The end of the exams slowed the pace of a tense life, but the upcoming 15 practical credits and the Festival of Holy Prayer nearly filled next week's schedule.
Shade had no time to give himself more opportunities to relax.
Early Sunday morning, after eating breakfast, Shade headed out. After a week's delay, the processing of Mrs. Lemel's inheritance could finally proceed.
This middle-aged woman, who lacked great courage, had listened to the terrifying rumors from her neighbors. Once the city-wide lockdown ended last Friday, she had taken her children to live temporarily in the countryside.
Seeing that nothing further had happened in the Tobeisk urban area, Mrs. Lemel finally returned to the city. According to the original plan, she was to receive the inheritance of the deceased sailor on Sunday morning at her home.
Mrs. Lemel had an unhappy marriage; her husband had left her years ago, and she raised her two children alone. The family of three lived in a narrow rented apartment in the north of the city. After jumping down from the hired carriage and finding Silver-Grey Alley according to the door number, Shade was appalled by the filthy and dilapidated living environment.
This was a slum in the standard sense, a scene from the lives of the lowest class of citizens in this era. An outsider from another land's impression of slums in a backward era came only from imagination; previously, when passing nearby, he had only glanced at it once or twice. Now, truly stepping inside, he realized everything was worse than he had imagined.
Even though it hadn't rained recently, the ground remained muddy. Taking a deep breath, he smelled strange liquids splashed on the mud, mixing with the scent of the narrow, rugged alley itself, making one feel nauseous. The damp, dark, and even somewhat eerie alley differed from the city streets; even the patrolling officers from the Ridwich Field would not easily enter.
Compared to this prosperous and frenetic era, the Tobeisk slums felt like a time-anomaly zone lagging three hundred years behind. Last night at the Queen Maria Opera House, Shade had seen the best side of this era; now, he saw its worst.
"Perhaps this isn't the worst; I just can't see the places far from the city. I wonder what that squishy thing I just stepped on was..."
He was glad he had chosen to wear boots today.
Mrs. Lemel lived in an attic at No. 6 Silver-Grey Alley, sharing a kitchen and washroom with the other residents of the building. After knocking on the somewhat greasy front door downstairs, the person who opened it was a fat woman wearing a hairpiece.
Only after explaining his purpose was he allowed inside. Shade stepped onto the narrow stairs; at a landing, he had to stand sideways and wait to make room for a young man in patched clothes carrying a pile of books.
The first floor was where the landlord's family lived. The dark and damp second and third floors were divided into a dozen areas rented out to different poor families. A massive gas meter hung at the dim stairwell, and rusted gas pipes as thick as a wrist climbed the moldy walls, leading to every household on each floor.
Every time this old-style gas meter ticked, it made a distinct *click* sound. Although he knew such obsolete junk was still in use likely because the landlord lacked the money to replace it, Shade still felt that the clicking of the old gas meter served as a warning to the impoverished residents: every use of gas meant pennies slipping from their hands.
The smell of mold in the air mixed with various strange odors, and every step on the stairs produced a creaking sound.
Even though it was Shade's first visit, he was certain that such a place must be a hotspot for epidemics and parasites. Forget humans; even animals accustomed to wilderness survival would find it hard to live long in such an environment.
A simple staircase at the end of the third-floor corridor led to the attic. After Shade knocked, the person who opened the door was indeed the middle-aged woman he hadn't seen in over a week. Seeing that the detective had arrived at the appointed time, she smiled and invited him in.
Shade had arrived ten minutes early, yet he hadn't expected Lawyer Locke Laurel to have arrived even earlier than him.
"It's you!"
The lawyer stood up to greet him, then immediately recognized the young man he had played Rhode cards with. Amidst his surprise, he instantly recalled the abnormal behavior from that day
"Wait, when you approached me that day, you weren't investigating me, were you?"
"I have the right to keep secrets for my clients," Shade said with a smile, then stepped forward to shake the lawyer's hand. "But this time, I really am here to help Mrs. Lemel receive her inheritance."
"I know... I also know that you've earned more from this trip than I have. Is a detective's income always this considerable?"
As they lightly shook hands, Lawyer Laurel indeed did not mention the money he had lost to Shade last time.
With work at hand, Mr. Locke Laurel today differed greatly from his image in the tavern that early morning. At the very least, he did not suggest playing another round with Shade after work.
