"Since there is a recent goal, the current plan is to check the room, search for coins, look for a city map, and search the books. I need to learn about this world through written materials, and then make plans for the future. Should I stay for three months to help the detective complete that task, and wait until I understand the specific situation before deciding?"
Shade summarized his current situation, accepting the fact that the detective was dead. The worst part was that he had no memories of the original owner, leaving him completely unfamiliar with this world; other than that, things were going fairly well.
Standing up, Shade walked toward the washroom.
Looking at the person in the mirror, he saw dull golden hair, dark brown eyes, and a clearly Western male face, probably around 20 years old, with a neutral expression that revealed no emotion, standing about 1.8 meters tall.
After all, he had been a homeless person, so his appearance was not particularly remarkable, but in Shade's own aesthetic view, he could consider himself decent-looking.
"This is me. I shouldn't be scared when I look in the mirror from now on."
He said to himself in his mind but didn't leave immediately. Instead, he carefully looked around before softly calling out:
"Hey, are you there?"
He tried to communicate again with the whispering woman's voice to determine what she really was. After a long wait with no response, he reluctantly accepted the reality and decided to temporarily give up.
Next, he needed to search for coins. He hadn't found any food while searching the kitchen, and this body was clearly hungry, so he needed to find money to eat.
However, an unexpected turn of events occurred. About half an hour later, Shade sat back down on the sunlit sofa, an expression of indescribable panic on his face.
In his hand was a bill marked with the number 10, crumpled and smaller than the cards in the diary. One side bore a portrait of a person, and the reverse featured the royal emblem of the Drarion Kingdom where he currently resided.
Having searched the entire house, rifled through all the books and documents, and emptied all the pockets in the wardrobe, Shade had astonishingly found this one bill that seemed to have accidentally slipped into the gap behind the bookshelf.
"Could it be that the prices in this world are so special that this one bill could allow me to survive for three months?"
Shade reassured himself in panic, but he knew deep down that this was impossible.
"This is bad."
He leaned back slightly, resting against the soft sofa back, closed his eyes, and tilted his head up to stare at the white ceiling:
"Mr. Hamilton, where on earth did you hide the money? I promised to stay, but you wouldn't leave me with a single penny, would you...?"
At that moment, he truly wished he could chase down the carriage carrying the coffin, wake the man inside, and question him.
"If communication is a barrier, being clever can help one survive; if one has physical disabilities, as long as one lives courageously, survival isn't a problem. But without money, survival becomes impossible.
Clearly, Mr. Spike Hamilton did not cook at home in the past, as there wasn't even a single leaf of vegetable in the kitchen, so there wouldn't be any mice either. Shade had no idea when this body last ate, but it was clear that he needed food now.
Considering the limits of human existence, Shade had to immediately find a way to obtain money or discover a method to earn some; otherwise, he might be forced to search for restaurants on the map after sunset, rummaging through dumpsters outside in search of a meal.
"No, that won't happen."
He looked at the only bill in his hand with a rather fearful expression:
"Although I don't know the denomination, it's still money. And there's also the card marked 'Sun 3' from the diary. These should help me survive. However, since I can't find money for now, I must think about long-term ways to earn a living."
The knowledge of a traveler might be valuable, but monetizing knowledge in a strange place is not only troublesome but also dangerous. He recalled that this was a detective agency, and it seemed Mr. Hamilton had mentioned before his death that he left behind some safer tasks for Shade—who apparently wasn't very bright—to maintain the detective's identity and keep the agency running.
Since he hadn't found any coins belonging to the deceased detective, he needed to prepare for the worst and consider how to make a living in the future.
"Right, right, Mr. Hamilton knew that Shade—the original Shade—wasn't very clever, so he must have left behind simple tasks to keep the agency operational. So, he may have already solved those cases, and I just need to go collect the payment!"
Shade suddenly had an idea. He got up and took the diary from the bedside table in the master bedroom and found the ledger, memos, and work logs from the study. Although he hadn't found money earlier, he had found these documents.
Mr. Spilo Hamilton was a very organized and meticulous person. Even though Shade had never studied accounting or business management, he found Hamilton's operational records to be impressively detailed. Of course, it was mainly Shade who was impressed, as the unresolved cases at the agency were actually quite simple and mostly completed.
"Finding Miss White's runaway sister, following Mr. Lawrence's mistress, searching for the lost orange cat Mia, and inquiring about a doctor who could treat eye ailments... They all seem simple and not very dangerous. Oh, Mr. Hamilton has already taken care of most of it. If I stay here to manage things, two to three weeks to completely resolve a case should be enough to keep the agency running."
