Struggle

“Is this the statue you're talking about, Officer Angel?”

Lynch handed over a photograph that his client had provided.

The black-and-white photograph was somewhat blurry, showing a creature resembling a six-legged toad sprawled on the ground. Its six limbs were thick and powerful, its body covered in dense fuzz, yet atop it sat a human face.

While the design wasn't particularly bizarre, merely looking at the photograph gave Lynch an inexplicable sense of dread—like a premonition before a horrific natural disaster.

He couldn't even fathom why the original Lynch, upon seeing such a photograph, had accepted the commission instead of running as far away as possible.

“I can't say for sure; I haven't seen it myself either. But based on the description, that should be it: a statue of the Ancient Flicker.”

“The Ancient Flicker?”

Officer Angel frowned, sitting up straight as she spoke solemnly:

“For living beings, the more forbidden knowledge one possesses, the closer one drifts toward madness and losing control. Watcher regulations forbid disclosing this to ordinary mortals, and frankly, I no longer believe your cooperation holds any value. But since you insist on facing your end with your eyes wide open, I will share a portion of it at my discretion.”

No value? What did that mean?

Lynch frowned, mentally combing through the original Lynch's memories once more. Didn't this count as a lead?

The female officer said in a low voice, “You've probably heard of the Dreamlands. It is the shared memory of all living beings. Lurking within are not only the fallen gods of the past four eras, but also the horrors ingrained in the memories of living beings over tens of thousands of years. What we call mystery is actually the physical manifestation of these ancient memories from the Dreamlands.”

“Objects, living beings, writing, sounds, images—mystery can appear in any form. If left to exist unchecked, it gives rise to mysterious events, constantly radiating the filth of the Dreamlands into the surroundings, driving those affected into mad self-destruction and triggering immense catastrophes.”

“The Ancient Flicker was one of the evil gods from the Savage Age of the Second Age, whom we refer to as the Great Old Ones. This statue is a mystery relic related to him, though we have yet to uncover its specific nature.”

Lynch blinked. “You don't know? Why?”

“Why? Appraising relics requires sharp inspiration to decipher mystery memories. Do you know what that entails? Being able to swiftly identify and understand a mystery can resolve most crises on its own, not to mention rapidly locating the most targeted countermeasures in battle. You could never understand how vital such a comrade is to a hunter.”

“Is it that difficult?”

“Naturally,” Officer Angel scoffed with obvious annoyance. “At least, an ordinary mortal certainly couldn't do it.”

“Uh, fair enough.” Lynch glanced at the Judgment of Vigen and pressed on, “So I was affected by this filth?”

“No, you weren't. True, some relics can radiate filth even in a contained state and kill someone within hours, but that requires a high-grade relic. A relic of that caliber would have triggered an enormous disaster over the course of five days. We assessed that this statue's grade isn't very high. Therefore, this isn't merely passive radiation. Someone used the statue as an instrument to do something to all of you, fabricating this mysterious event and causing you to commit suicide one after another within eight hours.”

“Why?”

“That's precisely what I want to determine. The deaths of a few commoners wouldn't normally warrant the Watchers' attention, but if the situation escalates, trouble will follow. Five days ago, someone covertly brought the statue into Rhine City. That person died in an inn, and the statue slipped into the hands of ordinary people. All seven known individuals connected to it have perished. You are the sole survivor.”

“Like I asked earlier, what if the suicide didn't finish the job?”

Officer Angel wore a complex expression as she shook her head. “Don't harbor false hope. Suicide is merely the beginning. Look at your hand. Your left hand.”

Lynch looked down, and a chill sank straight through his chest.

Without him noticing, his left hand had become withered and emaciated.

It looked like nothing so much as a dried-up tree root.

Yet he hadn't felt a thing, noticing it only now.

Rolling up his sleeve revealed that his entire left forearm, all the way to the elbow, had transformed into the same withered state.

And yet, it had clearly been normal just minutes ago while he was hanging from the noose.

The dread of death crept quietly through his heart, causing him to instinctively grasp the red moon pendant on his chest. Perhaps it was an imprint carried over from his past life, but the moment his fingers curled around the pendant, the terror and chaos in his mind swiftly receded, returning him to composure.

