I'm a Money Grubber

A farce.

Lynch figured that the moment the banker Mr. Douglas realized the safekeeping item was missing, he immediately pointed the finger at him. It wasn't that Douglas actually believed Lynch had stolen it, but rather that he wanted to find an easy scapegoat to shoulder the political pressure of the lost item while he slowly figured out a way to compensate the client's losses.

Little did he expect this scapegoat to be even more ferocious than him—it was like trying to kick a snowman and hitting a fire hydrant instead.

This made Lynch feel very fortunate. Fortunately, he had worked hard enough before to earn the status of an advisor to the Governor's Mansion, which allowed him to turn the tables and suppress Mr. Douglas. If he were still just the ordinary antique detective he was when he first transmigrated, he probably would have been thrown into prison long ago, with no telling how long it would take to clear his name.

Because of this, he couldn't just let the matter slide. Otherwise, once he left an impression of being weak and easily bullied, anyone would dare to trample on him in the future, and it would be difficult to change that perception later.

He had to nip the threat in the bud. By using a non-fatal farce to extort a large sum of money from the other party, he would let everyone know that provoking him would result in a painful bite back. That way, before anyone else harbored ill intentions, they would have to carefully weigh whether they were willing to pay the price.

Indeed, my actions have deep significance. It is absolutely not because I am greedy for those fifty pounds; my conscience is completely clear.

【Pfft...】

‘No laughing. Go back to enjoying your scenery.’

Lynch's train of thought paused. He gave a mental pout and quickly fled the area.

A swindler and thief carrying at least three mystery relics who also possessed a deep understanding of the Kingdom of Salter far across the New Continent, a priceless ruby with wide-reaching implications, and a princess from the Kingdom of Salter who had come to study—just hearing these few elements was enough to know how much trouble this matter would bring.

The trouble was already staring him in the face, but Lynch still wanted to struggle a bit and try to stay out of it. Thus, he left the scene at the fastest speed possible, hoping to sever the connection that had already formed with the incident.

Hopefully, it would work. Why did this kind of trouble suddenly target him specifically? Could it be another side effect of the path of immortality, or were those rats from the Shadow Alliance pulling the strings behind the scenes again?

Feeling annoyed, Lynch asked inwardly, ‘Neighbor.’

【I am enjoying my scenery. Please do not disturb me.】

Hiss, since when did goddesses hold grudges? What happened to the promised divine love for all mankind?

【You are not of this world, neighbor.】

Lynch was almost choked by his own breath. He held back for a long while before rubbing the throbbing vein on his forehead. ‘Fine, a proper Lande gentleman doesn't argue with a goddess. Give me your opinion first: is it reasonable that I run into trouble the moment I step out the door?’

【It is very reasonable, Lynch. Although you indeed possess a powerful attraction to mystery, it is still primarily your own issue. Do not forget the source of mysterious events.】

Lynch was startled and quickly understood his neighbor's implication.

Mystery begins with perception.

This was the law Madam Bessie had repeatedly warned him about, but he had never given it enough attention.

Looking back now, if he hadn't noticed those three mystery relics, he would have been as clueless as Mr. Douglas. It was precisely because his high inspiration perceived the existence of the mystery relics that he could further detect that the swindler's identity was suspicious, thereby gaining the possibility of deeper contact with mystery.

‘So this is the price of high inspiration that you mentioned.’

【Hmm.】

‘But I didn't tell anyone about perceiving the mystery relics, nor did I show any reaction. Why did I still get linked to it?’

【Mystery originates from the Dreamlands, and the Dreamlands originate from the mind, Lynch.】 A faint sigh echoed in his consciousness. 【Remember, mystery originates from perception, not from expression.】

‘So, whether or not one expresses that they perceived the mystery is not the deciding factor. The result of the perception itself is what fundamentally determines whether a connection is established. I see. So when I perceived those three mystery relics, a connection had already been established with the incident—meaning it was staring me in the face. But by pretending to be ignorant and actively staying away, it's still possible to sever the already established connection.’

【Yes, it is ‘possible.’】

‘Then what am I waiting for? Time to run.’

He hurriedly hailed a hired carriage, choosing a box carriage that cost twelve pennies, and left this trouble magnet of a place at the fastest speed possible.

