“Jingle.”
Pushing open the latticed glass door, Lynch and Natalie Angel stepped into the unassuming little shop.
It was situated right by the bank of the Lande River, on the border between the King District and the Crown District, at a quiet street corner along a narrow gravel path with sparse pedestrians. It was not far from their next destination, the Hall of Order; from the shop, one could already look out toward the soaring Tower of Justice of the Hall of Order, which was why Officer Natalie had said it was on the way.
In the dim light, the room was thick with a bizarre odor.
Fragrant yet foul, faint yet pungent, all manner of scents mingled into an indescribably sharp stench.
At a glance, the shop was filled with all sorts of artificial items, large and small, strange and grotesque. Most looked eerie—or rather, hideous—and appeared to have some age to them, giving off weird smells.
Yet after looking around, Lynch was essentially able to confirm that these were ordinary goods, untouched by any mysterious filth.
Scritch, scritch, whoosh.
Tracing the sound of the striking match, Lynch spotted the shopkeeper sitting behind the counter.
She was a woman in her thirties with vibrant red hair and a striking face, clad in an intricate gown in the style of the New Continent, somewhat reminiscent of the Romani attire from his former world. In her hand, she held a slender ivory pipe, her clean, even teeth gently gripping its emerald mouthpiece. Her narrow eyes swept like blades across the faces of the pair who had just entered.
“Hm? Natalie?” Her razor-sharp gaze faltered slightly upon spotting the lady officer behind Lynch. “Aren't you supposed to be stuck at Crown Square? Don't tell me you sneaked off to slack off on a case this big.”
“I never slack off. This is Victor’s order.” Tipping her top hat, the lady officer nodded at the red-haired woman. “Let me introduce a client: Lynch Levive.”
“This kid? He’s an ordinary person, isn't he? A new mystery hunter recruited by your Watchers?”
“No, Lynch is an outside consultant temporarily hired by the Watchers.”
“What kind of thing is that?” The red-haired woman clearly had never heard the term before.
“I don’t really know either. In any case, he’s my temporary partner.” The lady officer patted Lynch on the shoulder. “His inspiration is exceptionally keen—far sharper than Truen’s. I'd say he's on par with you.”
“How unfortunate.” The red-haired woman flashed a bizarre smile. “Best of luck to you, lad. I hope you can hang on a bit longer.”
Lynch furrowed his brows, recalling that the voice in his head had also mentioned shortly after his transmigration that having high inspiration was hardly a blessing. “Why? Is high inspiration dangerous? Because the more you know, the faster you die?”
“They never told you? Ah, maybe they don't know either.” The red-haired woman gave a mocking smile. “People with high inspiration are indeed quite rare. Care to guess why?”
“Why?” Lynch had a bad feeling about this.
“Because they're all dead. Dead from mysterious events,” the red-haired woman murmured. “The root cause of all mysterious events is accidental mystery contact—in other words, establishing a connection with mystery. But do you know what that connection begins with?”
Lynch shook his head.
“Mystery begins with perception, lad.” Madam Bessie smiled strangely, tapping her pipe. “When you gaze into mystery, mystery gazes into you. So having high inspiration may be a boon to everyone else, but to yourself, it is no gift—it is a death curse. You will soon find that you encounter mysterious events with ever-increasing frequency, until the day comes when you can no longer withstand the corrosion of mystery and become part of it yourself. That is the inevitable end for people like us. Even stepping into the realm of Soul Severers won't save you.”
‘Travel Companion, is this why you said the day before yesterday that it wasn’t a gift?’
【Yes.】
“All right, Bessie, don't go scaring my partner. What you’re saying is just a fringe theory that most people don't accept. Besides, even if he runs into mystery like you say, I’ll protect him.” Natalie took a half step forward, placing Lynch behind her. “We don’t have time for you to pick on the rookie; we have serious business. Lynch, let me introduce you. This is Bessie. If you ever want to buy or sell mystery relics in the future, you can come here. She’s fairly reliable when dealing with Soul Severers, and she keeps relics from leaking out. Bessie, do you have any holy mystery here? It's... from a god nobody has heard of. What was the name again?”
“The Crimson Lady,” Lynch said, peeking out. “I believe that was it.”
“Luna, Goddess of the Red Moon... That's a name one rarely hears.” The red-haired woman pulled out a thick ledger and flipped through it for a moment. “Mm, I’m certain. It's been years since I've heard of any holy mystery from that fallen god through my supply channels. There probably isn't a single one in all of Rhine City. Still, I know one place that definitely has some—and more than one, at that.”
“The Church of the Black Night?”
“Tsk, seems you know already. Nothing more to say then; you'll have to find a way through them.” Madam Bessie shrugged. “Anything else you want to buy?”
Natalie opened her mouth, just about to state the purpose of their visit, when Lynch stepped out from behind her.
“I'd also like to find a self-defense item. Ideally something an ordinary person can use, convenient, with the lowest possible drawback, a bit of stopping power, and preferably effective at range. I already have one for close combat.”
“That ring of yours? Mm, I suppose that counts as close combat.” Madam Bessie looked Lynch up and down, speaking thoughtfully, “Given your requirements... I actually do have something here that fits them to a tee.”