Similar to the living conditions of all the residents nearby, Mrs. Lemel's home, with the family crowded into the attic, was equally dilapidated. Because the attic ceiling was low, Shade instinctively lowered his head upon entering, then realized he would need to be at least the height of one Mia taller before his head would actually hit the ceiling.
The children were not home; Mrs. Lemel entertained the detective and the lawyer with tea in cups that had been washed very clean.
The three of them sat around a dining table whose legs were padded with old newspapers. The three chairs were of different styles; there was reason to believe they were all second- or third-hand goods.
The home was kept very clean. Perhaps the family's life was dire, but this middle-aged woman maintained an optimistic attitude. Sunlight streamed in through the attic window, and the permanent stains on the floor were reasonably covered by furniture. The attic had no separate rooms; the dining table was right by the entrance, followed by two mattresses placed directly on the floor.
This family needed money. Although the thought was somewhat cruel, the sailor who died because he provoked the mermaid statue had died at just the right time.
Everything had been cleared from the dining table; although a pungent smell of sourness remained, it at least looked tidy. The lawyer took a manila envelope from his briefcase and solemnly removed the documents inside. He handed them to Mrs. Lemel first, who in turn handed them to Shade.
She was not very literate; the advertisement for the Hamilton Detective Agency had been read to her by a neighbor.
The document was the text of the will, handwritten in blue ink and dated a year ago. It seemed the sailor, who frequently went to sea, had long expected that he would encounter an accident sooner or later.
"If there are no issues with the will, we shall begin the transfer of the inheritance now," Lawyer Laurel said. Shade asked him to wait a moment, then read through it carefully.
"No problem."
Mrs. Lemel was satisfied with the detective's diligence.
"The inheritance is divided into three parts. First is the cash portion. Mr. Jonathan Lemel had 53 pounds and 4 shillings in cash stored with a friend. Because the notarization of the inheritance involves inheritance tax, you will receive 49 pounds, 16 shillings, and 7 pence."
The lawyer pushed the envelope containing the money and the tax return across the table to the middle-aged woman. She took the envelope somewhat clumsily and counted the banknotes inside, while Shade took the tax form to read.
If the inheritance were transferred privately, there would be no tax involved, but an inheritance notarized through the City Hall must be taxed. It was no longer a time of war, so the tax rate was not very high. An inheritance tax of around five percent was primarily due to the assets being transferred from another location.
"No problem," Shade whispered to his employer, who nodded nervously. The banknotes in front of her had already been sorted and stacked by denomination; it was indeed that amount.
"The second part of the inheritance is Mr. Jonathan Lemel's personal collection, mainly some souvenirs brought from the New World and items acquired during sea voyages. The value of these items is difficult to estimate because most are worthless. Therefore, there is no tax issue. Additionally, Mr. Lemel left no inventory of what he owned; these were handed directly to me by his friend, so I cannot guarantee everything is here."
As the lawyer spoke, he bent down and lifted a black suitcase from beside his feet onto the table. After a few *clicks* of the locks, he opened the lid and pushed it toward Mrs. Lemel with some effort. There were markings made of red ink on the suitcase, but the items inside were placed together haphazardly, without any neat arrangement.
"By the way, this suitcase is also part of the legacy; I did not provide it," the lawyer added, likely thinking the suitcase itself might be more valuable than the contents.
The sailor's collection was quite extensive: pitch-black ores, fish specimens, colorful masks with eerie smiles, badges of unknown origin, anchor-shaped pendants, wooden toys, and so on. They looked like junk, but if described as travel souvenirs, it was acceptable.
Shade had originally worried that there might be something dangerous among the relics, or even that the mermaid statue belonging to the sailor had been sent to Tobeisk. But until the suitcase appeared before him, he felt no elements of "whispers."
With Mrs. Lemel's permission, he took the items out of the suitcase one by one to inspect them. When he touched them, the voice in his head gave no hints.
"As expected, it's not that easy to encounter a [Relic]."
"Distant relative," "sailor dead in a shipwreck," and "inheritance"—these keywords combined sounded like the opening of a classic horror novel, but it seemed everything was normal this time. Thus, Shade signaled the lawyer that he could read the final part of the inheritance.
"The third part of the inheritance consists of Jonathan Lemel's personal effects. He spent years at sea and left some personal items with a friend, roughly consisting of diaries, clothing, and some books. This part of the legacy is also tax-free, but similarly lacks an inventory."
He struggled to lift the final suitcase onto the table, opened it, and pushed it toward Mrs. Lemel.