Mythos Reboot

Chapter 2

Wayne recalled very clearly—the detective agency’s door had been firmly locked, and from the inside at that.

Lunden City has many urban legends—a subway station leading to hell, a headless knight wandering in the mist, cannibalistic alleyways, vast underground catacombs, and so on.

These spine-chilling urban legends share the city with Lunden's citizens only at night. The day belongs to the people, while the night belongs to them—an uneasy truce where neither disturbs the other. But should anyone break this unspoken rule and trespass into their domain, they would vanish overnight without a trace.

When these urban legends are mentioned, the dockworkers recount them vividly, as though they had witnessed them firsthand.

Over the past three months, Wayne had heard numerous urban legends. Since he hadn’t seen any proof, he scoffed at them—but since believing cost nothing, he decided to give them some credence.

He adapted to local customs, locking his doors tightly every night to avoid any close encounters with these urban myths.

Well, it's free—might as well believe a little.

Bang, bang, bang—

The knocking sounded again, this time far more urgent, as if the visitor would keep pounding until Wayne opened the door.

Wayne didn’t open it. Instead, he quietly grabbed a nearby crowbar. But the visitor didn’t wait—they pushed the door open and stepped inside on their own.

A black hooded robe concealed the intruder's entire figure, making it impossible to discern their face. Under the overhead lighting, the robe cast distinct shadows, intensifying the pressure Wayne felt. His palms gripping the crowbar grew slightly sweaty.

Wayne focused his gaze. Though unable to see beneath the hood, the rising and falling of the robe's chest suggested the intruder was female.

Here for business？

“You must be the owner of this detective agency. I have a business proposition to discuss with you.”

“Can we talk tomorrow？ We're closed now.”

Though the woman's voice was pleasant, Wayne still refused. Her mysterious attire clearly indicated she came with baggage - the kind of person he wanted nothing to do with.

The intruder didn't respond. Moving slowly to the desk, she glanced at the array of potatoes before letting out a soft chuckle and placing down a stack of banknotes.

The queen's portrait on the bills stung Wayne's eyes. Each note was denominated at one hundred Xianling - at least fifty notes, meaning five thousand Xianling total. Enough to match two years of his backbreaking labor.

Xianling was the legal tender of the Windsor Kingdom, with copper Xianke as subsidiary coins. Twelve Xianke could be exchanged for one Xianling - what people called "small change.

Affected by the economic depression and the looming clouds of war, the purchasing power of the Charter continues to decline, but for Wayne, this is still a substantial sum.

“Can we talk now？”

“Please have a seat.”

Wayne sat behind the desk with a crowbar resting across his lap. His instincts told him it would be of little use against the other party, but he needed some psychological comfort—having a handy tool gave him a bit more confidence when speaking.

The woman was pleased with Wayne's mercenary professionalism and took her time sitting down in the chair before the desk.

Up close, Wayne studied the intruder, noticing the lower half of her face that the hood hadn't concealed—delicate lips and skin so fair it glowed like pearls, suggesting a soft and warm touch—an exquisite chin.

Judging by her complexion, Wayne guessed she was young, between sixteen and eighteen, certainly no older than twenty.

At that age, with such beauty, braving the night alone into a single man's home—either she had some skills, or she had some skills.

Given her lavish spending, it was likely the latter.

The woman's silence unsettled Wayne, prompting him to put on his professional customer-service smile and ask politely, "Have you eaten？ Would you like some potatoes？"

“Black tea.”

“One moment.”

Wayne pocketed the five thousand Xianling notes on the table and headed to the kitchen to make tea. God knows how locals obtained tea leaves in this world where even maritime trade didn't exist.

A moment later, Wayne sat down again. Seeing the woman place her hands on the edges of her hood, ready to reveal her true appearance, he quickly interrupted.

"I know the rules—I don't want to know what you look like. After tonight, we pretend we've never met. Please, don't take off that hood." Wayne raised a hand to cover his eyes.

It was pointless. She did as she pleased, completely disregarding his opinion.

The young woman had golden hair and blue eyes, with perfectly proportioned features—both her skin and bone structure were flawless. Her icy beauty, radiating high fashion, was remarkably versatile, capable of projecting either innocent sweetness or aloof dominance.

For instance, right now, with her golden hair pinned back and her cold, starry eyes faintly gleaming, she lifted the teacup to her nose, gave it a sniff, then set it down without taking a sip.

What, can't a country bumpkin appreciate fine tea？

Though the woman remained silent, Wayne sensed an impenetrable barrier of class disparity. The premium tea leaves he had splurged on were worthless in her eyes.

Perfect. This was going to be a big job!

With habits formed in his past life, Wayne never complained to wealthy clients—at least not outwardly—maintaining a smile as he said: "Respected miss, could you tell me about the business you wish to discuss？"

“I need a job, and you need an assistant.”

“……”

Wayne was stunned. He pointed to his office: "As you can see, this is a small operation. I can't afford…"

“I'll pay to work here. One thousand Xianling per month for the assistant position at your detective agency.”

“……”

“If that's not acceptable, forget it.”

“Welcome aboard, Assistant. You're hired at this detective agency.”

Wayne nodded briskly—adding this to the earlier five thousand, it totaled a full six thousand Xianling.

Perhaps this made him seem shameless, but six thousand Xianling and personal integrity were incomparable. Hesitating even a second would be showing mercy to potatoes.

