By the time Lynch finally emerged from that web of alleys, it was already past five in the evening.
He had gotten lost inside, wandering in circles for over an hour.
Along the way, he had run into several residents of the alleys, but after eyeing him up and down, they had simply turned and walked away without uttering a single word. Only after happening upon an old lady who took a liking to him was he finally guided out of the labyrinth.
Lynch had also taken the opportunity to ask the old lady about the children from earlier.
They were all local kids from King District who ran wild from a young age, occasionally mugging outsiders.
In the past, they had caused several major incidents, frequently prompting police intervention, and a few children had even been sent to prison. But in recent years, for reasons unknown, the children had wised up. They specifically targeted passing gentlemen and never stole too much—at most a single pound, leaving the rest for their victims.
Consequently, the victims usually couldn't be bothered to lower themselves to the level of a bunch of little rascals. So even though the frequency of their robberies had actually increased, it rarely provoked any police action anymore. Even if the police were called, the kids were merely given a stern scolding.
Habitual offenders indeed, though at least they knew how to exercise restraint and avoided heinous crimes.
In that case, if the opportunity arose, he should probably return the ring to the child.
Lynch frowned as he looked at the ring he had picked up.
In his mind, the Witness had clearly concluded that the ring was not a mystery relic.
More precisely, the ring was not any kind of mystery at all, but rather ordinary matter of the physical world.
However, it was contaminated with mysterious filth, which could only have adhered to it through contact with mystery.
And fairly recently, at that.
In the original host's memories, mystery was an exceedingly rare phenomenon; he hadn't encountered it once in twenty years of life.
How had he transmigrated for less than twenty-four hours and already run into another incident?
Was the original host merely unlucky, or was his own luck just a little too "good"?
Forget it. No point pondering questions with no answers. Lynch merely sighed. Who knew what that child had encountered for the ring to be tainted by mysterious filth? Hopefully, it wasn't anything serious.
Still, since she wore the ring around her neck, it was likely something she cherished. Leaving it where it fell risked someone else pocketing it. Better to keep it for now. If he actually ended up renting a place around here, he might run into her again and return it.
To distinguish it from his fire-starting ring, Lynch tied the broken cord together and slipped it around his wrist for the time being. Only then did he look up to survey his surroundings.
This was the most bustling area in King District—Charles Square on Villa Avenue.
It had once been Rhine City's most prosperous district, but with the march of time, it had been left behind by the world. Only the area around Charles Square still retained the old city's final shred of glory.
Most pedestrians wore simple garments of coarse linen or rough cloth, with the proportion of people dressed in formal attire far lower than at the Grand Cross District station square he had just passed.
Yet the square was just as bustling and lively.
Peddlers hawked their wares with all their might, shops displayed their most eye-catching samples, housewives with baskets tucked under their arms picked and chose disdainfully along the curbs, and ragged children with runny noses ran wild everywhere. The aroma of food mingled with the sour stench of rotting garbage, washing over him in waves.
Further out lay the weathered residential buildings, their exteriors crawling with retrofitted pipes. Added steam engine rooms were crammed against the flanks of buildings, chugging out billows of mixed black and white smoke, while the cacophony of daily life drifted from open windows, filling the entire world with clamor.
This place... actually wasn't bad.
Lynch took an instant liking to this square steeped in the hustle and bustle of everyday life; for some inexplicable reason, it gave him a distinct taste of home.
Lynch had no desire to return home—he had already died back there, after all, and living in this world suited him fine—yet that didn't stop him from missing the feeling of home.
Inhaling a deep breath of the fragrant yet foul air, he sidestepped a few housewives dragging children along and walked up to a four-story detached townhouse.
221 Villa Avenue.
Compared to the surrounding old buildings, this one was noticeably newer, devoid of ugly retrofitted pipes on its exterior walls. It had likely been built later, which satisfied Lynch even more.
Stepping onto the porch, he pulled the bell cord. Before long, someone opened the door.
A woman dressed in loose loungewear, her head wrapped securely in a scarf, two layers of veil covering her face, and dust clinging to her clothes. Clutching a broom in hand, she was clearly in the middle of cleaning the house.
