By the time Lynch returned to the first floor via the spiral staircase, he had an envelope in his hand and a stack of small paper slips in his pocket—affectionately dubbed "Elizabeths" by the people of Lande.
Rectangular slips of paper adorned with intricate blue-gray patterns, bearing at their center the portrait of an elegant, middle-aged noblewoman. That was the likeness of Elizabeth III, Queen of Lande a century ago, the pioneer who first replaced gold and silver coins with paper currency.
One pound per note, ten notes stacked into a thick bundle that felt pleasantly heavy in his hand.
Taking advantage of the empty staircase, he secretly counted them once more before taking a deep breath of their scent. The foul odor of circulating banknotes rushed straight to his head, yet to Lynch, it felt utterly invigorating.
After spending an entire night on tenterhooks, he could finally straighten his back like a normal person. In this other world, nothing brought greater peace of mind than having money in one's pocket to eat.
The purchasing power of one pound was roughly equivalent to twelve to fifteen hundred yuan back home. Ten pounds was already a tidy sum; the Watchers had truly pulled him out of a dire bind today.
Right now, his rent and various living expenses amounted to three pounds a month. If he actually moved, even if he were lucky enough to find a place for two pounds, a three-month advance deposit would still cost six pounds. Without selling the ring, he wouldn't even have been able to afford moving.
But now, he possessed a fire-starting artifact ring, held a stepping stone to save his own life, and had not only recovered the six pounds and fifteen shillings stolen from him, but even turned a handsome profit.
Quite a bumper harvest for a single night's toil.
Looking at it this way, working as a private investigator dealing with mystery affairs in the future wouldn't be half bad. At least he could support himself in comfort. While windfalls like this wouldn't be the norm, it was a viable path forward.
Worth a shot. That settled it, then.
Because she had to rewrite her report and craft a self-reflection, Officer Natalie's original plan to take Lynch out had to be shelved. Nevertheless, she still jotted down an address for him.
221 Villa Avenue, King District.
A friend of the lady officer reportedly lived there, with a four-story townhouse apartment for rent at a fairly reasonable price. Knowing Lynch was looking to move, she suggested he go check it out. She had even written a letter of introduction for him, noting that handing it to the landlord might fetch him a bit of a discount if he liked the place.
In truth, Lynch was rather reluctant, as King District didn't quite match his expectations.
King District wasn't far from the central Crown District, so it wasn't particularly remote, but it was part of the old city—barely a stone's throw from the slums. Its facilities were outdated and the environment filthy and chaotic, making it theoretically unsuitable for running a business.
Yet precisely because of that, rent there was relatively cheap.
That single reason was enough to outweigh all its shortcomings. Besides, suitability couldn't be judged purely on theory; it was best confirmed through an on-site inspection. Better to have a look first.
Having agreed to write Officer Natalie with his new address once he moved, Lynch, mind made up, walked out of this peculiar club. Just before stepping out the door, a tidal wave of cheers erupted from the bar behind him. It seemed the result of another bet had been decided.
Looking back, he saw the bearded Truen leap onto a chair, wiggling his hips while tipping a bottle into his mouth. Around him, a crowd of patrons indignantly tossed away the paper slips in their hands.
He had likely won a substantial sum and lost himself in triumph. But midway through pouring the drink down his throat, he caught sight of Lynch preparing to leave, pointing toward his own boots. Truen immediately snorted a mouthful of liquor straight out of his nose; his knees buckled, and he tumbled headlong off the chair.
I didn't do anything.
Lynch tipped his top hat toward the bartender, Linda, in a distant salute, then turned and departed amidst the chaos.
On his way here, he had trudged a full five kilometers to pinch pennies. Now, to reward himself, Lynch decided to experience an otherworldly open-top hired carriage.
However, at four o'clock in the afternoon, Rhine City was entering its daily rush hour.
The streets were terribly congested, a gridlocked snarl of pedestrians, horses, and carriages packed so tightly that not even water could trickle through. Whinnying horses, shouting voices, and angry curses blended into a constant clamor as tempers flared.
Lynch couldn't help but marvel that road rage had existed even in this era.
In conditions like these, a small open-top carriage proved exceptionally convenient. Not only could it weave between the streams of traffic, but when confronted with jammed roads, it could easily slip through narrow side alleys.
Lynch was thoroughly pleased with this—until the carriage plunged straight into a dead-end alley.
According to the coachman, this passage had previously been clear—he had even driven through it yesterday. For reasons unknown, piles of rubble and debris were heaped across it today, rendering it entirely impassable for carriages.
Fortunately, they were no longer far from their destination. According to the coachman's directions, cutting deep through several back alleys and passing an expanse of old buildings would allow him to reach the location within ten minutes.
After a moment's thought, Lynch agreed to the coachman's suggestion, tossing down three three-penny coins before striding off.
The narrow alley was wide enough for only a single carriage. People cast wary glances from windows on both sides; residents of the old city were always this guarded against outsiders.
As he ventured deeper, the distant noise of traffic, horses, and crowds faded away, leaving his surroundings increasingly quiet.
Right then, a burst of weeping and wailing drifted from deeper within the alley.
The voice sounded immature, like a child's cry, sounding utterly wretched and pitiful.
Crying suddenly echoing down a deserted alley was undeniably eerie. Lynch frowned. He wasn't one to meddle in other people's business, but the sound was coming directly from the direction he was headed; he couldn't very well take a detour. Besides, while he might bypass ordinary weeping or even cries for help, a child's wails were different—especially ones this heartbreaking.
It's on the way anyway. Might as well check it out.
After a moment's hesitation, his heart softened. Placing The Passion of the Blazing Lady where it was easiest to reach, he held his cane as a weapon and walked toward the source of the sound.