“Do you understand the gravity of the situation now?” Officer Natalie sighed, rising to her feet. “Get a good night's rest, Lynch Levive. If you wake up tomorrow, it means everything is over, that I have resolved the incident, and tonight was nothing more than a nightmare. If you don't wake up... that might not be such a bad way to go, either.”

“Wait, don't you need my cooperation?” Lynch asked, taken aback. “I might be able to point you toward other connected parties.”

“You?” The female officer's tone dripped with mockery. “Can you really? Go on, give it a try.”

“On April 8, 1399, I received a commission from a client to help him—”

“Who was the client?”

“It was...”

Lynch suddenly choked on his words. He realized he had no idea.

In the original Lynch's memories, there was only the vague concept of a 'client,' with zero information regarding identity or appearance.

This was abnormal; his other memories were all vivid and detailed.

Searching his mind carefully, every single memory tied to this commission had become exceptionally blurred.

He didn't even know how he had completed it, only remembering the end result that it had been done.

It was as if the entire process had been erased.

Yet all other memories remained comparatively crisp.

Despite such a bizarre anomaly, each time he had combed through his memories earlier, he had inexplicably glossed right over it.

It was as though something had been blinding his reason, steering him away from contemplating it at all.

The realization froze him on the sofa, leaving him stunned for several long moments.

Creeping horror seized him. He cast a glance up at Officer Natalie, then abruptly lowered his head to rifle through his notebook.

It was his case journal, which should have held records of the client and the mission itself.

Yet when he flipped to the final page of the journal, Lynch felt his veins constrict as a penetrating chill pierced him to the marrow.

His very blood seemed to freeze.

Because the entire page was packed with dense handwriting:

I am here.

I am here I am here I am here.

For a second, Lynch even forgot to breathe, staring blankly at Officer Angel across from him.

The woman glanced at the notebook, offering a smile that showed she wasn't surprised.

“This is normal, Lynch Levive. From the very beginning, you were tainted by the filth of mystery, which interfered with your memories and perception.”

Lynch's voice sounded exceedingly dry. “But I didn't even see the statue back then.”

“Do not bind mystery with common sense. Many connections are conceptual, regardless of whether you've laid eyes on it or not.”

Cold sweat drenched Lynch's back.

Witness, what on earth is going on?

【This is your journey. I will merely remain by your side, witnessing each of your choices, as it has always been.】

So no matter what I do, you'll only alert me to the mysteries I encounter along the journey?

【More than that, but for now, yes. I wish you a pleasant journey, Awakened.】

Fair enough. Only I can take responsibility for my new journey, which means I have to fight my way out on my own.

Lynch gritted his teeth, rapidly turning over everything that had happened to him.

All those deduction games, movies, and TV shows he had consumed over the years weren't for nothing. Even if they were just fragmented bits of knowledge, their fundamental logic didn't change so easily.

No matter who you are, you want me dead? Keep dreaming.

I will drag you out into the open.

Seeing Lynch looking as if he had been scared out of his wits, Officer Angel shook her head. “Though I know it's unlikely, I'll ask one more thing: do you retain any clear memories regarding this incident?”

Lynch frowned in thought. “Does having dinner at Lattis Kitchen count? That's the earliest clear memory I can trace back to from tonight.”

The corner of Officer Natalie's mouth twitched, and she turned toward the door.

“Wait. You're going to continue investigating, right? I'm coming with you. I don't want to just sit here and wait for death. I want to get to the bottom of this.”

“You? On what basis? You're just an ordinary mortal.”

The female officer turned around, her eyes narrowing as she appraised Lynch's stiff expression from head to toe.

“What could you possibly accomplish by tagging along? Can you fight, or can you sense mystery? Or could you help me locate the statue? Recognize your own capabilities. Coming along would be utterly useless; staying home and waiting might actually give you a slim chance of survival.”

“Fighting, sensing mystery, finding the statue—I don't know if I can do any of that, but at least I have a brain.” Even a shut-in had his own strengths. Lynch gritted his teeth and said, “Don't forget, I'm a private detective. I'm going to reclaim my life my own way.”

