Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

"Now that I have a short-term goal, the plan is to check the room more thoroughly, search for currency, find a city map, and examine books. I need to understand the world through text, look into the historical context and religious customs, and cautiously adapt to this place.

I'm contemplating whether to stay for three months, help the Detective with that matter, and then decide what to do after I understand everything."

Shard summarized his current situation and accepted the fact that the Detective was dead. The worst part right now wasn't the mystery of this world, but rather the complete lack of the original owner's memories, leaving him utterly clueless about this world. Apart from that, things weren't too bad.

Rising to his feet, Shard moved toward the washroom.

The gas lamp in the washroom had some problems; even set to its highest capacity, it emitted only a feeble light.

In that dim light, he looked at the person in the mirror: dull golden hair, dark brown eyes, obviously a Western male face, around 20 years old, with an expression that seemed a bit anxious, and about 1.8 meters tall.

After all, he had been a wanderer before, so his appearance wasn't exceptionally outstanding, but according to Shard's own aesthetic sense, it was quite decent.

"So this is me, don't get scared by the stranger in the mirror later on,"

he cautioned himself in his mind, but he didn't immediately leave the mirror. Instead, after cautiously looking around, he whispered:

"Hey, hello, are you still there?"

He tried to communicate with the whispering woman's voice again to ascertain what she really was. But after a long time without a response, he had to accept the reality and give up for the moment.

Next, he needed to find currency. He hadn't found any food while searching the kitchen earlier, and this body was clearly hungry, so he had to put aside other worries for the moment and get some money for food.

But the unexpected happened once again. About half an hour later, Shard was seated back on the sofa bathed in the warm yellow light, his expression indescribably panicked.

In his hand, he held a banknote with the number 10 written on it, a note full of folds and stains, even smaller than the playing cards found in the diary. On the face with numbers was a portrait, while on the back was the coat of arms of the Royal Family of the Draleon Kingdom where he currently resided.

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After searching the entire house and going through all the books and documents, and turning out every pocket in the wardrobe, Shard only found this single banknote that seemed to have accidentally slipped into a gap behind the bookshelf.

"Could it be that the cost of living in this world is so unique that this single banknote could sustain me for three months?"

Even if he comforted himself with such jokes, he knew it was impossible.

"This is bad,"

he said, leaning back on the sofa, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he looked at the white ceiling:

"Mr. Hamilton, where on earth did you hide the money? I agreed to stay, surely you wouldn't leave me without a penny..."

Even though he was scared, he really wanted to catch up with that hearse and shake the dead body awake to question it.

If there was a language barrier, being clever might still get one by; if one had physical disabilities, bravery could suffice for survival. But without money, there was no way at all.

It was obvious that Mr. Spike Hamilton did not cook at home; there wasn't even a single vegetable leaf in the kitchen, so there wouldn't be any mouse carcasses. Shard didn't know when this body had last eaten, but he clearly needed to eat now.

Taking into account the limits of human endurance, Shard had to immediately think of a way to get money, or find a manner to earn money, or he might well end up being forced, after the sun went down, to look for a restaurant on the map, then search for a garbage bin in the alley behind the restaurant and try his luck there.

"No, it won't come to that,"

he said, looking at the lone banknote in his hand with a terribly grim expression, dark as the sky outside:

"Even though I don't know its value, it is still money. And there's also the [Sun 3] card from the diary; these things will help me survive. But since I can't find money for the time being, I must think about a long-term earning strategy."

A transmigrator's knowledge might be quite valuable, but monetizing knowledge in an unfamiliar place is not only troublesome but also dangerous, not to mention that this world itself is imbued with mysterious powers.

He remembered that this was a Detective Agency, and Mr. Hamilton had mentioned before his death that he left some safer tasks that 'not-so-bright' Shard could handle to maintain the detective identity and keep the Detective Agency going.

Since he hadn't found the deceased detective's money yet, he had to prepare for the worst and consider a way to make a living.

"That being said, Mr. Hamilton knew that Shard — the original Shard — wasn't very intelligent, so he must have left simple tasks to keep the Detective Agency operative. So, perhaps they have already been solved, and I just need to go collect the money! Even though there are mysteries in this world, at least, the life of ordinary people is mainstream."

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Shard suddenly had an inspiration and stood up to fetch the diary from the shadowy corner of the bedside table in the master bedroom, along with the ledger, memorandum, and work log that were relics of his days as a detective. Although he hadn't found any money just then, he had found these items.

Detective Sparrow Hamilton was a very orderly and meticulous man. Even though Shard hadn't studied accounting or business administration, he was touched by the detailed records of the agency's operations. Of course, it was mainly Shard who was moved, because the cases that the agency had yet to resolve were really quite simple, and most were already halfway to completion.

