In the underground wine cellar of a separate villa with a spacious yard, the lights are brightly lit at this moment. In the center of the wine cellar, two single sofas are placed face to face on the open space surrounded by rows of wine cabinets. There is a small coffee table in the middle of the single sofa. On the tea table, a pot of black tea is still steaming.

A snow-white fur-wool carpet is laid on the pure black floor tiles.

Dorothy woke up in a dizzy state.

"Uh..." Her vision was still a little blurred. When she opened her eyes, Dorothy saw the first thing she saw was the retro chandelier on the ceiling. Then she returned to her consciousness. Her first reaction was to get up, but her limbs were not in control and she could not use any strength at all.

She fell back again.

"Don't hurry to get up." At this time, the person sitting on the single sofa opposite Doroth spoke, his voice low and steady. "The medicine has not yet passed, and you will feel a little nauseous and dizzy."

At this moment, it was finally clear before my eyes. Dorothy slowly turned his head and turned his gaze to the source of the sound. "...Professor Baudelaire?" The tall and thin old man with white hair on the sofa opposite was actually the sociology professor she had met this morning. "What's going on?"

She struggled to sit up, Dorothy leaned against the sofa and quietly checked her condition - her skirt was complete and her shoes were there, but her chain bag was missing. Her head was still dizzy and her limbs couldn't use strength.

[Does not be afraid, you just fainted] The system comforts softly.

"Don't worry," he raised his hand and poured a cup of hot tea for the student he liked very much. Baudelaire turned a blind eye to the little girl's vigilant and suspicious look. "When the medicine is over, there will be no sequelae." He signaled Dorothy to drink tea.

Relying on the soft and comfortable sofa seat, Doroth looked at her sociology professor with her eyes. Professor Baudelaire is French, said to be unmarried and has no children. He is respected in the academic circle and is very popular with students. She has little interaction with this professor on weekdays.

But why did he kidnap himself?

"Thank you." It is the most unwise choice to anger the other party at this time. Dorothy tried to sit up straight, stretched out his hand to pick up the teacup, and then...

"Sorry, Professor". Without strength in her hands, she naturally sprinkled some of the black tea in the cup.

"It's okay." Baudelaire didn't care about the students' tricks. He even took his handkerchief and handed it to Dorothy and asked her to wipe her hands.

There was a silence in the wine cellar.

Dorothy carefully wiped the tea on her hands. The wine cellar should be located underground. From waking up to now, she has never heard any sound from outside from beginning to end.

You should know that in Manhattan, where there are crowds and every inch of land, it is not easy to find such a quiet place.

Her heart sank.

"I think you must have a lot of questions." I felt that the heat was probably enough, so Baudelaire spoke again.

"Yes." Dorothy felt that her head was no longer as dizzy as she woke up.

"Then please come with me before answering your question." Baudelaire took out his pocket watch and looked at it, confirming that the others were ready at this time. He stood up, and the tall and thin French old man, gentleman and gracefully signaled the students opposite to him to follow him.

Dorothy had no choice but to keep up. Fortunately, she began to feel that her body had recovered some strength.

The heels of the high heels made a crisp "dial" sound when they stepped on the floor tiles. Dorothy followed the old man and walked out of the wine cellar. He climbed up the stairs and a carved wooden door was opened, and the scene inside made her shudder.

A man was kneeling on the ground with his back facing the door, his white shirt was stained with blood. Looking at the source of the blood spray, the sleeve on the man's right was empty - he was cut off his right arm.

His eyes looked upward, a middle-aged man holding a bone saw in one hand raised the arm that had just been cut off and looked at it. He seemed to feel unsatisfied enough. He threw it away casually and threw his arm to the ground.

On the beautiful knitted carpet with complex patterns, a lonely arm lies beside a wine barrel, as if mocking Dorothy's timidity.

At this time, a man in a white coat standing on the other side saw Baudelaire bringing people up, and a smile appeared on his face. He turned a blind eye to the bloody and cruel scene in front of him, "Are you going to negotiate?" The man in a white coat even winked at Dorothy in a friendly manner.

"Sit down." Nodded to his companion, Baudelaire signaled Dorothy to sit on the sofa.

Taking a breath slowly, Dorothy walked around the blood on the ground and sat down on a double sofa. She stroked the hem of her skirt carefully and looked at the current situation in the room.

The man in white shirt kneeling on the ground, lowered his head and died, the middle-aged man in charge of murder with a bone saw, the white coat of Professor Baudelaire and his suspected professor's accomplices, and herself.

There are only five of them in this living room at the moment.

Or maybe all she could see was these four people.

"Stop for a moment." The white coat whispered to the middle-aged man holding the bone saw. Immediately, the other party had already begun to pull the poor man kneeling on the ground and stopped, and took a step back to move away from his position.

Baudelaire nodded to the white coat, so the man in the white coat immediately stepped forward, pulled away the man's hair on the kneeling ground, and turned his face toward Dorothy.

Dorothy then realized that the poor man whose arm was sawed off was actually awake. For some reason, the man who had not struggled to call for help was filled with pain and fear.

Dorothy's heart trembled with such eyes.

