4: Chapter 4 Is this something we should get involved in?

Watching Madison walk ahead, Shaun felt a stir in his heart; he put on an innocent act, followed her, and lowered his voice: "You haven't hidden anything you shouldn't have in there, have you?"

Madison looked back at him, smiling without saying a word.

Shaun's heart sank a little.

The front door of the main house was thick oak, carved with patterns of vines and flowers, but upon closer inspection, hidden within those vines were the same three wavy lines as on the iron gate.

As the door pushed open, a scent mixed with incense and old wood rushed to greet them.

The hall was huge, at least one hundred square meters, with ceilings four or five meters high; on the walls hung several oil paintings depicting women dressed in nineteenth-century attire.

The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, even though the weather in New Orleans didn't call for it at all.

But that wasn't what caught Shaun's attention.

What he noticed was the state of the living room.

The sofa was overturned on the floor.

The glass of the coffee table was shattered all over the floor.

The paintings on the walls were crooked.

There was a pool of dark red liquid on the carpet.

Shaun's footsteps faltered.

If that wasn't blood, he'd write his name backward!

"Officer," a weary, middle-aged woman's voice rang out, "welcome to Robichaux Manor."

Shaun looked toward the stairs.

Cordelia Foxx stood there, wearing a proper suit, with curly brown hair, her face weary but gentle.

Behind her stood two young girls.

One had black hair and a melancholy expression; the other was slightly plump with a guarded look in her eyes.

Zoe Benson and Queenie.

Shaun scanned the entire hall.

Madison was behind him, Cordelia was at the stairs, and Zoe and Queenie were behind Cordelia.

There was one more person.

A woman was leaning lazily on the armchair next to the fireplace; she looked to be around fifty, well-maintained, holding a half-finished martini, and was looking at Shaun with the gaze of someone inspecting an ant.

Fiona Goode.

The Supreme Witch.

An old monster who had lived for over three hundred years.

She had killed countless people, including her own kind.

Shaun locked eyes with her for a second, then shifted his gaze to that pool of dark red.

"That is..."

"Red wine," Cordelia quickly interjected, "we just... had a celebration and accidentally knocked over a glass."

Shaun nodded and walked toward the pool of "red wine."

He crouched down, looking at the liquid from a close distance.

The color was dark, the edges had already started to dry, and in some places, it was even turning black.

It wasn't red wine.

It was blood.

And it had been dry for at least an hour.

Shaun stood up and looked around.

The sofa was overturned, the coffee table shattered, the paintings on the wall crooked...

This wasn't a celebration; this was a fight.

And there was blood on the floor.

Someone was injured.

Or... dead.

"Officer," Fiona's voice came from behind him, lazy and dangerous, "did you see anything?"

Shaun turned around.

Fiona didn't know when she had stood up, and she was now standing two steps behind him.

Her martini glass was set aside, her hands folded in front of her; her posture was elegant, but her gaze was as sharp as a knife.

The entire hall suddenly went quiet.

Even the flames in the fireplace seemed to stop flickering.

Shaun felt a kind of invisible pressure.

It wasn't telekinesis, it wasn't magic, it was pure aura.

The Supreme Witch, who had lived for over three hundred years and killed more people than he could imagine, exerted an aura that made it almost impossible for him to breathe.

In a flash, Shaun immediately decided he had to play dumb.

I mean, is this witch business something we can get involved in?

Shaun took a deep breath.

Then, surprisingly, he responded calmly: "Ma'am, what year is this red wine of yours?"

Fiona raised an eyebrow, and before she could answer, Shaun continued earnestly on his own: "The color is quite dark, the legs are distinct, it must be a fine vintage."

"But old wine like this should be allowed to breathe before drinking, otherwise the tannins are too heavy and it affects the taste."

"And..."

He pointed to the pool of liquid.

"It's such a pity to spill good wine like this on the floor; you should soak it up with a paper towel—don't rub it, or you'll rub the fibers into the carpet."

The entire hall fell into silence.

Zoe and Queenie stared at him with wide eyes.

Madison stood at the door, her mouth slightly open.

Cordelia's expression was complex, as if she were trying to hold something back.

Only Fiona stared at Shaun for three seconds, then suddenly laughed.

But that smile was somewhat meaningful.

Staring at Shaun, she smiled and said: "Officer, what is your name?"

"Shaun. Shaun Black. I just became a police officer three months ago."

"A rookie." Fiona nodded. "No wonder. A rookie cop, truly different from the others."

She turned and walked back to the sofa, sitting down again with a lazy posture: "Alright, Officer, you've seen what you needed to see; no one here is injured, everything is normal. You can go back and report."

Shaun stood still.

He knew the smartest thing to do now was to leave immediately, as fast as he could.

But he also knew that if he just left like that, Fiona would become suspicious instead.

A normal police officer, seeing the mess all over the floor and a pool of liquid suspected to be blood, would be so easily convinced?

That would be too fake.

He had to act like a normal police officer.

"Ma'am," Shaun began, "I understand you are rehearsing a play and might have gotten a bit carried away, causing the furniture to get knocked over. But as a police officer, I must ensure everyone is safe and sound."

He scanned the hall: "There are... five ladies present here. Is there anyone else?"

Cordelia was about to speak, but Fiona raised her hand to stop her.

"Yes," Fiona said slowly, staring at Shaun, "there are a few more girls in the backyard. Do you want to meet them?"

Shaun's brain worked at high speed.

The backyard.

He knew what was in the backyard.

In "Coven," for a battle of this scale to happen at the manor, it could only be because the witches were being hunted by witch hunters.

If there really were "a few girls" in the backyard, they were either disposing of bodies or hiding evidence.

If he went to the backyard and saw something he shouldn't... his survival rate would drop to zero.

So he immediately shook his head repeatedly: "No need. Since you said everything is normal, I believe you. However, I have a suggestion..."

He took a business card out of his pocket and placed it on the table nearby.

"This is my number. If any accidents happen during your rehearsal, for example, if someone gets injured and it's inconvenient to go to the hospital, you can call me. I know some... private doctors who are very discreet."

Fiona's gaze landed on the business card, then shifted back to Shaun's face.

"Officer, you are very interesting."

"A lot of people say that." Shaun smiled and turned to Cordelia, "By the way, Ma'am, for the red wine stain on the carpet, I suggest you use club soda, not hot water. Hot water will cause the proteins to coagulate, making it even harder to clean."

Cordelia was stunned for a moment and nodded subconsciously: "Th... thank you."

Shaun walked toward the door.

As he passed by Madison, she lowered her voice and said: "Officer, you are the... most interesting police officer I've ever met."

Shaun didn't stop, just tilted his head slightly: "Good luck with the rehearsal, and I hope the performance goes well."

Immediately after, he didn't say another word, pushed open the door, and walked into the afternoon sunlight.