Because he was sleeping in an unfamiliar place, Shard woke up early the next morning. Touching the pocket watch by his bed, he saw it was 6:30. He thought about checking downstairs to see if any newspapers had been delivered, knowing that people in Tobesque City generally had a habit of subscribing to newspapers.
The former detective, by all means, could be considered middle class, and his job also required him to read newspapers to stay informed about the news. Thus, it was quite possible that the current Shard might inherit the newspapers in the future.
Wearing slippers, he went down to the first-floor hallway, curiously glancing at the sealed-off first floor. He thought that if he had time, he could remove one of the wooden boards to see what was inside.
He turned on the gas lamp in the hallway, but unfortunately, there was no newspaper on the doormat that had been slipped through the mail slot.
Feeling somewhat disappointed, he shook his head and thought of changing clothes before going out for breakfast. But just as his slippers touched the first step of the stairs, he heard the sound of a bell.
Outside this apartment building’s door, there was a door rope. When pulled, the rope would activate a gear mechanism inside, ringing a bell located within, acting as a simple doorbell.
“Is it the newspaper delivery? No, why would the newspaper boy ring the bell? Could it be time to pay for next month’s newspaper subscription?”
Shard thought with some anxiety, calculating the money he had left. Uneasily, he turned to look at the door. Whoever it was, it was unlikely he knew them, and the chances of it being a bill collector were slim; it was probably someone looking for the previous tenant.
“Maybe it’s a new client?”
In a worse scenario, it might be the landlord coming to collect rent.
The door did not have a peephole, so Shard could only stand in front of it, using the language knowledge he had acquired yesterday to ask:
“Who is it?”
He immediately received a reply from outside, a familiar voice:
“Is this Hamilton Detective Agency? I’m Bill Schneider. Do you remember me? The psychologist from yesterday. We exchanged business cards in front of the newspaper office opposite the Nightingale Club.”
In this fog-shrouded morning, one of the few people Shard knew in this world had come to visit him.
Unexpectedly, it was Dr. Schneider at the door. Shard stood behind the door, unsure whether to open it. His momentary hesitation allowed the psychologist outside to recognize the detective’s caution:
“Mr. Hamilton, you don’t need to worry. Although it’s strange to visit at this hour, I mean no harm. Time is short, so please take a look at this first.”
The man outside spoke as he slipped a piece of paper through the newspaper slot.
“Do you remember what I said yesterday? Adult education, correspondence courses. Detective, you have a very unique talent.”
Shard bent to pick up the paper, then raised his hand to slightly brighten the gas lamp in the hallway. With the improved lighting, he saw that it was a recruitment brochure.
“Hmm?”
He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him or if he was still half-asleep.
The paper in his hand, about the size of an A4 sheet, had silver borders outlining the shape of a parchment scroll. It was a recruitment flyer for “St. Byrons Comprehensive Academy”, a higher education institution. Apart from the “locked book” shaped school emblem at the top, there weren’t many illustrations; the printed text occupied most of the paper.
St. Byrons Comprehensive Academy was not recruiting ordinary students; they were recruiting adult students for their correspondence courses.
Besides this, the paper also listed the academy’s ten departments, tuition fees, enrollment times, academic years, admission requirements, and restrictions, as well as the recommendation-based application process. At least from these aspects, this seemed to be an ordinary school.
“But why is there no school address?”
Shard asked after a long while, surprised that he hadn’t questioned the other person’s mental state since it seemed normal for him to bring recruitment materials to a stranger early in the morning.
“Your observation is sharp.”
Dr. Schneider outside the door praised, then asked:
“Shall we discuss this inside? Perhaps I can answer your questions, especially about that other ‘you’ in your mind.”
The voice in his head did not appear just because it was mentioned. Shard opened his mouth but then decided to open the door anyway.
The middle-aged doctor, carrying a briefcase, wore a brown coat and a small silk hat, standing on the steps with thick black boots. His refined little mustache and blue eyes made him seem quite amiable:
“Don’t forget your milk.”
He pointed to the milk box on the left side of the door, his accent suggesting he was a local of Tobesque City:
“The milkman had just left when I arrived.”
“Alright, please come in.”
