Lynch was a bit puzzled. He had only paid for his advertisement in the Investigator yesterday, and in theory, it wouldn't be in the paper today; he wouldn't see it until tomorrow at the earliest.
Therefore, Lynch had no plans to receive guests for a few days, and he estimated it would take at least five or six days before any clients came knocking.
However, as soon as he saw the customer Mrs. Maggie brought up, he immediately understood the reason. He recognized the customer: it was Mrs. Sterling, the old woman from the bakery in the square.
Presumably, when he bought bread that morning and gave his address, she must have asked about it when Mrs. Maggie went grocery shopping earlier, and then his profession had been spread around.
That was fine, he supposed; he could treat it as free advertising. It was just a pity that the group it had spread to was rather... complicated.
The financial situation of guests in the Crown District was hardly something to look forward to, and he had just made up his mind to earn more money... Never mind. There was no way he would turn away his very first client. He might as well listen to what she had to say.
Mrs. Sterling was a dark-skinned, thin woman in her fifties, wearing a coarse long skirt and a yellowed white apron. She smelled entirely of baked bread, and at this moment, she lacked the presence she usually had behind her bread cart, sitting on the sofa with great restraint.
Since he had decided to conduct business as usual, there was no need to act dismissive. Lynch personally poured the old woman some black tea, then sat across from her and opened his notebook to a fresh page.
May 17, 1399, 5:00 PM, Mrs. Sterling.
"So, Mrs. Sterling, please relax a little. If you feel too nervous sitting here, we can go downstairs and talk in front of your bread cart; I think that might make you feel more at ease. Hahaha, if you're fine, then please do relax. Drink some tea, and then tell me about your granddaughter, who is named..."
"Janet. Her name is little Janet Sterling." The old woman's tension eased quite a bit as she whispered, "She is thirteen this year and is still attending primary school."
The citizens of the Kingdom of Lande placed significant importance on education, especially in the last few decades, with a high proportion of people having completed four years of primary schooling. However, the ages were inconsistent; some children didn't start primary school until they were ten, and this little Janet must have been one of those late enrollees.
"Which school?"
"The Gray Fog District Municipal Primary School."
The old woman straightened her back with pride. Lynch remembered that the municipal primary schools had a good reputation; in his homeland, they would probably be considered key primary schools.
"I see. Please continue, what happened to her?"
"She was fine before, but for the last five or six days, she often sits at the door in a daze after returning from work. Sometimes she curls up as if she’s been terrified, but when I ask her, she says she’s fine. Her parents and I didn't pay much attention, thinking it was just a child's passing mood. But the situation slowly became more and more serious. She not only sleepwalks sometimes at night and draws very strange patterns, but her body is also becoming increasingly thin and weak."
"Wait a moment, what did you say she was doing? Returning from work?"
"Yes, what about it?"
"No, it’s nothing."
Mrs. Sterling’s righteous reply made Lynch realize that he had subconsciously applied his old habits to this world. This was at most the eighteenth century of his homeland; it was very common for children of poor families to enter factories at twelve or thirteen, attending school in the morning and working in the afternoon. At this age, they weren't even considered child labor.
"So, you want me to investigate what is wrong with the child?"
"Yes, Detective. Janet is the smartest child in the Sterling family, so nothing can happen to her. We are very worried about her, but you know... in the Crown District, no one is willing to help us. When Mrs. Hudson mentioned your status earlier, I wanted to find you to give it a try."
Lynch nodded with a frown, recording the description in detail. Based on his surface-level experience, it was very likely that the child was simply suffering a mental breakdown from too much pressure, just like that little mustache in the classic Modern Times, and it had nothing to do with any supernatural events. This did not match his expectation of taking on cases specifically related to the mysterious.
It felt like a loss, Lynch sighed inwardly, but he still said, "It is hard to say what happened to little Janet right now. Perhaps she is just ill, and that is not within the scope of my commission. I suggest you go to the priests and nuns at the Hall of Suffering. However... how about this: bring her over tomorrow afternoon so I can see her. If that is inconvenient, I can visit her myself. There are some things I must see in person before I can judge whether I can solve them."
Mrs. Sterling’s face was full of joy as she thanked him repeatedly, rubbing her hands together and smiling sheepishly. "Detective, what about the payment..."
"Let's see her tomorrow first. We can discuss payment once I confirm I can solve it." Lynch was about to close his notebook when he suddenly remembered a question and followed up, "Which factory does she work at?"
"Grant Screw Factory."
"Oh." Lynch noted it down, stopped halfway, and looked up. "Which factory? Grant Screw Factory?"
"Yes, Detective, that is the name."
"The one owned by Speaker Grant of the House of Commons?"
"Yes, you know it too! It is a very famous, large factory." Mrs. Sterling’s smile grew even wider, as if she felt honored.
"I understand. Then bring the child over tomorrow."
Calmly recording all of Mrs. Sterling’s information, Lynch closed his notebook, politely saw the old woman out of the living room, and returned to the window to watch her push her bread cart into the evening crowds.
His initial feeling of indifference had been completely shattered by the name Grant Screw Factory.
Mrs. Sterling’s appearance made Lynch realize he had overlooked a key point. If he wanted to investigate the relationship between Speaker Grant and the railway case, he didn't necessarily have to connect the railway incident to the Speaker step by step. Investigating in reverse was also a viable strategy, and the screw factory was naturally the best breakthrough. He could take advantage of this commission to investigate it.
Should he ask Officer Natalie to help?
Lynch hesitated for a while, but decided not to inform her yet. He had to learn to face the mysterious world independently and couldn't always hide behind her.
The chance that this commission would involve the mysterious was too small; it was perfect for him to practice his independent investigation skills while he still lacked combat power. Even if he did encounter something mysterious, his own abilities were best suited for slipping away quietly.
Then he would take the case... Hmm?
A knock sounded at the door behind him again. Turning around, he saw Mrs. Maggie standing at the door with a strange expression. "Mr. Levive, there is a letter for you. It was just delivered."
Lynch felt a tightening in his chest, thinking immediately of the letter the mastermind had sent to his previous landlord. "Hmm? Who sent it?"
"I don't know. It was shoved through the crack in the door. I opened it and didn't see anyone."
Lynch frowned, put on his gloves, and opened the envelope.
It was high-quality stationery, carrying a faint scent of lavender that made one feel favorably inclined toward it.
Opening the paper, a blue theater ticket fluttered out, and a few lines of elegant script appeared before Lynch’s eyes. The handwriting was delicate, clearly belonging to an elegant lady.
Mr. Lynch Levive,
Tomorrow the 18th at 9:00 PM, Box 204 of the Black Cat Theater. I await your arrival.
Countess Hathaway.
Lynch did not recognize the name, but he recognized what was beneath it.
Drawn below the name was a pair of vivid cat eyes, and next to it, a cat paw had been drawn in a style resembling a simple sketch.
Lynch felt a jolt in his heart and turned to look out the window.
A black cat was perched on the building across the street, licking its paws at Lynch, stretching, and then lazily disappearing into the crowd.
Did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Are the cats in this world learning to write letters now?
Rate on N.U.
