Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4520 - 3604: Edge of Tomorrow (13)

At this time, Harley had already caught up, leaving the victim with no escape route, and he ran towards the window, trying to escape by climbing out, but Harley finished him off in front of the window.

When Shiller examined the body, he found that the victim was stabbed in the chest with a fruit knife, probably withdrawn the moment it was stabbed in, which is why the blood spattered everywhere.

In reality, a real murder scene is far bloodier than TV dramas show. Because the pressure inside arteries is very high, once cut, blood can spray out like a high-pressure water gun, reaching as far as two or three meters away.

Moreover, the body stores a lot of blood, and if still capable of movement, it can spray for a few minutes. If the victim tries to flee during this time, it would definitely be enough to turn the entire room red.

Harley's stab directly hit the bassist's aorta, and possibly discovering that he stabbed incorrectly, withdrew the knife instantly, causing arterial blood to spray everywhere.

What gives Shiller a headache, even more, is that the rehearsal classroom has a wooden floor. It's visible to the naked eye that quite a bit of blood has seeped into the floor cracks, making blood residue almost unavoidable.

"Although it's like this, as long as no one reports it and the police don't tear up all the floors, ordinary people shouldn't notice anything." With this thought, Shiller started the cleanup work.

Counterintuitively, the first task in cleaning up a crime scene is not disposing of the body, not even handling the body.

Shiller got a piece of plastic sheeting from Victor, laid it flat on the ground, rolled the body on it, tied it up with a rope, and put it in the adjacent classroom.

Then he and Victor each took a squeegee — resembling a sponge mop but with a front rubber blade for cleaning — and scraped the liquid and semi-coagulated blood together.

"This reminds me of the past," Shiller said while scraping the blood in circles, "I once dealt with someone behind the university auditorium. But then I had about half an hour because the school celebration event was about to start."

"Half an hour? That's really tight. Did you manage to handle it?"

"It wasn't that complicated because I strangled him, and there wasn't much blood, just needed to handle the incontinence mess. Fortunately, I was prepared, so I barely got it done."

"I can't imagine," Victor said. "I might not have told you, but I have killed someone before. Although I feel he deserved it."

"Oh?"

"I used to be involved in low-temperature research, but often without the professional equipment I have now. I used to rent a basement or warehouse to store raw materials and the low temperature cabin."

"The technology for the low temperature cabin at that time wasn't so mature. I needed to constantly replace low-temperature reactive materials to maintain the temperature. That stuff looked a bit like potting soil, and I often pushed waste in and out of the community."

"Then an unlucky guy, probably a drug-addicted junkie, thought I was growing marijuana. He broke into my lab while I was away and somehow crawled into an empty low temperature cabin. I suppose you can imagine the consequences."

"When I returned, he had already passed out due to the low temperature. I wanted to wake him up, but the guy almost unplugged Nora's low temperature cabin. In a fit of rage, I killed him."

"How did you do it?"

"Uh, it might sound a bit embarrassing," Victor rested his arm on the squeegee, reminiscing, "The scene wasn't as bloody, but it was a bit ridiculous."

"At first, I wanted to strangle him, but then I thought it might cause him to lose control. My place was in a basement, and the exhaust fan didn't work well, so I didn't want to leave any odors."

"Then you could choose to poison him, safe, quick, and clean."

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"Yes, I thought about that too, but I didn't have the right materials. After all, I wasn't really growing marijuana."

"So, what did you finally choose to do?"

"I stabbed a ballpoint pen into his heart—right at the spot shown on a human anatomy diagram I found online. Thank goodness, I hit the mark perfectly. He died quickly and didn't cause me any trouble."

"How did you deal with his body?"

"Of course, I froze it, then smashed it with a hammer and disposed of a bit at a time, mixed with the kitchen waste from the bar next door. It took more than half a month to get rid of it completely."

"Very clever approach," Shiller said, "You have quite the talent for this sort of thing."

"It's really child's play compared to you, isn't it?" Victor said, rotating the squeegee to gather the last bit of blood together. "It's hard to imagine what you've been through."