Shard hesitated but then nodded, scrutinized the doctor, and tried to show a friendly expression. He grabbed the keys from the shoe cabinet to unlock the milk box. Only after retrieving the milk bottle did the psychologist follow him into the apartment.
The doctor was also surprised to see the sealed-off part of the first floor but said nothing. Together, they went up to the second floor, room 1.
Asking the doctor to wait momentarily, Shard returned to his bedroom to change clothes. He then boiled some hot water to prepare tea for his guest. Although the kitchen had no food, at least he had tea for detective cases; otherwise, Shard would have had to serve plain hot water.
With everything ready, they sat down to talk.
The fabric sofa set in the living room had a vintage feel, possibly an antique. Two long and two short sofas surrounded a wooden coffee table in a conducive setting for discussing business with clients.
The doctor and Shard each sat on one of the long sofas facing each other.
“No need for introductions; first, I need you to trust me.”
Dr. Schneider with the little mustache began, thanking Shard for the tea:
“This visit is indeed for the academy recruitment brochure I gave you. Let me first describe your current symptoms—”
“Wait, are the symptoms related to the academy?”
Shard interrupted, already having some guesses. As someone not native to this place and having experienced those insane fantasies, he adapted more easily to such things. The mentioned “St. Byrons Comprehensive Academy” seemed similar to a school like Hogwarts.
“Yes, they are related. Please listen. Mr. Shard Hamilton, can you hear another voice in your head?”
Though Shard tried to control his expression, he saw he had failed from Dr. Schneider’s amused look.
The doctor continued:
“Does that voice say strange things? And some of the words are helpful to you? Does it whisper in your ear, speaking unexpectedly, yet without malice?”
Knowing he couldn’t hide it, Shard nodded.
“And Detective, your symptoms must have appeared within the last 72 hours.”
“To be precise, 24 hours.”
Shard replied.
“Even better, that gives us more time. The talent awakening lasts for 72 hours, so I have more time to explain things.”
Dr. Schneider smiled:
“The above symptoms resemble schizophrenia but are actually not so in my eyes.”
He pointed to himself with his blue eyes looking at Shard, his speech very slow:
“For specific individuals, the presence of ‘another self’ is a unique and dangerous talent. No, it’s more of an initial display of talent. If properly guided, you’ll see a more real world—a mysterious, dangerous world. If not guided properly—”
“Revert to the mundane?”
“No, worse.”
The doctor shook his head:
“I don’t want to deceive you, not at this moment. Clearly speaking, this shows signs of a ‘Ringwarlock’ talent—a rare one at that. Whether you see it as a gift or a curse from fate, it’s up to you. As for ‘Ringwarlock,’ consider it a special profession, one capable of wielding mysterious powers. I hope you understand.”
The doctor keenly observed Shard’s expressions. This age was still an ignorant one, where people who believed in the true deity generally did not accept concepts like “witchcraft.” Fortunately, as the doctor’s investigations showed, the detective opposite had been mentally ill a few days ago and only became normal due to talent awakening, which made his perspective different from regular citizens.
Conversely, Shard, having his suspicions confirmed, hesitated but nodded. He tried to fake surprise because that was what normal people would show, but inside, he felt a peaceful calm—perhaps because of yesterday’s overwhelming pressure:
“So, hearing unusual voices is just a manifestation of a power system? Many people experience this? Like how some people see farther or hear more?”
Shard asked.
“Yes, ‘I am you, and you are me.’ Every Ringwarlock is like this. If you successfully become one, this voice will accompany and assist you throughout your life. That voice is another you; you just see things differently. It will help you engage in this crazy, noisy world in a more real manner, encountering secrets and bizarre happenings. Knowledge, information, and even words possess dangerous power, and beyond the safety of the ordinary world, we must not overly expose our souls to forces that can distort us.”
The doctor paused, allowing Shard to think:
“But the awakening of Ringwarlock talent is very short-lived. From the first hearing of the whispers to the voice’s complete disappearance usually happens within 72 hours. Not every talent bearer frequently hears the voice and realizes it is not their own thoughts. They often consider it hallucinations or ear problems.
So, Detective Shard Hamilton, whether for the three major academies or the church, recruiting and nurturing new personnel is very challenging. Hence, I said we are fortunate.”
