The layout of the King District's architecture was rather distinctive.
The buildings surrounding Charles Square were the finest in the entire King District, all relatively new. Yet moving just slightly further out, they became exceptionally decrepit, before gradually becoming newer again as the area extended outward.
Mrs. Sterling's home was not far from Charles Square, situated deep in the alley where Lynch had first run into little Martha, amid a cluster of dilapidated old buildings.
It was easy to recognize, as the familiar bakery cart was parked right downstairs.
A standalone two-story building with probably only four or five rooms housed nearly thirty people across two households. There was no piped gas or running water at all; cooking and lighting relied entirely on flexible hoses pulled in from outside to deliver gas. Watching it made Lynch a bit anxious, wondering when a gas leak might blow the entire building sky-high.
It was said that most residents of King District were peasants who had been coaxed and swindled out of their land. Their living conditions were truly difficult to describe; by comparison, his own life as a transmigrator was already quite affluent.
Reflecting on his experiences over the past few days, Lynch bypassed the bakery cart, squeezed past countless piles of clutter on the narrow staircase, and finally climbed to the second floor. Mrs. Sterling's entire family of seventeen was packed into just three rooms on this level.
The moment he stepped inside, Lynch closed his eyes to carefully sense his surroundings. There was no reaction indicating mysterious filth. Fortunately, that meant most of the occupants here were safe, at least.
The men of the household had all gone out, leaving only five or six children huddled around the elderly Mrs. Sterling. Seeing that it was Lynch who entered, everyone visibly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Mr. Detective is here! Little Janet is saved!”
Someone muttered the words, and immediately, the group erupted into cheers. Several children rushed forward, mobbing Lynch as they ushered him through the door.
“Mr. Detective, you must help my big sister!”
“Mr. Detective, she promised to take me to play by the river in a few days. You have to wake her up!”
“Mr. Detective, here, this is my lunch for today. I couldn't bear to eat it. Take it as your reward, just save my sister!”
“You lot, get out of here! Stop disturbing our guest!” The old woman shooed the children away with imposing vigor, then offered Lynch an apologetic smile. “The home is too small and there are too many children. There's simply no quiet place to be found. I'm sorry for the disturbance.”
“It's fine. It's understandable that the children are worried about their sister. I just didn't expect them to be so close.” Lynch held the crumpled scrap of white bread, thought about it for a second, tossed it into his mouth, and swallowed it directly without daring to chew. “Now that I've eaten the bread, why don't you take me to see little Janet first? I heard she's already fallen unconscious?”
“Yes, thank you for your trouble.”
With an apologetic look, the old woman led him into another room—which was really just stepping past a tattered cloth curtain into another area. A large bed stood inside with several filthy pillows, upon which lay a child dressed in coarse cloth pajamas.
Her complexion was ashen, her cheeks sunken, her jaws clenched tight, her skin parched, and her hair withered and yellowed—she looked just like a dried corpse.
“How long has she been like this?”
“She was fine a few days ago, but over the last few days she grew weaker and weaker, constantly dazed, though it hadn't reached this point yet. When she returned yesterday, we even chatted for a bit. But this morning, she turned out like this, and we couldn't wake her no matter what.”
“Overnight?”
“Not entirely overnight, but the noticeable change definitely started last night.”
Lynch frowned. This didn't seem like an ordinary illness—no sickness turned a person into a dried corpse overnight. Removing his gloves, he touched the child's limbs directly with his fingers. Her muscles were loose and devoid of elasticity, and her skin felt remarkably rough to the touch.
Pressing his hand against the child to activate his mystery intuition, he detected not a single trace of residual filth on her—she was cleaner than the vast majority of people. Lynch stared at the child and contemplated for a moment, then gestured for Mrs. Sterling to bring in another child.
Soon, the child who had offered the bread was brought in, looking just as filthy as before. Lynch patted the child's head, then held their hand to sense for a moment.
This was what a normal person felt like. Living in this world, everyone would inevitably be tainted by some degree of filth; it was impossible for anyone to be completely clean. But little Janet was unnaturally clean—as thoroughly empty as a house where everything, good and bad alike, had been cleared out.
Something across her entire body had been drained away. Such a bizarre manifestation was highly likely connected to mystery.
Lynch followed his first instinct. According to Officer Angel's guidance, an occultist's first instinct often carried profound significance and could even be classified as a type of omen.
This tied into his plans for the future. Even if the monetary compensation was bound to be low, he might obtain a mystery relic or even gain some insight. The risk was worth taking.
Commission accepted.
His mind made up, Lynch withdrew his hand and pondered for a moment before asking, “Is everyone else in the family fine?”
“Everyone is fine,” the old woman said, pulling another granddaughter close with a face full of sorrow. “Only little Janet had something happen to her.”
That meant the issue did not originate at home. A gradual progression suggested that the source was likely not a one-time exposure, but multiple intermittent contacts. The most probable locations were either the school or the factory—the only two places she frequented.
Hiss, this really was connected to the Grant Screw Factory.
With a slight sense of foreboding, Lynch still inquired further with Mrs. Sterling. None of the children attending school with her had reportedly suffered any problems, while the situation at the factory remained unknown. However, factory work was chaotic and hazardous, with injuries being frequent; problems occurring there were considered entirely normal.
This world was truly terrifying—losing one's life on the job was considered normal? The corporate slaves back in his previous world really didn't know how good they had it.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Lynch stepped back from little Janet's bedside. “I'll take this commission, but I can't guarantee success. I can only say I'll do my best.”
“That's wonderful! Thank you, Mr. Detective!”
The child who had just entered cheered and immediately darted past the cloth curtain to announce the news loudly. In an instant, cheers surged like a tide through the entire room, and even the elderly Mrs. Sterling beamed with a broad smile.
“As for the commission fee, I won't make things difficult for you—five shillings.” Lynch's heart bled at the low sum, but looking at this family's circumstances, anything more would likely be an unbearable burden. Lynch rather liked the warm atmosphere of this household and had no desire to test human nature. “However, if I acquire any special items during the commission that I deem valuable, I reserve the right to claim them without consulting you. Naturally, this does not include any of your family's personal belongings.”
Mrs. Sterling nodded repeatedly without a second thought. Lynch's asking price completely put her anxious heart at ease.
“Very well. I will head over to inspect the factory where she works in a little while. But before that, tell me as much as you can remember about any unusual behavior she exhibited over the past few days. Also, didn't you mention that she began sleepwalking and drawing at night? Bring those out for me to look at.”
“Here they are.”
The old woman quickly retrieved several battered sheets of paper from beneath the mattress, covered in numerous doodles.
Caught off guard, Lynch looked down, and the moment his eyes fell upon them, his ears buzzed loudly as a violent shock slammed into his consciousness.
Just like when he had inadvertently seen the ghoul in Maya's photograph.
Damn, this thing packed quite a punch.
Rate on N.U.
