The Bait

He hadn't lost anything; instead, he had gained this slip of paper.

Lynch bid Mrs. Nightingale farewell with a natural expression and walked calmly along the main road toward Crown Square.

His pace was neither too fast nor too slow, but his mind spun rapidly, the slip of paper tucked in his pocket constantly flashing through his thoughts.

It seemed baffling, but with a bit of analysis, Lynch had already guessed the general situation.

Before leaving the house that morning, he had given little Martha a task to monitor the Rangers' movements near Charles Square. Now, this gang of little bandits had clearly provided feedback, indicating that the warning on the paper was highly likely related to the Rangers.

The term “black skins” verified this conclusion. The Rangers' uniforms were entirely black, so it was perfectly reasonable for the street urchins of King District to call them “black skins.”

So, watch out for what?

Without pausing his steps, Lynch pulled down the brim of his hat to conceal his face, covertly scanning his surroundings.

This was one of the most bustling locations in Rhine City. People bustled past, vendors gathered like clouds, and carriages flowed in an endless stream. It looked perfectly peaceful, just like any other day.

Stopping by the roadside to light his pipe, Lynch took a deep drag, letting the herbal smoke calm him down even further.

Even if everything appeared normal, Lynch still trusted his judgment—something was definitely wrong.

If it were just a standard update about the task, the children could have easily waited until he returned home to report to him, or at least until he was back in King District. There was no need for them to run all the way to the Crown District, which had some of the best security in the city, just to find him. This place was far too dangerous for them; the chances of them getting beaten up by guards were nearly a hundred percent.

The only explanation was that while the children were monitoring the Rangers for Lynch, they had noticed some anomalous behavior from them. This behavior was related to Lynch and was incredibly urgent—so urgent that they couldn't even wait for him to leave Crown Square before notifying him.

Moreover, the children had used such a stealthy method to deliver the message. This stealthiness indicated that they had targets they needed to hide from, and if they weren't discreet, they would be discovered by those people.

Yet, despite scanning the area several times, he couldn't spot a single suspicious target. There was only an invisible malice permeating the air.

Lowering his gaze in contemplation for a moment, his fingers slowly tightening around his cane, Lynch furrowed his brows and set off once more, blending into the crowd on the street.

The malice clung to him like a shadow, refusing to dissipate, giving Lynch a persistent sensation of being watched. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the source of the gaze. In the end, Lynch simply stopped looking. He abruptly turned around and marched toward the Church of the Black Night.

The situation was unclear, but the Church of the Black Night, as his client, still held a certain level of trustworthiness.

The churches were not far from one another, and Lynch quickly arrived at the Black Night Cathedral. The malice and the sensation of being watched still lingered behind him, but Lynch ignored them, following the crowd straight into the grand cathedral.

It was very safe here; at the very least, there weren't as many people soliciting donations at the entrance, which made Lynch feel an immense sense of warmth.

The moment he stepped within the range of the holy emblem's black background and golden stars, the lingering malice instantly vanished. The corners of Lynch's mouth twitched upward. It really hadn't been an illusion, and his pursuer clearly harbored some wariness toward the Church of the Black Night. This also indirectly proved that the two parties were not on the same side. He had made the right choice.

Armed with the authorization slip provided by Archbishop Trinlais, Lynch headed straight into the back hall of the cathedral, making his way to the church's finance office with practiced ease.

How strange. Of all the factions he was closest to, the department he was most familiar with always seemed to be the finance office.

This had to be a coincidence. Even in the world of the occult, coincidences happened occasionally. Yes, exactly.

Adhering to his belief of never returning empty-handed, Lynch successfully claimed his five-pound reimbursement for the month, recovering the task reward he had given to little Martha that morning while also killing a fair amount of time. Feeling that the time was right, Lynch counted five brand-new Elizabeths while seizing a moment when no one was paying attention to slip into the archbishop's lounge.

Trinlais was a busy man, often presiding over various church activities, so it was rare to find him in his room. However, it was now lunchtime, his most important rest period of the day. He was bound to be waiting in his lounge for Lynch to come and disturb him.

