92: Chapter 92 Ballard's Favor

So that's how it is!

After all that, he really was just invited to help.

But since he's already in Los Angeles, he should help where he can.

To be honest, though, it's a forty-year-old case, and Sean couldn't guarantee he'd find anything.

So Sean said, "I can try, but I can't guarantee I'll find anything."

Ballard turned around, looking at him, a glimmer in her deep brown eyes, and smiled, "As long as you're willing to try."

Sean looked at her, "Aren't you afraid I'll mess it up?"

Ballard shook her head, "Even if it gets messed up, it's better than no one trying."

Sean nodded. He didn't want Ballard to have too many expectations of him.

After thinking for a moment, he remembered the award ceremony.

So he asked, "By the way, Ballard, for my award ceremony, the mayor came, the police chief came, and even people from the Department of Justice came."

"Although White's case was solved, it wasn't worth such a grand display. You used to be in the Los Angeles Police Department; have you ever seen a scene like this?"

Ballard frowned, "I have, but they were always major cases, not like White's."

Sean asked earnestly, "What do you think is the reason?"

"I don't know," Ballard said, then paused, "but be careful. The people from the Department of Justice aren't there to give you an award; they're there to observe you."

Sean looked puzzled, "Observe me?"

Ballard nodded, "You solved White's case and killed the perpetrator. But the report stated the killer was an 'unknown creature.'"

"Those at the top are very sensitive to the words 'unknown creature.'"

"They want to know if you're just lucky, or if there's something special about you."

Sean remained silent.

Ballard saw Sean's somewhat serious expression and smiled, seemingly trying to comfort him, "So, just enjoy the award ceremony. Accept the medal, but don't believe what they say. Heroes, role models... it's all a facade."

"What they really want to see is you."

The comfort wasn't very effective.

Sean felt like a hot commodity, with "demons and monsters" staring at him, and even big shots from the Department of Justice staring at him.

The pressure was immense!

Sean was silent for a moment before saying, "Do you think they're investigating me?"

Ballard said, "I don't know, but if it were me, I would investigate."

"You know, you're a police officer. If a police officer has supernatural powers, then naturally, they'd have to investigate thoroughly."

Sean knew Ballard was right.

It seems that if the feds don't find anything, then it's fine, but if they do, it could be troublesome...

Forget it, this isn't something he can decide. At least, judging by the attitude of the Department of Justice people last time, they were quite friendly to him, weren't they?

Just as Sean decided to put aside his thoughts, the golden book automatically opened in his mind.

The pages rustled, stopping at the character profile page.

New handwriting was appearing.

[Character Profile·Update]

Name: Renee Ballard

Favorability: 90

Favorability Change Details:

You drove nine hours from New Orleans to find her +5

You didn't ask her why she specifically wanted you to come +3

You said, "I can try" +7

You didn't guarantee success, but you're willing to try +10

Current Favorability: 90/100

Remarks: She said you are the only person she trusts. This woman has barely trusted anyone her entire life. You are one of them. 90 points is not liking, it's trust. It's heavier than liking.

Sean opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.

Ballard was still flipping through documents, the sound of paper one after another.

He couldn't help but secretly complain about how well this woman could control her expressions!

Regarding her favorability reaching ninety, if he hadn't received the prompt, he wouldn't have been able to tell from her face at all!

...

The next morning, Sean was woken by the sunlight.

The sun in Los Angeles was harsher than in New Orleans, shining through the thin curtains, glaring white and stinging his eyes.

He sat up, and the mattress creaked.

Ballard wasn't in the room. The quilt was neatly folded on the sofa, and the pillow was straightened, as if no one had slept there.

The documents on the desk were put away, but the map was still pinned to the wall, the red circle particularly glaring in the morning light.

The sound of a coffee machine came from the kitchen.

Sean walked over. Ballard was standing in front of the stove, holding a cup of coffee, wearing a dark blue windbreaker, her short hair still tucked behind her ears.

She heard footsteps and turned her head.

"Coffee's on the table."

A cup of black coffee was on the table, next to a paper bag containing two sandwiches.

Sean picked up the coffee and took a sip. It was bitter, hot, and invigorating.

"Eat and go," Ballard said.

After breakfast, the two went downstairs and got into the car.

Ballard started the engine and drove out of the parking lot.

On a Los Angeles morning, the freeway was already a chaotic mess.

Cars were bumper to bumper, moving very slowly. Sunlight streamed through the gaps between tall buildings, flashing on car roofs before disappearing.

Sean looked out the window. The glass curtain walls reflected the light, making the entire city sparkle, like a crystal cage.

After about forty minutes, Ballard turned the car into a narrow alley.

The alley was very narrow, with high walls on both sides, blocking out the sun. The air had a musty smell.

She parked the car in front of an iron gate and turned off the engine.

"We're here."

Sean got out of the car and looked at the iron gate.

The gate was tall and rusty, with a faded seal sticker on it that read "No Entry." The writing was blurry, making it impossible to tell what year it was posted.

Behind the iron gate was a church with a grayish-white exterior. The cross on its spire was crooked, as if about to fall.

The windows were boarded up, so nothing could be seen inside.

Ballard took a key from her pocket and unlocked the iron gate.

The lock was old, and it took her several turns to open it.

The iron gate opened with a piercing creak, exceptionally loud in the quiet alley.

"Come in."

She walked in, and Sean followed behind.

The courtyard was small and overgrown with weeds, with a few dead shrubs leaning against the wall.

The church door was also boarded up and nailed shut.

Ballard walked to the side door, took out another key, and unlocked it.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, sideways.

Sean followed her.

It was dark inside. The windows were boarded up, and only a few rays of light leaked through the cracks, casting long, thin streaks on the floor.

The air carried a scent of decay, like rotting wood, or something that had died in a corner.

The pews were still there, arranged haphazardly and covered in dust.

The cross on the altar was still present, but the head of the statue of Jesus had fallen off and rolled nearby, face down, like someone bowing.

Sean stood in the middle of the aisle, closing his eyes.

[Intermediate Magic Power: Active Activation]

Golden light emanated from his body, faint, like a flickering lamp in the darkness.

The magic spread outwards, sweeping across the walls, the ceiling, and the floor.

He waited for that feeling, the one he had encountered in the church in New Orleans.

Cold, decaying, as if something had opened its eyes in the darkness.

Unfortunately... there was nothing.

He tried again, his magic growing stronger. The golden light flashed in the darkness, then died out...