The alley he entered was merely a passage between two buildings, incredibly narrow, with nothing but garbage and filth piled up inside.
His heart raced, and Shade knew this decision was a gamble, but the voice in his head was right. To desire the supernatural meant accepting risk. Perhaps the channels through the psychologist and the church were safe, but he knew nothing. Every path was a risk to him.
To gain, one must pay; he was willing to bear the risk, a small risk.
"If anything goes wrong, I'll leave immediately."
Shade tightened his grip on his cane, tiptoeing as quietly as possible toward the front. At the end of the alley lay some wooden crates, with nearly illegible wanted posters plastered on them, seemingly for a serial killer who had escaped to Tobesque City.
At the alley's entrance, he could turn left or right, leading directly into the slums of Tobesque City. Shade hid behind the crates, peering through the gaps to watch the direction the man had gone.
It was another alley, and only the young man wearing the pebble ring stood there. He was positioned in the middle of the alley, carefully scanning his surroundings. He even squinted up at the sky, and after a long moment, set his black suitcase down on the ground and cautiously kissed the pebble ring on his right index finger.
The young man seemed to mumble something quietly, but Shade couldn't hear; the wind and space obscured his hearing.
After kissing the ring, the young man appeared to relax a bit.
He put the ring back on his right index finger, and suddenly a thick smoke burst forth from him, like he was on fire. The smoke seeped out from the seams of his clothing, quickly engulfing him entirely.
Shade heard whispers in his ear, but they weren't from the elegant woman's voice in his head. These whispers were unintelligible, like someone chewing or something cursing in the shadows.
An uncomfortable sensation washed over Shade, as if he had spun in circles several times and was now trying to walk straight. The frantic whispers grew louder, and for a moment, Shade thought he saw a malevolent spirit lunging at him.
Fortunately, the hallucination ended quickly, but as Shade gradually recovered, he still doubted the reliability of his own eyes. He saw that as the black smoke dissipated, the person with the white pebble ring emerged, gently brushing off the hem of his clothes before bending down to pick up the suitcase.
Mrs. Lassoia turned her head to cautiously scan her surroundings again, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Confirming that no one had witnessed this scene, she finally walked toward the other side of the alley with her suitcase.
Shade covered his mouth and leaned against the wall, wedged between the crates and the wall, not daring to move for quite some time.
Earlier, Shade had been puzzled by the church investigator handing out flyers; now he understood that the investigator might be trying to monitor Mrs. Lassoia just like the clumsy detective Shade had been.
When Shade finally stepped out from the alley, the silver, yellow, and red three-wheeled moons hung together in the sky, with the yellow moon being particularly pale and bright. The night here was as peaceful as in the world of his past.
This street was somewhat remote, so there were no streetlights. In the dim light, Shade couldn't even tell what expression he wore. After a long moment, he took out his pocket watch; it was nearly eight in the evening. He had stood in the wall's crevice for two hours before daring to leave, surprised by his own endurance.
"No chance of relief food now."
He shook his head dejectedly, feeling an inexplicable gloom. He walked along the street towards home. Even if he had to go hungry, at least he had a place to stay, so things weren't too bad.
The critical point now was that the lucrative investigation of the mistress seemed untenable.
It was clear that Mrs. Lassoia had the ability to transform into a man or that the young man could turn into Mrs. Lassoia thanks to the ring. Shade certainly couldn't report this information to his employer, nor did he want to submit the deceased detective's report; he intended to act as if nothing had happened.
Once he submitted the report, Mrs. Lawrence would undoubtedly inform Mrs. Lassoia of the detective who had tracked her without her knowledge, due to her conflict with Mr. Lawrence. Even if the report didn't involve any secrets, Shade couldn't guarantee how Mrs. Lassoia would react.
"This world is really a bit more troublesome than I imagined… Did Mr. Lawrence fall in love with a man or a woman?"
Perhaps Mrs. Lassoia was a good person; transforming into a man wasn't inherently harmful. But having encountered such things less than twenty-four hours after arriving in this world, Shade felt a strong sense of crisis.
"Maybe the supernatural in this world also follows the rule that the extraordinary attracts the extraordinary."
He walked along the street, feeling somewhat fatigued. Worried about being robbed by someone lurking in the dark, harassed by a drunken man, or even stumbling upon some illicit transaction, Shade dared not take a shortcut through the alley, armed only with a cane and a fruit knife.
"Today really isn't my lucky day…"
Turning left at Old John's Pawn Shop, the thought of spending the night in a house where someone had just died soured his mood even further.
"If the supernatural exists, then perhaps ghosts do too... Don't scare yourself... Wait, where did I just turn?"
Stopping in his tracks, he tilted his head back a bit, catching sight of the "Old John's Pawn Shop" sign again and the interior of the shop illuminated by the gas lamps.
"Well, I didn't think of this trick; it's not so unlucky after all. Things will get better."
With a slight sigh, he clutched his pocket watch and pushed open the pawn shop's door.
