53-54

Chapter 53: A New Department

“Perhaps that’s the strangest part of all.”

The forensic pathologist's voice trailed off.

A slightly hoarse voice followed immediately. The assistant pathologist looked up to see a man and a woman entering the crime scene.

“Who are you?”

The detective frowned as he stood up, eyeing the unexpected visitors.

“FBI. This case is under our jurisdiction now.”

The Asian man pulled out his badge and spoke expressionlessly in response to the detective’s questioning tone.

“Actually, it’s a joint investigation,” Amanda corrected Agent Zhou, her gaze falling on Harvey's lifeless body, his face frozen in a peculiar smile.

Her words softened the detective’s previously indignant expression slightly.

As an agent recently transferred from the Texas Rangers’ headquarters to the newly established federal department, Amanda hadn’t yet adopted the overbearing demeanor often associated with the FBI.

Moreover, as part of a newly formed and specialized department established under a recent executive order, the Bureau of Special Investigations (BSI) was still in its infancy. Its personnel structure remained incomplete, and its specific functions were not yet well-defined. Collaboration with local law enforcement was often indispensable.

Amanda’s reminder brought Zhou back to reality—he was no longer an FBI agent.

Though he still used the FBI name as a cover during external investigations, his actual responsibilities had diverged significantly, especially regarding personnel deployment.

The FBI’s tight control over resources had made BSI’s early organizational efforts challenging, forcing it to draw manpower from local police departments. Amanda, who had been among the first to encounter both the wolf girl and the demon hunter during incidents in Texas, was naturally recruited into the new department.

Neither the FBI nor BSI had much experience dealing with supernatural cases, making Amanda’s involvement particularly valuable.

“Mind if I take a closer look at the victim, Detective?”

The detective’s gaze shifted from Zhou to Amanda. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped back to make room.

“Thank you,” Amanda said, tying her long hair into a simple ponytail. She crouched down to examine Harvey’s face, sniffing the surrounding air with a frown.

“Do you have any preliminary information about the body?”

“Not yet…”

The assistant pathologist glanced at the detective before responding.

“We won’t have a detailed autopsy report until tomorrow. I’m only here to confirm the death and determine whether it qualifies as a homicide.”

As an assistant, his duties were relatively limited.

While listening to his response, Amanda’s eyes scanned the crime scene, eventually settling on an area not far from the body.

“Well, you can confirm it now—this is definitely a murder,” she declared.

The assistant pathologist froze, visibly startled, while the detective looked equally surprised.

Ignoring their reactions, Amanda walked over to a pile of shattered glass, picked up a shard, and sniffed it.

“I doubt a drunk man would just collapse on the street with a smile on his face.”

---

At a hotel restaurant the next morning:

“I thought you’d sleep in longer, Allen,” said Ed O’Neill, the actor known for playing Jay Pritchett in Modern Family, as he spotted Allen eating breakfast early.

The night before, Ed had watched Allen drink quite a bit during the celebrations and had expected him to sleep until noon, like most of the cast.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Allen replied with a smile, setting his tray down at Ed’s table.

“I get it. The start of a new show is always exciting—and nerve-wracking,” Ed nodded knowingly. As a seasoned actor with many roles in film and television, he naturally assumed Allen early rise was due to pre-production jitters for Modern Family.

Allen smiled but didn’t confirm or deny it. His gaze drifted momentarily to the fragmented data panel in front of him.

His excitement wasn’t entirely because of the show, though.

---

At a bar:

“Did you hear? Harvey’s dead,” said one patron.

“I didn’t know him well,” replied another.

“He was a jerk!”

The conversation shifted to Harvey’s peculiar death.

“They say he died with a big smile on his face.”

“No way. I thought someone shot him in the head.”

---

In the bar owner’s office:

“Harvey Cruz?” The owner examined the photograph handed over by Zhou, who claimed to be an FBI agent. The image showed a man with a wide, unsettling grin.

“The name doesn’t ring a bell, but I recognize this guy. Total scumbag.”

“I’ve heard that more than once,” Zhou said, studying the owner’s expression. “Anything else you can tell me about him?”

“I told you, I don’t know much about this Harvey Cruz,” the owner replied.

“But he argued with you about his tab once, didn’t he?” Zhou pressed.

“Exactly. Like I said, he’s a scumbag,” the owner scoffed, handing the photo back. “I run a bar. I deal with jerks like him all the time. You’re not going to accuse me of killing him just because of that, are you? If so, then half my patrons could be suspects.”

“Should I take that as a confession?” Zhou asked, his expression unreadable.

“It’s just a joke! A joke!” the owner stammered.

“That wasn’t funny,” Zhou replied flatly.

“What’s the stage outside the bar for?” Amanda asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Oh, that’s just for entertainment… you know, to draw in more customers during tough times,” the owner explained nervously, glancing toward the stage.

Amanda looked thoughtful, turning to glance at the stage once more.

Just then, Zhou received a call. “The autopsy report is in,” he announced, looking at Amanda.

---

*Chapter 54: A Mysterious Death*

“The surface of the body shows no visible external injuries—except for the wounds sustained during a fight…”

“Additionally, I conducted further tests on the blood and internal organs. The deceased had consumed a significant amount of alcohol prior to death, but this, too, was not the cause.”

