Chapter 32: "Cheating"

Upon hearing the hefty chef’s demand, Shade furrowed his brow and glanced toward the man collecting the payment, known as Mr. Neat. The latter shook his head.

“This is between you two. The club won’t stop him from leaving, but you have to convince Fat Jack.”

“I’m out of money,” Shade replied, turning out the pockets on both sides of his coat. Indeed, there was nothing inside except a keychain and a notebook, as his money was in the inner pocket.

“I never imagined he could owe so much.”

Little Franklin had already stood up, head bowed silently beside Shade. Although he was somewhat of a scoundrel, he understood that now he had to rely on this man, who didn’t seem much older than himself, to get away.

“No money?” the stout chef huffed, bending down to pick up four scattered cards on the floor. He showed them to Shade: Sun 1, Sun 8, Star 13, and the Emperor.

The Emperor and Empress were unique cards, separate from the four suits. They were somewhat akin to the jokers in Shade’s world, but held a very special role in the Rhod card game, similar to blackjack.

“Draw one from these four. If you get the Emperor, you take him away. If not, he leaves all his clothes behind, and you leave your jacket.”

Muttering this, the hefty chef began shuffling with his hands behind his back. Then, with a blood-stained bite mark on his hand, he fanned out the four cards face down.

“Don’t say I’m the bad guy—he bit me,” he grumbled, urging Shade to draw a card.

Shade blinked and stopped Little Franklin from reaching out.

“If you’re lucky enough, I won’t have to ransom you here.”

As he spoke, the life ring in his soul slowly turned, drawing in elemental forces that influenced reality. A faint red trace appeared in his right eye, the echo of blood reflecting in his gaze.

The world through his eyes shifted, everything glowing with a strange halo. Even though Little Franklin had only sprayed a small amount of blood onto the front of the cards, the “Echo of Blood” spell let Shade see faint red traces in the air, a shimmering red mist surrounding the four cards in the chef’s hand.

He immediately noticed the Emperor card had the highest concentration of blood, and so quickly knew the card he needed to pick stood second from the left.

“Am I bullying someone? Just because I’m a fledgling ring mage now, this doesn’t feel right,” he mused absentmindedly, reflecting on his own morals and values.

Then he reached out and touched the card on the far right, but kept his eyes on the chef’s face instead of the card’s back. The chef stiffened, trying hard to keep a neutral expression.

Mr. Neat and Little Franklin were both drawn to the scene.

“This one’s not it,” Shade whispered.

He placed his finger on the second card from the right, still watching the chef’s face for several seconds.

“This one’s not it either.”

Shaking his head, he then moved his finger to the correct card. After several seconds, under the chef’s suppressed astonishment, he slowly drew it out.

“This is the one.”

The card flipped over—it was the Emperor.

“This probably counts as bullying an ordinary person,” Shade thought.

“Damn, didn’t expect you to be such an experienced gambler,” the chef said, surprised for a moment, then angrily threw the remaining three cards onto the floor.

“Take this damned kid away. If he owes money again and doesn’t pay up, watch out if he falls into my hands.”

The son of the accountant smiled with relief, and Shade nodded silently. He didn’t judge others’ actions, only knowing the “Echo of Blood” spell was indeed a great aid to detective work.

Given a receipt, and to prevent Shade and the downcast Little Franklin from wandering the club, the man insisted on escorting them outside. Yet, just as the three reached the staircase landing on the second floor, someone stopped them.

A woman dressed as a maid, about thirty years old, appeared. Her looks were average, but her aura quite refined.

She came down from the third floor along the stairs:

“The lady wishes to see you.”

She looked at Shade and nodded slightly.

“Is there someone behind me?” Shade asked, immediately glancing back, but no one was there.

“Me?”

“Yes, sir. Please come with me. Your friend can wait on the first floor for now,” the woman said.

Shade looked puzzled and glanced at the man leading them, who shrugged.

“There’s only one distinguished guest on the third floor tonight. If it’s that lady, you’d better follow up. She’s very important. As for him, I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t get near the gaming tables.”

Saying this, he gave Little Franklin two hard pats on the shoulder, nearly toppling him, but the boy dared not protest Shade’s departure.

“May I ask who this lady is?” Shade hesitated, suspecting someone like the club owner, or even Mrs. Lasoya, Mr. Lawrence’s ‘mistress,’ having discovered him.

Yet he could not understand why she wanted to see him. The previous detective’s only connection to this club was last time when fetching someone. Otherwise, Shade had no social ties that might link him to this place.

He was also mindful of a cat waiting at home, hoping to return soon to prevent the new feline from soiling his bed or desk.

“She is a titled noblewoman, our most distinguished guest tonight. For her reputation, you cannot know her identity for now,” the maid spoke in standard Drarian common tongue. Shade nodded slightly, realizing he could not refuse.

“So what is this about? Sorry, I don’t know any person of such esteemed status.”

“Please follow me.”

The maid turned and ascended the stairs. Shade hesitated briefly, then followed.

Compared to the relatively quiet second floor, the third was utterly silent. Judging by the decor, if he hadn’t come from downstairs, Shade might have believed he was on the floor of an art gallery.

Trailing behind the maid, he glanced at the oil paintings flanking the walls as they walked along the carpeted corridor. They stopped before a pair of golden double doors. The maid opened the left door just enough for Shade to enter.

“The lady is waiting inside.”

Shade nodded once more. After a moment’s pause, he entered, expecting the woman’s voice to prompt his soul’s elemental sensing, but it did not.

The maid closed the door behind him. Shade stood with his back to the door, facing an empty parlor.

The layout resembled the consulting room and study of a physician.

A bookshelf filled an entire wall. The floor was fully carpeted. The desk, coffee table, sofa set, and cabinet were all brown wood, exuding a strong business office atmosphere.

Only the brass-colored metal box on the coffee table stood out—a gear mechanism box, seemingly requiring the six gears on each face to be rotated into a specific arrangement to open.

The steam and gas pipes on the walls blended seamlessly with the painted surfaces. On each wall, two gas lamps shaped like angels blowing trumpets emitted a warm yellow glow, though not as bright as the crystal chandelier hanging overhead.

Three windows on the wall opposite the door were draped in heavy red-brown embroidered curtains, but Shade did not consider the possibility of anyone hiding behind them.

The silence was profound, and a chill ran down Shade’s spine. Someone was watching him—but definitely not from within the room.