Mythos Reboot

Chapter 4

Mrs. Lainer wore a black overcoat with a pair of expensive women's leather shoes, and a small round hat adorned with an unidentified bird feather.

Over forty years old, she had a full figure with a bone structure larger than the average woman's, appearing quite robust.

As for her makeup, one could only say she tried her best—time had wielded its knife too ruthlessly and mercilessly.

Wayne considered himself not one to judge by appearances, but if this aforementioned lady were to bat her eyes at him, pardon his bluntness—judging by looks would suddenly become his only flaw.

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lainer.”

“Likewise, Wayne.”

Mrs. Lainer removed her leather gloves and spread her arms for an embrace, her gleaming eyes signaling she wouldn't let go once she got hold of him.

Wayne politely declined the enthusiastic hug and professionally invited Mrs. Lainer to take a seat, regretfully informing her the commission remained unfulfilled. After expending considerable time and effort, he had found no evidence of Dr. Lainer's infidelity and suggested she try another detective agency.

Mrs. Lainer brushed off the matter, refused the returned deposit, expressed faith in Wayne's professional capabilities, and was willing to wait a few more days.

I'm afraid that won't do. Time waits for no one. Dr. Lainer has obtained evidence of your affair. Delaying would only put you at a disadvantage.

Wayne tried persuading her a couple more times. After some awkward small talk with Mrs. Lainer, he personally escorted her out of the detective agency.

"Wayne, was that lady just now a client？" Veronica came downstairs. Normally meticulous about her appearance, she didn't notice the dust smudged on her nose and cheeks.

Scars are a warrior's medals. Wayne gave her a solemn look but kept this thought to himself, simply nodding: "Mrs. Lainer is a client of our agency. She commissioned a domestic dispute investigation recently, but due to certain… complications, she didn't receive the report today. Given my limited capabilities, I advised her to seek another detective."

“It's just a domestic dispute. We're perfectly capable - no need to turn away business.”

"That may be so, but the situation is quite complicated… hard to explain in just a few words…" Wayne muttered vaguely, trying to steer away from the topic.

“What exactly did you uncover？”

Veronica narrowed her eyes - she wouldn't let such a promising lead slip away easily.

“Well, how should I put this… Maybe we should continue with the cleaning first, and…”

Swish!

Wayne's hesitation was interpreted by Veronica as holding out for a better offer, so she decisively paved the way with money, handing over two bills bearing the queen's portrait.

Wayne silently accepted—a delightful misunderstanding he didn't mind, secretly hoping Veronica would repeat this approach next time.

“Here's the situation: Some time ago, Dr. Lainer commissioned… That same afternoon, Mrs. Lainer… I conducted separate surveillance on the couple. Since Dr. Lainer came first, I gave both reports to him. As gratitude, he voluntarily paid…”

Wayne explained the whole story: "Professional ethics forbid me from selling investigative results to both parties. I'm a principled man—that's why I advised Mrs. Lainer to find someone else rather than accepting her commission."

Veronica: "…"

According to her education, the term "professional ethics" wasn't meant to be used this way.

Veronica rolled her eyes spectacularly. Earlier that morning, she'd browsed the diary left on the office desk. Since reading someone's diary without consent equates to privacy violation—an unethical act—she'd asked Wayne's permission.

Wayne had been asleep at the time and didn't respond.

No response meant tacit approval!

In the diary, clients spoke highly of Wayne, praising the handsome young man's professional ethics and moral standards. The recorded daily trivialities and bits of life all demonstrated that Wayne was an outstanding, positive, and upright young man.

He strictly adheres to etiquette and law, he's always ready to help others, he injects positive energy into this decaying society, he's a role model for contemporary youth.

After reading the diary, Veronica was deeply shocked and her impression of Wayne changed dramatically. She felt ashamed for misunderstanding Wayne's character, and asked William to prepare more delicious food as compensation for her intrusive behavior of peeking at the diary.

