Chapter Ten: The Confusion of Men and Women

The alley he turned into was merely a narrow passage between two buildings, so cramped that aside from trash and filth, nothing else was piled up there.

His heart pounded wildly. Shade knew this decision was risky, but the voice in his mind was right. To seek the extraordinary, one must accept risks. Maybe the psychologist and the church offered safer paths, but he knew nothing about them. Every path held dangers for him.

To gain, one must pay a price. He was willing to bear the risk—just a small one.

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll leave immediately.”

Shade gripped his cane tightly and tiptoed forward as quietly as possible. At the end of the alley lay some wooden crates, plastered with faded wanted posters—seemingly for a serial killer roaming Tobesk City.

The alley forked left and right, leading straight into the slums of Tobesk City’s lower district. Shade hid behind the crates and peered through the gaps toward the direction the man had gone.

It was another narrow alley, where the young man wearing the cobblestone ring stood alone. Now, he was in the middle of the alley, cautiously scanning his surroundings. He even squinted up at the sky for a long while before placing a black briefcase on the ground. Then, removing the cobblestone ring from his right index finger, he carefully kissed it, much to Shade’s astonishment.

The young man seemed to mutter something under his breath, but Shade couldn’t catch the words—the wind and the space muffled his hearing.

After kissing the ring’s surface, the young man visibly relaxed.

He slipped the ring back onto his right index finger, and suddenly thick, fiery smoke billowed from his clothes’ seams, quickly enveloping him entirely.

Whispers reached Shade’s ears, but these were not the elegant female voice in his mind. The murmurs were unintelligible—like chewing or curses—growing louder and more frenzied.

A dizziness swept over him, as if he had spun around several times and was struggling to walk straight. At one point, Shade even thought he saw a malevolent spirit lunging at him.

Fortunately, the hallucination passed quickly. As the black smoke dissipated, Shade saw a figure wearing a white cobblestone ring emerge from the smoke. The person gently tapped the hem of their skirt, then bent to lift the briefcase.

Madame Lazoia turned her head and cautiously surveyed the surroundings again, a faint smile playing on her lips. After confirming no one had witnessed this, she finally carried the briefcase and headed toward the other side of the alley.

Shade pressed his hand to his mouth and leaned against the wall, hidden in the narrow gap between the crates and the building, staying frozen for a long time.

Earlier, Shade had wondered why the church investigators were handing out flyers on the street. Now he understood—they might have been, like clumsy detective Shade himself, lurking by the club’s entrance, trying to surveil Madame Lazoia.

By the time Shade stepped out of the alley again, three crescent moons—silver, yellow, and red—hung together in the sky. The yellow moon was the palest and shone most brightly. The night here was as peaceful as in the old world.

This street was somewhat remote and had no streetlights. Under the dim glow, Shade had no idea what expression he wore. After a long while, he retrieved his pocket watch. It was nearly eight in the evening. He had stood in the wall crack for two full hours before daring to leave, unaware that his physical endurance was so strong.

“No chance of relief rations,” he muttered, shaking his head in despair, his mood sour beyond words. He walked along the street toward home. Even if he had to endure hunger, at least he had a roof over his head. So things were not entirely bleak.

The crucial part now was that the lucrative commission to investigate the affair seemed impossible to continue.

It was obvious Madame Lazoia could transform into a man using the ring—or rather, the young man could become Madame Lazoia by wearing the ring. Shade certainly couldn’t report this to his client, nor did he want to submit the late detective’s report. He would pretend nothing had happened.

Once the report went in, Mrs. Lawrence would likely, due to her conflicts with Mr. Lawrence, alert Madame Lazoia that a detective had been secretly tailing her. Even if the report contained no secrets, Shade couldn’t predict how Madame Lazoia might react.

“This world is truly more complicated than I imagined... Does Mr. Lawrence love a man or a woman?”

Perhaps Madame Lazoia was a good person, and changing into a man wasn’t harmful. But having encountered such matters less than twenty-four hours after arriving, Shade felt an intense sense of danger.

“Maybe the extraordinary here follows the rule that the extraordinary attracts the extraordinary.”

Weary, he walked on. Fearing robbery in the dark, drunken troublemakers, or illicit deals, Shade dared not take alleys to cut home. Carrying only a cane and a fruit knife, he took the longer, safer route.

“Today’s just unlucky...”

He turned left at the old John’s Pawnshop near the intersection, feeling even worse knowing he’d be sleeping in the very house where someone had just died.

“If the extraordinary exists, maybe ghosts do too... Don’t scare yourself... Wait, where did I turn just now?”

