S.C.I. (Volume I) - Case 1: Chapter 4

The Digital Killer 04: The Funeral Parlor 

A silver-white sports car pulled up to the entrance of the S City Funeral Parlor. Although there were few pedestrians in this area, the somewhat shocking sports car still caused quite a few people to turn their heads.

When Bai Yutang, dressed in a silver-gray trench coat and sunglasses, stepped out of the car, the first thing that came to mind might be a celebrity or a model... in any case, you probably wouldn't think of a criminal investigator.

Zhan Zhao stepped out of the car as well, looking utterly helpless. "Has seriously no one ever filed a complaint against you?!"

"A complaint about what?" Bai Yutang took off his sunglasses and walked inside.

"You drive a four-hundred-thousand-dollar sports car in and out of the police department. I refuse to believe no one has ever complained about you."

"My brother gave me this car, and his money is legal income!" Bai Yutang shrugged. "I like this car! It can reach the speed of sound, which makes it top-tier for chasing down thieves!"

"A detective who catches thieves in a sports car demonstrates an ambiguous definition of your social role!"

"Alright, Cat, ever since we were born, you've been trying your hardest to prove that I'm abnormal." Bai Yutang scanned the lobby of the funeral parlor, speaking nonchalantly. "However, that grand psychological theory of yours doesn't work on me!"

"Ha!" Zhan Zhao stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. "It doesn't matter if you admit it or not. Over the past twenty-plus years, I have already successfully proven that you suffer from a multitude of personality disorders, including paranoid, borderline, histrionic, narcissistic, and eccentric types!!"

"If all your diagnostic disorders actually held water, then..." Bai Yutang pointed toward the morgue inside the funeral parlor, "I should be the person branding the corpses with numbers, not the one out here investigating it."

"As far as investigators go, you are indeed quite unique." A man stepping out of the morgue chimed in, picking up the conversation.

Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang turned simultaneously to look at the speaker. He was a lean, clean-shaven man in his early thirties. The dim lighting of the funeral parlor made his already pale complexion look even more somber.

"I am Chen Jing. Are you two the police officers?" The man proactively extended his hand.

"Ah... hello," Bai Yutang reached out to shake it, using his other hand to pull his badge from his pocket. "Bai Yutang, and this is Zhan Zhao."

"Gongsun has already informed me of your purpose here." After shaking hands with Zhan Zhao, Chen Jing turned and led them toward the morgue. "I think you should look at something first."

Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang exchanged a glance, then followed Chen Jing into the morgue.

Inside the morgue lay several corpses covered in white sheets. Only one sheet had a corner pulled back, as Chen Jing had clearly been applying makeup to it.

"This one was brought in just this morning. Look here." As he spoke, Chen Jing turned the corpse's head to the side. Behind the corpse's ear, a clear number "39" was visible.

"Ah! Another one." Bai Yutang raised his eyes to look at Zhan Zhao.

Zhan Zhao lowered his head to examine the number closely. "It doesn't look like it was done by hand."

"Oh?" Hearing this, Bai Yutang also leaned down to look. The blue number was exceptionally neat, printed in a standard Song typeface.

"It's not a tattoo?" Rubbing his chin, he looked at Zhan Zhao again. "Then what is it?"

"Hmm... we won't know for sure until it's tested in a lab, but it feels similar to some kind of stamp rather than a tattoo." Zhan Zhao kept his head down, examining it very seriously. "The person who put this number on possesses a severe case of—perfectionism."

"Perfectionism??" Bai Yutang took another look at the number. "I fail to see what's beautiful about stamping numbers on a dead person's ear!"

"It's perfectionism!! Not beauty!" Zhan Zhao emphasized. "When I was looking at the photos, I noticed that the placement of almost every single number is exactly as precise." As he spoke, he put on a glove, lifted the corpse's ear, and pointed it out to Bai Yutang. "The number is situated exactly on the back of the concha of the external ear. Do you know what that signifies?"

"That the person is a psycho?" Bai Yutang answered without a second thought. Seeing Zhan Zhao roll his eyes at him, he spread his hands helplessly. "There's absolutely no doubt about that part!!"

"This position!" Zhan Zhao continued. "Is a 'unique' position."

Bai Yutang picked at his ear. "Speak English, please!"

Giving him another eye-roll, Zhan Zhao explained, "...A number in this position will absolutely never be discovered unless you flip the ear back!" With that, he let go of the deceased's ear, letting it return to its natural state, and told Bai Yutang to look again. Sure enough, the number was perfectly concealed by the auricle, entirely invisible from any angle.

"So? What does this prove? Expert." Bai Yutang looked at Zhan Zhao, still wearing a face full of confusion.

Zhan Zhao took off his glove. "It proves that the person assigning the numbers has relatively professional medical knowledge, an extreme tendency toward perfectionism, a certain degree of obsessive-compulsive personality, and is exceptionally attentive to details. They work in a highly meticulous profession, and they are also a cautious, overly careful person in their daily life..."

"Speak English!" Bai Yutang couldn't help but interrupt.

"He's a psycho," Zhan Zhao summarized.