Wayne enthusiastically extended his hand. When she didn't take it, he withdrew and shook his own hand without embarrassment: "Your resume and identification documents… Oh, I can fabricate those myself. I'm Wayne, owner and chief detective of this agency. How should I address you？"

“Veronica.”

Veronica gave a name of uncertain authenticity, then proceeded to tell an equally dubious story—that she came from a foreign land, had loved detective stories since childhood, and aspired to become a great detective.

She wouldn't stay at Wayne Detective Agency for long, nor would she cause Wayne any trouble. As long as he asked fewer questions, he'd have an endless supply of queen's head coins during her employment period.

A perfunctory lie, severely lacking in sincerity, but sufficient enough.

Wayne nodded. At this point, it was clear Veronica had other motives, though what exactly remained unknown. He only knew it wasn't directed at him.

He had nothing - no value to exploit.

“During my employment, I'll be staying at the detective agency. Do you have any vacant rooms here？ I need two, and I'll pay the rent separately. No problem, right？”

“None at all. You can move in anytime with just your luggage.”

Wayne sighed with emotion. As the old saying goes: meet a good person and start a family first; meet a noble and establish a career first; meet a wealthy woman and achieve both. He hadn't believed it before, but now he understood - he simply hadn't met a wealthy woman until now.

Money paved the way without fail. Wayne had already forgotten about Veronica's ulterior motives, knowing only that money equals attractiveness, and attractiveness equals justice. A rich and beautiful girl possessed double justice. Veronica definitely wasn't some enemy-nation spy assassin - she'd traveled thousands of miles to a foreign land solely to fulfill her childhood detective dreams.

Quite admirable. Unlike Wayne, who'd had many childhood dreams, but only one remained as an adult:

Being able to afford a house.

“The first floor is the office area, the second floor has my bedroom along with archives, workspace, storage, and bathroom. If you don't mind, there's a partitioned room on the third floor that's usually vacant - I can tidy it up tomorrow for your move-in.”

“I'm moving in tonight.”

Veronica glanced toward the staircase, pulling out a stack of banknotes from her wallet and handing them to Wayne one by one: "Your bedroom comes with the package. I'm renting the entire second floor. You've got one hour to move your belongings downstairs."

“Half an hour will do.”

“Also, my luggage is outside.”

“I'll bring it in right away.”

The daughter of a landowner - take what's freely given. Veronica's payment was enough for Wayne to completely renovate the detective agency. He couldn't find—nor had any reason to—refuse.

But when he reached the agency's entrance, the sight before him struck him dumb.

The double doors stood wide open, trembling against the dark backdrop.

A two-meter-tall colossus blocked the doorway, guarding three large black trunks. Broad-shouldered with chiseled, angular features, his muscular arms were thick with dense body hair.

In the lingering winter chill of London, the giant wore only white shorts and a sleeveless undershirt. Even from a distance, Wayne could feel the waves of heat radiating from the man's powerful physique.

He's a practical man who believes in reasoning.

Spotting Wayne, the burly man grinned and extended a massive hand: "William, let's be friends."

“Hello, I'm Wayne.”

Despite his intimidating appearance, the giant was surprisingly polite. Wayne courteously offered his hand, and as their palms met, he felt the heat radiating from William's grasp—instantly sending a spine-chilling coldness through him.

This icy sensation shot up from his soles to his tailbone but stopped abruptly without reaching his skull.

No wonder something felt off—Wayne now noticed William's golden hair tied in twin tails and his sleeveless navy-and-white striped sailor shirt.

Sh*t, he won't let go and keeps smiling!

William's grin grew unnervingly wider as he dragged Wayne in for a "friendly" bear hug. Despite desperate struggling, Wayne couldn't match the brute's terrifying strength. The navy stripes loomed closer in his vision, dotted with curly golden threads.

Chest hair—William's proud banner of masculinity.

“Meow~~~”

A meow interrupted William and saved the endangered Wayne. It was a black cat with golden eyes, sitting with its paws tucked on the black box. Its glossy fur blended into the night, and when it closed its eyes, it became practically invisible.

Hearing the cat's meow, William decisively abandoned Wayne and lifted the black cat with both hands: "Monica, up you go."

That was close—almost got crushed by those pecs.

William lifted the black cat high in the air. The two-meter-tall muscular man jumped around excitedly, creating such a bizarrely beautiful scene that it instantly shattered Wayne's rosy fantasies about the blonde twin-tailed girl.

Noble lady, muscle-bound dude, black cat… frankly speaking, he couldn't comprehend this combination at all.

Well, perhaps not. If you imagined it as a noble lady eloping with her pet black cat, accompanied by a muscle-bound butler/bodyguard, then it suddenly made perfect sense.

“William, what are you doing？ Put Monica down immediately.”

Veronica stepped out of the office and, seeing the situation, immediately wrestled with William. Under Wayne's speechless gaze, the burly gay man proved no match in the struggle and had the black cat effortlessly snatched away by Veronica.

Veronica cradled the black cat in her arms and glared fiercely at William: "Your room is on the second floor. Get your luggage upstairs with Wayne immediately. From now on, you'll be staying in his room."

This isn't appropriate!

Wayne shuddered, silently vowing to remove all bedsheets, blankets, and clothes from the bedroom—not a single fabric carrying his scent would remain.

To Wayne's surprise, William also looked displeased: "This isn't appropriate, I don't want to…"

“Shut up, it's settled.”

“What about Monica？”

“Monica stays with me on the third floor.”

Veronica stated matter-of-factly: "A cat belongs in a lady's room, not with smelly men."

“Tch, she's up to no good.”