He stopped, tilted his head, and stepped back to see the “Old John’s Pawnshop” sign and the gaslight still glowing inside.

“All right, didn’t expect this trick, so maybe I’m not that unlucky after all. Things will get better.”

He sighed softly, clutched his watch, and pushed open the pawnshop door.

In the end, he pawned his cane, not the pocket watch. The watch was essential daily gear, while the cane was dispensable. More importantly, the watch wasn’t valuable; the owner, an old man named John Jones, only offered ten shillings because the watch’s surface was scratched, probably from being kept with keys.

But he was willing to pay one pound and twelve shillings for the cane.

“Do you even understand? This is the heartwood of natural snow cedar from the Delrado Mountains. Look at the grain, look at the craftsmanship. If you can provide the maker’s information, I might pay more.”

The old man seemed to scold Shade’s ignorance, warning him that if he didn’t redeem the cane within half a month, it would become the pawnshop’s property.

Shade knew well the cane was worth far more than one pound twelve shillings, but he was in no mood to haggle and left with two one-pound notes after signing the contract.

By local standards, this money would allow Shade a comfortable life for two weeks. If he was frugal, excluding possible rent, it could last a month and a half. It was even enough to find Spyro Hamilton, place a funeral notice in the classifieds, and hold a modest funeral for the detective.

Of course, he had no such plans for now.

“But having solved short-term hunger, what should I do about the extraordinary, the mysteries?”

After dining near the pawnshop, savoring soup and meat, he walked home on foot.

By the time he reached number six Saint Derlan Square, it was nearly ten at night.

He checked that the hair he’d left when he left was still in place before entering. Carefully, he lit the gas lamp on the living room wall, letting the light gradually fill the room, then collapsed wearily onto the sofa. Through the open bedroom door, he could see the bed Spyro Hamilton had once occupied.

Shade resolved to engage with the extraordinary soon, rather than live in ignorance. Though no immediate dangers had arisen, this world was complicated. He would not wait for danger before seeking solutions.

Currently, he had three possible ways to approach the extraordinary.

First was Mr. Bill Schneider, the psychologist who had given Shade his card; second were the five churches of the city’s true gods, where visiting the cathedrals might yield results; third was Madame Lazoia herself, who must know about the extraordinary, making contact with her another option.

Each choice had pros and cons, but ultimately Shade knew too little about this world and had no channels to learn more. Before going out today, he had checked the map—this city lacked public libraries where he could acquire free knowledge.

There were private libraries, but they required introductions and hefty fees to join, money Shade did not have.

His only resource was Spyro Hamilton’s materials, but the man had no habit of collecting books and was clearly just an ordinary person.

Investigating Hamilton’s death might lead to the extraordinary but was undoubtedly dangerous—a path Shade’s reason refused to take.

“Can you give me some advice?”

He tapped his head but heard only the woman’s gentle laughter—the same inner voice that had guided him through the entire investigation into Mr. Lawrence’s mistress. Without it, he could never have uncovered the ring’s secret.

He hoped for another hint but received none.

“People have to rely on themselves.”

He murmured this to himself, tilting his head to gaze out the window at the night sky where the three moons shone together—so magnificent, so mysterious, so intoxicating. Especially the silver moon; whenever he looked at it, his oppressive mood lifted.

“Whatever happens, I can’t wait anymore. Though no danger has appeared yet, since I plan to survive as a detective, I must protect myself and understand how complex this world truly is. Otherwise, I’ll share Spyro Hamilton’s fate.”

With some money in his pocket, he set aside other investigations, focusing his primary goal on engaging with the extraordinary.

“The church, the psychologist, Madame Lazoia...”

He was skeptical about the last option because her appearance coincided with the church and police investigations, so instinctively he doubted her goodwill. The first option intrigued him more; from what little he knew, the true god churches here were relatively open-minded.

But that was just his impression. He couldn't plan based on such a simple assumption. Besides, he was no believer and, as a vagrant, had never been to a church. Whether the church’s openness extended to someone like him was uncertain.

“Maybe... I can investigate a few more days. For now, no fear of starving, and pawning some inheritance will sustain me for a long time. As long as the potential landlord doesn’t show up, I’ll have plenty of time to investigate. Among these three choices, I’ll find the most suitable.”

With that thought, he fell asleep in the bedroom that once belonged to Shade, spending his first night in the new world.

In the haze of sleep, he seemed to hear the woman’s laughter again. It brought an unexpected sense of peace. That night he dreamed a soothing dream, sitting on a ridge, gazing at the silver moon on the horizon.

Yet fate would soon disrupt his carefully laid plans. By dawn the next day, Shade’s three-way choice was already thrown into disarray.