twists and turns, she suddenly had an idea, “Oh, when it’s your turn to answer this question, what will you say?”

She successfully bluffed past it – Sandwich Secretary suddenly realized, “Oh,” and relaxed his posture.

“Drugging?” He huffed from his nose, his previously mild expression now gone, “How can she prove it? Just because she saw it? I can say I didn’t drug it, Inspector Gell can also claim to have a family history of seizures, and no traces of any substance would be found in his body… She’ll just seem like a paranoid woman at that time.”

Bohemia nodded, then suddenly paused.

Wait a minute, if Inspector Gell as the one drugged, is cooperating to confirm he wasn’t drugged, is he also aware of this like the warden?

What a mess in this prison!

“Don’t reveal your hand,” at this moment, the Descartes Spirit wisely reminded her, “The plot is progressing!”

Bohemia had to work hard to keep her composure. She made a thoughtful sound, sat across from Sandwich Secretary, and with an air of confidence, raised her feet, saying, “This time, you’ve really gone through a lot.”

Sandwich Secretary waved his hand, revealing a faint, wry smile.

“What can we do? Miss Winters, I truly understand your predicament. Being a warden in the middle of all this isn’t easy. Honestly, apart from this path, we have no other option. After all, it’s his decision… he has spoken, and we have no room for resistance.”

What’s going on? What’s happening here?

Bohemia silently cursed and responded, “You’re absolutely right.”

As the secretary spoke, he seemed to express a bit of nostalgia. While opening a drawer to find the keys, he sighed, “Hersin, he’s quite a lamentable figure. He was once a chief consultant, renowned nationwide… When he first came to prison, I thought he wouldn’t stay long. A hundred percent chance of getting a pardon, didn’t you say the same to me back then?”

Bohemia looked mournful, “Yes, a pardon!”

What does a pardon mean, again? She seemed to have heard of it.

“Hersin, Hersin, Hersin… Alright, I’ve remembered,” the Descartes Spirit was playing along more seriously than anyone else.

“If I were like him, holding a substantial amount of information and evidence against that person, I would certainly make good use of it, not end up being a.s.sa.s.sinated by investigative bureau agents. Miss Winters, if you were as clever as you are, you’d probably be a vice president by now.” The Sandwich Secretary chuckled, raised his hand, and dangled the keyring on his finger, saying, “Found them, shall we go?”

It was only then that Bohemia remembered there was still a person locked in the meeting room downstairs. She stood up in a daze, and, still somewhat absentminded, followed him out the door, trying to piece together the information she had just gathered into a coherent timeline in her mind. As she descended the stairs, the Descartes Spirit clung to her like a shadow, muttering to himself.

“The murdered prisoner is named Hersin, and that much we can be sure of. He was killed because he possessed evidence unfavorable to a significant figure… The person who killed him is one of the investigators sent to the prison. Are we in agreement on these points?”

Taking advantage of the Sandwich Secretary opening the door, Bohemia nodded rapidly.

The question is, who is the person that killed him?

She was having a headache when the door was pushed open.

Old Shoes was sitting on a chair near the door, arms crossed, and he gave them an unpleasant look. “Took you so long?”

Bohemia surveyed the relatively small conference room. As Old Shoes had said, this room had no windows, and during the daytime, all the lights had to be turned on. It was located behind the building, which faced the prisoners’ yard, so from this room, one could hardly hear the sounds of unrest.

Between rows of tables and chairs, Old Shoes made a disapproving sound and stood up.

“How’s Inspector Gell?” He probably concluded that Bohemia wasn’t competent and that he might as well ask the secretary. He continued, “Take me to see. If necessary, I can interrogate Hersin alone, there is full video recording anyway.”

The prisoner they were originally planning to interrogate in the investigation bureau was Hersin, the one who had died? Was Old Shoes pretending not to know, or did he genuinely not know that Hersin was dead?

The Sandwich Secretary was indeed talented. He accepted without changing his expression and added nonchalantly, “There was a bit of a commotion in the prison just now, so it’s a good idea to wait…”

“Commotion?” Old Shoes immediately shot Bohemia a glance. “Not surprising!”

As the group approached the medical department, Bohemia was brewing a string of curses in her stomach, almost ready to burst out. Just at that moment, the white doors of the medical department were pushed open abruptly, and two nurses in blue rushed out in a hurry, their faces devoid of color. As soon as they saw the group, they all exclaimed in unison, “Inspector Gell is dead! Dr. Ming, she—”

Several people were startled, and Old Shoes was the first to react. He pushed the nurses aside and rushed into the building. Bohemia followed immediately. The voices of the Sandwich Secretary shouting at the nurses behind them were trembling as he said, “Call the state hospital’s ambulance, quick! Is Dr. Ming still trying to save them? People can’t just die like this!”