As Shade flipped through Hamilton's handwritten reports, he summarized his thoughts. But what he needed now was not long-term operations for the detective agency; he just needed to get some money to sustain his short-term living.
After comparing the remaining difficulties of the four cases, the payment methods, and the amounts, Shade decided to tackle the commission for "following Mr. Lawrence's mistress" first.
According to the case report, Detective Hamilton had been tracking for several months but had stopped due to poor health recently. In fact, the current report could be submitted to the employer, settling the remaining payment. However, Mr. Hamilton had left a note in the report, specifically taking into account that Shade was not very literate and used simple words.
The note stated that if Shade intended to complete this commission, it would be best to have a recent record before submitting it, as this might increase the payment and prevent the employer from suspecting anything.
In other words, Shade only needed to follow up once more to complete the commission. Although it wouldn't be a perfect completion, it would still meet the requirements of the employer, who was Mr. Lawrence's wife, enough to receive the outstanding payment marked as "1 pound 7 shillings," which would amount to 1 pound 4 shillings.
"From the tone of the detective's notes, this was quite a considerable reward.
The choice of this commission was not only due to the reward but also because such tasks of helping a wife catch her mistress were ones that Detective Hamilton had handled multiple times; they were the simplest commissions, unlikely to encounter any complications at the final handover. Spilo Hamilton wasn't a famous detective, but he was very adept at handling infidelity investigations.
Shade didn't want to stay in this house where someone had just died, surviving on cold water and paper, so he prepared to set out to conduct the investigation, aiming to submit the report to the employer before dusk.
"No problem! First, I'll complete this commission and get the first bit of money, then slowly explore the secrets of the deceased detective and figure out the source of the voice in my head. Everything will be alright!"
He encouraged himself internally, first locating the city map. Based on Detective Hamilton's report and the calendar on the wall, he deduced the potential locations where the mistress, referred to as "Mrs. Lasonia," might appear. This was all straightforward work, but the most challenging step was finding his current location on the "Tobesk City Map."
The Tobesk City Map in the office had many annotations left by the previous detective, even marking the taverns he commonly used to gather information, as well as the locations of the black market where "sensitive items" were traded.
However, the original detective had a habit of not marking his own home on the map. Fortunately, while searching through the documents, Shade discovered a past tracking record that included the route from that operation, which confirmed that this apartment was located at 6 St. Duran Square in the city center of Tobesk.
"Thanks to Mr. Spilo Hamilton's meticulous records... this is... a house right next to the square in the city center. Huh? How much would a place like this cost?"
Shade marveled, and just two streets away from St. Duran Square, he discovered a palace complex known as "Yordel Palace."
According to the newspaper, the front page featured news about the "third round of steam pipe renovations citywide," and the second page, between the first and third, mentioned that "Yordel Palace" was the residence of the royal family of the Drarayon Kingdom.
With no home in his original world, Shade's heart raced. He murmured to the documents in his hand:
"So, what this means is that I'm currently in the capital city of one of the two suspected kingdoms of this world, the Drarayon Kingdom, and in an apartment next to the city center square... I have such a house, yet I worry about starving. Ha, life in another world might be simpler than I thought."
The oppressive feelings that had weighed on him suddenly lifted, but he realized that he couldn't immediately cash in the house, and he didn't intend to give up on Hamilton's three-month commission either. At the very least, he had found some stability before considering further.
But at least a sincere smile appeared on his face; with a property in such a location, he wouldn't have to worry about the future... The smile gradually faded as Shade realized that he had even flipped through the will but hadn't found anything like the deed or property title.
"This apartment isn't rented, is it?"
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. If he could afford a property in such a prime location, there would be no need to run a detective agency; collecting rent would be enough to support himself. Even if the original detective's business wasn't solely for profit, the interior decor didn't seem like it belonged to Detective Hamilton himself.
"So, does that mean I might have to pay some unknown amount of rent each month?"
Shade incredulously reached this conclusion, glancing once more at the calendar hanging on the living room wall.
It was now the third Saturday of the Sun Month in 1853, which was June. If he really had to pay rent, it was highly likely that payments were due at the beginning of each month.
"Hmm? This world also follows a twelve-month system, and the dates are quite similar to before... Maybe I should just run away, pack my clothes, drag my suitcase, and flee... Staying here not only yields no income, but perhaps Mr. Hamilton also left debts I don't know about."