"Not so ordinary, but not as tumultuous as you might think," Shiller gently shook his head, shook the squeegee against the floor, and said, "The human race's sense of vigilance is actually quite weak, and their attention to matters unrelated to themselves is even lower."

"Is this some kind of psychological effect?"

"Sort of. I bet you could even carry a bleeding corpse straight down a street in a neighborhood. As long as you act naturally and walk casually, hardly anyone would pay attention to you. Would you be alarmed if you saw someone like that on the street?"

"I might think he's trying to get his friend to the hospital, or that it's some kind of prop. Because a killer devil wouldn't do something so blatant, right?"

"That's the blind spot of psychology. You pre-assume everyone is afraid of police, so you think people wouldn't brazenly walk on the street after killing someone. But that's not the reality; it could just be a method of escape."

"Your theories and experiences are indeed impressive."

Shiller did not deny it. He glanced at the floor, most of the liquid had been scraped together by him and Victor.

"Then what do we do next? Use a sponge to absorb it?"

Shiller shook his head. He brought over another sheet of plastic and began folding it.

The plastic sheet had some rigidity, and once folded repeatedly, it could support itself. Shiller folded the plastic into a rectangular box with an open side, placed the open side on the floor, and said, "Scrape the blood into here."

Victor did as instructed but still asked, "Why not use a sponge or cloth?"

"We need to use things that can be completely cleaned. If you use a sponge or cloth, no matter how you wash it, there will be residue."

"But it can be destroyed, right?"

"That adds an extra step, which is quite troublesome. Besides, if not destroyed cleanly—for instance, some idiot might toss it into a garbage disposer—the blood and tissue samples would smear evenly on the blades and linger there forever, nearly impossible to clean off."

"Alright, you're the professional."

Victor used the squeegee to scrape most of the liquid into the box Shiller had made, with just a little left. Shiller said, "Don't worry about it; a small amount of blood clots quickly. Once it coagulates into clots, just pick it up and toss it in."

Shiller then retrieved a high-pressure water gun from the nearby equipment and instructed Victor, "Lay all the furniture flat on the floor. Disassemble complex structures like the drum kit and arrange the components neatly." Clearly, the plan was to wash everything thoroughly.

"What about the carpet?" Victor asked, looking down at the carpet on the floor. A zebra-stripe rug lay beneath the drum kit; it was black and white and close to the window, with bloodstains as well.

"Didn't you bring cleaning agents?" Shiller said, "Take the carpet to the bathroom, soak it in the cleaning solution, and scrub it later."

"But there's no sink big enough," Victor said, frowning.

The carpet on the floor was quite large, though circular, with a diameter of at least two meters. Shiller had just checked the practice room's bathroom; the sink's width was about the length of an adult's forearm, and the carpet couldn't fit horizontally or vertically.

"Do we need to find a basin or something?"

Shiller shook his head and said, "A blow-up pool would be needed at least. You work on flushing the furniture and floor here; leave the carpet to me."

Victor took the water gun from Shiller. He watched as Shiller rolled up the carpet and carried it to the bathroom.

Curious about what Shiller would do, Victor turned his direction, facing the bathroom as he continued washing.

Victor saw Shiller fold the plastic sheet over, then cut off a piece, and then slit along the fold, obtaining two plastic sheets of the same width.

Next, Shiller closed the bathroom door, rolled up one piece of plastic sheet and stuffed it tightly into the door gap, sealing it with tape; then attached the second sheet, with the upper half stuck to the door and the lower half to the floor, completely covering the door gap and taping all four edges.

Finally, Victor heard the sound of water rushing in the bathroom, sounding as if it was hitting the floor.

Victor suddenly understood: of course, by sealing the bathroom door, the entire bathroom turned into a large basin, perfect for washing the carpet. The cleaning agent would decompose the blood residues effectively, preventing a mess everywhere.

Even if it leaked downstairs, later one could just claim the pipes broke, posing it as an accident. Shiller was truly well-versed in such operations.