Hm?
Lynch had only been motivated on a whim to try his luck after being traumatized by his misfired sneak attack; he hadn't expected her to actually have something. He glanced back at the lady officer, whose expression also held a touch of curiosity. Together, they watched Madam Bessie hold her pipe and lazily amble toward the back room. A clattering racket sounded from within for a while before she reemerged, carrying a wooden box.
Lynch wondered what sort of mystery relic was concealed inside, yet even after Madam Bessie returned to the counter, the voice in his head offered no prompt, as if deliberately leaving it as a surprise.
“It would normally go for ten pounds, but seeing as you're Natalie's temporary partner and this is your first visit, I’ll give you a ten percent discount. Nine pounds, and I’ll throw in the accompanying accessories.”
Hiss, so expensive. Lynch felt his heart shatter, taking several seconds to recover his senses.
“May I see it first? I don't sense any aura of mystery.”
The red-haired lady made an inviting gesture.
Lynch looked back at Officer Natalie, took a deep breath, and flipped open the box, only to find a familiar object resting quietly inside.
A revolver.
Huh? Lynch’s mouth twitched.
Granted, in the Age of Steam, revolvers ought to have been invented already, and the original owner of this body had seen them before. However, according to those memories, gunpowder in this world possessed mediocre force, and small arms lacked significant lethality unless they were large firearms incorporating steam technology, which had respectable stopping power.
So the appearance of a handgun was hardly surprising, but...
Before Lynch could move, Officer Natalie picked up the revolver first, inspected it back and forth several times, and set it back in the box.
“Ordinary firearm. It hasn’t been occultly modified, so it isn't contraband. Lynch, decide for yourself. If you buy it, I can help you register the paperwork at the Hall of Order.”
Lynch picked up the revolver.
He had no idea how to use it, but what homebody hadn't dreamed of holding a gun? Who hadn't fantasized about having a handgun while watching dramas?
Besides, this thing truly met all his criteria to perfection, and operating it was quite straightforward.
Provided one disregarded accuracy.
“Nine pounds?”
“Yes, and it comes with a box of ammunition—fifty rounds. Don't try haggling; this is ordinary merchandise. Ten pounds was already the market price, and I've given you a discount.”
Still, it was so expensive.
His entire life savings amounted to only six pounds and thirteen shillings. Combined with the five pounds he had just squeezed out of V, he could barely scrape it together, leaving him with just over two pounds.
Fortunately, he still had the Church of the Black Night's monthly five-pound expense reimbursement quota, and room and board were already fully covered with no extra expenses. Otherwise, buying this would have sent him back to fretting over his livelihood.
Travel Companion, along with high inspiration, is lack of money also a curse?
【There is no curse. You are simply poor, Lynch.】
Lynch felt thoroughly looked down upon once again, but he didn't care. Gritting his teeth, he slapped down the six pounds he had on him, then turned to flash a fawning smile at Officer Natalie.
The lady officer glared at him, then covered the remaining three pounds for him.
Seeing Lynch grinning like a fool while clutching his new weapon, the lady officer sighed. “Once your gun permit is finalized in a couple of days, I'll introduce you to a shooting club with instructors and a firing range. You can play with it then. For now, let's attend to serious business. Bessie, I need you to cooperate with an investigation.”
“Concerning the square incident?” The red-haired woman frowned. “I heard someone set off an explosion in the crowd, yet no traces of explosives were found.”
“Yes, it was done using a mystery relic,” Natalie explained. “We want to trace the relic’s trajectory, including what channel it was smuggled into Rhine City through, who was involved, and so on. I remember you can do that—you traced the trail of that statue the day before yesterday.”
“That's impossible.” The red-haired woman bit down on her pipe mouthpiece, thought for a moment, and shook her head. “I could trace the statue because we had the corpse of someone directly linked to it. But you shouldn't have one now, right? I heard no one died in the explosion. Those trampled to death in the square don't count—it must be someone who died directly from the relic.”
“We don't have a corpse, but the relic is in our hands.”
“Hm? If the relic is already in your hands, what are you tracing?”
“Its trail,” Lynch added from the side. “Most importantly, to confirm where it appeared previously.”
“I see...” The red-haired woman hesitated for a long while before slowly nodding. “I'm not sure, but perhaps we can give it a try. Follow me.”
With that, she waved at the pair, signaling them to follow her to the back.
Just as the two were about to follow, Officer Natalie casually glanced out the glass door. She stopped dead in her tracks and yanked Lynch's sleeve.
“Hm?”
Lynch followed her gaze, and his breath hitched.
In the distance, billows of thick smoke were rising, as though somewhere had caught fire.
And the direction of the rising smoke happened to be precisely where the Hall of Order stood.
Just as they were planning to check the case files in the afternoon, it suddenly caught fire?
What about the files?
Exchanging a glance, the pair realized this fire was likely anything but ordinary. Grabbing their boxes, they called back that they would return shortly and sprinted toward the blazing smoke.
Please don't let it be the Hall of Order. Please don't let it be the archives.
Rate on N.U.
