“For nine generations, the Lorand family has served His Grace's Vane family. Over three hundred years, we haven't accumulated much of an estate, but what we take the most pride in is this display room.”
This was a spacious room on the second floor of the grand mansion, dazzling the eyes the moment one stepped inside.
Displayed within were a vast array of strange items—oil paintings, sculptures, tapestries, furniture, dishware, weapons, suits of armor, and mechanical devices. Everything imaginable, and even things one wouldn't expect to see, was present.
It seemed touring the collection was a staple event here. A large crowd of guests from the drawing room noisily followed behind, crowding around Lynch and Count Lorand as they entered the room together.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, an ancient smell washed over them. It was hard to describe, existing simply as the innate aura of relics from ages past.
Hiss... so many.
Lynch maintained his faint, knowing smile and composed air, his gaze sweeping over the items one by one.
Hmm... I don't recognize a single one.
Professor Dartmond in heaven, I am so sorry.
“What does the detective think of my family's collection? Please, give us your evaluation.”
The fat Count proudly gestured toward the immense display room, his round face crinkling as his small, bean-like eyes fixed on Lynch's expression.
“Mm, not bad, not bad at all...”
Lynch walked past the displays with his hands behind his back:
Neighbor, Neighbor, help! Save me here.
【I am merely...】
Don't 'merely' me! We're dear neighbors, aren't we? Aren't gods supposed to be omniscient? Just drop a few hints.
【That was only back in the First Age when I still existed. Ever since my fall, my perception of the world has grown hazy. I am not omniscient, so do not hold your breath. At best, I can tell you their approximate eras based on their style.】
That's enough—more than enough! As long as there's a grain of truth, I can improvise the rest.
Lynch instantly flashed a smile and paused in front of a suit of armor.
“Dawn Age of the Fourth Age, parade armor for the royal guard of the Kingdom of Marun. It weighs forty kilograms, and even an experienced blacksmith would take half a year to forge a single set,” Lynch said, drawing on faded memories from his school days. “The forging craftsmanship of that period was quite close to that of the Salem Dynasty in the Third Age, but the joint seam technique differs significantly, making it easy to tell apart.”
Saying this, he pointed at the seam of the suit of armor and moved on to the next item without looking back.
“A bronze platter from the end of the Dark Age of the Third Age. This is well beyond what ordinary people can ever hope to lay eyes on. As expected of your Lordship, to collect such a precious item. Bronze artifacts were common in the Third Age, but spanning two thousand years between the early and late periods, telling them apart requires looking at their edge finishing techniques. Seeing edge-finishing techniques like this silver plating here is a hallmark feature of the late period.”
“Hiss... this one is even more extraordinary. My Lord, is it truly wise for you to keep this in your collection? I am terribly worried that President Olei of the Archaeological Association will burst through your doors any minute. A tribal totem from the Savage Age of the Second Age, belonging to a foreign tribe—though which specific tribe will require further study. Objects like this were usually erected at the exact center of a tribe, carrying weak sacrificial attributes. No, you simply must break out your finest wines to treat me today. Otherwise, I shall report this to President Olei tomorrow. When he visited my home five days ago, we agreed to meet up these few days anyway; it would be the perfect time to drop a hint.”
Lynch offered brief, high-level summaries as he walked along. None were overly detailed, but they were more than enough to baffle laymen.
After introducing seven or eight items in succession, Lynch finally paused. The rough background came from the great Lady Red Moon, but as for the finer details... pulling off convincing improvisations was exhausting work. Lynch burned a fair number of brain cells, captivating the nobles following behind him.
Yet, when he turned around, he caught Count Lorand staring at him with a bizarre look—like a spider watching a fly fly straight into its web, full of malice and ridicule.
It vanished in a flash, but Lynch keenly caught it.
My performance should have been pretty solid. Why is he making that face? Did I step into a trap after all?
Is there something I missed?
His heart instantly leaped into his throat. Lynch fell silent, doing his best to maintain a calm facade as he strolled among the displays. The onlookers looked at him with puzzled gazes, wondering why he had suddenly stopped talking, while Count Lorand wore a strange, confident smile, staying quiet.
No, something is definitely wrong.
There's definitely a catch.
Lynch recalled what Miss Valente had taught him during their lessons.
You do not need to worry too much about difficult questions. You are merely a detective of common birth; everyone already has an idea of your background and knowledge. Politics, economics, culture, or royal daily routines and noble ladies' gossip—none of these are things you are expected to know. Trying to make a fool out of you in those areas is meaningless; it would only make them look foolish and incompetent instead. It is like going out of one's way to highlight a dockworker's poverty or flaunting wealth in front of a textile worker. Only the most uncultured parvenus would amuse themselves like that, and the only one turned into a laughingstock would be themselves.
