March 13, 1938Windsor Kingdom, London City
The cold grip of winter was loosening its hold on London City, but it didn't bring much warmth to the streets. People moved quickly, their faces pinched by the lingering effects of the Great Depression. The dark clouds of impending war hovered overhead, and the city's heart was heavy, its spirit subdued.
In the East End of London, on Bailick Street, stood Wayne Detective Agency.
It was a modest two-and-a-half-story building with a basement, situated on a street that could barely be considered prosperous in this struggling district. The landlord may have considered it a good location, but to Wayne, it was nothing more than a reminder of mounting debts.
The ground floor served as the office. Wayne sat behind his desk with a smile, staring at the man across from him. Two investigative reports sat in front of him.
"Dr. Lainer, I have good news and bad news about your two cases. Which would you like to hear first?"
"I've been unlucky lately, so let's start with the good news," Dr. Lainer replied with a weary shrug. His age had not been kind to him; the years had taken his full head of hair and left him with a patchy bald spot, a victim of time's cruel exchange.
As a doctor, he couldn't even grow a beard in protest.
"The good news is that the secondhand car you were interested in has been confirmed as an accident car. You can use this report to negotiate a better price."
Wayne handed over the first report. It was confirmed that the car had a forty-year-old "soul ring" attached—probably not the best choice for nighttime driving. The previous owner might have taken the wheel a little too aggressively.
"This isn't exactly good news. It was a gift for my kid. Now I have to find another one."
Dr. Lainer sighed, already regretting his decision, then added, "Alright, tell me the bad news, I think I can handle it."
"The bad news is that your wife does indeed have a lover..." Wayne began, only to be interrupted.
"Who is it? That idiotic dock worker or that miserable art school dropout?" Dr. Lainer's face twisted with a mix of frustration and disbelief.
"Well, to be precise, it's both."
"..."
Both? Dr. Lainer stared blankly, unable to process the news.
Seeing his confusion, Wayne patiently explained, "In the last week, your wife met with the dock worker three times and the dropout three times, each time meeting the dropout first before moving on to..."
"Alright, I get it, just let me see the report."
Dr. Lainer quickly snatched up the report, his hands trembling. The details in the report—locations, times, and even photographs—were so thorough that there was no room for doubt.
After a long moment, Dr. Lainer sighed. Surprisingly, he didn't explode with rage. Instead, he seemed to process the information with cold detachment.
"Wayne, your report is spot on. But there's one thing you got wrong."
"Which part?"
"This is the good news."
Wayne raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, you're right. More coffee?"
"Sure."
Dr. Lainer paid for the additional services, his frustration now turning into long-winded complaints about his marriage. But Wayne, having been paid, wasn't in the mood to listen. He cut Dr. Lainer off and shifted to business mode, promoting the detective agency's other services.
"Didn't we already investigate that?"
"We did, but this one's specifically for you," Wayne said, pulling out a third report from his desk drawer. It contained evidence of Dr. Lainer's affair with a nurse.
Dr. Lainer's face went pale. His hands shook as he picked up his coffee, trying to cover his unease, but the report was just as detailed as the last.
"Wayne, how could you do this to your client?"
"Don't worry, this report came from your wife. Honestly, she's much more generous with her fees than you are."
"Dammit, that's my money!" Dr. Lainer barked.
After a beat, he composed himself, his mind racing. "She hasn't seen this report yet, right?"
Wayne leaned back, his tone firm but professional. "Dr. Lainer, my ethics prevent me from disclosing such details."
Dr. Lainer, desperate, offered a deal. "Give me the report, and I'll double the fee."
Wayne raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Triple it!" Dr. Lainer persisted, raising his voice.
Wayne chuckled. "Alright, deal."
"Five times. Five times the amount. With that much, I could hire a hitman myself!"
"Done."
"Goddammit, you're a disgrace to the detective world!" Dr. Lainer grumbled, grabbing the report and storming out of the office, swearing to return for more investigations.
Despite his harsh words, Wayne knew the truth—Dr. Lainer was a man who valued results over principles. And Wayne delivered results.
After Dr. Lainer left, Wayne leaned back, counting the money. "Forgot to mention, Dr. Lainer, if your wife doesn't get what she wants from me, she'll probably go to someone else. Good luck with that."
With a smirk, Wayne got to work on the next case. The room slowly quieted, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, the city of London faded into night. The fog rolled in, blanketing the streets as Wayne prepared his dinner.
"Thanks, Lainer family," he muttered to himself. "Because of your perfect marriage, I won't be eating potatoes tomorrow."
Tomorrow was fine, but tonight... tonight was all about potatoes.
Potato cubes, fried potatoes, mashed potatoes... there were a few options, but it was all potatoes in the end.
Wayne stabbed his fork into a potato cube and glanced at the mirror across the room. The reflection showed a face with dark hair and eyes—his own, the result of an uncanny journey that had left him in a strange new world.
The last three months had been... a mess.