Construction worker Ruby Darn was having an unfortunate day. On his rare day off, he and two workmates went to a tavern near the port to drink. Inebriated, they saw a pretty young lady and a man with bandages drinking. After a failed attempt at flirting which resulted in Ruby being thrown across the room, he found it hard to believe that the slim girl had such strength. The painful reminder of his flight through the air convinced him he had crossed someone he shouldn't have, and after his money was taken for compensation, the three stumbled out of the bar.
"How humiliating, are we just going to let it go?" one of the workmates grumbled.
"What else do you want to do? One's armed, and the other has mysterious strength. And look at their clothes; they're not from our level of society."
"Forget it, remember the blue-shirt said we still owe money if we meet again? Best not to think too much and just head home," Ruby advised as they all went their separate ways.
Ruby's rented room was located on North Station Street, near the industrial area to the north of the port, where rent was notably cheap. Anyone with a bit of money would choose to live elsewhere, as the soot and dust from the industrial zone would cover everything in a layer of grime within a day.
With no money left after the bar incident, Ruby had to walk home. The dimly lit room greeted him with its familiar lifelessness. After throwing up the little he had eaten that afternoon, he was reminded by his growling stomach of his hunger.
He found a few sprouting potatoes in the cupboard, cut away the sprouted parts—heedful of a neighbor who had gotten sick from eating sprouted potatoes—and considered the few notes left by his bedside, hoping he wouldn't end up in the hospital over a day's worth of food.
He settled for boiled potatoes with a bit of yellowing coarse salt for dinner. Lying on his nearly-broken bed, Ruby ruminated over that odd couple he had encountered earlier.
"She was beautiful, not like those women who'd do anything for a few pennies. That youthful girl, I wonder what she's like. Too bad for that pale-face with her; I guess he's not too bad since he didn't take me to the station. But are they really cops? Can that weird-looking gun even fire bullets?" Ruby doubted they were genuine cops; otherwise, a working man like him with no background could be shot on the spot for assaulting an officer, and no one would sympathize, especially since the bandaged man seemed crueler than the strong girl.
Night fell, and Ruby's home was naturally devoid of gas light. He hadn't used candles in a long while, either. The faint lights from across the street filtered through the mostly broken window, providing his dark room with a hint of illumination.
"Knock, knock, knock." A curt knocking sound came from the door.
"Who is it?" Ruby didn't move; hardly anyone ever came at this hour, and the landlord had irritably collected three months' rent at the end of last month, so he wasn't expected now.
"Knock, knock, knock." The knocking persisted, prompting Ruby to shout, "Who's there? There's someone home, and nothing here worth stealing!" Recent tales told of thieves knocking on doors under the guise of selling insurance or newspapers, checking for an empty house before breaking in. But Ruby doubted thieves would bother with his place.
"Knock, knock, knock." The persistent knocking continued without reply. Could it be those two from the bar looking for payback? Ruby found his kitchen knife—not that it would make much difference against a gun—and bolstered his courage.
Opening the door, all was silent outside. Ruby looked around; aside from a few food stalls at the corner with oil lamps, all the other houses were shut tight.
"Some sick joke," Ruby grumbled, stepping back inside. Just as he was about to close the door, a chilling breeze swept in.
"Ah-choo!" After sneezing, Ruby closed the door and lay back down, trying to will himself to sleep.
In the quiet of the night, with only occasional insect chirps and the rare passing carriage, Ruby distinctly heard breathing sounds. Though faint, they were like distant wheezes. Shaking his head, he made sure it wasn't a mistake or tinnitus.
"Who's out there? I'm about to defend myself," Ruby announced, hoping to scare off any intruders.
No response came from outside, and the light through the window grew dimmer. Ruby searched for a match to light up the room, but couldn't find any on him—probably lost during the scuffle earlier. Searching by the stove, he found an old box of matches, uncertain if they would still light.
"Strike, strike, strike." The matches were nearly spent, and the last one was all he had left. Ruby prayed it would ignite.
"Crack!" Orange flames sprang from the final match, and in the brief illumination, Ruby scanned the room, only to find a pair of glowing green eyes staring at him from the balcony. Startled, he looked closer and saw a black cat perched there. Ruby rushed to shoo it away before settling back to rest.
