Joint law enforcement by the media, police, military, and church.
The locals of this other world had never seen such a spectacle before, finding it utterly novel. Not only were the reporters bounding about the deck lugging their heavy cameras, but even the accompanying harbor garrison and the Hall of Order police officers who had arrived to provide backup could not help but whisper among themselves.
Was this private detective who had suddenly stepped forward truly as capable as he claimed? Could he actually uncover the item right on the spot?
Everyone's hearts were rife with doubt as their gazes tracked his every move. They watched him make several trips up and down between the cabins and the deck before finally coming to a halt on the deck with his hands clasped behind his back.
“As a Soul Severer of the crimson moon, I have a special sensitivity to holy memories,” Lynch whispered to Rick, who stood beside him to provide constant protection. “I can confirm that the item is indeed on this ship. But there’s a problem.”
“Hm?”
“Earlier, while outside, the feeling was rather faint, as if shielded or indoors. Even now, after entering the cabin, it remains hazy. However, I am certain the item is down below—likely at the bottom of the hold.”
“The bottom level is usually the cargo hold, which makes it ideal for hiding things.”
“Good. Then our first step is to head straight for the bottom of the hold.” Lynch cast a half-smile toward Jefferson and raised his voice. “Since Mr. Jefferson considers himself a legitimate merchant, you shouldn't have any objections, right?”
Click, clack. The pungent smell of gunpowder once again triggered a flurry of flashing flashbulbs.
Just listen to that: imperial spies, treasonous conspiracies, clashes between defenders and traitors, a smokeless war... Any single one of these was enough to keep readers glued to their newspapers. Strung together, it would undoubtedly make for a sensational, earth-shattering scoop! As for trivial matters like nobles in power suppressing media figures—cast them aside! They were here to capture real, explosive news.
In an instant, the journalists had already conjured up a whole series of dramatic storylines in their heads. Their eyes gleamed with excitement, longing for the spectacle to get even rowdier.
Jefferson, on the other hand, sneered and lifted his chin with arrogance, falling into step behind the priests. “Remember, this is merely a spot check. I shall be waiting for your public apology.”
“Haha, of course.” Lynch smiled faintly and extended a welcoming hand toward the stairs leading down to the lower cabins. “Friends from the press, please come along. Be sure to document everything that happens today in detail; otherwise, if there are discrepancies in your reports down the line, you will be held accountable.”
As they gradually descended below sea level, the clamor of the harbor faded away. Their surroundings grew dimmer and colder, illuminated solely by the faint glow of kerosene lamps.
The bottom level consisted of several large holds packed with crated cargo. Securely anchored to the decking, the crates formed towering stacks that turned the hold into a labyrinth.
“This is the bottom hold you wished to see. Please, gentlemen, inspect it at your leisure.”
Jefferson spread his arms toward the vast cargo hold with an air of absolute transparency, sneering as he spoke:
“I would love to see what you can actually dig up. And don't even think about grabbing any random item and claiming it to be your so-called gift; almost everything on this ship has a traceable origin. Go ahead and try to claim something that conveniently lacks clear provenance. Hehehe, I look forward to you doing just that—because when you do, it will add yet another crime to your rap sheet.”
Lynch, however, was no longer listening to Jefferson's excuses. With his eyes closed, he quietly perceived the sensory information reverberating through his surroundings. Deep within his consciousness, an intensely familiar sensation lingered right beside him.
It felt like a long-sought memory, or perhaps a missing piece of his very life, hovering around him and calling out gently.
Yet, through whatever method Jefferson had used, the sensation remained perpetually hazy, as if veiled behind thick fog that refused to let him see it clearly. This torturous itch of being so close yet unable to grasp it filled Lynch with immense discomfort, making his muscles twitch faintly.
“Search, then! Why have you stopped?” Jefferson urged with a sneer. “If you don't dare, get the hell off my ship, and then—”
Lynch snapped his eyes open and glared icily at Jefferson. Over the course of those few minutes, he had finally pinpointed a vague location from the hazy sensation.
“It should be further down. Is this already the lowest hold?”
“Yes.”
Rick nodded with a furrowed brow. The surrounding reporters clearly sensed that drama was unfolding, and the rapid pops of their flashbulbs surged dramatically. After hesitating for merely a couple of seconds, Knight Rick's eyes lit up, and he raised his voice:
“Wait, there’s still the watertight hold.”
“Hm?” Lynch arched an eyebrow at Jefferson.
“The watertight compartments are empty holds that are never opened! You lot must be going mad from desperation to check even there. Why don't you just demand to tear the whole ship apart for inspection?”
Jefferson crossed his arms over his chest, his face flooded with indignation as his voice grew considerably louder.
Observing Jefferson’s instinctive defensive posture, the corners of Lynch's lips curled upward. “'Never opened' does not mean 'cannot be opened.' Are you trying to stop us from going in, Mr. Jefferson?”
“Fine! Check wherever you please.”
