Professor Green

The scheme to conjure something out of nothing went remarkably smoothly. Just as Lynch had anticipated, it not only yielded a rich harvest but also established a connection with the Archaeological Association, ensuring that future cooperation would be seamless and unhindered. Take the information regarding manifestation grade mystery relics, for instance: under normal circumstances, its security classification would be exceedingly high, yet with a wave of his pen, President Olei approved Lynch's investigation request on the spot.

It seemed that those seemingly ordinary corporate warfare strategies from the shows of his past life—distillations of decades of experience from the information explosion age—were surprisingly effective on people of this Victorian-esque era.

The members of the Archaeological Association acted as though they had scored an incredible bargain. The moment the two stepped out of the president's office, excited cheers erupted from behind the closed doors, so intense that Lynch briefly wondered if the two old men's hearts could handle the excitement.

Miss Valente finally couldn't hold back any longer. As soon as they left the office and saw no one around, she pulled Lynch into a corner and asked in a low voice, “Elder Nikolai only knows that the ancient city lies beneath Bester Mountain—he doesn't know the exact location at all. So in reality, we can't even provide them with the precise coordinates.”

Lynch replied with absolute confidence, “Don't worry. We don't actually need to know the exact location of Zur-Baha-Sahr. Chairman Grant and Chieftain Bru have already provided it. It is bound to emerge along the path of the tunnel project; otherwise, the sewer ghouls wouldn't have used the tunnel project as a lever to force the ancient city into the open.”

“So we actually have nothing to offer? Just by making a few rounds between the parties, you secured tens of thousands of Lande pounds in compensation for the hillmen, along with a stack of promises from the Archaeological Association? Many of their relics are ancient and exceedingly powerful. How could they possibly accept this? Mr. Lynch, please, you must be extremely careful.”

This was well beyond her realm of comprehension, and Miss Valente looked at Lynch with a face full of concern.

Lynch smiled, touched by her concern. He knew this was merely the limitation of the era; no one in this time had ever conceived such methods. “Yet the fact is, they all accepted it, and they're even going to thank us for it.”

Miss Valente let out a breath. It was true—just moments ago, the two old men had been effusively grateful, showing more warmth than if they had met Saint Nightingale herself, as though witnessing the descent of the Immortal and Supreme into the mortal world. Still, she felt uneasy on Lynch's behalf and pressed, “Why is that? Sorry, if I'm asking too much, I take back my question.”

Lynch had no intention of keeping her in the dark and explained patiently, “There's no need to take it back. It's no profound trick, just a simple asymmetry of information. Each of them has something they want, and each possesses something the others lack. As long as we figure out their assets and needs, then maneuver among them under the pretense of representing the other factions—ensuring their needs are met while keeping their costs within their acceptable limit—we get an outcome that satisfies everyone. For the vast majority of people, they will accept it with delight.

“And as long as all parties are satisfied, we can slip our own interests into the mix, reaping ample benefits without paying a single penny out of pocket. So long as we control their total expenditure to stay within what they can bear, they won't oppose it; in fact, they'll happily run after us to express their gratitude. Oh, perhaps someone might be reluctant to thank us—after all, someone had to pay a steep price—but who asked him to be so greedy and try to keep all the food for himself? Being able to avoid bankruptcy and make a bit of profit on top is already his greatest stroke of luck.”

Miss Valente covered her mouth, a thoughtful look on her face as her large eyes stayed glued to Lynch, impossible to tell what was going through her mind. Lynch didn't mind and continued:

“In truth, everything before was just an appetizer, a small objective at best. We haven't been to the Governor's Guard yet—that's where the main course is.”

Miss Valente asked in surprise, “The Governor's Guard as well?”

“Of course. Chairman Grant has to fork over a vast sum of money, the sewer ghouls provided the location of Zur-Baha-Sahr, and the Archaeological Association has to undertake the excavation work and academic support—a lot of troublesome work down the road. But what about the Governor's Guard?

“They get the prestige of compensating the victims of the Square Massacre, a massive ancient city ruin on the outskirts of the city out of thin air, a highly lucrative stream of income from future development and operation, and immense glory for the Duke of Vane family. And all they have to do in return is handle things officially without putting obstacles in anyone's way? Does that sound fair? Nobody gets to enjoy all the gains without making a contribution.”

Miss Valente gave a subtle expression and pointed at Lynch and herself.

“We did coordination work, and we sacrificed our moral standards, didn't we? Ahem... Anyway, to ensure fairness to the other factions we represent, we must make the Governor's Guard contribute more.”

Seeing Miss Valente take a step back and stare at him with horror as if looking at a mysterious heteromorph, Lynch glared at her and explained:

“In fact, the main interest still lies with the Governor's Guard, but as for the details, that's for you to consider.”

Miss Valente was stunned. “Me? The Valente family has a share too? Why?”

“You didn't know? Oh, my red moon,” Lynch exclaimed in an exaggerated, theatrical tone.

【I'm here.】

‘...Don't mess with me.’ Lynch nearly choked on his own breath, clearing his throat several times before regaining his composure. Turning back to Miss Valente, he said, “The core principle of this kind of cooperation is that everyone gets sufficient benefits and everyone is treated equally—though, of course, some might be treated more equally than others. Therefore, we can't possibly leave out the Valente family's share. Don't forget, a large portion of the mountain range the tunnel passes through is Valente territory—that's direct interest for your family. If handled properly, you might even trade the land rights for a cut of the entire railway's profits. The steam engine has brought Lande into the age of railways, so this is a great angle to pursue, though it depends on what your family wants.”

