“Extra, extra! Her Highness the Princess attacked in public, safe and sound thanks to the protection of the fallen moon goddess!”
“Princess's assassin suspected of mental illness; old acquaintance claims he had long lost his mind!”
“Assassin identified as an apostate of the Church of the Sun, attack suspected to be orchestrated! The wanted criminal organization Skull Island claims responsibility, while insiders reveal the true mastermind is right here in Rhine—holding a position too high to disclose!”
“Mr. Grant, Chairman of the House of Commons, furiously condemns the murderer's atrocities in public!”
“Extra, extra! A new knight is born! Detective Lynch Levive knighted, becoming the kingdom's only new noble in a century!”
“Newly dubbed knight closely tied to the eldest daughter of the noble Valente family; Miss Valente publicly declares the new knight to be her most trusted friend!”
“Sir Levive gallantly rescues the princess! Insiders claim he is expected to become the youngest recipient of the Golden Rose Medal!”
“Governor furious, vows to...”
“Sir Levive's former landlord claims she always had high hopes for this brave and resourceful...”
“Professor who once taught Sir Levive claims...”
On July 1, 1399, bathed in the rising sun, the name Sir Lynch Levive spread across the city alongside fifteen newspapers published in Rhine City.
Who was Lynch Levive? That used to be a difficult question, as few people recognized the name before. But before long, it would become a household name.
A rising star of the kingdom, the newly made knight had not only monopolized Her Highness the Princess's first dance, but also shared an ambiguous relationship with a noble lady—monopolizing her first dance as well—while seizing the chance to fool the entire crowd of onlookers.
On the very day of his investiture, he had bravely rescued the princess from an assassination attempt in public, even triggering a celestial phenomenon.
Every single feat was steeped in legendary flair, more than enough for bards to turn into ballads and sing in taverns. Propelled by the sensational news of the princess's attempted assassination, the name would make its way into everyone's ears with ease.
When Sir Lynch Levive woke up in his familiar large bed to the sunlit scent of the quilt, sunlight had already filled the second-floor bedroom at 221 Villa Avenue. Staring blankly at his surroundings, his numb brain slowly rebooted.
Damn, he really had too much to drink last night.
After the discussion last night, Lynch had been freed, yet not entirely.
As the newly made knight who had bravely saved the princess, he was naturally the hottest figure of the evening and the center of attention. Nobles, the wealthy, commoners, and journalists all wanted to come forward to share a drink and offer a few compliments.
One couldn't slap a smiling face, so he certainly couldn't tell them to get lost. Lynch wasn't as adept at handling such crowds as Diana was. To avoid fueling gossip, Diana hadn't stayed by his side, leaving him no choice but to accept every toast, downing a glass with each person.
He had been a bit apprehensive at first, but after a few drinks, he figured there were only a few thousand people in the venue anyway. At worst, he’d just keep drinking until the end. Who was afraid of who? What could they possibly do to him...
And then, his consciousness had ended right there.
In truth, a sliver of consciousness had remained, keeping him from blacking out completely, even if his brain was sluggish. He still remembered that the landlady and little Martha had hauled him back in a Duke's mansion carriage without paying fare. He also remembered that on the way, the landlady held little Martha, both of them looking at him and weeping the entire time. Yet they hadn't said a word, merely dumping him onto the bed, stripping off his clothes, and silently departing.
Overthinking things, weren't they?
Lynch knew very well why they were crying, but he didn't let it bother him. Giving a self-deprecating middle finger to the reflection of the scumbag in the window, he hopped out of bed and threw on his casual clothes.
The ball was over, but life had to go on.
He had already made an appointment with Mrs. Nightingale and the others to plant grass inside the mystery relic on July 2.
It sounded dangerous, but in truth, it wasn't too difficult.
They only needed to plant flowers in there for three days, whereas it took four and a half days for the city to fall. Thus, they were relatively safe. As long as they could suppress the uncontrolled mystery relic ahead of time, they wouldn't have to face a horde of ghouls head-on.
Lynch's greatest asset was his high inspiration, which allowed him to read the suppression conditions with ease. In his view, with cultist Judy's thigh to cling to, that newly emptied ring, Miss Valente's chest of munitions, and Natalie as a human weapon, as long as nothing unexpected happened, there was nothing to fear.
Forget it. Better not entertain such death-flag thoughts. Besides, why was even he treating himself like a mere ring stand? Surely he had other uses.
