Mr. Death in the Steam World

When Moen opened his eyes in the morning, he felt relaxed all over.

I slept soundly, and my mind became much clearer.

He sat up and glanced to the side instinctively.

The other side of the bed was empty; the blankets were neatly folded, and the pillows were placed upright at the head of the bed.

Clara is already up.

A faint aroma wafted through the air—the smell of fried eggs and toasted bread.

Moen rubbed his neck, put on his coat, and left the room.

The second floor of the office is not large. A short corridor connects three doors, at the end of which is a narrow staircase, and on the left is a small kitchen and dining room.

Clara was sitting at the table, holding a sandwich in both hands, chewing it with her cheeks bulging.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up and smiled somewhat shyly.

"Brother, you're awake." She swallowed the food in her mouth, her voice slightly muffled.

"I'm so sorry, I was just too tired last night and couldn't properly welcome you back."

Moen walked over, pulled out the chair opposite him, sat down, and casually picked up a sandwich from the plate and took a bite.

Although he couldn't taste the food, he didn't want Clara to worry.

In the early days after moving into the firm, he had already honed his skills in putting on an act.

However, just by looking at it, he knew that the sandwich must be delicious.

Clara may be young, but her cooking skills are getting better and better.

Whether you welcome them or not is irrelevant.

He swallowed the sandwich, looked up at her.

"But you, why did you study so late last night? You were asleep on the table when I got back."

"Children should go to bed early and get up early; staying up late is bad for their health."

Clara pouted, holding the milk cup in both hands, taking small sips, her eyes somewhat unfocused.

After a few seconds, she spoke softly:

"I know... but, brother, I finally got this opportunity to study, and I want to cherish it."

Yes, this girl suffered too much with the original owner since she was a child. After her parents passed away, let alone going to school, even getting enough to eat and wear became a problem.

Now that she can finally sit in a classroom and read and write with her peers, this is probably more precious to her than anything else.

He didn't say anything more, but simply reached out and gently rubbed the top of her head.

"Alright, it's a good thing to love learning."

"But don't stay up so late next time. Go to sleep when you're tired. If you can't finish studying, you can study it the next day, understand?"

Clara nodded obediently, and just then, there was a knock on the door downstairs.

Moen frowned, looked up at the clock on the wall, and saw it was only 7:40 in the morning.

The opening hours posted outside the Marcus Detective Agency are from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., which is a time when no one should be coming in.

"Brother, is someone knocking on the door?" Clara asked, tilting her head.

"Okay, I'll go down and take a look."

Moen walked to the door and peered through the peephole.

The peephole was installed by him before the business opened. It was a copper cylinder embedded in the door panel, through which one could see most of the street outside through a small glass lens.

But at this moment, the scene reflected in the lens was empty, with no people or carriages passing by, only the red brick walls of the building opposite and a small patch of gray sky.

Nobody here?

Moen frowned, placed his hand on the doorknob, and slowly pulled the door open.

The morning breeze carried the dusty smell of the street. The stone path outside the door was spotless, and there was indeed not a soul in sight.

"Could it be a prank?"

He muttered something and was about to close the door when he suddenly felt something gently tug at his trouser leg.

Moen looked down and saw a cat crouching at his feet.

It was a small black cat with pure fur, without a single stray hair on its body, clearly of noble lineage.

Its eyes were amber, and it didn't have a collar around its neck, but its fur was glossy and smooth, and its body was well-proportioned and elegant. It didn't look like a stray cat at all.

"Meow."

The black cat meowed softly, its voice gentle and delicate.

Then it casually loosened Moen's trouser leg, and with light steps, slipped right past his feet into the office.

Moen was stunned for a moment, and before he could react, he suddenly caught a glimpse of something on the ground out of the corner of his eye.

He looked down and saw a small piece of paper, probably brought in by the cat stepping on it.

The paper was of very good quality; it wasn't the cheap straw paper commonly found on the market, but rather off-white letter paper with a embossed pattern and wavy edges.

In the center of the paper was written a name in beautiful cursive script—Lucy.

...That's probably the cat's name?

He twirled the piece of paper between his fingers, quickly going through several possibilities in his mind.

First of all, this cat is most likely not a stray cat; its fur and the well-made piece of paper both indicate that it has an owner.