Miss Valente's brows furrowed slightly as Lynch's ahead-of-its-time suggestion plunged her into deep thought. She realized that while Lynch's idea was completely unprecedented, upon careful reflection, it aligned perfectly with human nature and reason. The Valente family might truly be able to carve out a massive piece of the pie. However, they had to act with caution to avoid bringing trouble to the family.

“There's no rush regarding the Governor's Guard; you can take your time thinking about it. First, let's go meet that unhinged 'Ocean Currents in a Dream'.”

While conspiring, the two held President Olei's written approval and made their way down to a large hall on the museum's second basement floor.

As soon as they stepped inside, a chilly and decaying air washed over them, making them feel as if they had entered an ancient tomb.

Display cases lined the surrounding space, holding various filthy fragments. In the corners stood ancient statues and totems. The flickering light of gas lamps fell across these relics, casting shadows that swayed and twisted, making the eerie ancient artifacts appear alive.

Professor Green—the white-haired little old man with a bulbous red nose—was standing in the center of the hall with a group of people, a massive skeleton set before them.

The skeleton appeared to belong to some large creature, with a horse-like body, a bird-like head, hooves for hind legs, sharp claws for forelimbs, and a pair of leathery bat wings on its back.

Though it was merely a skeletal specimen, Lynch felt a wave of visceral disgust and repulsion the moment he laid eyes on it, as if it were some strange and evil mysterious heteromorph.

Meanwhile, Professor Green stared unblinkingly at the skeleton. A few seconds later, he took a notebook handed to him by one of his assistants, placed his right hand onto an open page, and slowly swept his palm across the paper.

Following his movement, a lifelike drawing of the skeleton emerged beneath his hand, sharper and more vivid than a black-and-white photograph.

【Authority, Painting, Ability, Copying.】

Holding up his work to compare it with the skeleton for a moment, Professor Green nodded in satisfaction, then glared impatiently at Lynch and Miss Valente.

“Didn't you two turn out fine? Why come back here? Don't interrupt our research! The things buried in the dirt are far cuter than you. I have no desire to waste time looking at your faces. When you show as much skin and bones as this specimen, maybe I'll find a bit of interest.”

Quite explicit indeed.

Lynch sighed at the skeleton and handed over President Olei's written approval.

“Cooperate with your investigation? Are you joking?” Professor Green's bulbous red nose flushed even redder as he erupted in anger. “My time is immensely precious! This complete skeleton of a Byakhee is waiting for me—this is a rare opportunity that might earn me the Lande Archaeology Medal! Why should I waste my precious time on you?”

“Well... probably because I'm an investor?” Lynch mimicked Professor Green's tone and gesture from earlier, scratching his head as he asked back, “Or because I brought in a massive grant, and your research gets a slice of it?”

The old professor fell silent. Just as Lynch was worrying whether the man was too short-tempered to take a joke, he suddenly tossed aside the notebook, grabbed Lynch's hand, and broke into a beam so radiant that even his nose glowed red. Excitedly, he pulled Lynch toward an adjoining office.

“You should have said so sooner! Come in, take a seat! You lot, quickly fetch my finest coffee to serve Their Excellencies! Please, take a seat inside. Around here, investors are as glorious as the twelve major gods. Whatever Your Excellencies wish to investigate, just say the word—I will fully cooperate!”

Hss... Lynch finally realized that everyone in the Archaeological Association was seriously unhinged. Seeing Miss Valente clutching her stomach, unable to stand straight from laughing, he knew she was useless right now. He had no choice but to give a dry laugh and answer, “The Gate of Falsehood and Reality. The president said you know quite a bit about it.”

The professor's smile froze instantly, his sharp gaze cutting into Lynch. Lynch said nothing, merely giving an unhurried smile and meeting his gaze calmly.

Looking between Lynch and the written approval in his hand, Professor Green hesitated for a moment before frowning. “That is a deeply sickening mystery relic. Manifestation grade. Its appearance is...”

Hearing this, Lynch quickly pulled out his detective notebook and fountain pen, preparing to record the information. However, the moment the pen tip touched the paper, it split open on its own, as if he had applied too much pressure.

Looking up, he found Professor Green and Miss Valente staring at him with expressions that were equal parts utterly eerie and deeply reverent.

“In my forty years of studying archaeology, this is the very first time I've seen someone dare to attempt recording information about a manifestation grade mystery relic directly,” Professor Green said, rubbing his nose in horrified awe. “Are you planning to produce a manifestation grade mystery document on the spot? A mystery document of that level couldn't possibly be created without sacrificing hundreds of lives. Or do you plan on draining your own soul to give it a shot?”

???

Only then did Lynch realize what a dangerously foolish thing he had almost done by accident. Sure enough, the world of the occult was filled with counter-intuitive absurdities. He would definitely need to think things through more carefully before acting in the future.

Letting out an embarrassed laugh, Lynch tucked away his notebook and said, “A mistake, a mistake—just sheer instinct. What did you say its appearance was?”

“A mirror. Tainted with the authority of copying, it can transform falsehood into reality—or to put it more vividly, turn any image reflected in the mirror into a physical entity.”