Jefferson spat a venomous scoff and gestured for the sailors beside him to unseal the watertight hatch leading below. Utterly bewildered, the sailors could only follow orders with trepidation and swing open the heavy door.
The moment the hatch opened, a blast of foul, stale air rushed out, heavy with the pungent stench of fish. Darkness yawned within. As air circulated through the compartment, a low, whistling draft echoed out, as if some eerie presence were lurking in the shadows.
Rick gave a wave of his hand, and two black-robed knights immediately descended with raised kerosene lanterns. A moment later, a call drifted back up from below: “Clear.”
“Everyone, please follow along.”
Seeing that Rick had already taken the lead, Lynch nodded to the journalists and followed with ease.
The watertight tier was far lower than a normal cabin; at Lynch’s height, he had to hunch over and duck his head, unable to stand upright. Serving as the vessel's final line of defense against hull breaches from striking reefs, it was partitioned by thick timber into over a dozen sealed compartments.
This level was even more straightforward. With just over a dozen compartments, their structure clearly revealed no hidden sub-levels or secret hollows. Moreover, every single chamber was empty, fully visible from the doorway at a single glance.
The cameras were too bulky to carry down, but the reporters had all squeezed inside. Seeing the empty compartments, they stepped forward in haste, fearing they might miss a detail.
“There seems to be nothing here at all. Did they truly make a mistake?”
“I knew President Jefferson couldn't be a spy, let alone a traitor.”
“Don't jump to conclusions yet. That detective looks very professional, not like someone who acts without certainty. Let's wait and see.”
“Shh...”
As the reporters whispered among themselves, Jefferson's face twisted into a menacing grin under the lamplight. He looked smugly at Lynch and Rick. “Gentlemen, the watertight hold has been opened. Please, inspect to your heart's content. Don't hold back, hehehe.”
“Very well. I won't hold back then. Thank you.”
Lynch gave Jefferson an earnest nod, causing Jefferson's teeth to grind in frustration. Gesturing for two Black Night Knights to hold lanterns for him, Lynch strode straight past Jefferson toward the deeper sections.
Every chamber was utterly empty, but Lynch simply closed his eyes, using his sharp inspiration to sense the call of the red moon.
It was still that hazy sensation veiled by multiple barriers. Though the cause remained elusive, after circling a few times, Lynch came to a stop at the entrance of one particular compartment. Faint though it was, an intense feeling of intimacy emanated from within the room—just like the warmth and serenity of bathing in crimson moonlight before his transmigration.
It was definitely here.
Lynch snapped his eyes open, yet all that met his gaze was the cold, dark compartment, completely barren.
What was going on?
Lynch whipped his head around, only to see the unrestrained grin across Jefferson's face. The man looked as though victory was already in his grasp. “Please continue, hahaha! I can give you plenty of time to inspect this chamber! Fellow colleagues, figure out a way to haul the cameras down! It would be such a pity not to take a few photographs of such a rare, precious scene!”
“What is it?” Seeing Lynch remain silent amidst Jefferson’s mockery, Rick stepped closer and asked in a low voice.
“I can distinctly sense that the item is right here.” Lynch even extended his cane and waved it through the spot where the sensation was strongest, but struck nothing. Whispering under his breath, he continued, “It’s definitely not an illusion on my part, yet there's nothing physical here. I suspect someone used an ability or a mystery relic to deceive our eyes.”
“You’re saying someone created an illusion? Unlikely. An illusion must target a person to take effect, but I don't feel under any mental attack. Besides, an illusion wouldn't prevent you from physically touching something, and as you just proved, there is nothing there. If you’re still uneasy, wait a moment.”
With that, Rick wiped a hand across both of his eyes.
【Authority, Concealment, Ability, Revelation.】
“I'm not sure if my power is simply insufficient, but I don't detect any trace of an illusion for now. Are you certain you haven't misjudged?”
“Hahaha! Weren't you two gentlemen so confident just a moment ago? Why have you stopped moving?”
A misjudgment was impossible. The familiar, intimate sensation was far too distinct. His neighbor's memory was undoubtedly right here. But why couldn't he see it? Wait, of course! I have a similar ability myself—I wouldn't have even remembered if he hadn't reminded me.
If someone had truly used an ability to conceal the target without creating an illusion in their minds, they could only have manipulated the environment using mysterious power. If so, they would have inevitably left subtle traces of mysterious filth in the surroundings.
“Cover for me.”
Lynch lowered his voice even further, removed his glove, and pressed the bare skin of his palm directly against the compartment wall.
【Authority, Concealment, Ability, Mystery Intuition.】
The ability activated. The sensation of filth traveled directly from his palm into the depths of his soul. Gradually, Lynch perceived that in addition to the direction of the Red Moon Memories, another trail of mysterious filth extended upward, coiling across the ceiling above.
There's something hidden overhead, too. Whoever is pulling the strings from the shadows, let's see where you hide now.
Lynch looked back at the still-smug Jefferson, flashed a peculiar smile, and abruptly drew his gun like lightning, firing three consecutive shots toward the detected direction.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Rate on N.U.
