The Sneak

Media, police, military, and church combined law enforcement.

The indigenous people of this world had never seen such a spectacle before and found it incredibly novel. Not to mention the reporters leaping about the deck with their heavy cameras, even the accompanying dock garrison and the later arriving police from the Hall of Order could not help but whisper among themselves.

Was this private investigator who suddenly stepped forward truly as capable as he claimed? Could he really find the item on the spot?

Everyone was filled with doubt, their gazes locked on him as he paced back and forth between the cabin and the deck, before eventually standing on the deck with his hands behind his back.

"As a Soul Severer of the crimson moon, I have a special sensitivity to holy memory," Lynch whispered to Knight Rick, who was standing by to protect him. "I can confirm it. The item is on this ship. But there is a problem."

"Hm?"

"The sensation was blurry outside, as if shielded or indoors, but now that I am in the cabin, it is still blurry. However, I am certain the item is below, likely in the bottom hold."

"The bottom level is usually the cargo hold. That would be the perfect place to hide something."

"Good. Then our first step is to head straight for the hold." Lynch turned his gaze toward Jefferson with a smirk and raised his voice, "Since Mr. Jefferson considers himself a law abiding businessman, I assume you have no objections?"

Click, click. The thick tension of gunpowder brought the flashbulbs out once again.

Just listen to that: imperial spies, treasonous conspiracies, a confrontation between defenders and traitors, a war without smoke. Any one of these could make someone reluctant to put down the newspaper, and putting them all together was sure to make for a sensational headline. So, talk of aristocrats and authorities suppressing the media? That could go to hell; they were just waiting to capture the big story.

In an instant, the reporters had already concocted a series of stories in their minds. Their eyes lit up, only hoping for things to get even more chaotic.

Jefferson, however, sneered and lifted his head arrogantly, following behind the priests: "Remember, this is a spot check. I am waiting for your on the spot apology."

"Heh, of course." Lynch smiled and extended a hand, gesturing toward the stairs leading down to the hold. "My reporter friends, please come along. You must record everything that happens today in detail; otherwise, if your reports deviate from the truth in the future, you will be held responsible."

As they descended below sea level, the noisy sounds of the dock faded away. The surrounding environment grew darker, illuminated only by the faint glow of kerosene lamps.

The bottom level consisted of several large holds piled high with crates of cargo. These were firmly secured to the floor in stacks, turning the hold into a maze.

"This is the hold you wanted to see. Please, gentlemen, inspect it as you wish."

Jefferson spread his arms to indicate the entire cargo hold, appearing open and aboveboard as he sneered:

"I would love to see what you can find. Do not think you can just pick up some random object and claim it is your so called gift. We can trace the origin of most items on this ship. Feel free to try and see if the things you point out just happen to be of unknown origin. Hehehe, I am looking forward to you doing that. When you fail, you will have added yet another crime to your list."

By this time, Lynch could no longer hear any of Jefferson's sophistry. He was closing his eyes, quietly sensing the information from his surroundings. Deep within his consciousness, an incredibly familiar feeling lingered nearby.

It felt like a memory he had been chasing for a long time, or perhaps a missing part of his life, hovering around him and calling out softly.

Yet, he did not know what method Jefferson had used, but this feeling remained hazy, as if separated by a layer of thick fog. He could not see it clearly no matter what. The contrast between his intense, unsatisfied longing and his inability to grasp it caused him great pain, making his very body twitch.

"Search! Why did you stop?" Jefferson urged with a cold laugh. "If you are too afraid, then get off my ship, and then..."

Lynch opened his eyes abruptly and glared coldly at Jefferson. After a few minutes, he had finally managed to vaguely locate the position from the hazy sensation.

"It must be even lower. Is this the bottom of the hold?"

"Yes."

Rick nodded with a frown. The surrounding reporters clearly realized there was a show to be seen, and the frequency of flashbulbs surged. After hesitating for a few seconds, Knight Rick's eyes lit up, and he raised his voice:

"Wait, there is another watertight compartment."

"Hm?" Lynch raised an eyebrow at Jefferson.

"The watertight compartments are empty holds. They are never opened. Have you lost your minds? You want to check there too? Why not just tear the ship apart to inspect it?"

Jefferson crossed his arms, looking furious, his voice growing significantly louder.

Lynch watched his subconscious movement, the corner of his mouth curling up. He said softly, "Just because they are never opened does not mean they cannot be opened. Are you trying to stop us from going in, Mr. Jefferson?"

"Fine. Suit yourselves."

Jefferson let out a hateful snort and signaled for the nearby sailors to open the watertight door leading to the lower level. The sailors looked bewildered, but they followed the order with trepidation and opened the door.