‘Travel Companion, talk to me. I'm feeling a bit uneasy.’
The Witness ignored him completely.
‘Is there any mystery reaction?’
【No.】
‘If not, why am I feeling so panicked and oppressed?’
【Your psychological tolerance for unexpected sights along the journey is relatively low.】
‘That's just a roundabout way of calling me a coward.’
Complete silence.
Lynch couldn't shake the feeling he was being looked down upon, but he was no longer afraid. After all, daylight was still bright, someone was there chatting in his ear, and most importantly, as he drew closer, the crying grew clearer.
It wasn't just one child either, but a whole chorus of young voices, shouting and hollering mingled with tears.
Apparently it wasn't some gruesome tragedy. Piqued by curiosity, Lynch quickened his pace. After navigating the alleys for two or three minutes, he found a small clearing of a few square meters just off the lane.
Seven or eight children, boys and girls about ten years old, stood there. While not dressed in total rags, their clothes were excessively plain. Frail and with smudge-streaked faces, they were shoving and mocking a little blonde girl they had surrounded.
The wailing came from this very girl. She was also around ten years old, though her clothes were decent—far better than those of the other children. Having apparently been shoved to the ground multiple times, she was covered in dirt, and having just fallen into a pile of clutter, she clutched her head and sobbed loudly.
Lynch shook his head. He had thought something terrible was happening given how miserable the crying sounded, but it was merely children squabbling.
Sighed, he was about to turn and leave when he saw the little girl say something. Immediately, one of the bullies picked up a tree branch from the roadside and swung it down onto her. The other children followed suit, searching along the base of the wall for branches.
“Hey! What do you kids think you're doing?”
Lynch couldn't stand by any longer; this had crossed beyond ordinary teasing.
The children looked back, saw someone coming, and instantly dropped their branches and clutter, scattering in all directions.
“Are you all right?”
Having come this far, Lynch couldn't just leave her. He walked over, crouched in front of the girl, and asked gently:
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Sniffling, the girl shook her head and wiped her tears as she looked up.
Lynch paused. With blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, the girl was as exquisitely pretty as a porcelain doll—strikingly lovely.
“Why were they picking on you?”
“I don't know,” the girl's voice was melodious and clear as spring water. “I don't even know them. They just saw me and started hitting me.”
Sounds like they're crazy.
Half-amused and half-resigned, Lynch looked into the girl's azure eyes. They were bright and limpid, but in that very clarity, Lynch caught the flickering reflection of something moving.
Directly behind him.
The instant he realized it, Lynch instinctively leaned to the side.
A gust of wind swept past his back, and a large burlap sack descended from above, slamming onto his shoulder.
Had he not dodged, it would have slipped right over his head.
Lynch shot to his feet, raised his cane, and spun around. Two of the children from earlier were standing silently behind him holding the sack. Looking startled, they let out a loud shout, dropped the sack, and bolted.
Lynch gave chase for a couple of steps, but seeing how nimble they were—slithering into the alleys like mice in the blink of an eye—he could only wave his cane in frustration and return to the little girl.
“Those damn brats. If I catch them, I'll give them a thorough thrashing.”
The thought of almost getting sacked by a bunch of kids made Lynch's blood boil. Luckily he had noticed in time; otherwise, carrying a fortune of ten pounds on him, losing that money would have made him weep without tears.
“You really don't know those damn kids? Whatever, don't be afraid. Get up. Where do you live? I'll walk you home.”
Lynch held out a hand to the girl. She obediently took his hand and stood up. Just as she was about to speak, her face suddenly turned pale with terror as she looked behind him.
Did they come back?
Lynch quickly turned his head, but halfway through the motion, a thought suddenly struck him.
When the sack was falling over him earlier, this girl hadn't warned him at all. Why was she suddenly acting terrified now?
A trap!
Lynch's hair stood on end. Shielding his head, he lunged forward. Just two steps out, a sharp pain struck his back, followed by a loud crash as something shattered against him.
Thank goodness it hadn't hit his head.
Stumbling forward a few steps, Lynch turned around to see the little girl holding half of a ceramic jar, staring at him in utter shock.
“H-H-How did you dodge that?!”
“Terribly sorry. Was I not supposed to dodge?” Lynch's expression turned grim, a menacing grin tugging at his gritted teeth. “Looks like there's one more brat that needs a beating.”
With that, he raised his cane and charged toward her.
“Aaaah!”
The little girl turned to run. Lynch grabbed her collar, but she squirmed desperately and slipped free. With a metallic clatter, something dropped to the ground.
Several children then burst out from the alley's side paths, hurling garbage and debris at Lynch. Taking advantage of his momentary dodging, they pulled the little girl down a side path, vanishing in an instant.
Those little bastards.
Lynch had figured it all out by now.
These little bastards were habitual muggers.
The rubble and debris blocking the alley entrance were almost certainly their doing, meant to trick pedestrians into walking through on foot. Then they took advantage of passersby letting their guard down around children to ambush and mug them with burlap sacks.
Lynch had escaped their attacks both times purely by luck. One careless slip, and those ten pounds would have been history.
It seemed King District had truly taught him a lesson. In the old city, not even children could be trusted.
Luckily the city's overall public security was decent, and the kids weren't armed with lethal weapons; otherwise, he might have lost his life.
This world was far too grim; even matters completely unrelated to mystery were this dangerous.
Thinking this, Lynch sighed with a bitter smile, walked over to the object that had been torn from the little girl's neck, and picked it up.
A ring. It had likely been strung on a cord around her neck, which had snapped when she pulled away.
The moment he picked it up, Travel Companion's voice suddenly rang out in his mind.
【Mysterious filth clings to it.】
Rate on N.U.
