Chapter 11: St. Byron's Comprehensive Academy

Because he was sleeping in an unfamiliar place, Shade woke up very early the next morning. Feeling for the pocket watch on his bedside table, he saw it was 6:30 AM and thought about checking downstairs to see if any newspapers had been delivered; he knew that the people of Tobesk City generally had a habit of subscribing to newspapers.

The previous Mr. Detective could certainly be considered middle class, and the nature of his work required him to read the news, so it was indeed possible for the current Shade to inherit the future newspaper subscriptions.

Wearing slippers, he walked down the stairs to the first-floor foyer, looking curiously at the boarded-up first floor, thinking that when he had time, he might pry off a plank to see what was inside.

He turned on the gas lamp in the foyer, but unfortunately, he saw no newspaper pushed through the mail slot onto the doormat.

Shaking his head with some regret, he intended to change his clothes and go out for breakfast. But just as his slippers touched the first step, he heard the sound of a bell.

There was a pull-cord outside the door of this apartment building; when pulled, the cord would trigger a gear mechanism inside to ring a bell located on the interior—a sort of simple doorbell.

"Is the newspaper delivery here? No, why would a newspaper delivery person knock? Could it be time to pay for next month's subscription?"

Thinking with a hint of panic due to his meager savings, Shade calculated his remaining money and turned toward the door uneasily. No matter who was outside, it was impossible for him to know them; the possibility of them coming to collect money was low, but it was highly likely they were looking for the previous owner.

"Perhaps a new client?"

In a worse scenario, perhaps the landlord had arrived to collect rent.

There was no peephole or similar structure on the door, so Shade could only approach the entrance and ask, translating the linguistic knowledge he had acquired yesterday in his head

"Who is it, please?"

An answer came immediately from outside the door, a familiar voice

"Is this the Hamilton Detective Agency? It's Bill Schneider. Do you remember me? The psychiatrist from yesterday. We exchanged business cards in front of the newspaper office across from the Lark Club."

On this misty morning, one of the few people in this world who knew Shade's name had come to visit him.

Not expecting the visitor to be Dr. Schneider, Shade stood behind the door, unsure if he should open it. His brief hesitation allowed the psychiatrist outside to sense the detective's wariness

"Mr. Hamilton, there is no need to overthink. Although it is strange to visit at this hour, I mean no harm. Since time is short, please look at this first."

As the man outside spoke, he slid a piece of paper through the newspaper mail slot.

"Do you remember what I said yesterday? Adult education, correspondence teaching. Detective, you possess a very special talent."

Shade leaned down to pick up the paper, then reached up to slightly brighten the light of the foyer's gas lamp. By the light, he saw it was an enrollment brochure.

"Hmm?"

He suspected his eyes were playing tricks on him, or that he hadn't fully woken up.

The paper in his hand was roughly the size of an A4 sheet, with silver borders outlining the shape of a parchment scroll. It was a promotional document for a higher institution called "St. Byrons Comprehensive Academy." Aside from the school crest—a shape resembling a "book bound in chains" at the top center—there weren't many illustrations; the printed text occupied most of the page.

St. Byrons Comprehensive Academy was not recruiting ordinary students; they were recruiting "correspondence" adult students.

In addition to this, the paper listed the academy's ten departments, specifying tuition fees, enrollment dates, academic years, admission requirements and restrictions, and the recommendation-based application process. At least from these aspects, it appeared to be just an ordinary school.

"But why is there no school address?"

It took Shade a long time to ask, and then he felt surprised that he hadn't asked the man if he suffered from mental illness—coming all this way early in the morning to deliver enrollment documents to a stranger.

"Your observation is very sharp," the psychiatrist outside praised, then added, "So, will you at least let me inside to talk? Perhaps I can answer your questions regarding the 'other you' inside your head."

The voice in his mind did not appear just because it was mentioned. Shade opened his mouth, then finally opened the door.

The middle-aged doctor, carrying a briefcase and wearing a brown overcoat and a small silk cap, stood on the steps, wearing a pair of somewhat thick black boots. He still sported an exquisite mustache, and his blue eyes were quite personable

"Don't forget your milk."

He pointed to the milk box to the left of the door, speaking with a standard accent, likely a local of Tobesk City: "The milkman had just left when I arrived."

"Alright, please come in."

Shade nodded hesitantly, sizing up the doctor while trying his best to maintain a friendly expression. He took the key from the shoe cabinet to unlock the milk box, and only after Shade had retrieved the milk bottles did the psychiatrist follow him through the main entrance of the apartment.

