When Lynch left the spiderweb-like maze of alleys, it was already past five in the evening.
He had gotten lost inside, wandering for over an hour.
He encountered several alley residents along the way, but they just glanced at him, turned, and walked away without a word. He finally found an old woman who seemed to take a liking to him, and she led him out of the labyrinth.
Lynch also took the opportunity to ask the old woman about the children.
They were all children of the Crown District residents, accustomed to running wild and occasionally robbing outsiders.
In the past, they had caused several major incidents, frequently drawing police intervention, and even a few children were sent to prison. But in recent years, for some unknown reason, these children had grown smarter. They targeted passing gentlemen, never stealing too much, at most one pound, leaving the rest for the victims.
As a result, the victims often didn't bother to press charges against a bunch of little rascals. This meant that even though their robberies increased, they rarely drew police action; even if the police were involved, it was usually just a scolding.
They were indeed a group of habitual offenders, but they knew how to keep their actions in check, not committing truly heinous crimes.
In that case, if the opportunity arises, it would be best to return this ring to the child.
Lynch frowned, looking at the ring he had picked up.
The Witness in his mind clearly stated that the ring was not a mystery relic.
More precisely, the ring was not a mystery of any kind; it was a normal substance from the real world.
However, it was tainted with mysterious filth, the only explanation being that it came into contact with a mystery.
And recently.
In the original owner's memory, mysteries were very rare phenomena; he hadn't seen one in twenty years of life.
How is it that I've been transmigrated for less than twenty-four hours and already encountered another one?
Was the original owner just unlucky, or am I too ‘lucky’?
Never mind, Lynch sighed, no longer dwelling on questions without answers. He hoped whatever incident caused the ring to be tainted with mysterious filth wasn't anything serious for the child.
However, since the ring was worn so close, it was probably something important. Leaving it behind might cause trouble if someone else picked it up. He would keep it for now, and if he really ended up renting a place here, he might have a chance to return it to her.
To distinguish it from his fire-conjuring ring, Lynch tied the broken string and temporarily hung the new ring on his wrist. Only then did he look up, assessing his surroundings.
This was the busiest area of the Crown District—Charles Square on Villa Avenue.
This had once been the most prosperous district of Rhine City, but with the march of time, it had been forgotten by the world. Only around Charles Square did the old city retain its last vestiges of glory.
Most pedestrians wore simple linen and coarse cloth garments. The proportion of people in formal attire was significantly lower than in the Grand Cross District station square he had just passed through.
But the square was equally bustling and lively.
Vendors shouted energetically, shops displayed their most eye-catching samples, housewives with baskets scornfully picked through goods by the roadside, snot-nosed children in tattered clothes ran wildly everywhere, and the aroma of food mixed with the pungent smell of rotting garbage wafted through the air.
Further out were old residential buildings, their exteriors covered with added pipes, and extra steam engine rooms squeezed beside them, puffing out mixed black and white smoke. Noisy everyday sounds emanated from open windows, filling the entire world with clamor.
This place... isn't bad at all.
Lynch immediately took a liking to this square, brimming with a common touch. It inexplicably gave him a feeling of home.
Lynch didn't want to go home, for he was already dead. Living in this world was good, but that didn't stop him from missing the feeling of home.
Taking a deep breath of the mixed sweet and foul air, Lynch stepped aside for a few housewives dragging their children, and approached a four-story detached building.
221 Villa Avenue.
Compared to the surrounding old buildings, this one was noticeably newer. There were no unsightly pipe patches on the exterior walls, indicating it was built more recently, which pleased Lynch even more.
He ascended the steps and pulled the bell rope; soon, someone opened the door.
It was a housewife, dressed in loose, comfortable home clothes, her head tightly wrapped in a headscarf, her face covered by two layers of gauze. She was covered in dust and held a broom, clearly in the middle of cleaning.
