"A letter?"

Sherlock seemed to be interested at the time when dealing with Nadine. When the Pope Belu was in power, in order to prevent the other party from pulling his neck and screaming, he could only poke his throat first, so he didn't have time to inquire about the Ripper, which made him a little depressed.

"Yes, all rippers, it should all start with a letter.

I still can't find out where the letter came from, who wrote it, or when it was placed at the door of my room.

Anyway, the letter appeared, and it was written the name of the person you most wanted to kill.

and

It can be killed in absolute safety and will not be punished by any law. ”

At this moment, a beam of light swept across Sherlock's face, and Hopkins clearly saw a bright spot of light in the other party's eyes flickering away.

Then Sherlock smiled, grinning as if he were feeling comfortable.

"Haha."

"It turns out that this is what [Ripper] really looks like."

Hopkins frowned, in fact, every time he saw this guy interested in something, he always thought of himself.

Of course, Sherlock's face at this time is a little distorted, and the soft facial contours that don't stick to it at all block most of the light, making his face extremely complex and even a little evil, but that's because Sherlock is not very good-looking, in fact, it can be seen that at this time, he is happy and happy from the heart.

Once upon a time, when I used the law to judge a crime, I seemed to have this pleasure in my heart.

As soon as this thought came out, Hopkins was stunned, and he didn't want to believe it. Do you have the potential to be a pervert?

Fortunately, he quickly retracted his thoughts and continued:

"I received this letter when I had just taken up my post as Supreme Judge of the Third Division of the Inquisition.

At that moment, I was very confused, and I began to think that the laws of the Empire, which were once held as the truth, were actually a joke.

To be honest, I was a little envious of you during that time, at least you were able to kill a criminal with your own feelings, regardless of whether he was punished by the law or not.

But I can't, I was already a judge of the Third Division at that time, and what I did would affect the subordinates of the Third Division, anyway, I definitely can't give an order to pull a person who has not been sentenced over and kill him.

Although he was promoted, he was put on a collar.

It was at this time that a letter appeared at the door of the apartment where I was staying.

Of course, there is no signature, no mailing address.

That day I opened it with doubt. I saw that it was a person's name written inside.

An inhuman bastard, the grandson of the previous cardinal, who also holds the title of Lord and controls two-thirds of the gold mining rights of Miltia.

He likes to play with pillows

Of course, it was not a pillow made of cotton and cloth, but a man, a beautiful woman, who liked to cut off the limbs of the girls, and then use a repair solution that could only be used in the Holy See and on the battlefields on the front lines, so that their wounds healed, and then they looked like a pillow.

He even has a pillow factory and regularly hosts pillow parties, which are attended by many celebrities from the upper echelons of society.

This man deserves to die in every sense of the word, but he lives a life of luxury in the world.

And on the back of the letter, he wrote his itinerary in a week, where he was going, what hotel he would stay, and what wine he would drink.

It was also made clear that by putting some medicine in that glass of wine and stuning him, he would be able to disguise himself as his driver, and gave me a verbal order from their security team, as well as a route that allowed me to transport the guy to a secret location and guaranteed that his security personnel would never find him for three days.

It was an abandoned slaughterhouse with a serviceable cutting machine that could easily cut off a person's limbs, and there were no inhabitants around, so there was no need to worry about being heard.

You may not be able to understand my feelings at the time.

I knew that what was written on this piece of paper was the most blatant crime.

But at that time, I actually saw justice between the lines.

I felt scared, and I didn't know why I had the idea to try it out in my head.

What's even more terrifying is that the writer of the letter also said that he had prepared in that slaughterhouse a stimulant that would keep people from falling unconscious, as well as the juice of the sap that would not cause people to bleed to death.

In fact, at first, I was able to control my impulses, but when I saw these two things, I felt like I was bewitched by the kind of unscrupulous merchants who gave away small gifts after the sale.

That night, I got on the train to the diocese of Miltia. ”

Hopkins said, surrounded by patrolling guards who passed by from time to time, but he didn't care, as if he wanted his words to be heard by these people and expose himself.

Because after that day.

He's addicted.

When a person has the ability to kill a person at will, what will become of that person?

It may be a terrible being who follows his desires, or it may be an angry venting machine that wants to take revenge, or of course, it may be a peaceful, resilient person who still abides by his duties as a judicial officer during the day, and at night, he becomes an outlaw who is outside the law and abuses his private deeds.

"So. The notes you left behind were not a notice you initiated, but a message to the messenger about who he wanted to kill next. ”

Sherlock has a small gap in his mind and is naturally able to connect everything.

Hopkins nodded:

"That's right, as long as the person who is selected by that mysterious guy can leave the name of the next person he wants to kill in the body of the person he kills, and the other party will send a letter to your eyes again at a suitable time.

It could be the door of your room, it could be on the seat of the bus, or it could be when you were eating, flipping through the back of the bill, in short, he will tailor a murder case for you again.

I don't know how he did it, and I don't know why he was able to see the names we left in the corpse, of course I tried to investigate, but I didn't find anything, but what is certain is that guy is a genius murderer, and the murder methods in his mind are almost endless.

However, no matter how subtle his methods are, those who carry out them are not all so clever.

They seem to have completed a few killings, they began to be complacent, and began to feel that they were the lucky ones chosen by some god of killing, so, gradually, they began to be unscrupulous, and their modus operandi became less in accordance with what the letter said, so. Naturally, some horses will leak out.

And I found them, and I killed them one by one, leaving in their bodies the name of the next ripper I found.

In this way, I created an illusion little by little, as if there were many rippers murdering each other, and I would write the names of some of the rippers in letters, and then quietly send them to other rippers, and those who were afraid of death did not think that this was the simplest conspiracy, they just wanted to hide, or wanted to kill each other first.

So, more and more names of the rippers appeared among the corpses, and they began to kill each other, becoming more and more aggressive, and there was no spare time to release their desire to kill, just wanting to live.

And the person who wrote the letter didn't seem to care about this phenomenon, and he even gave those people a new method of killing, so that they could kill each other.

In short, these guys are dying faster and faster, more and more. ”

Sherlock took a deep puff of his cigarette, then smiled, "It turns out that the strange state of killing each other between you was created by you alone." ”

"Of course." Hopkins admitted, but after making such a big battle that the other rippers began to kill each other, he didn't have the slightest smugness: "Although I am also one of the rippers, I know what I am doing, and I can't let such a group exist in this world."

So, I have to kill all the other kind, and I have to be the one. ”

Deceit, conspiracy, devouring one's own kind, allowing others to kill each other, this is the most despicable betrayal of any race.

Murder, kidnapping, fear-mongering, disregard for imperial law, and excessive lynching are also socially inadmissible.

Hopkins was the leader of the Inquisition's high hopes, and was probably the first person in the imperial judiciary to come on.

It's hard to imagine that he has such a side in the shadows that people can't see. So he couldn't be happy, he was hovering between law and self-justice all the time, pretending to be what people wanted him to be, but he was also burdened with a kind of torment that only he could understand.

But this torment, Sherlock didn't know, or as he said before, he didn't care.

What he was interested in now was the real ripper! The one who wrote the letter!

"So, Nightingale's name wasn't actually written by you."

"Yes, it should be the name written by the letter writer, although he changes his handwriting every time, but I can feel that it is that guy."

Hopkins said, tossing the cigarette butt on the ground and exhaling with some difficulty.

That's what he's been worrying about all these days.

The real ripper wants to come forward and kill someone himself, so who can stop him?

(End of chapter)