Oh, right—an emotionless condition-reading machine and flower fertilizer. Truly magnificent.
Rubbing his precarious neck and roasting himself relentlessly in his mind, Lynch stretched vigorously and pushed open the bedroom window.
In an instant, the shouts of newsboys on Charles Square drifted into his ears.
“Have these brats lost their minds? What're they screaming about so early in the morning? Good thing Mrs. Maggie closed my window last night.”
Lynch's head throbbed instantly. It was practically a piercing sonic assault. I...
“Huh? Why does all of that sound so familiar? And that stupid name sounds even more familiar... Hahaha, never mind then.”
Bang. Quickly shutting the window, Lynch bolted out of the bedroom with a dry laugh.
Being a celebrity didn't seem easy at all. Hearing others broadcast his deeds gave him such a sense of embarrassment—yet mixed with a secret thrill. Crap, had he awakened some bizarre kink?
No, definitely not. Relax. Tons of people shared the same name; they wouldn't dare imagine that name belonged to him. Even if they found out, so what? If the guy who almost spent his entire life without winning an Oscar could live on resiliently, he’d be just fine.
After doing his best to soothe his inner shut-in soul, Lynch walked downstairs and immediately spotted the landlady and her daughter in the first-floor living room.
Having slept in today, the landlady wasn't busy in the kitchen, and little Martha probably didn't have morning classes, so she hadn't gone to school. The mother and daughter were murmuring about something on the couch, but as soon as they saw Lynch come down, both stood up immediately.
Mrs. Maggie bowed respectfully. “Good morning, Sir Knight.”
With that, she nudged little Martha. The little thing looked utterly reluctant, but under her mother’s pressure, she curtsied slightly like a little lady with her head lowered, pouting as she mumbled, “Hello, Sir.”
Lynch didn't stop them. Nodding solemnly, he asked casually, “Mrs. Maggie, there's an important question I’d like to verify with you.”
The landlady’s face dimmed as she bit her lip and nodded gently.
“Our full address is 221 Villa Avenue, Charles Square, right?”
“Huh?” Mrs. Maggie looked baffled, but reflexively answered, “Yes, is there a problem?”
“No problem at all. I’m going to print some new business cards soon to put my new title on them. I was just worried I might get the address wrong, so I wanted to double-check. After all, these cards will probably be used for years, and misprinting the address would be a waste. That costs money, you know.”
“Eh?” Her azure eyes widened into circles as Mrs. Maggie blurted out in astonishment, “You’re going to print this address? Aren't you planning to move to a better district?”
“Hm? You want me to move out? Did I do something wrong?”
Lynch feigned surprise and spoke loudly. In truth, he had already guessed Mrs. Maggie’s thoughts while half-drunk last night. She simply thought that now that Lynch had become a noble, he had ascended beyond reach and would never continue living in a lower district like the King District, let alone live with two poor commoners from the King District. She couldn't bear to see him leave and worried he would take the Book of Purification with him, yet having no right to stop him, she could only hide away in self-pity and sorrow.
“No, no, of course not! Hahaha.” Mrs. Maggie laughed dryly, but the worry between her brows had already vanished, her pretty eyes brightening up as she excitedly wrung her fingers. “You haven't eaten breakfast yet, have you? I'll go prepare it for you right away—”
“No need, I’m heading out right away. Hey, wait—”
Lynch shrugged and pointed toward the kitchen at little Martha.
“Is your mom alright? That was weird.”
“Hmph, villain.” The little thing was smarter than her mother, seeing through Lynch's intentions in an instant, playfully sticking out her tongue.
Tsk, this kid isn't cute at all.
Lynch suddenly put on a serious face and hooked his finger at her. “Come here. I have something to tell you. Don't let your mom hear.”
Once the little brat leaned close, Lynch grabbed her, pinned her across his lap, and landed three quick spanks on her bottom.
“That's for your 'Hello, Sir,' that's for being reluctant, and that's for playing dumb with your mom.”
Then, before the little thing could even react, he dashed out the door at full speed. Only then did a banshee’s wail of a scream erupt behind him.
That felt great. No time to mess around with you two today—I have serious business to attend to.
He still had to meet with Natalie and Diana... No, no, he had to make the final preparations at the Church of Suffering.
Lynch straightened his casual clothes and stepped into the sunlight with a smile.
Rate on N.U.