Sure enough, the moment Lynch slipped into the lounge, he saw that the archbishop had just had a servant brew a pot of tea. He was sitting comfortably on the sofa, but as soon as he saw Lynch sneak in, the hand holding his teacup froze in midair, and he let out a sigh.

“Have a seat. In trouble again?”

Lynch didn't stand on ceremony either. He sat directly opposite Trinlais and poured himself a cup of black tea. It was said to be top-tier black tea worth a pound per gram, and those without sufficient status weren't even qualified to buy it. Lynch took a careful sip and his evaluation was... well, it was quite thirst-quenching.

“Must I be in trouble? Can't I just be here to hand in a task?”

“Slipping in like a thief just to hand in a task?” The archbishop grimaced with mock pain and nudged the teapot away, placing it somewhere out of Lynch's easy reach. “Entering without even announcing yourself means you must be trying to avoid everyone, terrified that someone might leak your whereabouts. What is it? Is someone watching you and looking for trouble?”

“Yes. I don't know who it is yet, but I estimate that the Rangers and Howard are involved at the very least. It's hard to say if anyone else is. As for the reason, you know why. You two old foxes just keep exploiting me. To think you coaxed a rookie detective into investigating such a severe issue—doesn't your conscience hurt?”

“Praise the Lord, praise the holy spirits, praise the dark night. Everything of mine has been dedicated to the Lord, including my conscience, so it doesn't hurt.” The archbishop traced a few stars across his chest, his expression incredibly holy.

“Tsk, you didn't even bother to deny it.”

“I don't know anything, so what is there to deny? The church has always maintained neutrality; nothing has anything to do with me. I merely helped Vane find a suitable candidate. If you got played, you should take it up with him.”

Like hell I'd believe you, you wicked old man. Lynch rolled his eyes and gulped down the expensive black tea in frustration.

“Besides, the task was originally only to have you investigate. Who knew you would solve the problem so easily along the way? Since you were willing to influence the situation, we could hardly dampen your enthusiasm. In any case, the reward was prepaid. If you're willing to overdeliver on the task, we are naturally happy to accept. How can you say we exploited you?”

Lynch curled his lip, realizing that trying to argue with an old fox was easily his biggest mistake since transmigrating. These cunning old figures could always twist any argument to make themselves sound perfectly reasonable.

“Haha, I jest. You are someone we trust, so we won't interfere with whatever you choose to do. If you truly manage to resolve the issue in the end, Vane will offer a matching reward. You won't be left to toil for nothing.”

The archbishop poured Lynch another cup of black tea and said with a genial smile:

“I won't pry into the specifics, and even if I did, you might not want to tell me. In short, what do you need my help with this time?”

“Since your church won't take a stand, asking you to do anything substantial would just be inviting humiliation, so I don't hold out any hope. My request is very simple. Just find someone to disguise themselves as me and go for a stroll outside. As for me, I need you to provide a secret route so I can leave this place covertly—and by that, I mean leaving your lounge.”

“Getting you out is easy, but if someone is watching you, I can't guarantee you won't be recognized after you leave.”

“Heh, that will be my problem to solve.”

“Then that's easy. Right beneath the sofa you're sitting on is a secret passage. The exit leads to a confessional. As long as you're careful when you step out and don't happen to run into someone using that particular room, you won't be discovered. I will arrange for someone to impersonate you right now. You can leave in fifteen minutes. Good luck.”

With that, Trinlais didn't stand on ceremony either. He turned and left the lounge.

Thus, fifteen minutes later, a beautiful young lady wearing a unique long dress, her face partially concealed by a round fan, stepped out of the Church of the Black Night, looking around with a faint smile.

Lynch might have trouble spotting the hidden onlookers, but what about me? Hehehe.

The young lady's gaze was sharp as lightning, and she quickly spotted the decoy Trinlais had helped arrange.

And following behind him...

Hehehe, caught you.