“Good afternoon—no, good evening, madam,” Lynch said, doffing his hat and bowing, following his original body’s habits. “Forgive my intrusion, but I heard you have rooms for rent and wished to inquire about the details.”
“Ah, yes, I do. Did you see the advertisement? How quick! I only just mailed the letter to the newspaper yesterday.”
From her voice, the housewife sounded young and quite pleasant, though Lynch felt it was somewhat familiar, as if he'd heard it somewhere before. But considering he had only transmigrated yesterday, it was probably the original owner of the body who had heard it.
“The previous tenant was kicked out... moved out over ten days ago. I was just hoping to find new tenants quickly, and here you are! Please, come in.”
Lynch seemed to catch an unfriendly word, but before he could change his mind, the housewife joyfully ushered him into the room and began showing him around.
The room was very clean, warmly furnished, and the air was fresh. Not only was there no peculiar smell of an old house, but there was also a faint, elegant fragrance.
The first floor housed the communal kitchen and dining room, where the landlady also resided.
The second and third floors upstairs were for rent, both coincidentally vacant at the moment. The top floor was sealed by a tightly locked door and not for rent; the landlady offered no explanation, and Lynch didn't press her.
The layout of the second and third floors was identical: a bedroom and a small living room at the top of the stairs, with the bathroom door leading off the living room.
The furniture was all complete.
Especially in the living room, a desk, a bookshelf, and a sofa and coffee table for guests were all provided, making it perfectly usable as an office. What was particularly appealing was the large fireplace on the wall, inviting fantasies of winter evenings spent by the fire with a drink.
Though firewood seemed expensive, he'd worry about that later.
Lynch immediately liked the place, finding it very suitable as a location for an office. It wasn't that he had experience, but rather that it strongly resembled the detective agencies he'd seen in old detective shows.
Moreover, despite being in the old city, the surroundings were quite bustling, making it easy for customers to find and providing convenient living. Coupled with the landlady's quiet and gentle demeanor, all the conditions met his satisfaction.
Opening the living room window, he could see the streetscape of Charles Square directly outside. Lynch nodded in satisfaction.
“Madam, I am very satisfied with this room. What is the rent?”
As Lynch asked, he lowered the hand that had been closing the window and turned around, noticing the landlady staring blankly at his raised arm. It wasn't until he repeated the question that she seemed to snap out of a trance.
“My apologies, I was distracted,” the landlady said warmly. “The rent is negotiable. First, let me show you the kitchen and dining room. I’ve just brewed some coffee; please, help yourself and tell me what you think.”
That good? Could I negotiate free rent?
Lynch only dared to think such a question to himself. He followed the landlady downstairs.
The kitchen and dining room were connected, equally bright and airy, with an aluminum coffee pot still steaming on the gas stove.
“The terms are as advertised in the newspaper. There are two rental options: if you only rent the room, it’s two pounds ten shillings a month. If you include three meals, you eat whatever we eat, and the rent is just two pounds, plus a meal fee of one pound ten shillings per month.”
“We?”
“Oh, it’s me, not we.”
The landlady smiled beneath her gauze veil and poured Lynch a cup of coffee.
He took a sip; it was rich and full-bodied. Her coffee-making skills seemed excellent, and her cooking was likely just as promising. One pound ten shillings a month for meals was slightly expensive, but considering someone would prepare all three meals, freeing him from any effort, and with such promising culinary skills, coupled with the sufficiently cheap rent, it seemed quite a bargain overall.
After weighing his options, Lynch put down his coffee cup. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly noticed the landlady had removed the gauze from her face and was leaning in close to him, her hands behind her back.
A woman in her thirties, with golden hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. She was full-figured and luscious like a ripe peach, so sweet one might want to take a bite. Lynch's breath hitched.
Before he could think, Lynch realized the landlady was very close, so close he could smell the faint scent of sweat on her. It wasn't unpleasant; in fact, it was rather stimulating... No, what kind of development was this? Something was wrong with this situation.
