Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Gambling Addict

Dr. Clay was a middle-aged man, slightly older, yet still under fifty. His build was somewhat portly, though he managed to keep it just below the threshold of being truly obese. He was completely bald, however, and wore a rather conspicuous brown wig, which caused anyone conversing with him at close range to inadvertently keep glancing upward.

"Is Dr. Schneider absolutely unable to return today?"

Shade, cradling the cat, confirmed this with a sense of lingering reluctance. Mia, the orange tabby, had likely never been in such a setting before and was now wide-eyed, looking around with great curiosity.

"Yes. When the Count's butler came to invite Bill, he clearly stated the duration of this house call," the doctor reiterated.

"Then, do you happen to know Dr. Schneider’s friend, Miss Dorothy Louisa? Do you know where she lives?" Shade asked again. If he couldn't find the doctor, other ring-wielder associates from the same group would suffice. Given that it concerned a statue of an Evil God, he had to find someone capable of handling the matter with discretion.

"Yes, of course I know her. She is a regular at our clinic; she often visits for issues concerning anorexia and insomnia... but I cannot casually disclose patient information," Dr. Clay replied apologetically. Shade knew his request had been somewhat presumptuous, so he had no choice but to leave a message for Dr. Schneider.

A statue of an Evil God containing the remnants of an Outer Deity, while not technically a "Relic," still held significant value. Even though the Academy discouraged ring-wielders from acquiring the Four Elements through contact with such bizarre artifacts, the professors at Saint Byrens Comprehensive Academy—those with tenure and a rank above the Ninth Circle—could potentially use these remnants to transcribe the stories of the Outer Deities into a language imbued with power.

Doing so was certainly much safer than Shade being directly affected by the remnants as he had been that day. Therefore, whether out of concern for Lady Lasoya's true intentions or simply a desire to contribute by reporting the matter, it was imperative to inform Dr. Schneider as soon as possible. Since the doctor was away, he had no choice but to wait patiently. Shade couldn't report this directly to the Church—not because he cared about the statue of the Blood Evil God being confiscated, but because he truly had no idea how to make an anonymous report.

"But the doctor will be back tomorrow. Waiting one more day shouldn't cause any major issues," he thought. With that in mind, he left the psychological clinic, cat in arms. Yet, a lingering sense of unease persisted, distracting him so much that on his way back to St. Deren Square, he nearly walked into a carriage at an intersection.

***

Shade had left home early that morning, but because the task of finding the orange cat had gone so smoothly, it was only two in the afternoon when he returned. Both he and Mia had eaten lunch out, so for now, he had nothing to do.

Shade settled the cat in the house. Mia seemed to be adapting to the new environment well, rolling around on the sofa and exploring every corner of the room. Shade, meanwhile, detailed the entire process of the cat-finding commission in the ledgers and record books left behind by the detective, strictly adhering to his predecessor’s format.

After finishing, he flipped through the detective's past records, planning to complete the remaining two simple commissions—the runaway girl and the doctor-finding case—over the next few days. This way, once he received the textbooks from the Academy on Wednesday, he would have time to investigate the detective's former acquaintances and search for the secrets that Sparrow Hamilton might have been hiding.

Thus, Shade spent the rest of the afternoon organizing the former detective's belongings and estimating the value of his own assets. In the evening, he took the cat out again for dinner. On the way back, he bought some breadsticks at a bakery near the square to serve as breakfast alongside tomorrow morning's milk. Naturally, he didn't forget the premium cat food; since he had been paid, Shade intended to take good care of the little orange cat.

And so, having been in this world for only two days, Shade had become a young detective living in the central square of the kingdom's capital, with a cat and a job.

"Come to think of it, my luck isn't actually that bad... it's just that I'm broke."

He spent the evening continuing his research into [Space-Time] and [Silver Moon]. Because he had come into contact with the remnants of an Outer Deity that day, the accumulated [Miracle] elements had converted into more spirit, making the silver glow at his fingertips even more dazzling. It still possessed no offensive power, but it was bright enough for illumination.

Shade also tested his ability to ignite paper, which had likewise been enhanced by the influx of power. Although the young orange cat was frightened by the rising temperature of the paper in his hands and hid in his arms, refusing to come out, Shade felt quite pleased.

His studies were interrupted shortly before nine that night. He was sitting in the study, struggling with the doctor's florid cursive notes, when he heard the bell downstairs ring. The cat, which had been dozing on the desk, immediately scrambled underneath, looking startled. Shade comforted the timid Mia and walked out of the room, heading down the stairs to the foyer.

***

"Could the doctor have returned to the city early and seen my message?"

It was not him. Upon opening the door, he found a nervous, short, yellow-haired middle-aged man in a black overcoat—a client looking for Detective Sparrow Hamilton.

Shade's first official commission had arrived.

The man’s name was Raggett Franklin, an accountant living in the western part of Tobeck, employed at the "Hunter & Lola Textile Factory." This was not his first time seeking services here, and he was an acquaintance of Sparrow Hamilton. After Shade invited him in and served him black tea, the man was deeply shocked to learn of the former detective's death.

"A sudden illness, without even receiving effective treatment."

That was the explanation the former detective had left for his own death. Medicine in this era was not highly developed, and the doctors’ methods were only just beginning to move beyond the traditions of "bloodletting" and "enemas," so a sudden death from an acute illness was not particularly rare.

"I am the detective's nephew from his hometown. I have inherited this agency, and before Uncle Sparrow passed, he entrusted it to me," Shade said, introducing the identity he had fabricated for himself. Seeing that Mr. Franklin believed this story, he asked, "Although Uncle Sparrow is gone, I can still complete the commission... and for a lower fee. May I ask, why have you come so late?"

Whether moved by Shade's sincerity or the promise of a "lower fee," the middle-aged accountant hesitated before explaining his plight.

Although they lived in the capital, the Raggett Franklin family was just an ordinary household in this jewel of the Northern Old Continent. Mr. Franklin earned a living as an accountant, while Mrs. Franklin worked as a copyist at a nearby private library. Their only child, young Franklin, was their greatest headache. He had once been a well-behaved child, but after falling in with a group of bad company on the streets, he spent his days idling with them, gradually picking up the vice of gambling. He frequented night clubs and underground casinos, stealing money from home to squander.

Mr. Franklin had visited the agency twice before. The first time, he had asked Detective Sparrow Hamilton to find young Franklin, who had been missing for three days, only to find him at an underground casino in the northern slums. The second time, he had hired the detective to retrieve his son from the "Lucky Southern Cross Club," where he had been lingering for three days.

That club's primary business was alcohol, but at night, it transformed into an underground gambling den.