“So, the result is that the cause of death remains unknown.”

“Unknown cause of death?!”

FBI, Forensics Laboratory.

Looking at the autopsy report in his hands, even the usually composed Agent Zhou couldn’t help but show a trace of surprise on his face.

“That’s correct.”

The coroner nodded and glanced at the cold body of Harvey lying nearby. The frozen smile on the corpse’s face seemed unsettling. Hesitating slightly, the coroner added, “Of course, there’s another hypothesis—that he may have died from laughing too much.”

“Death by laughter?!”

The coroner’s alternative hypothesis was even stranger than an unknown cause of death.

However, the coroner proceeded to explain his reasoning: “In fact, it’s not entirely impossible. Historically, laughter has been used as a form of torture. In 17th-century Europe, there was a punishment called ‘laughing torture.’ The victim’s hands and feet were restrained to prevent struggle, and their shoes and socks were removed. The executioner would apply honey or saltwater to the soles of the victim’s feet, and animals, like goats, were brought in to lick it off. Once the area was clean, more would be applied until the victim either confessed or suffocated to death. Sustained laughter depletes the lungs of oxygen, leading to asphyxiation.”

“That’s a truly cruel punishment. Maybe that’s why Europe places such emphasis on human rights today.”

Hearing the coroner’s description of the “laughing torture,” Agent Zhou frowned instinctively and muttered under his breath.

However, he quickly realized that the coroner was likely from an EU country as well.

“I didn’t mean you.”

“It’s fine. I’m British.”

The coroner shrugged nonchalantly, not taking offense at Agent Zhou’s comment.

“Isn’t Britain part of Europe?”

Agent Zhou looked puzzled.

“That’s just temporary. Britain has never considered itself part of Europe. Britain is Britain. One day, we’ll leave the EU entirely.”

“So, you believe Harvey Cruz might have literally died laughing?”

Interrupting the conversation, Amanda glanced at Harvey’s frozen smile and asked pointedly.

“I’m merely proposing a possibility. After all, in modern society, making someone laugh themselves to death isn’t an easy task.”

The coroner shook his head, hesitant to fully commit to his theory.

“No, perhaps you’re right.”

Amanda’s gaze lingered on Harvey’s wide, laughing expression. She murmured softly, “Perhaps he really did laugh himself to death.”

---

*Backstage at the Bar*

“Hey, clown.”

In the dressing room, a white man mocked Arthur with a sneering expression.

“I thought you’d quit by now. If I were you, I’d ditch that ridiculous outfit and dance with the bar girls instead…”

Like Arthur, the man was also a stand-up comedian at the bar, earning a living by mocking others with what he thought were clever jokes.

“Maybe that way, you’d actually be a bit entertaining.”

The white comedian’s taunts elicited a burst of laughter from the others in the dressing room.

Most performers at the bar were societal outcasts, scraping by on the fringes. To cope, they found relief in ridiculing someone else, briefly forgetting their own misfortunes.

And without a doubt, Arthur was their preferred target.

“Haha… Hahaha…”

In the dressing room, Arthur joined in, laughing sharply along with the others.

His expression showed neither anger nor sadness. Instead, he bared his teeth in a sharp, exaggerated grin that echoed their mockery.

Arthur’s laughter brought a brief halt to the jeers in the room.

The white comedian, now visibly irritated, glared at Arthur.

“What’s so funny, you freak?”

“Isn’t it hilarious?”

Arthur’s grin widened, his voice lively as he replied, “Trampling on someone’s dreams—that’s such a cruel act. But I’ll never lose hope. In this cold, indifferent world, my existence brings you laughter. Even if it’s just mocking laughter, that’s my purpose in life.”

Arthur’s unnerving reaction left the white comedian stiff and uneasy. Trying to maintain his composure, he muttered, “You’re insane… No, you’ve always been a freak. I want nothing to do with you.”

With that, he quickly turned and left the dressing room, ignoring the others’ reactions.

“Haha… Hahaha…”

Watching the comedian leave, Arthur’s laughter gradually softened, but his smile remained firmly in place.

For the first time, he felt genuinely happy.

---

*The Dressing Room*

Perhaps sensing something unsettling about Arthur, the others exchanged uneasy glances before leaving in small groups.

Soon, Arthur was the only one left in the room.

But he didn’t seem to notice.

Sitting at the mirror, he hummed a cheerful tune:

“What can you do,  

Punchinello, funny fellow?  

What can you do,  

Punchinello, funny you?  

We can do it too,  

Punchinello, funny fellow…”  

He was as happy as a clown.

On the dressing table, a red clown mask sat silently, grinning.

---

“Hey, Arthur, it’s your turn!”

The iron door of the dressing room creaked open. The bar owner glanced around the empty space in mild surprise before shouting toward the dressing table.

“And don’t forget—this is your last chance. Don’t screw it up.”

“I’m ready.”

Hearing the owner’s voice, Arthur stood slowly, picking up the clown mask. His grin was bright and unrestrained.

“When you introduce me, can you call me ‘The Clown,’ boss?”

---

End of Chapter