Chapter Five: The Real World

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Of course, in the end, Shade did not run away. The three-month mission left by Mr. Hamilton was suspicious from the start, and since Shade was already entangled in it—having not left before Hamilton’s death—he certainly wasn’t going anywhere now.

But investigating that mission and uncovering Hamilton’s secrets were matters for later. For now, the key was to first secure enough money to survive for a week before making any other plans.

Having packed the investigation report and the map, he did not forget the compass and pocket watch from the desk drawer. For safety’s sake, although no firearms were found, the walking cane could serve as a weapon, and he also made sure to bring along a fruit knife.

For clothing, he chose an inconspicuous set of black buttoned coat and trousers, fitting the dress habits of Tobesk City in early summer.

Room 1 on the second floor had two bedrooms in total. Shade found clothes suitable for his current build in the other bedroom. Unfortunately, the room suspected to have belonged to the original Shade contained no diary or any small hints written with the original Shade’s pitiful literacy; otherwise, life would have been a bit simpler.

With everything prepared, the corner clock in the living room was nearing eleven in the morning.

Shade found the keys to the room door and the main entrance downstairs in a bowl inside the cabinet by the door. Carefully locking the door behind him, he took a deep breath, bit down on his teeth, and plucked a strand of hair from his head. Lying flat on the floor between the door and the stairs, he placed the hair in the gap beneath the door, squinting his left eye to confirm that the hair faced inward, aligned with the raised corner on the left side of the bedroom door.

The stairwell window was closed, the first floor was sealed, and all the room windows were shut, so there was no worry that the hair would be moved by the wind. As long as Shade didn’t stomp at the door or carelessly open the first-floor door, the position of the hair would indicate if someone had passed by or entered the room.

He wanted to stand up but glanced at the locked door of room “2” on the second floor next door. After some thought, he painfully plucked another strand of hair and placed it in the door gap, parallel to the lock.

Because Mr. Hamilton left behind so many secrets, it was better to be cautious.

Descending the spiral staircase, the soft footsteps echoing in the quiet space made Shade inexplicably nervous once more.

There was no dust on the stair handrail, and the decorative oil paintings on the walls appeared regularly cleaned. The closer he got to the ground floor, the faster his heart seemed to beat.

He knew there was no need to panic, but this was, after all, the very first step into this place, truly stepping into this new world.

Changing into boots in front of the door, he grabbed the black bowler hat from the standing coat rack and put it on. After some time, he finally grasped the doorknob and pushed the door open.

His heartbeat accelerated at the moment the door opened. The sensation of fully entering an unfamiliar environment and accepting the fact of his transmigration was truly unsettling.

Stepping over the threshold, he did not immediately look outside but quickly lowered his head, stepped out, then turned to lock the door behind him.

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Closing his eyes, he slowly turned to face the street, then leaned back against the door, pressing his head against the cold metal doorplate marked “No. 6.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about; it’s just stepping into another world, with little chance of going back,” he told himself, struggling to suppress the urge for deep breaths. He lifted his head, opened his eyes, leaned against the door, and took in everything before him—

A haze of smoke lingered in the air. Compared to the morning, the weather was gloomier. Yet the bustling square was still crowded with people: gentlemen in formal suits and bowler hats, ladies in skirts with powdered faces, laborers carrying wooden crates, barefoot newsboys shouting loudly, shy flower girls soliciting customers, four-wheeled horse-drawn carriages rushing past, and portly housewives clutching paper bags and wearing lace-trimmed bonnets...

A faint burnt smell hung in the air. The myriad people mingled along the smoke-shrouded edges of the square, their cries and chatter blending almost seamlessly. On the far side of the square rose three-story houses, similar to those behind him, with dense metal pipes clinging to the walls like vines or spider webs, glinting faintly in the weak midday sunlight.

At the center of the square stood a fountain with a girl holding up a water jug. The fountain was dry, and the statue had yellowed somewhat. A patrolling officer wearing a badge, seated beside the fountain, looked curiously at Shade. The middle-aged man’s gaze silently asked if he needed help, causing Shade to hastily avert his eyes.

A newsboy passed right before him. The scraping sound of his shoes against the gravelly ground sent a chill through Shade’s body. The clinking of bells on a horse-drawn carriage’s wheels rang out as it passed the doorstep, accompanied by curious gazes peering from the carriage windows, quickening the blood pumping in Shade’s chest.

Feeling his heartbeat, Shade spread his hands against the door behind him and instinctively leaned back, startled by the vivid reality before him. His blood pressure surged, his pulse quickened, and the sudden ringing of a distant bell exploded in his mind like a bomb, nearly causing him to faint.

So real, so incredible, so contrary to the logic he had known for over twenty years. This was another world. He truly had left his homeland and come to an entirely unfamiliar realm.

“Don’t panic! Don’t panic!” Shade kept repeating in his mind, but his body’s instincts could not be subdued so easily.

“It’s okay. I will get used to all this. I will blend in here!” he desperately told himself over and over, but his body still involuntarily leaned back against the door, his back already soaked with sweat.

Suddenly, the woman’s whisper returned—though also a voice from this strange world, it somehow snapped Shade back to reality, forcing him to confront everything. The whisper, like reciting poetry, proclaimed:

[You have gained “Enlightenment.”]

His heart slowed from the pounding caused by the voice, and his rising blood pressure eased with the soft murmur resonating within. The voice echoed in his mind.

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“What enlightenment?”

He had clearly heard the words but did not understand their meaning. The term [Enlightenment] was among the mysterious four elements vaguely mentioned by the detective before his death. Shade needed further explanation. He was now fully convinced that the voice in his head was absolutely not a system but most likely part of this world’s mystical framework.

[You are me, and I am you. Stranger, you manipulate the course of fate on stage; fate unfolds because of you. I touch the world’s truth behind the scenes; you grow stronger because of me. Though you may doubt it, we are one and the same, with no difference between us.]

The woman’s voice answered evasively, yet Shade was not angry; rather, he felt a hint of joy.

His guess was right. In this world’s occult system, the voice in his mind was very likely the means by which one accessed and wielded the mystical. The worldview here seemed somewhat akin to Lovecraftian and agnostic principles—supernatural and mysterious forces held power, and existence itself affected the mundane. Hence, another force was needed to help mortals engage with those strange and perilous entities.

“You are me, and I am you. Though you say this, you are definitely not ordinary,” he thought, wanting to confirm his idea with the whisper in his mind, but he only received the woman’s light laughter in return.

In any case, he had at least touched upon the mystical elements of this world. Even if he understood nothing, standing here gave him a goal.

The earlier panic gradually subsided, as if his very being drew closer to this smoky, steam-powered era. Feeling grounded, Shade steadied himself and told himself to gradually accept everything instead of succumbing to useless fear:

“Earn the money for a commission, investigate Hamilton’s story, gather the four elements, study the voice in my head… move forward, don’t panic.”

Repeating this in his mind finally freed his back from the door. Abandoning the thought of going back to change clothes, Shade carefully—very carefully—descended the three steps at the door, standing on the street at the square’s edge. He opened his eyes wide, looking up at this world, letting its reflection shine in his eyes:

“No matter what, move forward.”

He said this in his heart, paused briefly, and then, following the plan he had made in the house, stepped along the circular street around the square, heading toward the entrance to the main street on the other side.