“Always like this. I've seen plenty like you, attempting futile struggles that only end up harming themselves and others.” The female officer shot Lynch a derisive glance and turned away. “Ordinary mortals should know their place. Don't cause trouble for others for no good reason.”

“Then I'll go on my own,” Lynch said under his breath. “Even if I die, I'll die fighting. Nobody's going to make me sit at home waiting to die.”

“Suit yourself. It's not that I look down on you, but the world of mystery isn't something an ordinary mortal like you can comprehend. Stay at home like a good civilian. Sometimes, reckless action only brings greater danger to yourself and everyone else. I will do everything in my power to pursue the leads and try to preserve your life.”

“Then let's make a bet: I will definitely find the statue and keep myself alive.”

“Fine. If you win, I'll agree to anything. With that, farewell, Mr. Lynch Levive. I hope it isn't our final goodbye.”

Officer Natalie Angel tipped her top hat, gave Lynch a slight bow, and turned to leave with her sword in hand.

Lynch sat numbly on the sofa, his thoughts a chaotic swirl. Only after a long while did he slam his fist into the cushion. Witness, you're still there, right?

【I have always been here.】

The gentle female voice was calm and soothing, quickly dispersing the dread of death in Lynch's heart. Hearing it naturally washed him with a sense of peace.

You can guide me to discover the mysteries around me, right?

【Yes.】

“Good. Then I'll take you along to witness my journey of awakening.”

Lynch rose abruptly and walked over to the wardrobe. After a moment's thought, he changed into the most traditional gentleman's formal attire of the Kingdom of Lande.

Even if death awaited him in the end, he would depart with utmost dignity.

Fastening his bowtie, slipping into his jacket, donning a trench coat, and putting on a cheap top hat.

Mm, taking one last look in the mirror at the handsome young man.

Picking up the cheapest cane beside the cabinet, he tapped it against the floor, then retrieved a shriveled coin pouch from beneath the shoe cabinet by the entrance. Lynch nodded to himself and grabbed the doorknob of the agency.

His heart pounded, cold sweat prickling the back of his neck.

He knew that beyond this door lay a dangerous new world.

Steam and fire, bizarre mystery.

And the omnipresent, indescribable horrors lurking within the darkness.

Well then, here comes Lynch.

Pushing the door open, he was greeted by two moons.

A silver moon hung at the horizon, while a red moon was suspended high in the sky.

The crimson moon looked like a plate brimming with fresh blood, casting a bloody hue over everything.

Behind him stood his decrepit apartment, several windows dark and unlit.

Outside was a bustling intersection. Impeccably dressed gentlemen and ladies, vagrants in tattered rags, peddlers pushing handcarts of wares, newsboys sprinting while waving newspapers, and young women beckoning mysteriously from dark alley corners—the crowd ebbed and flowed, lively and bustling.

In the distance, the thick, elongated smokestacks of factories pointed toward the red moon like fangs, belching billows of black smoke day and night.

The ground rumbled as an immense steam locomotive roared past in plumes of white steam, the faint chiming of an arrival bell drifting from the direction of the train station.

Carriages rolled across the bluestone street with dull ringing bells, navigating between rows of Victorian-style architecture.

A row of clunky gas streetlamps flickered intermittently, casting uneven, trembling light.

Is this my new world?

Three black carriages were parked outside the apartment entrance, bearing the two-sword-and-shield emblem of the Hall of Order.

A dozen Rhine police in double-breasted blue uniforms were hurriedly boarding the carriages, departing alongside Officer Natalie.

How should I investigate?

Lynch pondered the fragmented knowledge he had gathered over the years, posing questions and answers to himself in his mind.

“First step: return to the relevant locations.”

Lattis Kitchen, the best restaurant in the area.

He had eaten dinner there on his way home, meaning someone there had very likely seen him. He would start right there to reclaim his life.

Before departing, Lynch looked up at the red moon in the sky. In that moment, he remembered once again those days spent floating in crimson mist, accompanied only by the blood moon above.

Grasping the pendant at his chest, Lynch smiled faintly at the red moon in the sky.

You'll keep watching over me, won't you?

The red moon remained hanging high, as mysterious as ever.