Chapter 1 | The Crimson Moon Returns

Lynch set two modest goals for himself.

First, uncover his true cause of death.

Second, get down from the noose currently looped around his neck.

The second took priority.

He was currently kneeling upright on the floor with a white candle burning before him, a rope tied around his neck and secured above.

The previous Lynch had proven that this posture genuinely could hang a person.

Fortunately, a fleeting moment of clarity had returned during the transition of souls, allowing him to clutch his agonizingly sore neck and push himself upright.

Touching the deep ligature mark, Lynch felt momentarily dazed.

All he remembered was that after dying on Earth, he had floated in a crimson mist, accompanied only by a red moon hanging high in the sky.

It felt as though he had drifted for a long, long time—long enough for time itself to lose all meaning.

Then, suddenly, he awoke in this body.

A stream of memories surfaced out of thin air.

Lynch Levive.

Living in an era when the steam engine was just beginning to enter the public sphere.

A down-and-out private investigator in Rhine City, Kingdom of Lande, Middle Earth.

It seemed similar to the Victorian era of his homeland, yet countless indescribable unknowns seemed ever-lurking in the dark, spreading the bizarre and the mysterious into reality.

As for what the bizarre and the mysterious truly were, Lynch had previously struggled to grasp it.

Now, however, he understood.

According to his memories, he had accepted a commission to help someone obtain a strange statue.

After securing the target item, the previous owner of this body had eaten a feast at the best restaurant in the area, ordered a bottle of fine wine to enjoy tomorrow, cheerfully greeted every neighbor on the way back, and happily returned home.

And then, in a deeply ritualistic posture, he had hanged himself from the gas pipe.

Huh?

What was the reason?

No matter how he combed through his memories, he couldn't find one. It was as if hanging himself had simply been the natural thing to do.

It made zero sense.

A chill ran through Lynch's chest. He knew he had to figure out what had happened to his body.

Otherwise, if it happened again, his hard-won second chance at life would be over.

Groping along the wall based on memory, he flipped the wall switch.

The hiss of rushing gas rumbled through the wall, and dim yellow light soon filled the room.

The yellowing walls bore no decorations, and the old floorboards were black and shiny. In the outer room sat a chipped wooden desk and a faded cloth sofa; the inner room held a flimsy little single bed. The entire apartment gave off a faint odor of decaying wood.

Several flaking gas pipes snaked along the walls, the gas nozzles at their ends spouting orange flames that cast their light through grime-stained glass globes, adding a touch of warmth to the dreary space.

So it really was the age of gas lamps—eighteenth century at best.

Is this my new home? Four bare walls.

Letting out a soft sigh, Lynch hurried to the desk in the outer room, where a red moon pendant lay.

It was a necklace he had worn since childhood, taken off just before the suicide.

Habitually putting the pendant back on, Lynch felt considerably more grounded. Only then did he slide open the drawer.

The item he had acquired that afternoon should be right—hiss.

A wave of cold air surged up his spine.

The statue that was supposed to be inside was gone.

The statue was the size of a palm; nothing could have concealed it.

Lynch frantically searched inside and out, but found nothing.

What happened?

He clearly remembered the statue being there before the hanging. How could it have vanished in just a few minutes?

Did someone come in? Or did the statue walk off on its own?

Lynch felt his throat go dry. He quickly inspected the doors and windows; everything remained tightly shut.

Bizarre. Was this the thing that had caused him to inexplicably hang himself?

I was just an ordinary otaku who died on Earth. Am I supposed to face something this terrifying with zero preparation?

Could this thing be what this world calls the bizarre and the mysterious?

The ligature mark on his neck told him unequivocally that death was no joke. In an instant, Lynch's mind was in turmoil.

【Yes, Awakened, that is mystery.】

A gentle female voice suddenly chimed beside Lynch's ear.

It came so out of nowhere that Lynch reflexively grabbed the pen on the desk. He didn't make any sudden movements, though, merely holding his breath and tensing his muscles as he stood rooted to the spot.

Yet he immediately realized that what he had heard was not a real sound at all.

The so-called voice had arisen directly within his consciousness.

Gentle, soothing, like a sweet serenade.

It didn't belong to any language Lynch knew, either—not even the five languages this new body had previously mastered.

Rather than a language, it was more like a pure vocalization directly conveying a specific will. His brain simply lacked the capacity to comprehend such a phenomenon, misinterpreting it as “language.”

And merely the process of “attempting to understand” sent sharp throbs of pain radiating through his head, as if his skull were about to burst, forcing him to instantly drop any further contemplation.

“System?”

【You may understand it as such, Awakened.】

“So you aren't one. What on earth are you?”

His mind was silent; a long pause followed.

Fine, don't tell me. Lynch considered himself an ordinary shut-in, well-versed in games, movies, novels, and anime. Adapting to reality at top speed, he pressed, “Why are you in my head?”

【I shall accompany you, witnessing your journey of awakening in this extraordinary world steeped in the bizarre and mysterious.】

“An onlooker? Then what can you actually do for me?”

【I will guide you to uncover the mysteries along your journey, understand their characteristics, and gaze into their true essence. That is what I can do for you—at least for now.】

“So you're a tour guide. Mystery tips plus information appraisal, right? Just the initial stage, anyway. Sounds pretty risky... whatever, better than nothing. In an unfamiliar world, at least I have some company.”

For some reason, Lynch's scattered thoughts suddenly calmed. It wasn't the relief of having a trump card, but felt more like second nature. With sparked curiosity, he thought:

“You've said all that, but what actually is mystery?”

【Beyond reality lies the Dreamlands, the manifestation of tens of thousands of years of memories from living beings. The tainted memories of the Dreamlands seep into reality, giving rise to mystery. Mystery is an echo from yesterday.】

“So that statue I touched is... hm?”

