Leaving the house and stepping onto the main street, Shard Hamilton felt like he was truly entering this world. Compared to the bustle of the city, he was hardly noticeable, like a drop of water merging into the ocean.
He spoke little, simply walking towards his destination, the “Nightingale Club.” Along the way, he took in his surroundings, getting a feel for the world, the city, and everything around him.
In essence, this world was somewhat reminiscent of the steam revolution of the 19th-century Epoch from the past, only here, the steam industry had advanced even further and seemed poised to keep forging ahead without deviation.
As harmful black mist spewed from factory chimneys, strange and novel inventions were created, and the economy soared with the advancement in productivity.
Just as he had guessed, the city he currently found himself in was Tobesk, the capital of the Northland Kingdom of Delarion. It was the pearl of the northern continent, a focal point of human civilization, and the epitome of the Epoch.
A big city had to look like one. Despite the restrictions of the Epoch, as he left the main street and walked into alleys filled with inevitable heaps of excrement and garbage, the city’s grand appearance still left an impression on him within the brief hour-long journey.
Thankfully, the “Nightingale Club” wasn’t far from the city center. If he had to cross the entire city, he probably wouldn’t reach his destination even by midnight. The key issue was that Shard had no money to ride a carriage.
On his walk, he also gathered more information about this world from an observer’s perspective. The most important piece of information he learned was the monetary system. At least in this country, the common currency consisted of pounds, shillings, and pence. One pound equaled 20 shillings, and one shilling equaled 12 pence.
Of course, this nomenclature was very similar to British currency. It wasn’t a coincidence but rather Shard translating the names of three different currencies from a foreign language into familiar terms since the value conversion method was very close.
Unfortunately, the “10” marked bill Shard found was valued at 10 pence. With the current purchasing power, that wasn’t even enough for a carriage ride from his doorstep to the club’s entrance.
However, if he scrimped and saved, he could use the 10 pence to compete with children and housewives in the slum for the cheapest bread crumbs at the bakery that closed later in the evening. This would at least ensure he wouldn’t starve for three days.
“At least it’s a peaceful Epoch right now. Our country, the Delarion Kingdom, is one of the largest human kingdoms. There’s some local friction with the other powerful southern joint kingdom, Carson Rick, but relatively speaking, this is an Epoch of peace and development, and progress is pretty good.”
Shard was good at consoling himself.
This world was temporarily at peace. The Delarion Kingdom in the northern part of the Old Continent and the southern Carson Rick Union had nearly divided the world between them. Although full-scale warfare ended decades ago, and there were still undercurrents, it at least signified peace.
The club culture seemed special to this Epoch. From the investigation report, Shard learned that Lady Lassoia, the mistress under investigation, visited the “Nightingale Club” every weekend and spent at least three hours there.
The Hamilton detective’s report speculated that this was the rendezvous spot for Lady Lassoia and Mr. Lawrence. Every time she appeared at the club, Mr. Lawrence would also enter.
This was a private club requiring membership. Lacking entry permission, Shard walked to Valente Walk Street after turning in from the intersection and, following the instructions in the investigation report, stopped at the newspaper office opposite the club to observe.
It was the “Tobesk City Evening News” office, reportedly part-owned by the royal family. Saturday was the busiest time for the newspaper office, as it was the day for the king’s customary speech and parliamentary report.
A crowd would gather at the newspaper office entrance, awaiting the latest news. The dedicated reporters had, of course, left early, leaving the hopeful ones waiting at the office.
Shard’s plan was to blend in with the crowd. Although it was midday, Lady Lassoia usually didn’t appear at the club in the morning. If he was lucky, he would soon spot the target.
As long as he recorded the lady’s arrival and departure times, the report would be complete.
Completing this task so effortlessly gave Shard a sense of unreality. But considering Hamilton had nearly completed everything, this was also part of the deceased man’s “legacy.”
With the pocket watch he inherited from Mr. Hamilton in hand, Shard stood by the mailbox at the newspaper office entrance, pretending to wait for someone while observing the surroundings. He finally spotted his target, immediately comparing her with the black-and-white photo in his report and confirming that it was indeed 1:23 PM when she appeared.
The lady was dressed fashionably, with her lace-trimmed skirt and jeweled hair accessories clearly indicating high costs. She arrived by carriage directly at the club entrance. Despite the overcast weather, she still held a fabric umbrella.
She appeared to be around thirty years old, of average height but well-proportioned. Although her face was heavily powdered, she still appeared to be a beauty.
Fearing detection and knowing he had no experience in tailing people, Shard immediately averted his gaze after confirming his target.