“Good afternoon—no, good evening, ma'am,” Lynch said, tipping his hat and bowing slightly out of the original host's habit. “Forgive the intrusion. I heard you have rooms for rent here and was hoping to learn more about them.”
“Ah, indeed I do! Did you see the advertisement? That was fast; I only just mailed the letter to the newspaper office yesterday.”
Judging by her voice, the woman wasn't old, and her tone was quite pleasant. Strangely, Lynch found it somewhat familiar, as though he had heard it somewhere before. But considering he had transmigrated just yesterday, he figured the body's previous owner must have heard it.
“The previous tenant was kicked... moved out over ten days ago. I was just hoping to find a new tenant as soon as possible, and here you are! Please, come on in.”
He seemed to have caught an unwelcoming slip of the tongue, but before Lynch could second-guess himself, the woman had already joyfully ushered him inside and begun showing him around the house.
The rooms were swept clean, the furnishings cozy, and the air refreshingly crisp. Not only was it devoid of the musty odor of old houses, but it also carried a faint, elegant fragrance.
The ground floor housed a shared kitchen and dining room, which was also where the landlady lived.
The second and third floors upstairs were available for rent, though both happened to be vacant at the moment. The top floor was sealed off by a door, securely locked and not for rent. The landlady offered no explanation, and Lynch didn't pry.
The layouts of the second and third floors were identical: reaching the landing revealed a bedroom and a small sitting room, with the door leading to the washroom located inside the sitting room.
All the furniture was fully provided.
The sitting room in particular came furnished with a desk, bookshelves, and a sofa and tea table for receiving guests—it could practically serve as an agency right away. Better yet, a large fireplace was set into the wall, immediately conjuring visions of winter nights spent warming oneself by the hearth with a drink in hand.
Though firewood was apparently quite expensive, so that would have to wait.
Lynch fell in love with the place at first glance, feeling it was exceptionally well-suited to serve as his agency's base of operations. Not that he had any prior experience, but it bore a striking resemblance to the agency in a detective drama he used to watch.
Moreover, even though it was in the old city, the surrounding area was bustling enough that clients wouldn't have trouble finding it, and daily life would be convenient. On top of that, the landlady seemed gentle and quiet; every condition satisfied him completely.
Pushing open the sitting room window, he was met with a clear view of Charles Square's street scene below. Lynch nodded in approval.
“Ma'am, I'm very satisfied with this room. How much is the rent?”
Lynch asked as he lowered his hand from closing the window. Turning back, he found the landlady staring blankly at his raised hand. Only after he repeated his question did she snap out of it.
“Apologies, I was distracted by another matter,” the landlady said warmly. “The rent is negotiable. Let me take you down to see the kitchen and dining room first. I happen to have brewed some coffee—please, do have a taste and tell me what you think.”
This accommodating? Could he even negotiate for free rent, then?
Lynch only dared think such a thought to himself as he followed the landlady downstairs.
The kitchen and dining room formed an open layout, equally spotless and bright, with an aluminum coffee pot on the gas stove still steaming.
“As stated in the newspaper advertisement, there are two rental options. If it's just the room alone, it's two pounds and ten shillings a month. If it includes three meals a day—eating whatever we eat—the rent is only two pounds, plus one pound and ten shillings a month for meal expenses.”
“‘We’?”
“Oh, I mean me, not we.”
The landlady chuckled beneath her veil as she poured Lynch a cup of coffee.
Taking a sip, it was rich, mellow, and robust. It seemed she was quite skilled, meaning her cooking was likely something to look forward to as well. A pound and a half a month for food was a bit steep, but having someone prepare all three meals so he didn't have to lift a finger—coupled with such promising culinary skill and offset by the dirt-cheap rent—made it quite a bargain overall.
After weighing his options back and forth, Lynch set down his coffee cup and prepared to speak, only to realize the landlady had taken off her veil and stepped up to him, hands tucked behind her back.
A woman in her thirties, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, as plump and lush as a ripe peach—so sweet it made one crave a bite. Lynch's breath caught for half a beat.