"Finding Miss White's runaway younger sister, tailing Mr. Lawrence's mistress, searching for the lost orange cat Mia, inquiring about a doctor who can heal eye illnesses... they all seem simple and not very dangerous. Oh, Mr. Hamilton had already handled most of them. If I decide to stay and run this place, resolving one case thoroughly in two or three weeks would be enough to keep it running."

Shard summarized while flipping through the handwritten reports by Mr. Hamilton. But what he needed now wasn't long-term operation of the Detective Agency, but to simply get some money for short-term living expenses.

Comparing the remaining difficulty, the payment method, and the amount of compensation for the four cases, Shard decided to take on the task of "tailing Mr. Lawrence's mistress" first.

According to the case report, Detective Hamilton had been tailing her for months, only stopping recently due to ill health. The current report could actually be handed to the employer to settle the remaining payment. However, Mr. Hamilton had left a note in the report, taking special care of Shard's limited literacy with simple words.

The note said that if he intended to complete the assignment, it was best to have some recent records before submission, as this could likely fetch a higher reward and prevent the employer from becoming suspicious.

Which meant that Shard only needed to follow her one more time to complete the task. Although it wasn't exactly perfect completion, it would at least meet the requirements of the employer, that is, Mr. Lawrence's wife, and earn him the remaining commission marked as "1 pound 7 shillings," which meant 1 pound 4 shillings.

The tone of the detective's notes suggested this was a considerably generous payment.

Choosing this task was not just for the payment, but also because this type of commission helping wives catch their husband's mistresses was something Detective Hamilton had handled many times, and they were the simplest to finalize without any hitches at the end. Detective Sparrow Hamilton might not be a famous detective, but he was quite adept at investigating extramarital affairs.

Not wanting to stay in this eerie house where someone had just died, drinking cold water and filling his stomach with paper pages, Shard prepared to set off for investigation, aiming to hand over the report to the employer before dusk.

"It's no problem, I'll get the first payment through this commission, and then slowly uncover the secrets of the deceased detective, figure out the source of the voice in my head, everything will start to get better!"

He encouraged himself inwardly and first found the city map. Using the notes from Detective Hamilton's relics and the wall calendar, he deduced the potential locations of the mistress named "Lady Lassoya." These were simple tasks, but the most difficult step was finding his current location on that "Tobesk City Map."

The Tobesk City map in the office was annotated by the previous detective and even marked with the pubs he frequented to gather information and the locations of black markets dealing in "sensitive items."

But the original detective, Mr. Hamilton, did not have the habit of marking his own home on the map. Fortunately, while Shard searched through the materials, he found a past tailing record, which included the route of that particular operation, allowing him to identify the location of this apartment as number 6 on Saint Delan Square in the center of Tobesk City.

"Thanks to Detective Sparrow Hamilton's meticulous records... this is... a house right by the central square, huh? How much would such a house cost?"

Shard mused unexpectedly, and he found a palace complex called "Yordle Palace" just two streets away from Saint Delan Square.

As per the crumpled newspaper, between the front-page news about "the third round of city-wide steam pipe renovation" and the report on "the collapse investigation of ancient towers on Karas Mountain" on page three, the second page mentioned that "Yordle Palace" served as the residence for the Royal Family of the Draleon Kingdom.

For Shard, who lacked a home in his own world, his heart raced faster, his panic and tension momentarily scattered by a surge of excitement.

He muttered to himself while looking at the papers in his hand:

"Which means, my current location is presumed to be the capital of one of the world's two great Kingdoms, the Draleon Kingdom, in a central square adjacent apartment... I actually have such a house, and I'm still worried about starving to death?"

From the oppression he had begun to feel a moment's relief, but a house wasn't something that could be liquidated immediately, and Shard had no intention of truly abandoning the detective's three-month contracts. At least having secure footing, he meant to ponder further.

But at least a very sincere smile appeared on his face, replacing the tension. With a house in such a location in hand, there was no need to worry about the future... the smile gradually faded away as Shard realized he had gone through even the will but had not found anything like a deed or title to the property.

"Could this apartment be rented?"

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. If one could afford a house in such an area, there'd be no need to run a Detective Agency, just collecting rent would be enough to support oneself. Even if the detective's original operations weren't just for the sake of money, looking at the interior decor, it did not seem like a house that Detective Hamilton actually owned.

"Which means, I might very possibly have to pay an undisclosed amount of rent each month?"

Shard incredulously reached this conclusion while looking again at the calendar hanging on the living room wall.

It was the third week of Sunlight Moon, June 1853. If he really had to pay rent, it was very probable he'd have to do so at the beginning of each month.

"This world too has a twelve-month system, and the dates are very similar to the past... otherwise I might as well run away, pack my clothes, drag my suitcase, carry a bucket, and start this mysterious world journey as a vagrant... Staying here not only means no income, but there might also be debts left by Mr. Hamilton that I don't know about."

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