North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

「Forensic Science Division.」

Holz led Dean and Harry down to the underground morgue.

Mike Smith's body had been dismembered, its parts connected only by skin and flesh, like an animal gutted and ready to be hung in a roasting kiln.

With an almost perverse enthusiasm, Holz, wearing gloves, lifted Mike Smith's head and pointed at the nape of his neck. "Mike Smith was cunning, using a scar to cover this area. If not for your reminder, Dean, I really wouldn't have been able to discover this tattoo."

On the nape of Mike Smith's neck, where a scar had originally been, a tattoo emerged: a thorny human figure on a cross!

Tattoos can't be completely removed. Neither lasers nor scars can hide the stained cells beneath the epidermis, not unless the piece of skin and flesh is cut out entirely. Clearly, Mike Smith hadn't done that.

Upon hearing the reminder relayed by Harry, Holz had taken a blowtorch to the scar on Mike Smith's nape. He charred the surface and then peeled off the damaged layer like paper, revealing the tattoo underneath.

Dean glanced at the tattoo, identical to the one on Ona's neck, and looked at Holz with a smile in his eyes. "Buddy, it looks like you've already traced the origins of this tattoo."

Holz nodded. "It's the symbol of an ancient European organization. It enjoyed a period of prosperity during the religious heyday of medieval Europe, boasting many followers. However, as material wealth grew, the organization fell into decline." As he spoke, he took off his gloves, led Dean and Harry to a computer, and after entering a long and complicated password, opened a website and typed in: The Source of Pain.

A new page popped up.

What caught the trio's eyes was the very symbol of 'the thorny human figure on a cross.'

There wasn't much information on it, but the core message was singular:

All humans are sin-bearing angels, condemned to suffer on earth until they wash away their sins and shed their sinful bodies; only then can they return to the sanctuary and enjoy bliss.

Consequently, this organization believed in the inherent evil of human nature, and its core principle was that suffering is the means to purify oneself of sin.

By today's standards, this sort of organization would simply be considered a cult.

But in the materially deprived Middle Ages, such an ideology could attract a great number of impoverished people who had plenty of spirit but nowhere to direct it. They needed a reason, a belief, to numb themselves and accept their miserable plight, along with the confusion and pain of being powerless to change it.

This is actually similar to the brainwashing of the caste system in India. People are divided into classes by caste. You are powerless to change it, but if you accept that absurd explanation, you can deceive yourself into being content with exploitation, even finding solace in it: In the next life, I too can be a higher caste and exploit others.

That was the gist of it.

"No wonder Mike Smith had so many old wounds; he was trying to cleanse himself of his sins!" Harry exclaimed, a wave of realization mixed with disbelief washing over him. "But he's a highly educated psychologist, even a professor at many prestigious universities! How could a person like that believe such ignorant notions?"

Dean shook his head. "I suspect it stems from Mike Smith's unfortunate childhood. A child's perception is shaped by those around them. When he grew up, he may have denied his faith, which is why he tried to destroy the tattoo. However, habits ingrained from childhood aren't so easily erased."

Ona had a tattoo on her neck as well. But from Dean's interactions with her, aside from her exuberant personality, she seemed normal. Considering Ona and Mike Smith were distant relatives, Dean guessed that Mike Smith's family, long ago, had all been members and followers of 'The Source of Pain.' As time progressed, the family members dispersed. Some continued to follow ancient traditions, while others merely regarded the tattoo as a memento, having abandoned the belief that 'pain is the purification of sin.'

Holz, however, looked at Harry with disdain. "Buddy, you have to understand something: knowledge is knowledge, and beliefs are beliefs. Have you ever heard of a medical professor who drinks his own urine every day, believing it's good for his health?"

"There are professors that disgusting?" Harry's eyes widened.

Holz shrugged. "He's relatively normal. I once knew a biologist who insisted on inbreeding within his family, believing that the pure-blood offspring born this way were of the highest quality. Reality can be quite fantastical. If you confuse knowledge, authority, and beliefs, you might just be doomed by these so-called experts and professors one of these days."

Dean interrupted their casual conversation, took out his phone, and called Daisy. "Daisy, have you found anything on the information I asked you to look for?"

"It's too rushed!" Daisy's impatient roar and the sound of rapid keyboard typing came through the phone. "Fuck, Dean! You've really got your hooks in me. I can't believe I'm actually listening to you."

"Don't put it like that, Daisy. I heard a 'hotpot' restaurant opened in Chinatown, and it's delicious. I was planning to take you there to try it."

Dean's words were like a splash of cold water, instantly extinguishing the irritation and resentment in Daisy's heart.

Her tone softened again: "Okay, I'm looking forward to this 'hotpot' food."