“Madam, you...”
Realizing something was definitely amiss, Lynch licked his dry lips. Just as he was about to speak, the landlady’s hand, which had been behind her back, suddenly shot out.
A blackened frying pan swung down towards his temple.
What the hell, I'm not some cartoon character!
Lynch’s heated mind instantly cooled.
Behind him was the back of the chair, in front of him were kitchen knives; there was nowhere to dodge.
In the nick of time, Lynch forcefully kicked the table, sending the chair toppling backward, and rolled out of the way, letting the frying pan graze past his head.
The landlady let out a shriek, her eyes bloodshot, and pounced, brandishing the frying pan once more.
Lynch had no time to get up, rolling along the ground, then scrambling to his feet, stumbling towards the door. He had barely escaped the kitchen and reached the doorway when the landlady, more familiar with the surroundings, tackled him, pinned him down, and once again raised the pan.
Lynch struggled to fend off the landlady’s wrists, realizing the woman was truly like a madwoman, her strength terrifying. After a long struggle, Lynch finally managed to exert enough force to flip them over, pinning her beneath him, pressing her arms to the ground. The frying pan flew from her grasp and clattered nearby.
The landlady let out a low growl from her throat, her eyes red like a beast's, and lunged to bite Lynch’s neck. Fortunately, Lynch dodged in time, causing her to bite nothing but air.
“Are you crazy? Why are you trying to kill me?”
Feeling the violent struggles beneath him, Lynch could only press down firmly on her, increasing his strength to hold her hands, shouting to try and bring her back to her senses.
“My daughter! What have you done to my daughter, you beast?!”
The landlady missed several bites, continuing to struggle fiercely while letting out sharp shrieks.
“How am I supposed to know who your daughter is?!”
Lynch’s head was pounding; he felt the strength beneath him growing, and he was losing control.
“Beast! She never takes that ring off, and now it’s in your hands! Tell me, what did you do to her, you…”
“Damn it, that girl is your daughter?!”
Lynch finally understood. When he had opened and closed the window earlier, he might have raised his arm, and at that moment, the ring hanging on his wrist was exposed. This woman must have seen it, and she had been acting strangely ever since.
“Just as I thought, you bastard! I’ll kill you!”
“Damn it, she’s fine! I’m the one who’s in trouble! She even smashed a pot over my head!”
“So you killed her, didn’t you?! I’ll fight you to the death!”
There was no reasoning with her.
Lynch felt the struggles beneath him, which had previously weakened, intensify once more. He knew this person was now as crazed as a protective mother beast, utterly beyond reason. To calm her down, there was only one way…
“Alright, since you’ve figured it out, I won’t hide it anymore. Your daughter is in my hands, madam. You wouldn’t want her to be harmed, would you? So behave yourself, or you’ll never see her again.”
“You, you, don’t hurt her!” The struggles beneath him immediately ceased. The landlady trembled, saying with a sob, “You, you can do anything you want. Please, quickly…”
Lynch let out a long breath, knowing the woman was starting to calm down. Just as he was about to speak, he heard a sound at the door. The front door opened, and a small, golden-haired, blue-eyed girl bounced in.
“Mommy, I’m back with Auntie! I’m starving, today I… Eek!~~~”
The scream almost burst Lynch’s eardrums. His face was a picture of distress and his head throbbed. He knew he had a lot of explaining to do now, and the key was that she seemed to have mentioned an aunt just now…
Before his brain could process it, Lynch caught a flash of a dark figure in the corner of his eye by the doorway. Then he was swung into the air, his arm twisted, and slammed hard onto the ground.
“I sentence you to death for indecent assault, effective immediately… Lynch? Why is it always you?”
“Hi, good evening,” Lynch said, habitually lying on the floor, waving his other hand. “I feel like I’ve seen this scene somewhere before, don’t you, Officer Angel?”
Rate on N.U.
