The architecture of the Crown District has a rather distinct distribution.
The buildings surrounding Charles Square are the finest in the entire district, being relatively new, while those slightly further out become exceptionally dilapidated, only to gradually turn newer as the area extends further outward.
Mrs. Sterling’s home is not far from Charles Square, situated deep within the same small alleys where I first met little Martha, inside a cluster of crumbling old buildings.
It was easy to identify, as the familiar bread van was parked downstairs.
The detached two-story house, which likely had only four or five rooms, was home to two families totaling nearly thirty people. There was no gas or running water; cooking and lighting relied entirely on gas hoses pulled in from outside. It made me worry, as I couldn't help but wonder when a gas leak might blow the whole building to the sky.
It is said that most of the Crown District consists of farmers who were cajoled and deceived into selling their land. Such living conditions are truly beyond words. By comparison, my own life as a traveler from another world is already quite comfortable.
Lost in thought about my experiences over the past few days, I bypassed the bread van and squeezed through the narrow staircase amidst a mountain of clutter, finally reaching the second floor where Mrs. Sterling’s family of seventeen was crammed into three rooms.
Upon entering, I closed my eyes and carefully discerned the air. There was no reaction to mysterious filth. Fortunately, this meant that most of the residents here were safe.
The men of the household were all out, leaving only five or six children huddled around the elderly Mrs. Sterling. When they saw it was me, everyone visibly let out a sigh of relief.
“The detective is here. Little Janet is saved.”
Someone muttered this, followed by a burst of cheers from the crowd. Several children rushed over, surrounding me as I stepped into the room.
“Detective, you must help my sister.”
“Detective, my sister promised to take me to the river to play in a few days. Please wake her up.”
“Detective, here, this is my lunch for today. I didn't want to eat it; consider it payment. Please save my sister.”
“All of you, get out of here and stop bothering our guest.” The old woman shooed the children away with an authoritative air and gave me an apologetic smile. “The house is too small and there are too many children; there is truly no quiet place to be found. I am sorry for the disturbance.”
“It is nothing. It is understandable that the children are worried about their sister. I just didn't expect them to be so close.” I took the small, crumpled piece of white bread, thought for a moment, and popped it into my mouth, swallowing it directly without daring to chew. “I have eaten the bread; why don't you take me to see little Janet first? I heard she has fallen into a coma?”
“Yes, that would be a trouble for you.”
With a face full of apology, the old woman led me into another room, which was essentially just the area past a tattered cloth curtain. Inside stood several large beds with dirty pillows, and a child in coarse pajamas lay on one of them.
Her complexion was ashen, her cheeks sunken, her teeth tightly clenched, her skin dry, and her hair withered. She looked exactly like a mummified corpse.
“How long has she been like this?”
“She was fine a few days ago, but she has grown weaker over the last few days and was always drifting in and out of consciousness, though she hadn't reached this point yet. When we chatted yesterday, she was still fine, but by this morning she had become like this, and we cannot even wake her.”
“Overnight?”
“Not exactly overnight, but the clear change began last night.”
I frowned. This did not seem like a common illness. What kind of disease turns someone into a dried husk overnight? I took off my glove and touched the child’s limbs directly with my fingers; the muscles were slack and lacked elasticity, and the skin felt quite rough.
I activated my mystery intuition while pressing against the child. There was absolutely no residual filth on her body; she was cleaner than most people. I stared at the child in deep thought for a while and signaled for Mrs. Sterling to bring another child in.
Soon, the child who had given me the bread was led in. She was still just as dirty, but I patted her head and held her hand for a moment to sense her state.
This was the feeling of a normal person. Living in this world, everyone inevitably accumulates some filth; no one can be truly that clean. But little Janet was unnaturally clean, as if everything in her—good or bad—had been completely emptied out.
Something had been drained from her entire body. Such a bizarre manifestation was highly likely to be mystery-related.
I followed my first instinct. According to the guidance of the policewoman, first instincts in the mysterious world often held significant meaning and could even be classified as a type of omen.
This touched upon my future plans. Even if the pay certainly wouldn't be high, there might be a chance to acquire a mystery relic or even gain some insight. The risk was worth taking.
I accepted the commission.
Having made up my mind, I pulled back my finger and pondered for a moment before asking, “Is everyone else in the house fine?”
“They are all fine,” the old woman said, holding another granddaughter with a face full of worry. “Only little Janet has met with misfortune.”
That meant the problem did not originate at home. A progressive development implied that the source was likely not a one-time contact but rather repeated, segmented exposure. The most likely culprits were her school or the factory, as those were the only two places she frequented often.
Hiss, it really is linked to the Grant Screw Factory.
With a bad premonition, I asked Mrs. Sterling. She had not heard of any problems with the children who went to school with her, and as for the factory, she did not know. However, working in a factory was chaotic and dangerous, and people were often injured, so having problems there was almost considered normal.
This world is truly terrifying; is it considered normal to lose your life just by working a job? The office workers back home really do not know how lucky they are.
I sighed inwardly and stepped away from little Janet’s bedside. “I accept this commission, but I cannot guarantee success. I can only say I will do my best.”
“That is wonderful! Thank you, Detective.”
The child who had entered earlier gave a cheer and immediately ran outside the curtain to announce the news loudly. For a moment, the room was filled with waves of cheers, and even the old woman, Mrs. Sterling, wore a face full of smiles.
“As for the commission fee, I will not make things difficult for you; five Lande pounds.” My heart bled as I said it, but looking at the state of this family, anything more would likely be a burden. I still quite liked the intimate atmosphere of this family and had no interest in testing their humanity. “However, if I obtain any special items during the commission that I consider quite valuable, I have the right to take them without consulting you. Of course, this does not include your family's personal belongings.”
Mrs. Sterling nodded repeatedly without a second thought. My asking price had completely put her anxious heart at ease.
“Very well, I am going to head to the factory where she works in a moment, but before that, tell me everything you can remember about any strange behavior she has shown over the past few days. Also, didn't you say she started sleepwalking and drawing at night? Take them out and let me see.”
“Here they are.”
The old woman hurriedly rummaged under the mattress and pulled out several sheets of tattered paper covered in graffiti.
I had no defenses prepared, but the moment I saw them, my ears rang, and my consciousness was hit by a violent impact.
It was just like when I accidentally saw that ghoul in Maya’s photograph.
Damn it, this thing is intense.
Rate on N.U.