The doctor was also quite surprised by the boarded-up section of the first floor, but he said nothing. Instead, along with the silent Shade, he followed the stairs up to Room 1 on the second floor.

After asking the doctor to wait a moment, Shade returned to his bedroom to change and then boiled some hot water to host his guest. Although there was no food in the kitchen, there was at least black tea to host a detective's client; otherwise, Shade would have had to serve plain water.

Once everything was settled, the two sat down to talk.

The fabric sofa set in the living room had a significant sense of age; he wasn't sure if they were antiques. There were two long and two short sofas surrounding a wooden coffee table, making it very suitable for conducting business with a client.

The doctor and Shade sat respectively on the facing long sofas.

"There is no need for introductions. First, I must make you trust me," Dr. Schneider, the mustachioed psychiatrist, spoke first. He smiled and thanked Shade for the tea. "I have come today specifically because of the academy brochure I just gave you. First, let me describe your current symptoms—"

"Wait, are the symptoms related to the school?" Shade asked, though he already had a suspicion. He was not a "local" and had witnessed those frantic hallucinations, making him more adaptable to such situations. The "St. Byrons Comprehensive Academy" mentioned by the other party was likely a school of the same sort as Hogwarts.

"Of course they are related. Please listen to me. Mr. Shade Hamilton, are you able to hear another voice inside your head?"

Although Shade tried hard to control his expression, he could see his failure in the smile of Mr. Schneider opposite him.

The doctor added, "Does that voice say things that make no sense? And furthermore, are some of those words helpful to you? It whispers in your ear, speaking suddenly when you least expect it, yet it bears no ill will toward you."

Knowing he couldn't hide it, Shade nodded.

"Moreover, Detective, these symptoms must have appeared within the last 72 hours."

"To be precise, 24 hours," Shade said.

"That is even better, then. We have plenty of time; it seems our luck is quite good. After all, the window for talent awakening is 72 hours. This way, I have more time to explain the situation to you."

Dr. Schneider smiled. "The symptoms described are similar to the manifestations of schizophrenia, but in my eyes, they are not."

He pointed to himself, his blue eyes looking at Shade, speaking very slowly: "For a specific group of people, the existence of an 'other me' is a wonderful and dangerous talent. No, rather, it is the initial manifestation of a talent. If guided properly, you will be able to see a more real world—a mysterious and dangerous world. If not guided..."

"It fades into mediocrity?"

"No, something worse." The doctor shook his head. "I do not wish to deceive you; there is no need for that, at least not yet. To put it clearly, this is the symptomatic sign of a 'Circle Warlock' talent. It is a very rare talent. You may view it as a gift of fate, or a curse of fate. As for a 'Circle Warlock,' you can think of it as a special profession—a profession capable of using mystical powers. I hope you understand what I mean."

The doctor was deliberately observing Shade's expression. This era was still an age of ignorance; people who believed in the orthodox gods generally did not accept concepts like "sorcery." Fortunately, just as the doctor had investigated, the detective opposite him had been someone with mental issues just a few days ago and had only returned to normal due to the awakening of his talent, so his views differed from those of ordinary citizens.

On the other hand, having had his suspicions confirmed, Shade nodded with some hesitation. He wanted to feign surprise, as any normal person would surely be surprised, but at this moment, his heart was exceptionally calm—perhaps even excessively so. He believed this might be due to the high stress of yesterday.

"In other words, hearing a strange voice in my ear is actually a manifestation of some kind of system, a power system? Many people experience this? Like how some people see further and some hear more?" Shade asked.

"Yes. 'I am you, and you are me.' Every Circle Warlock is like this. If you successfully become a Circle Warlock, that voice will accompany you for life and assist you throughout your life. That voice is simply another you; it is just that your perspectives differ. It will help you contact this mad and clamorous world in a more authentic way, touching upon the hidden and the uncanny. Knowledge, information, and even written words possess dangerous power. Outside the safe world of ordinary people, we cannot use our souls to directly approach those forces capable of warping one's very self."

The doctor paused to give Shade time to think.

"But the window for the awakening of a Circle Warlock talent is very brief. From the first appearance of the whispers to the total disappearance of the voice, it usually occurs within 72 hours. Furthermore, not every talent-bearer is able to hear that voice frequently or realize that the voice is not their own thought. They will only dismiss it as a hallucination or an ear problem.

Therefore, Detective Shade Hamilton, whether it is the three great academies or the Church, it is extremely difficult to recruit and train new personnel. That is why I say we are very lucky."