Mythos Reboot

Chapter 3

The detective agency's door had been violently broken, but out of respect for the Queen, Wayne didn't press charges. Children fuss over right and wrong—adults lie back and collect the money.

He moved a cabinet to block the entrance, planning to replace the lock the next morning, then hauled a box up with great effort to the second-floor half-landing.

Called the "second-and-a-half" floor, it was essentially the third level—only half-built, leaving an open-air balcony for growing flowers or hanging laundry.

Wayne was too poor to afford planting flowers or grass; all he deserved was endless striving, so the balcony remained empty.

Veronica was quite satisfied with the third-floor layout, holding her black cat while enjoying the night view by the window.

Wayne knocked on the door and frowned. "Lunden's nights are eerie. You'd better close the window and keep the curtains drawn."

“True, this city is indeed dangerous, especially for the ignorant…”

Without turning her head, Veronica kept her eyes closed, savoring the night breeze. The black cat in her arms stared into the distant night sky with golden pupils.

Wayne curled his lips. He knew Veronica was no ordinary person—she was full of secrets—but he simply didn’t want trouble.

After all, ghosts and such, though they’ve existed for many years, are still way ahead for carbon-based lifeforms.

“May I ask—will William be staying at the detective agency permanently？”

“Yes, he’s the clerical staff you hired to handle the archives.”

“……”

That guy’s so buff even a bear would shake its head—since when does he look like clerical staff？

Wayne muttered inwardly before blurting out, "What about his salary？ Is he getting paid too？"

“Obviously？”

Fair enough!

Wayne nodded with a serious expression. It was indeed his fault to raise such an insulting question to a wealthy woman.

Wayne reminded Veronica to close the window and go to bed soon, then turned to pack his things on the second floor—he needed to hurry, God only knew if William was already trying on his clothes.

“Wait a moment, Wayne—no, boss.”

Veronica turned around and said earnestly, "As your assistant, I suggest closing the detective agency tomorrow for a thorough cleaning—top to bottom, inside and out."

“Hmm, it is a bit messy and dirty.”

Wayne expressed his support. He had planned to do a deep clean earlier, but due to being busy and poor, he never found the time and had only managed a quick tidy-up.

After Wayne left, the black cat in Veronica's arms leaped onto the windowsill and said in a hoarse voice, "He carries the stench of death—very strong. There are also marks on the walls, indicating he's had recent close contact with a Deathwalker and is already being targeted."

The black cat spoke human words, but Veronica paid no special attention, simply cradling it to prevent it from falling out the window. "He's a detective who meets many people every day—it would be too hard to investigate. But Deathwalkers don't give up on their targets easily. We'll know in a couple of days."

“If we can't wait, we could check the files in his office, maybe find some clues.”

“That's the only way.”

Veronica frowned with displeasure: "The aura of death on him is too strong, extremely abnormal. If he weren't clearly a living person, I'd almost suspect he was already dead."

“True, but thanks to him, we were able to locate the Deathwalker so quickly.”

————

Second floor.

Wayne entered his bedroom to find the towering figure of William, who had gathered all the celebrity posters and was happily clutching a "Future Diary" found in the nightstand, laughing with the vigor of a dumbbell.

A two-meter-tall, excessively hairy muscle man wearing a blue-and-white sailor outfit, reading a coming-of-age romance novel without denouncing it as heresy - Wayne found this utterly unbelievable.

Where's your philosophy？ Quick, criticize it!

The Future Diary was the original owner's posthumous work, essentially written by Wayne himself - a blame he couldn't escape even if he tried. Yet he didn't step forward to reclaim it.

Compared to social death, he feared more the endless cycle of awkwardness - what if William held on and refused to let go？

“Wayne, you're here! Where did you get this diary？ Did you write it？”

That's not a diary, that's a single mage's spellcasting material!

William winked meaningfully and said: "You've got good taste, but Lily Hayworth is more of a singer - she hasn't starred in many films. I actually prefer the male lead from her movies - handsome, witty, considerate, optimistic, always smiling and quite talkative. Practically the ideal partner, don't you think？"

Wayne's expression darkened - he was exactly that kind of ideal partner.

"Wayne, what are you spacing out for？ Come here!" William patted the bed beside him.

"No need, I'll just pack my things and head downstairs. Veronica said we need to wake up early tomorrow for spring cleaning." Wayne silently retreated half a step, ensuring he could immediately close the door and make his escape if William rushed over.

Hearing this, William didn't press Wayne further. The latter moved his pile of "spellcasting materials" to the storage room, gathered his bedding and relocated to the office sofa.

The night passed without incident.

Wayne woke the next day starving - last night's physical labor had drained his last reserves of energy, granting him the deep, infant-like sleep quality of a new father.

He slept so soundly that even the clattering noises from the kitchen couldn't wake him - it wasn't until tempting aromas wafted in that his eyes snapped open.

It was roast meat! Not those damned potatoes!

Wayne looked over in surprise—he'd misjudged the young lady. He thought she was just a spendthrift, never expecting such culinary mastery.

Forget presentation and flavor for now; the aroma alone was perfectly executed, making even the hunger pangs in his belly stay wide awake.

Soon, William emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron. His bulging pectorals and shoulders made the tiny apron look absurdly comical. Those with sharp eyes could even spot chest hair peeking above the sailor-collar neckline.

William beckoned Wayne to try his signature dishes: "You slept like the dead. It's noon now—I made fish and chips, braised beef in sauce, and stir-fried noodles with mushrooms. Can't wait, can you？"

Wayne: (？_？)

Retracting his earlier statement—he hadn't misjudged the young lady. It was the muscle-head he'd misunderstood.

Soon after, Veronica returned from shopping. Her white blouse and knit suit jacket paired with jodhpurs and long boots exuded minimalist efficiency, radiating strong workplace vibes.

Wayne nodded repeatedly. Beauty doesn't guarantee kindness, but at least she *was* beautiful. Veronica's figure and looks made anything stylish, and this outfit wouldn't look outdated even in his original timeline.

Veronica purchased many items - besides simple furniture and daily necessities, there were potted plants, high-quality soil suitable for planting, and numerous jars filled with various plant seeds. It seemed she was planning to decorate the third-floor open-air balcony.

After the meal, she put on an apron, hat, and arm sleeves to begin a thorough cleaning of the third floor. Her helper was the black cat Monica, who pressed a cleaning cloth against the window, diligently wiping the glass.

William was assigned numerous labor-intensive tasks - moving furniture and taking out trash - which made him complain repeatedly. He had applied for a clerical position, or at the very least, a cook's job.

Veronica didn't assign any tasks to Wayne. It was clear she didn't particularly like him; unless absolutely necessary, she wouldn't even initiate conversation with Wayne.

This directly resulted in Wayne feeling out of place in the detective agency. While everyone else was busy, he remained idle, as if he were the outsider.

The outsider was actually myself!

People possess a sense of shame, or at the very least, a competitive spirit. Wayne picked up a mop and joined the cleaning effort, working diligently for an hour until the detective agency's door was knocked on again.

Mrs. Lenore!