"Do you know him?" Baudelaire looked at his student's sudden cold expression and slowly dusted his sleeves. "Doros Hestin, look at him carefully first, and then decide whether to look at us with such a look."

The entire living room was silent, and no sound was made, whether it was injured or committed a crime. Dorothy's eyes swept across the other three men, and finally fell on the face of the man who made her unable to bear to look at him again.

...

She recognized the man-although his face was distorted and no longer glamorous, she did know who the other person was.

Howard Toms, 22 years old, was born in a lawyer's family, was arrested by the police for raped a 19-year-old barmaid and uploading sex videos to the Internet. With the conclusive evidence, the court sentenced the other party to only four months of community service, the reason was that Howard Toms had excellent academic performance and a bright future, and should not be ruined by such a stain.

The trial result of this case shocked the whole of the United States half a year ago.

"The barmaid had already committed suicide two months ago because she was unbearable." Looking at the sudden change of expression of the student on the sofa, Baudelaire exchanged glances with his companions with satisfaction.

Dorothy leaned back into the sofa. She rubbed her temples with her hands, "What about that man?" It should be that the effect of the medicine has begun to decline, and she no longer feels dizzy and unable to concentrate. She has gradually recovered her observation and noticed that the man who was carrying the bone saw to commit crimes was very wrong.

It seems that there is no focal length in the other person's eyes.

"That's Edward House." Baudelaire walked to the sofa and sat opposite the students he had personally selected. "A few days ago, there was a news report that a homeless man found human limbs in the canal, did you see the news?" The old professor in a straight suit was kind from beginning to end, as if it was no different from when he was in school.

"Facts have proved that our Mr. House has an unknown hobby." He nodded to his companion and immediately stepped forward and opened the big wine barrel on the ground.

"Vomit..." Dorothy looked at her head and felt her stomach twitching, and physiological tears poured up uncontrollably, and she had to lie on the armrest of the sofa.

"Mr. House believes that the wine soaked in human bones and internal organs is more mellow." Looking at the young girl's sudden pale face, Old Baudelaire didn't think he had done something wrong.

Such a smart and talented young man should not be bound by worldly shackles.

Half lying on the armrest of the sofa, Dorothy already understood what the old professor was doing. It was just...

"Why did you come to me?" Taking a deep breath, suppressing the unbearable nausea. Dorothy straightened her spine and looked at her face opposite her. She had always been respectful to the scholar, "Professor Baudelaire, why did you come to me?"

The young girl in a blonde and red dress had a pale face, but her eyes were extremely firm. Her slightly raised chin revealed the owner's fearlessness, and there was no fear, no anger, or even doubt in her green eyes.

Just as he noticed when he stood on the podium, the young man in front of him would always inadvertently reveal this temperament.

This kind of temperament he once only saw in a very small number of people.

"Because I think you can understand us." Baudelaire answered his students seriously. "Hestin, I think you can understand what we are doing now."

*

The old professor with white hair sitting opposite him was still graceful, but the fanaticism flashed in his eyes could not be concealed. Dorothy listened quietly to the other party's temptation speech, with the horror sound of the bone saw again in the background.

Professor Baudelaire's organization has sufficient funds, and there will be no less than 20 members. The division of labor is clear, the organization is tight, and each has its own strengths. At least one person works in a law enforcement agency and has a high position to check all the details of the police and FBI. Members should include excellent law enforcement officers who are familiar with police case handling methods, psychologists, doctors or forensics, hackers, and mobile personnel with good skills – most likely veterans.

Smoothing the folds on the hem of the skirt, Dorothy collected information from the old professor's words quietly.

Moreover, if you want to complete such a large-scale crime, you must accurately locate the serial killer before the police and FBI and package your own victims. There must be an absolutely authoritative and meticulous leader in this organization.

And this leader is definitely not Professor Baudelaire in front of him. At best, the old professor is an executor who has been brainwashed by idealism and evil thoughts.

Even if she was kidnapped today, it was definitely not the old professor's own idea - to spread a secret organization in front of a stranger who was not a partner, Professor Baudelaire would never be able to do this decision.

"Professor Baudelaire." Not far away, the sound of something being thrown into the liquid was heard. Dorothy refused to think about what it was. He interrupted the professor who was still talking in front of him who tried to convince her to join. She glanced at the man in the white coat standing next to the old professor.

"'When fighting monsters, beware of becoming a monster, and when you stare at the abyss, the abyss is also staring at you'1."

"Nietzsche".

Baudelaire raised his eyebrows. He knew that the seemingly gentle but actually resolute students in front of him were not so easy to convince.

"Then what do you think of the little boy who has been circling around you since the start of school?" Baudelaire kindly persuaded the student who was still unable to think about it. "What is his name? Peter, right?" He turned around and asked for confirmation in the white coat behind him.

"Histine, if you don't agree with our approach, then how do you think of Spider-Man?"

Dorothy's back was straight, his legs were overlapping, his hands were placed on his knees, and he looked at the old professor who mercilessly exposed Spider-Man's identity.

She suddenly felt that Tom, the orange cat, had his lower claws lighter at noon today. If Peter was on the scene at this time, she really wanted to say the previous sentence to the other party sincerely-
Chapter completed!