*Chapter 62: Active!

Goethe staggered backward, clutching his abdomen, and looked up in shock at the policeman holding a dagger.

"You?!"

Goethe's voice trembled as he pointed at the officer.

"It wasn't me!"

The policeman with the dagger shouted loudly.

The sudden turn of events stunned everyone.

Even the reporters who had just arrived were momentarily at a loss.

"He was framing..."

Bang!

The policeman with the dagger started to explain, but his words were cut short by a gunshot.

The bullet struck him between the eyes.

He collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Looking at the fallen officer’s body, Goethe silently thought to himself.

"This is how I handle things."

Only then did Goethe call out.

"Kai? Rick?"

The butler and coachman immediately snapped out of their shock. The former rushed over to support Goethe, while the latter ran to the carriage—being the best carriage, it naturally had a medical kit.

At this moment, the reporters also swarmed in.

Their faces were flushed with excitement as they surrounded Goethe.

"Hello, sir, can you tell us what just happened?"

"Sir, may I ask you a question?"

"Sir, why did that officer try to harm you?"

...

Faced with a barrage of questions, Goethe didn’t show any impatience. Now, he was Pollo Marple, and fully aware of his current identity, he gave a slightly weak smile.

"I would love to answer everyone’s questions, but I think it’s best if I stop the bleeding and bandage my wound first."

"Don't worry, I’m just going back to the carriage to bandage myself. Afterward, I’ll give you all plenty of time for an interview."

"For now, you can ask the people around—they witnessed the entire event."

Goethe’s reasonable request made the reporters immediately step aside.

As they watched Goethe return to the carriage, they quickly began interviewing the surrounding onlookers.

And those passersby, who had been too frightened to even breathe earlier, now transformed into righteous crusaders, loudly condemning the thugs and the useless police.

Each of them was so full of righteous indignation.

Each of them spoke with such genuine emotion.

Goethe could hear it all clearly from inside the carriage.

And that was exactly what he wanted.

Next, he began to take off his coat and shirt, preparing to bandage the wound.

The maid, Maria, sitting across from him, was so scared when she saw the wound on Goethe’s lower abdomen that her eyes filled with tears.

However, she still reached out to help Goethe with the bandaging.

"I... I’ve learned how to bandage."

"No need, thank you."

"It’s alright, it just looks worse than it is."

Goethe smiled as he declined her offer.

This was true—he had controlled his strength well.

So, the wound was just superficial.

It only looked scary on the surface.

But the maid, Maria, didn’t know this; she thought Goethe was just trying to comfort her.

Immediately, the maid lowered her head again, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.

Goethe glanced at her but didn’t pay much attention to her nervousness.

He quickly bandaged himself, then, still wearing his blood-stained shirt, he stepped out of the carriage.

Goethe did this intentionally.

In fact, it had the desired effect.

As soon as Goethe pushed open the door, all eyes were on him, and when they saw the blood-stained white shirt, someone began to clap. Soon after, everyone joined in.

The applause lasted for a good ten seconds before it finally stopped.

"Honestly, I’m a bit overwhelmed by this—I have to say, Hessetins is a charming city. Even though I’ve had some unpleasant encounters, the warmth of its residents makes me forget those unpleasant things in an instant."

After the applause subsided, Goethe immediately spoke.

Instantly, his words won the favor of those around him.

No one wants their hometown to be disliked.

"You resisted the extortion of the thugs with courage, and faced a sudden attack without panic. You truly are a gentleman."

A reporter couldn't help but praise him.

"My parents taught me that it's essential to stand up when necessary. My military career gave me the strength to resist, and my daily writing has taught me to think critically and remain calm in unexpected situations."

Goethe responded humbly.

"You served in the military? And you're also a writer?"

Another reporter asked.

"Yes, I have a military background, and now I am a travel writer."

Goethe nodded.

"You're actually a writer? What is your name?"

Yet another reporter inquired.

"Marple!"

"Poirot Marple!"

Goethe announced his current name.

One must admit, Zolta put a lot of thought into this identity. As soon as Goethe finished speaking, one of the reporters immediately said, "Are you Poirot Marple, the author of The Cat's Journey and The Story of the Frost Leaves?"

"That's me!"

Goethe nodded again.

Immediately, the eyes of the surrounding reporters lit up.

They had vaguely heard of these two works.

Of course, they were more concerned about the sales of today’s special edition and tomorrow’s daily newspaper.

A gentleman who resisted violence is impressive enough.

But when this gentleman is also a writer, he becomes even more captivating.

Especially when this writer has a military background and quite a respectable upbringing.

"Mr. Marple, could you explain the situation in more detail?"

"Although we already know the general situation, we believe it would be more authentic if we heard it from you directly."

One of the reporters spoke on behalf of all the others.

"Today was my first time visiting Hessetins. I was immediately drawn to it and decided to stay for a while. So, I went to 'Simmock Carriage Company' to rent a carriage and rented a house from Mr. Hunter of the agency. Then, on the way to the rental, I encountered this gentleman, who appeared beside my carriage with a dagger."

"When I drew my gun and aimed it at him, this police officer arrived, arrested the man, and took him away. Then, after I hired a butler and maid, this man reappeared with four accomplices. They tried to extort money from me and intended to harm me. I had no choice but to resist, but..."

"What I didn't expect was that after seeing the bodies on the ground, the police officer became angry and... threatened me."

Goethe said this.

Most of it was true.

A small portion had been embellished.

But combined together, it was enough to spark the imagination.

Judging by the expressions of the reporters in front of him, Goethe knew he had achieved his goal.

After a few more questions, Goethe began to show signs of fatigue.

"Although I would love to continue talking with everyone, my body tells me it's best to rest."

"And..."

"If possible, please help promote my new book—Adventures in the Wilderness."

With that, Goethe got back into the carriage.

This time, no one stopped him.

The reporters had gotten what they wanted, and each rushed back to their respective newspapers.

Meanwhile, in the carriage, Goethe closed his eyes in thought.

He was thinking about any possible flaws in his new plan.

He was also considering how to write the so-called Adventures in the Wilderness so that all the effort he just put in wouldn't go to waste.

After all, this would be the bait he was throwing out for his new plan!

(End of this chapter)