The clock tower chimed eight times, and suddenly the sound of ticking invaded Ruby's room. Although he had pawned his old pocket watch for drink money, the clock noise was unmistakable. Ruby listened carefully—the sound was coming from above him. Could an upstairs tenant have bought a wall clock? No one who rented here could afford such a luxury. Ruby looked up to see a vague shadow perched on the ceiling, brandishing a huge scythe that glinted in the dim light.
On the morning of August 4th, Elyon felt his energy was spent though the week was barely half over. The morning sky was overcast, and after a quick breakfast, he escorted his sisters to their tutorial school.
"It might rain today. If I don't come to pick you up, take a private coach back home."
"Alright, brother," the two sisters said in unison, carrying their books. They descended from the public coach and entered the three-story tutorial school. Elyon scratched his head, sensing that his sisters had noticed his fatigue; recently, they hadn't quarreled with him as usual.
"Good morning, Mr. Elyon, here are the statements from the partner of the second victim from yesterday afternoon," Bell stood and handed over a small stack of papers. Elyon took them without looking and placed them on the desk.
"Just summarize it for me. Any connection to the Go-Answer Agency?"
"According to his partner, their business wasn't doing well, so they planned to sell their horses and carriage. The partner is heading to the North Continent colonies to start anew, while the victim, Nick Ed, went to the Go-Answer Agency looking for a job as a coachman."
"And the autopsy of the horse?"
"The horse wasn't autopsied. The partner and the victim's nephew took it straight to the canning factory. Said they'd lose less that way, maybe even get a few pounds for it."
Horse meat in cans—Elyon found the idea preposterous. Who knew what kind of meat ended up in the canned goods of this era. Better to cook for oneself whenever possible.
"No reports this morning?"
"None so far, besides the usual thefts, which I've already filed."
The sense of foreboding lifted from Elyon, grateful that the lunatic secret society hadn't troubled him further.
"Care for a soda? It's on me today. What do you want? And grab me an orange-flavored one."
"Peach-flavored, and this lady says she wants cantaloupe," a familiar female voice chimed in.
"Ah, Miss Emma has already paid. Miss Rita, soda costs two pence," Elyon said, extending his hand for the payment.
"Your hand is so white. What's your secret?" Rita feigned ignorance.
Elyon sighed, handing six pence to Bell, "Get three sodas with this; it should be enough."
"Are you always so stingy? Even in the presence of a beautiful young lady, you're reluctant to spend money."
Elyon appraised her and replied, "I don't see it. With your lack of curves and average looks..."
"How dare you speak to a lady with such rudeness. I should punish you by having you buy me a soda."
Resigned, Elyon fetched a shilling and handed it to Bell, while Rita's face lit up with a triumphant smile.
"Why are you here today with no cases to work on? That secret society 'k' probably forgot to commit a crime yesterday or got spooked by our investigation and stopped temporarily," Elyon had no desire to entertain these two any longer.
Rita pulled out her notepad, "How can you be sure there are no new cases? Maybe the latest victim hasn't been discovered yet, or it's someone no one cares about. Have there been any new leads or developments?"
"None, and don't go spicing up your report. If a panic ensues, it'll be your brother who answers for it."
"Let me see all the case files you've gathered," Emma jumped in, taking a seat opposite Elyon at Bell's desk.
"Here, they're all here."
Emma began flipping through the files, and Rita, seeing this, complained, "Why can't I look? Is this lady your secret lover?"
Elyon rolled his eyes, "She's the leader sent by the Special Actions Division yesterday. Though she's an intern like you right now, she might outrank me after her probation."
Seeing Rita inch closer to Emma to peek at the documents she had finished with, Elyon blocked her.
"Sorry, but the general public has no right to this information."
"Just a glance, come on, who will know?"
Bell returned with the sodas, and seeing Elyon squeezed onto the guest bench, with two women poring over case files at the desks, he said, "Your drinks are here."
"Open it for me; I'm busy."
"Mine too, please."
Resigned to his fate, Elyon opened the sodas, thankful he was still considered an injured man; otherwise, he'd be the one running all the errands.
With everyone contentedly sipping their sodas, the two women spent half an hour reviewing the thick case files. Rita couldn't help but comment, "What is all this? Half the content is family background investigations, the rest is death causes and suspect speculation. Where are the clues about 'k'?"