As soon as it opened, a foul stench rushed out, accompanied by a thick fishy odor. It was pitch black inside, and as the air circulated, a wailing wind blew from within, as if something eerie were hiding inside.

Rick waved his hand, and two black robed knights immediately walked in with kerosene lanterns. A moment later, a voice called back from below: "Clear."

"Everyone, please follow."

Seeing that Rick had already gone down, Lynch nodded to the reporters and followed with peace of mind.

The watertight layer was much shorter than the normal hold. Given Lynch's height, he had to hunch over and lower his head, unable to stand straight. This was the ship's final line of defense in case of a collision or leak, divided into over a dozen sealed compartments by thick timber.

This level was even simpler. With just these dozen or so compartments, one could see at a glance from the structure that there were no hidden spaces, and all the compartments were empty.

The cameras were too big to bring down, but the reporters followed. Seeing the situation, they immediately stepped forward, afraid of missing anything.

"It looks like there is nothing here. Did they really make a mistake?"

"I never thought Chairman Jefferson could be a spy, let alone commit treason."

"Don't be so quick. I think this investigator looks professional. He does not seem like someone who would do something without being sure. Let's wait and see."

"Shh..."

The reporters whispered to each other, while Jefferson wore a sinister smile under the lamplight, watching Lynch and Rick triumphantly. "Gentlemen, the watertight compartments have been opened. Please, inspect to your heart's content. Don't be polite. Hehehe."

"Very well, I won't be polite then. Thank you."

Lynch nodded seriously at Jefferson, which made the man grind his teeth in anger. Lynch signaled two Nightwalker knights to hold the light for him and walked straight past Jefferson toward the deeper sections.

All the compartments were empty, but Lynch simply closed his eyes, using his sharp mystery intuition to sense the call of the red moon.

It was still that hazy feeling, as if separated by several barriers. Though the reason was unclear, after circling a few times, Lynch stopped at the entrance of a compartment. Although blurry, a strong sense of intimacy radiated from this room, just like the warmth and tranquility he felt when bathed in the crimson moonlight before his transmigration.

It must be here.

Lynch opened his eyes abruptly, only to see the dark, cold cabin, empty and vacant.

What is going on?

Lynch turned his head sharply and saw the irrepressible smile on Jefferson's face. The man looked triumphant. "Please continue, hahaha. I can give you plenty of time to check this compartment. Fellow reporters, find a way to bring your cameras down. It would be a shame not to take a few photos of such a rare and precious scene."

"What is it?" Seeing Lynch silent under Jefferson's ridicule, Rick leaned over and asked in a low voice.

"I can clearly feel it. The item is right here." Lynch even waved his cane toward the spot where the sensation was most obvious, but hit nothing. He whispered, "It is definitely not an illusion, but there is nothing here. I suspect someone used an ability or a mystery relic to deceive our eyes."

"You say someone created an illusion? That is difficult. An illusion must take effect on a person, but I did not feel any attack. Moreover, an illusion would not affect your physical touch, and you have already tested it—there is nothing here. If you are worried, wait a moment."

Rick said, reaching up to wipe his eyes.

【Authority, Concealment, ability, Revelation.】

"I am not sure if my strength is insufficient, but I have not discovered any illusions yet. Are you sure you did not misjudge?"

"Hahaha, weren't you two gentlemen very confident just now? Why aren't you doing anything?"

It cannot be a misjudgment. This feeling of familiarity and intimacy is too obvious. My neighbor's memory must be here, but why can't I see it? Wait, that is right. I have a similar ability, and I wouldn't have remembered if he hadn't reminded me.

If someone really used an ability to hide the target without creating an illusion on the person, they must have tampered with the environment using mysterious power. If so, they would surely leave behind subtle traces of mysterious filth in the environment.

"Watch out for me."

Lynch lowered his voice further, then took off his glove and pressed his palm directly against the cabin wall.

【Authority, Concealment, ability, mystery intuition.】

The ability activated, and the sense of filth flowed from his palm deep into his soul. Slowly, Lynch sensed that besides the direction of the red moon's memory, another trail of mysterious filth extended upward, currently entrenched on the ceiling.

Something is hidden above my head. The guy playing tricks behind my back, let's see where you can hide now.

Lynch looked back at the still triumphant Jefferson, gave a strange smile, and suddenly drew his gun with lightning speed, firing three consecutive shots toward the direction he had sensed.

Bang, bang, bang.

No, I cannot just point at expensive things and say whatever I want. I need to fix this quickly, mhm.

What if the item I point at actually has a receipt? Wouldn't I be making a fool of myself in public? If that happens, no one will believe anything I say anymore, right?