Secondly, why did it end up at his doorstep? Was it lost, or was it deliberately left there?

If it's the latter, then what is the other party's purpose?

Before he could come up with a solution, a scream suddenly came from upstairs.

"ah--!"

It was Clara's voice.

Moen's heart skipped a beat, and he instantly activated "Meow Swiftness" at full power.

The floorboards creaked under the weight, and he transformed into a blur as he swept across the stairs, taking two steps at a time to reach the second floor.

"Clara! What's wrong! What happened—"

His words caught in his throat halfway through.

Clara was squatting on the restaurant floor, holding the black cat in her arms, her face buried in the soft belly, her eyes curving into two crescent moons.

The black cat was held in her arms, its four legs drooping limply, its tail swishing back and forth, and its amber eyes filled with utter despair.

It turned its head and glanced towards the door, where it met Moen's gaze.

Moen wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt that there was a hint of pleading in the cat's eyes.

"Brother!!!" Clara looked up, her smile so bright it almost glowed.

"This cat! It's so cute! Where did it come from? Did you bring it home? Does it have a name? What breed is it? Can I hold it—oh wait, I'm already holding it!!!"

She fired off a long string of questions, giving Moen no chance to interrupt.

The black cat tried to struggle while she looked up, but Clara's hand seemed to have eyes, precisely scratching its chin.

The black cat's body went limp immediately, and a reluctant purr escaped its throat.

Moen leaned against the door frame and rubbed his temples.

"...I found it at the door." He waved the piece of paper in his hand.

"It was standing on this, with a name written on it, Lucy, that's probably its name."

Clara took the piece of paper, glanced at it, and then looked down at the black cat in her arms, her eyes sparkling.

"Lucy!" she tried calling out.

The black cat's ears twitched, it lifted its eyelids to glance at her, then looked away again.

"Brother, what about this cat—"

"I'm sorry, Clara, it most likely already has an owner."

Moen spoke first before Clara could finish.

"Look at its fur color, its quality, and the material of this piece of paper. It's clearly not something an ordinary family can afford to keep."

"It must be lost. Its owner is probably looking for it anxiously, so..."

Clara looked up at him, and a thin layer of tears slowly welled up in her light brown eyes.

Moen and she stared at each other for three seconds, four seconds, five seconds.

He raised his hands in surrender.

"...So, let's keep it for now."

Clara's eyes lit up instantly.

"Really? Is it really possible to keep Lucy here?"

"Keep it until its owner comes knocking."

Moen raised a finger, trying to save face.

"And think about it, if its owner really comes looking for it, we can hold onto the cat and maybe even make a storage fee. It's a win-win situation, you know?"

Clara didn't hear what he said after that; she held the black cat up to her face and smiled happily.

"Lucy! From now on, you're our family's cat! Hehe~"

She rubbed Lucy's face, pulled the black cat's cheeks apart, and then let go to let it bounce back.

Lucy's beard twitched, and her gaze swept over Clara's shoulder, seemingly rolling her eyes.

Moen was stunned.

When he came to his senses, Clara had already carried Lucy to the sofa and was braiding her with her old hair tie.

Lucy lay motionless, her tail tip occasionally twitching, seemingly not really resisting.

He shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind.

He must be overthinking it.

How could just any cat you encounter be a supernatural being? There aren't that many containment objects or that many unusual events in this world.

Lucy is probably just an ordinary purebred cat. As for that eye roll, he was probably just seeing things, or maybe that's just how cats make that kind of expression.

Yes, that must be it.

He looked up at the clock on the wall; the hands pointed to 8:10.

"Clara," he clapped his hands, "look at the time."

Clara followed his gaze to the clock, and the smile on her face instantly froze.

"It's already 8:10?! Oh no, oh no, oh no, class starts at 8:30!!"

She hurriedly and gently placed Lucy on the sofa cushions and rushed into the room to get her schoolbag.

When she came out, Moen sighed and went over to straighten her collar.

"Let's go, I'll see you off."

Clara paused for a moment: "Brother, aren't you staying at the office today to wait for your commission?"

Moen glanced at the bright morning light outside the window, then looked at Lucy, who was quietly lying on the sofa.

"It's still early, and judging from the current situation, there won't be much business today."

"I've never seen what your school looks like before, so I'll go take a look today."

Clara smiled broadly and nodded vigorously.