Therefore, to humiliate you and smear your reputation, they must make you fail in an area where you are expected to excel. Only then can they thoroughly project an image of you as foolish and incompetent.
Making me drop the ball in an area I'm supposed to be good at... That's clearly what's happening right now. But how could he be so sure I would fail instead of using the chance to show off? He can't control my performance—unless... this entire setup is a trap from the start, where I'm destined to look like a fool no matter how well I perform.
In a flash, Lynch's mind spun at full throttle. Shows he had watched in his past life and all kinds of schemes flashed through his mind. Time ticked away. Seeing the onlookers growing impatient and Count Lorand's gaze darkening, Lynch suddenly had a stroke of inspiration.
These are precious antiquities. Would he really just display them openly like this?
There's even an artifact from the Second Age! President Olei went out of his way to bully a junior just for Second Age knowledge, yet this guy leaves Second Age antiquities lying out in the open? Isn't he heartbroken? Wouldn't anyone watching be heartbroken?
There's definitely something fishy here. Right, I remember reading stories where collectors hide their real treasures away and display replicas instead.
Yes! If everything here is a replica, then the more professional and brilliant my analysis is, the bigger a fool I'll look like later! Spouting high-sounding praise over a pile of fakes would turn me into a laughingstock.
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it became. Lynch hesitated for a brief moment before resolving his plan.
Gamble it is.
“However, Count Lorand, I still have one question.” Lynch narrowed his eyes, gently tapping a leather shield beside him with his cane as he spoke softly, “Which master did you commission to forge these replicas that nearly fooled my eyes? The craftsmanship is exquisite—almost indistinguishable from the real thing.”
Silence blanketed the display room instantly. Everyone's gazes darted back and forth between Lynch and Count Lorand in shock. For a split second, Count Lorand's expression turned horribly dark, but he quickly recovered his smile and began softly clapping his hands.
“Impressive! As expected of the detective praised even by His Grace the Duke. Your eyes can tell true from false at a glance. Hehehe... Naturally, the real items are locked safely in the vault. If you are interested, I can take you to see them later. For now, let us return to the topic at hand and evaluate these paintings. These are all authentic originals.”
“My apologies, my Lords. I am merely a detective of common origins and cannot compare to your Lordships. My understanding of art is quite shallow, so I am afraid I must disappoint you all.”
This, too, came from Miss Valente's guidance. There was no need to dodge one's weaknesses. Not knowing was simply not knowing. Art wasn't Lynch's expertise, so it was completely normal for him to be ignorant. As long as he didn't act high and mighty or pretend to know what he didn't, his image wouldn't suffer.
However, if he could still show adequate refinement in such an area, it would be an unexpected bonus—a massive one at that.
Lynch bowed slightly to the crowd, smiling as he said, “However, if your Lordships do not mind, I shall share my shallow observations. If I say anything incorrect, please do not hesitate to correct me.”
With that, Lynch gripped a small shell in his pocket.
The telepathic conch—a mystery relic he had used once back in Zur Baha Sahr that allowed two-way communication across a certain distance, essentially functioning like a walkie-talkie.
For anyone else, the voice coming from inside might risk being overheard, but for Lynch, who possessed the Phantasmal Sound ability, it was the ultimate cheating tool.
And when it came to artistic insight, who could have more authority than the eldest daughter of a millennium-old noble family?
Thus, under everyone's astonished gazes, Lynch paused in front of an oil painting. His lips moved silently, as if whispering to himself, before he spoke aloud, “Lady with a Silver Fox, a lesser-known work by David Lucas. Mr. Lucas was a figure of the Fourth Age, though his paintings were not accepted by the public until the Fifth Age. He...”
Clear, fluent, and brimming with confidence—he spoke so impressively that the audience didn't dare utter a sound until he finished, whereupon a thunderous outburst of applause erupted.
Lynch turned his faint, knowing gaze toward Count Lorand. The plump Count had no choice but to force a smile, chuckling awkwardly as he praised, “The detective has truly surpassed my expectations! You will surely become one of the brightest stars of Rhine City in the future, hahahaha...”
Midway through his grating laughter, the sound of a chime echoed from outside. The Count instantly looked as though he had been saved, letting out a sigh of relief as he said, “Her Highness the Princess has finished her rest. The ball is about to begin. Let us head downstairs—we must not keep Her Highness waiting.”
Lynch secretly breathed a sigh of relief as well. He knew that the introductory hurdles were finally over, and the main course of the evening was about to arrive.
It was time to meet the person responsible for causing him so much trouble today.
As a client asking for my help, yet allowing those around you to harbor such malice toward me... you had better give me a proper explanation.
Princess Chloe Russell.
Rate on N.U.