Bang!

A tremendous crash came from the outer door.

The door was kicked wide open, and a dark figure burst into the room.

In a fraction of a second, Lynch's world flipped upside down.

He was lifted off his feet and slammed face-down onto the floor.

A voice barked in his ear:

“Lynch Levive, you are under arrest for illegal possession of dangerous items.”

His arms were pinned behind his back, his body held firmly to the floorboards. The person pinning him wielded monstrous strength, making even a twitch feel like wishful thinking. Lynch's mind went completely blank. Before he could recover from the shock, the voice snapped again:

“If you want to live, hand over the statue right now! Otherwise, I guarantee you won't last five hours before dying in the most horrific way imaginable.”

Huh?

Sounds like a cop. And clearly someone who knows what's going on. Her actions were brutal, but her words carried obvious goodwill. Probably best not to struggle... but five hours?

Was she bluffing?

Having just survived that bizarre hanging suicide, Lynch didn't dare dismiss it as a mere scare tactic.

Within three seconds, Lynch made his decision: get on her good side first. At least she could shed light on his predicament.

Having never suffered from social anxiety in his past life, Lynch naturally asked in the language of this body:

“If I already died within those five hours, will I come back to life just to die again?”

“As long as you haven't died conceptually, death will not stop... wait, what are you talking about? Hiss...”

Lynch deliberately craned his neck, exposing half of his throat to her sight.

The deep ligature mark was horrifyingly clear.

“It's already begun?”

She quickly surveyed the room, her eyes lingering for a moment on the rope and the candle before releasing her grip on Lynch.

“You. Get up and talk.”

As she spoke, she extended a sheathed sword toward him, gesturing for him to grab it and stand.

That was the reaction he was angling for. Shifting from a criminal suspect to a victim-suspect made things much easier.

Lynch breathed a sigh of relief. As he grasped the sword to pull himself up, his eyes locked onto the weapon.

Having never had the chance to closely inspect such a lethal weapon in his past life, Lynch felt a flutter of unease and couldn't help lingering on it.

The moment his concentration focused on the sword, a bizarre image flashed before his eyes.

A solitary figure in a trench coat and top hat held this weapon, fighting desperately to hack through an endless horde of grotesque beasts.

【Mystery relic, Judgment of Vigen. The weapon used by Chief Judge Vigen to execute evil, until he mistakenly harmed an innocent.】

The vision vanished. The gentle female voice surfaced abruptly, causing Lynch to instinctively glance at the intruder. Seeing that she showed no reaction, he took his time climbing to his feet, brushed the dust off his clothes, and mentally asked, “Can you be more specific? And what is a mystery relic?”

【Mystery relics are the item category of mystery, possessing special functions. Some can be used, but living beings consider them exceedingly dangerous—and particularly lethal to ordinary mortals. By maintaining contact with the relic itself and paying an adequate price, one can hear deeper memories.】

It was a peculiar sensation, like someone whispering in his ear while he drifted between sleep and wakefulness. Faint and gentle, it lured one in effortlessly, leaving behind a lingering craving.

Whatever, I'll just treat it as a system for now.

Lynch pulled his attention back from his consciousness and truly took in the intruder for the first time.

She was a woman dressed in menswear—a blue trench coat and formal suit, a top hat on her head and a sword in hand.

Tall with long legs and wavy chestnut hair, she was quite attractive, though her sharp, angular features gave her a rather fierce demeanor.

Carrying a mystery relic and wielding such terrifying strength, she might well be an extraordinary figure herself.

【Yes. Soul Severer: humans who gain supernatural power through soul alienation.】

Lynch realized he was already growing used to the voice chiming in his head. Without letting it distract him, he looked squarely at the woman before him. Hating the feeling of being kept in the dark, he took the initiative:

“I won't deny that I obtained a statue, and I'm willing to cooperate. But I need to know what's actually going on, what that statue really is, and why I only have five hours left.”

“At least you aren't playing dumb.”

Her expression softened slightly, though she still sounded impatient:

“To ordinary folks like you, that's knowledge beyond common sense. You don't need to know.”

“At least let me die knowing the truth. This is my life. I don't want to spend my final five hours in the dark.”

“That's your problem, not mine.”

“Whether I cooperate or not is also my choice. Does that have nothing to do with you, either?”

The woman opened her mouth, caught off guard and rendered momentarily speechless.

Meanwhile, Lynch had already retrieved a notebook from the desk drawer and sat down on the sofa.

“You're wasting what little time you have left. Besides, the more you know, the faster you die. But since you insist...”

Unable to counter him, she simply sat down across from him on the sofa and said with a stern face:

“Lynch Levive, born December 17, Year 1378 of the Fifth Age. Twenty years old. Graduated from Rhine City Royal Secondary Vocational School, having studied natural history and archaeology. Became a private detective searching for collectibles after graduating. That is you, correct?”

Lynch nodded.

“We received reliable intel that you obtained a...”

“We?”

“I am from the Watchers in the Wheatfield, a mystery hunter organization under the Land Court. I am Officer Natalie Angel...”

“Wait. I have to say this upfront: that statue is already gone.”

Officer Natalie's expression darkened.

“It sounds like an excuse, but it's the truth.”

“I don't doubt you. Relics often go missing during incidents, though disappearing before you're even dead is somewhat unusual. A disappearance is the worst-case scenario; it will make resolving this exceedingly difficult.”

“What exactly is the issue? And what's this about five hours? If I have to die, I'd rather die with my eyes wide open.”

“For certain reasons, you have formed a connection with a dangerous item. As far as we know, seven people have been drawn into this incident so far. Every single one of them died within eight hours of establishing the connection.”