Now she understood why such a private item as the diary wasn't locked away but instead placed conveniently on the office desk.

Terrible. The college girl felt she'd been played by social trash!

“Continue. What have you found out about Lady Lainer？”

With an expressionless face, Veronica handed over a queen's portrait. Lady Lainer carried the scent of death and had closer contact with Deathwalkers than Wayne. Following this lead would quickly lead them to the hidden target.

"According to the investigation, Mrs. Lainer has gained some reputation among dockworkers and struggling artists for her charitable nature, earning a certain degree of popularity…" Wayne spoke without hesitation as he took the money, laying out all the information.

From a professional standpoint, it was entirely reasonable and logical for the detective to share investigation results with his assistant.

From a business perspective, he maintained his professional integrity by not selling this information to Mrs. Lainer.

“Be more specific. Which painters and dockworkers exactly？”

“Why do you need to know this？”

Wayne frowned: "Assistant Vi, don't make things difficult for the boss. I took Dr. Lainer's money - our agency doesn't provide investigation services for Mrs. Lainer."

"This isn't about Mrs. Lainer. Consider this my personal commission." Veronica waved the banknotes in her hand.

“Please, have a seat.”

“……”

Couldn't you at least put up some resistance？

————

Lundun City is politically and economically divided into five districts. The central district, also called Inner Lundun or Lundun City proper, serves as the political, economic, and cultural heart of the entire Windsor Kingdom.

It houses the best universities, hospitals, largest stock markets, museums, theaters, etc., all tightly controlled by the new capitalists - former aristocrats who've transitioned careers.

The western and northern districts are middle-class enclaves, while the eastern and southern districts—the largest in area—have the poorest resources across all metrics. These harbor, industrial, and warehouse zones are predominantly inhabited by the working class.

Port docks.

Sailors untie ropes as melodious steam whistles signal departures. Scorching sun, boundless sea, and curses intertwine to compose this place's unique symphony.

The docks present radically different vistas through different eyes.

To the elite, ports are romantic realms where seagulls' cries accompany sailors' unison hymns of courage. These adventurers brave winds and waves to foreign lands, pursuing life's essence while charting unknown routes—bringing wealth, spreading civilization—as if stepping straight from an oil painting.

To the underclass, docks are filthy wastelands: shrieking gulls, frigid seawater, and countless grime-streaked workers reeking of sweat—fellow souls scrambling for survival.

If this too were an oil painting, it would be one stomped into existence by the filthiest feet, smeared with the foulest mud and grease.

As an established capitalist power, the Windsor Kingdom's industrial facilities and supporting infrastructure were comprehensively backward, inevitably descending into the decline of low productivity. Coupled with factors like economic depression and war, the docks at that time had long lost their former prosperity.

Nearing teatime, Veronica held her black cat Monica while enjoying black tea at a restaurant, while Wayne and William split up to search for dockworker Bruto.

Bruto was one of Lady Lina's bold claims, specializing in being physically strong and capable of heavy labor.

Wayne searched for Bruto as usual but couldn't find him. According to coworkers, Bruto didn't show up for work today—he might be in the warehouse district or sleeping at home.

On the way, Wayne unfortunately ran into William, who perked up upon seeing him, grabbing hold and refusing to let go while sighing and complaining.

“Wayne, I just met a down-and-out young nobleman—he's drowning in debt and had no choice but to come to the docks looking for work…”

“I suggested that since he owes a debt up to his ass, he might as well pay it off with his ass. But he refused—what a shame. Who knows who'll get to enjoy him later？”

“After that, I scouted a few more, but none were as young and handsome as that fallen noble.”

Wayne: "……"

What is this, some gay version of the Sea King？ A safe harbor for ships, the legendary "Queer Pier"？

Wait, so you haven't done any actual work all this time!