[Observe her ring.]
“What?”
The woman’s murmuring voice reappeared in his mind. Although unsure of what she was, Shard turned his gaze back to Lady Lassoia.
The club’s doorman had already greeted her, and as she turned, Shard clearly saw the ring. Oddly enough, the ring was set with what looked like a small pebble rather than a gemstone or diamond.
Of course, since he was observing from across the street, with pedestrians occasionally obscuring his view, he wasn’t entirely sure if he saw correctly. Lady Lassoia quickly entered the club, not giving Shard another chance to observe.
“What do you mean? Why did you want me to notice that ring?”
He asked the voice in his mind again, but the murmuring didn’t respond to his inquiry, leaving him frustrated. He knew he had to control his emotions; he wasn’t the type to get angry easily.
“Sir, do you know what time it is now?”
As he was lost in thought, someone suddenly spoke beside him. Startled, he thought his conspicuous behavior at the mailbox, staring at the club entrance, had drawn too much attention. But then he realized someone was merely asking for the time.
“Sorry, I forgot to bring my pocket watch.”
The one explaining his abrupt inquiry was a middle-aged gentleman around forty, who appeared quite elegant and friendly. He wore a black silk hat and an outfit as if he was attending a banquet, complete with a white shirt. His face was broad, with a well-groomed goatee on his chin and very agreeable blue eyes.
The gentleman smiled at Shard. After a moment’s hesitation, Shard took out the pocket watch he had just put in his right coat pocket.
“1:30 PM.”
He said, curious about why this middle-aged man was present. His attire certainly didn’t look like someone waiting for news, whereas Shard’s notebook-carrying outfit did.
As if reading Shard’s thoughts, the man smiled and said:
“Thank you for the time. I have an appointment with the editor-in-chief of the newspaper. Without my watch, I thought I might be late, but it seems I’m on time.”
With that, he handed Shard a business card, which Shard accepted politely while offering his. Actually, it was the deceased Mr. Hamilton’s business card, listing his address and services as a detective with just the name “Hamilton Detective” and no first name.
Since Shard chose “Hamilton” as his last name, he could use these cards. He was glad there was no registration system here, so he didn’t even need fake identification documents.
The middle-aged man introduced himself as Bill Schneider, running a private psychological clinic. Unlike Shard’s yet-to-be-established career, Schneider’s clinic seemed quite reputable. And the income from the clinic was evidently much higher than Shard’s, who relied on inheritance for his first investigation. The proof was that Shard’s business card looked rather poor compared to the more high-quality, well-printed doctor’s card.
“If you need anything, you can find me here.”
Mr. Schneider said kindly, pointing to the address on his card, which was in the eastern district of Tobesk:
“My services cover a wide range.”
He looked at Shard, who, inexplicably, felt a chilling sensation as if those blue eyes could see through him.
“Including schizophrenia.”
The psychiatrist said kindly, demonstrating his ease in communicating with strangers.
“What?”
Shard’s heart skipped a beat, but before he could ask, Bill Schneider swiftly changed the topic:
“By the way, Detective, have you considered adult education? Correspondence courses?”
“Correspondence adult education?”
The topic switch was too quick for Shard to follow:
“I don’t plan to study psychology at the moment.”
He mistakenly took Dr. Schneider for an enthusiastic graduate from some psychology school.
After Shard declined, the doctor didn’t press:
“Well then, goodbye.”
The doctor nodded at the detective, pocketing Shard’s business card before turning to walk toward the newspaper office courtyard.
“Speaking of correspondence courses, what did Dr. Schneider mean by specifically mentioning schizophrenia?”
Shard pondered silently, then realized that the voice in his head seemed very much like what was called “schizophrenia.”
“You don’t have to laugh in my head. I admit your laugh is lovely and charming. You definitely aren’t a result of my schizophrenia.”
Shard told the voice in his head.
While he was sure his situation involved encountering the supernatural and was definitely not schizophrenia, he was uncertain about what the psychologist had noticed.
“I’ve just stepped out and already met someone possibly involved with extraordinary powers. Bad luck? Or is this world more densely populated with the extraordinary than I imagined? Or perhaps, the psychologist just casually mentioned it, and I’m overthinking?”
Shard thought, carefully storing Dr. Schneider’s card. Regardless, the current commission was most important. Knowing the psychologist’s address, he could visit anytime.
At least from their brief interaction, Dr. Schneider seemed friendly. However, brief encounters couldn’t reveal true intentions. Shard wanted to understand the world better before engaging deeply with people.