In the end, he didn't pawn the pocket watch but the cane instead. The pocket watch was an essential tool for living, while the cane was optional. More importantly, the pocket watch held little value; the shop owner, an old man who introduced himself as John Jones, was only willing to offer ten shillings, claiming the watch's surface was scratched, likely from being tossed with a keychain.
However, for the cane, he was willing to offer one pound and twelve shillings.
"Do you even understand? This is the heart of a natural snow cedar from the Dradore Mountains. Look at the grain, the craftsmanship. If you could provide information about the craftsman who made it, I might be able to pay a bit more."
The old man seemed to complain about Shade's lack of understanding and, upon confirming that he wanted to pawn the cane, warned him that if he didn't reclaim it within half a month, it would belong to the pawn shop.
Shade understood well that the cane was worth much more than one pound and twelve shillings. However, he was in no mood to haggle and simply took two one-pound notes, signing the contract before leaving.
Based on current prices, that money was enough for Shade to live fairly well for two weeks. If he was frugal, not including potential rent, it might even support him for a month and a half. That money could even cover the costs of digging up Spiro Hamilton, placing an obituary in the newspaper, and holding a modest funeral for the detective.
Of course, he had no immediate plans for that.
"But it solves my short-term hunger problem. What should I do about the supernatural, about the mysteries?"
After eating dinner at a restaurant close to the pawn shop, savoring the taste of rich soup paired with a meat pie, he walked home on foot.
By the time he returned to 6 St. Delran Square, it was nearly ten at night.
Carefully rotating the gas lamp on the living room wall, he let the light gradually illuminate the room before wearily throwing himself onto the sofa. From the open doorway of the master bedroom, he could see the bed where Spiro Hamilton had lain.
Shade was determined to engage with the supernatural soon, rather than live in ignorance. Although he hadn't encountered any concrete danger yet, this world was complex, and Shade was not willing to wait for danger to find solutions.
He currently had three possible methods to help him connect with the supernatural.
First was Mr. Bill Schneider, the psychologist who had given Shade his business card. Second were the five churches of the True God in town; visiting the churches might yield some results. Lastly, there was Mrs. Lassoia herself; she certainly knew about the supernatural, and contacting her was also a method.
Each option had its pros and cons, but ultimately, Shade realized he knew too little about this world, and he had no channels to learn more. Before heading out today, he had checked the map, and the city had no public library where he could obtain free knowledge.
There were some private libraries in town, but one needed an acquaintance to introduce them and pay a hefty fee to become a member, which Shade clearly did not have at the moment.
All he could rely on were the materials left by Spiro Hamilton, but that gentleman had no habit of collecting books; he was evidently just an ordinary man.
Investigating the circumstances of Spiro Hamilton's death might also lead him to the supernatural, but that was undoubtedly a very dangerous approach, and Shade's rational mind rejected such a course of action.
"Can you give me some advice?"
He tapped his head lightly, but all he heard was the soft laughter of a woman. It was this voice in his mind that had guided him through the entire investigation of "Mr. Lawrence's mistress." Without it, he would never have discovered the secret of the ring.
He hoped the voice would provide another hint, but there was no response.
"One must rely on oneself."
He murmured to himself, tilting his head to look out the window at the night sky, where the three moons he had never seen before shone together. It was so beautiful, so mysterious, so intoxicating. Especially the silver moon among the three; whenever he gazed at it, his oppressive mood lightened a bit.
"Regardless, I can't wait any longer. Although I haven't encountered any danger yet, now that I've decided to live as a detective, I must have the means to protect myself. I need to understand just how complex this world is. Otherwise, I might end up like detective Spiro Hamilton."
With some money in his pocket, he set aside his thoughts of continuing other investigations and shifted his primary focus to engaging with the supernatural.
"The church, the psychologist, Mrs. Lassoia..."
He wasn't very optimistic about the last option. The coincidence of her appearance today with the investigations by the church and the police made him instinctively believe that she might not be a good person. He was somewhat intrigued by the first option; from what he had gathered, the True God churches in this world were relatively progressive.
But that was merely his understanding; he couldn't make plans based on such a simplistic notion. Furthermore, he wasn't a follower of any god, and as a vagrant, he had never visited a church. It was hard to say whether their progressiveness would extend to someone like him.
"Perhaps... I could investigate for a few more days. For now, I don't need to worry about starving; pawning some of my inheritance can sustain me for a long time. As long as any potential landlords don't show up, I have plenty of time to investigate. I'll surely find the most suitable option among these three."
With such thoughts, he fell asleep in the bedroom that belonged to the original Shade in his apartment, spending his first night in this new world.
In the haze of sleep, he seemed to hear the woman's laughter in his mind again. That laughter brought him an unexpected sense of comfort. That night, he had a wonderfully relaxing dream, sitting on the edge of a field, gazing at the silver moon on the horizon.
However, unexpected events often disrupt existing plans, and Shade's three-options plan was thrown into chaos the next morning.