Wayne refused to engage with William. After finding Veronica and explaining the situation, they had to decide whether to continue searching for Pluto at his home or check the apartment of the failed art student.

“Let's go see the painter.”

The failed art student, named Abel, was a young artist who repeatedly failed exams yet held firm artistic ideals. Having long relied on patronage from noblewomen, his youth had been squeezed dry. No youth meant no patronage, and no patronage meant no income—forcing Abel to move from the affluent North District to the East District, unable to afford rent.

Mrs. Lainer wasn't Abel's first patron, nor was she the most attractive, but having seen his fair share of "whips and balls," Abel claimed that compared to the noblewomen of the North District, Mrs. Lainer could be considered gentle and kind.

A true case of "cultivating one's moral character.

“Abel planned to pursue his art and earn a living in the East District, waiting until he recovered his health before making a triumphant return to the North District—a man unwilling to endure hardship, yet capable of enduring it when necessary…”

In the taxi, Wayne recounted Abel's story to Veronica as tactfully as possible. He sat in the front passenger seat, while Veronica, the black cat, and William occupied the back.

As he spoke, Wayne occasionally glanced back, puzzled by Veronica's perfunctory expression. Clearly uninterested in this commission yet insisting on investigating thoroughly—what exactly was her motive？

The taxi stopped at a street alley. Wayne, familiar with the route, arrived at the third floor of the apartment building. The wooden floor creaked underfoot, and piles of household waste lined both sides of the corridor.

A rat darted past, vanishing into a crack in the wall. Everything indicated that Abel's life had hit rock bottom, much like his physical condition.

Last time, Wayne had entered via the balcony; this time, he took the stairs. Just as he was about to knock, William shoved him aside and hammered the wooden door with his fist, the size of a clay pot.

The door opened to reveal Abel clad in thin clothing and wrapped in a blanket. He looked confused, first eyeing the strikingly beautiful Veronica, then cowering at the sight of William's dancing pectoral muscles before hastily shutting the door.

Too late.

William barged in, nearly knocking Abel to the ground.

“Mr. Painter, our young lady wishes to discuss a long-term patronage arrangement with you.”

Such good fortune exists？

Abel was ecstatic. With Veronica's qualifications, he'd gladly do it for free, let alone for patronage.

Such a spiritually vibrant maiden - just the slightest interaction could spark endless creative inspiration. Thinking this, Abel felt his body brimming with energy.

He could perform again!

The scene shifts - Abel is now tied to a chair with a cloth stuffed in his mouth.

Wayne: (？_？)

Such proficient corporal artistry. If he had refused last night, would this have been his fate？

“Don't be afraid. We're not exactly good people, but if you answer our questions obediently, not only won't we harm you, we'll pay you a considerable sum.”

William sneered while flexing his pectorals: "Of course, you could refuse… and end up with your tender chrysanthemum ravaged until it's sunflower-sized."

Abel shook his head desperately. He knew nothing.

Wayne rolled his eyes. While barely professionally relevant, such threats probably wouldn't frighten Abel. He approached Veronica's side and whispered: "What's going on？ You promised you wouldn't cause me trouble."

Veronica didn't respond, retrieving a glass bottle from her lady's handbag. Curious, Wayne peered inside to find colorful mushrooms.

The vibrant hues suggested these fungi would be exceptionally flavorful.

Sure enough, the mushrooms were so delicious they induced hallucinations. William forcibly stuffed some into Abel's mouth until his pupils lost focus, his face going blank with vacant expressions as he giggled mindlessly - "Aba aba…

“Who branded you with this mark？”

William tightly grasped Abel's right hand. A glimmer of light flashed as a black inverted triangle symbol slowly emerged on the back of Abel's hand.

This symbol represented death - the mark of Death Goddess devotees.

Watching this unfold in surprise, Wayne felt a surge of heat in his chest. The Book of Avarice, which he could only see but never receive responses from, suddenly expressed intense desire when the light appeared.

Want it!