His destination: Bessie's Magic Prop Shop in the Crown District.

Calculating the time, Madam Bessie's period of suspension should have ended by now. Lynch had been wanting to pay her a visit for a long time. After all, she had almost died at the hands of the Abyss Weaver to help him. Both logically and morally, he should come to thank her in person.

Furthermore, the newly acquired ability, End Resonance, was not as easy to learn as the two initial abilities of Concealment. It was said to require quite a few auxiliary facilities.

Sure enough, the magic item shop had been completely renovated and was open for business again. The dim shop was lit by yellow, flickering lights, and the air was filled with an ancient, musty scent, adding a touch of mystery to the room.

As expected of one of the top occultists in Rhine City, even her shop is so antique, filled with the weight of time. It really is... Huh? Wait, wasn't it just blown up and newly renovated? Why does every piece of furniture look like an antique?

While pondering this, Lynch saw the red-haired lady once again.

A woman full of mature charm, she bit down on a white lady's pipe. Her hazy, dreamlike eyes always seemed to be shrouded in a layer of mist, exuding a mysterious attraction.

“Madam Bessie, please, you must help us.”

The speakers were a middle-aged couple. They were dressed elegantly and properly, but their expressions were filled with anxiety, and their upper bodies were practically leaning over the counter.

“We tested every room as you instructed, and none of the test strips showed any unusual changes.”

“Isn't that wonderful? It means your house is perfectly fine, very clean, and very safe.”

“But my wife still has nightmares every night, and when she's awake, she always feels very uneasy, as if something is watching her. And our daughter runs out at night wearing heavy makeup, like she's a completely different person. When we ask her during the day, she doesn't know anything about it, as if she was sleepwalking.”

She's probably just sneaking out in the middle of the night for a date. Lynch rolled his eyes inwardly, but he watched as Madam Bessie spoke with a grave expression: “That indicates there is indeed a problem. But don't worry, there's no need to be tense. The filth troubling you is relatively weak, and this will absolutely do the trick.”

With that, she took out a small statue and pushed it across the counter with her pipe. “This is a sacrificial statue from the Nikru Dynasty of the Fourth Age. It is filled with a sacred aura and naturally counters those types of filth. Take it back and place it in the most hidden spot of your room. After three days, the filth will naturally dissipate, and your wife's symptoms will disappear along with it.”

“Thank you so much, Madam Bessie! This statue must be very precious.”

“Not expensive. Ten pounds.”

Huh?

“Whew, that's a relief. It's relatively cheap.”

Huh??

A look of relief and liberation appeared on the middle-aged couple's faces. They hurriedly counted out ten pounds in banknotes, respectfully placed them in front of Madam Bessie, and then, as if worried she might change her mind, cradled the statue and left immediately.

“Uh, unless I've completely wasted my time studying archaeology, the history of that statue doesn't exceed six months, and it doesn't possess any mysterious properties whatsoever.”

“Custom-made from a handicraft shop in the Valley District, one shilling apiece. Do you have a problem with that?”

Hiss, this is even more profitable than robbery.

“Robbery isn't this safe,” the red-haired lady exhaled a puff of smoke and said leisurely. “There is a high probability that they have psychological issues resulting in autosuggestion. Having this item is enough to counteract that autosuggestion. If it still doesn't resolve the issue, it means they truly are under threat from a bizarre filth. The statue was meant as a trial treatment in the first place, a part of solving the problem, and it won't delay their therapy. As for the money... they were willing to give it, and I don't have a grudge against money, so why shouldn't I accept it? Satisfied? You are just as rigid as that woman Natalie, always nitpicking over trivial matters.”

“She is a police officer, so of course she has to be nitpicky.”

“And what about you?”

“I'm a money grubber.”

“Pfft, well said. I'm satisfied. I'll forgive you for almost getting me killed,” the red-haired lady said lazily. “What brings you here today?”

Lynch carefully handed over the mystery document that hadn't even warmed up in his hands yet.

“Hiss, a death authority, and such a bizarre ability at that.”

Madam Bessie looked Lynch up and down thoughtfully.

“Fine, follow me.”