Did he probably think that the medicine he administered killed Inspector Gell?

The nurses behind them were mumbling something, but it was incomprehensible. When Bohemia burst into the emergency room, Old Shoes was standing in front of a hospital bed. Under the white sheet on the bed, the contours of a human body were clearly visible.

Dr. Ming sat upright by the bedside, appearing calm at first glance.

Only when they approached could they see that she was trembling with excitement all over, her eyes s.h.i.+ning like a hungry wolf on a winter night. She tightly grasped the hand of the deceased, her ten fingers interlocked with such force that her knuckles, palms, and even the edges of her hands turned white, making it hard to distinguish which part was her hand and which was the corpse’s.

“Because you found the serial killer’s flaw, she has to exit now,” the Pocket Dimension host’s voice suddenly sounded out, “By the way, a reminder: Lin Sanjiu made a mistake, and after this scene, she will immediately perform the Onion Strip.”

Ever since entering this game, Bohemia had been bombarded with double the information and didn’t know where to start. She took a deep breath and decided to focus on what was visible and tangible, forcing the matter of the onion to the back of her mind.

Old Shoes also sensed that something was amiss from the eerie excitement radiating from Dr. Ming. He slowly placed his hand on his waist and asked in a deep voice, “Doctor, what’s going on? My partner was young and strong, how did he suddenly die?”

Before answering, the female doctor slightly parted her lips, taking a trembling breath. When she looked up, the reflection of her lenses faded, revealing her flushed cheeks and eyes. “This… is one of my proudest works, no doubt about it. Ah, you cannot comprehend… it’s too perfect, the most wonderful day of my life…”

Bohemia and Old Shoes exchanged a glance.

After all, deep down, she was still a posthuman. She gathered her courage, approached slowly, and stared at the female doctor, gradually revealing the chart. Inspector Gell was lying beneath the bedsheet, wearing only a thin hospital gown, contorted as if he had changed into it after death. The exposed limbs, waist, and skin were tinged with a cold, bluish hue.

“He was alive,” Dr. Ming, as if drunk, spoke blissfully, “He was alive; his pulse was strong… n.o.body else saw what kind of injection I used, only he did… but it was too late. He realized it when I was already inserting the needle, and he struggled…”

Bohemia squinted and noticed a few drops of blood that seemed to have splattered on the edge of the bedsheet.

No wonder the two nurses from earlier were so startled and couldn’t complete their sentences. Normally, dealing with death was part of their job, but committing murder was not.

When the secretary outside the door finally understood the situation and, along with the nurses, started shouting “Watch out,” Old Shoes had already raised his gun against Dr. Ming. She offered no resistance at all and, as if she hadn’t heard the command to stand up, remained seated quietly beside Inspector Gell’s corpse. The only exception was the fact that her hand was tightly gripping the hand of the corpse. Even when Old Shoes used the b.u.t.t of his gun to strike her on the back of the head, causing her to fall to the ground, both hands remained tightly intertwined.

As Dr. Ming was handcuffed by Old Shoes, she seemed to suddenly snap out of it. Her screams grew louder with each pa.s.sing moment, repeatedly saying that the secretary had poisoned Inspector Gell, and she had witnessed it with her own eyes. The Sandwich Secretary, his hands bound, stood to the side, his face pale, not uttering a word.

Old Shoes locked Dr. Ming in another room and then patted the Sandwich Secretary’s shoulder rea.s.suringly before walking away.

It wasn’t until after the ambulance had taken away Inspector Gell’s body that the group realized that Hersin, who had died in the prison, was lying on another nearby bed. The only doctor on duty had been taken away, and no one could perform an autopsy on Hersin’s suspicious corpse. Old Shoes, showing a clear lack of trust in the prison, decided not to return and report temporarily, choosing instead to wait for the arrival of the second doctor.

Having locked up the medical ward, Bohemia returned to the warden’s office once again and finally let out a long sigh.

“Thank goodness it’s just a game; otherwise, with such a major incident, your career would have been over long ago,” the Descartes Spirit listened, not sounding concerned but rather excited to see her career ending.

“It’s almost time for the Onion Strip,” she said wearily, curling up her legs. “I wonder what this round will bring…”

She didn’t finish her sentence and suddenly lowered her head, examining the floor for a moment.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone has been in my office,” Bohemia whispered. “My wastebasket has been rummaged through.”

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