Before he could give it further thought, Lynch realized the landlady had drawn exceptionally close, so close he could smell the faint scent of her sweat. It wasn't unpleasant at all; in fact, it only served to stimulate... Wait, what kind of development was this? Something was terribly wrong with this picture.
“Ma'am, you...”
Realizing something was definitely amiss, Lynch licked his dry lips and opened his mouth to speak, only for the landlady's hands behind her back to suddenly whip forward.
A pitch-black frying pan came hurtling down toward his temple.
Holy crap, I'm not Big Bad Wolf!
Lynch's overheated brain cooled down in an instant.
Directly behind him was the chair back, and in front of him were kitchen knives—there was no room to dodge at all.
At the critical moment, Lynch kicked hard against the table, sending the chair toppling backward. Rolling along with the momentum, he let the frying pan graze past the top of his head.
The landlady let out a shriek and pounced with bloodshot eyes, raising the frying pan to swing it again.
With no time to stand, Lynch scrambled across the floor, scrambling and crawling to his feet before stumbling toward the door. Just as he bolted out of the kitchen and into the hallway, the landlady—far more familiar with the layout—tackled him to the floor, straddled him, and raised the pan once more.
Lynch pushed desperately against her wrists, discovering that the woman was truly like a maniac, possessing terrifying strength. After wrestling back and forth for several tense seconds, Lynch finally mustered the force to flip over and pin her beneath him, slamming both of her arms onto the floor as the frying pan flew from her grip and clattered to the side.
A low growl ripped from the landlady's throat. Her eyes red like a wild beast's, she snapped her teeth toward Lynch's neck. Fortunately, Lynch jerked his head back in the nick of time, causing her bite to snap shut on empty air.
“Are you insane?! Why are you trying to kill me?!”
Feeling the body beneath him thrashing violently, Lynch could only press down on her with all his weight, tightening his grip on her wrists as he yelled in an attempt to bring her to her senses.
“My daughter! What did you do to my daughter, you animal?!”
Having missed several bites, the landlady continued to struggle fiercely while letting out shrill shrieks.
“How should I know who your daughter is?!”
Lynch's head was throbbing. He could feel her strength surging beneath him, so much that he was on the verge of losing control.
“You bastard! She never takes that ring off, and now it's in your hands! Tell me, what did you do to her, you—”
“Damn it, that girl is your daughter?!”
Lynch finally understood. When he had raised his arm earlier to open and close the window, the ring hanging around his wrist must have slipped into view. This woman had seen it, and she had acted strangely ever since.
“So it really was you, you bastard! I'll kill you!”
“Damn it, she's fine! I'm the victim here—she smashed a jar over me!”
“So you murdered her, didn't you?! I'll tear you apart!”
There was simply no reasoning with her.
Lynch felt her previously waning struggles intensify again. He knew that in her current state, she was as crazed as a mother beast protecting her young, utterly deaf to logic. If he wanted to calm her down, there was only one way...
“Fine! Since you've figured it out, I won't hide it! Your daughter is in my hands! Ma'am, you wouldn't want anything bad to happen to your daughter, would you? Then behave yourself, or you'll never see her again!”
“D-Don't hurt her!” The thrashing beneath him ceased at once. The landlady trembled all over, her voice breaking into a tearful sob. “Y-You can do whatever you want to me, please, just...”
Lynch exhaled a long breath, knowing the woman had finally started to calm down. Just as he was about to speak, a click came from the entrance. The front door swung open, and a little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl bounded in.
“Mama, I'm back with Auntie! I'm starving! Today I... Eeeeek!”
The scream nearly ruptured Lynch's eardrums. A look of grim agony spread across his face as a splitting headache hit him. He knew he was in for a nightmare of an explanation. Worse yet, she had just mentioned an “Auntie”...
Before his brain could fully process it, Lynch caught a black blur in the corner of his vision. In the next instant, he was bodily hurled through the air, his arm twisted behind him as he was slammed hard onto the floor.
“In the name of the law, I sentence you to death for indecent assault, effective immed... Lynch? Why is it always you?!”
“Hey, good evening,” Lynch greeted from his accustomed position face-down on the floor, waving his free hand. “I feel like I've seen this scene somewhere before. What do you think, Officer Natalie?”
Rate on N.U.
