Mr. Death in the Steam World

Moen took a dark gray long coat, which he kept at the bottom of his trunk, from the hanger.

This outfit was a gift from Professor Pip when he opened his business, who said, "A detective should look like a detective."

The fabric is crisp, the cut is clean, and the double-row brass buttons gleam with a warm luster in the morning light.

He straightened his collar in front of the mirror, then took out a matching felt hat from the drawer and put it on his head. He looked at himself from all sides and nodded in satisfaction.

Brown pupils, perfectly proportioned features, jet-black hair, and a slightly sickly pale complexion.

I hadn't noticed before, but his current model is so handsome and extraordinary.

Clara peeked out of the room, saw his attire, paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"Brother, you look so handsome today."

Moen casually adjusted the brim of his hat.

"Let's go, let's go, you'll be late if you dawdle any longer."

......

June in Kansas City isn't particularly hot; the morning breeze still carries a hint of coolness.

The affiliated school is not far from the office; it's about a 20-minute walk away.

When Moen saw the iron gate from afar, he realized that Pip A Dream's power was greater than he had imagined.

A bronze plaque hangs at the entrance, engraved with the words "University of Kansas Junior School".

The school is small, with only one three-story red brick teaching building, but it looks very exquisite.

Although the playground is small, it is covered with a smooth lawn and surrounded by neatly trimmed dwarf holly bushes.

"Brother, I'm going in now."

Clara stopped at the entrance, glancing somewhat embarrassedly at the students walking into the school in twos and threes around her.

"You don't need to pick me up tonight, I can get home by myself."

"We'll see," Moen waved at her. "Focus on your studies and don't embarrass me."

Clara nodded vigorously, turned around, and ran into the school gate.

Moen stood there, watching her slender figure disappear into the crowd, until her ponytail disappeared around the corner of the porch before he looked away.

He didn't leave immediately, but leaned against a lamppost across the street, looking around at the school.

It was peak time for school start, and one carriage after another stopped at the school gate, with children in all sorts of clothes jumping out of the carriages.

Moen noticed that the children naturally split into several groups: those dressed smartly walked together, while those dressed simply huddled together.

He frowned, and seeing that it was still early, he verified his identity with the gatekeeper and stepped into the school gate.

In the first classroom, a group of boys sitting in the back row were either drawing little figures in their textbooks or simply sleeping soundly on their desks.

The second classroom wasn't much better. The children were whispering to each other. When the teacher turned around, the classroom fell silent for a moment, but as soon as he turned back, the buzzing started again.

As Moen watched this scene, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up slightly.

As expected, students all over the world are the same; no matter the era or the world, there are always some who slack off in class.

He couldn't help but recall how Clara had fallen asleep on her homework the night before.

That girl would rather stay up all night to finish her homework; she's a world apart from these ungrateful brats.

As expected of my sister.

As he was thinking, without stopping, he almost bumped into someone when he turned the corner of the corridor.

"Ouch--"

Fortunately, he reacted quickly, shifting his foot slightly and dodging half a step to the side, barely avoiding a head-on collision.

He quickly reached out and supported the other person's shoulder. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was an elderly woman with gray hair.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." Moen took a step back, took off his hat, and bowed slightly.

The old lady coughed, waved her hand, and said with a smile:

"It's alright, it's alright. It's a good thing that young people walk with such energy. It's just that my old bones are blocking your way."

Her voice was a little hoarse, and she coughed lightly twice as she spoke. Moen noticed that she was carrying a thick stack of homework books.

Are you a teacher at this school?

"Yes, I've been teaching my whole life."

The old lady lifted the workbook up slightly, squinting as she sized up Moen.

"Young man, you're not a student's parent, are you? You look a bit unfamiliar."

"My name is Mohn Marcus, and I am Clara Marcus's brother."

"I happened to be dropping my younger sister off at school today, so I thought I'd check out the school environment."

The old lady's eyes lit up as soon as she heard the name "Clara," and the wrinkles on her face deepened with her smile.

"Oh my, so you're Clara's brother!"

She looked Moen up and down, her eyes full of approval.

"He really is a handsome young man. Clara praises you in class every day, saying that you are smart and capable and the best brother in the world. After seeing you today, I can confirm that she wasn't exaggerating."

Moen was a little embarrassed by the praise and reached out to touch his nose.

"You flatter me. You're Clara's..."

"I'm her homeroom teacher, you can just call me Teacher Baker," the old lady said with a smile.

"Clara is the smartest and most hardworking student I have ever seen in my thirty years of teaching."

"She never gets distracted in class, her homework is always neat and tidy, and she always keeps asking me questions until she understands them."

As she spoke, she suddenly sighed, a hint of regret in her voice.

"It's a pity that she has fallen too far behind in the basics. Other children start learning spelling and arithmetic from a young age, but she has only been exposed to them in the last few months."

"Although she worked her hardest, some things can't be made up for in a short time."

Moen fell silent.

"But don't worry," Mr. Baker patted his arm, his tone firm.

"This child is bound to be successful in the future. I've been teaching for so many years, and I have a good eye for talent. As long as she has time, she can learn anything."

After she finished speaking, she coughed a few more times, this time more severely than before.

She covered her mouth with a handkerchief, coughed, and then smiled apologetically at Moen.

"As people get older, their bodies become weak and useless."

"Alright, I have to go to class now. Those little monkeys are waiting for me. Mr. Marcus, come again another day when you have time, and I'll treat you to tea."

Moen nodded and stepped aside to make way. Mr. Baker, carrying the workbooks, slowly disappeared down the corridor with his hunched back.

He stood there for a moment and thought about it. Instead of leaving the school, he followed Mr. Baker up to the second floor.

There were about twenty children sitting in the classroom, around eleven or twelve years old, a stage where cats and dogs don't like them.

Ms. Baker was writing equations on the podium. She explained very carefully, breaking down each step clearly.

But the response from the audience was hardly enthusiastic. Moen glanced around and saw that only Clara was listening attentively to the lesson.

Just then, a coughing sound suddenly rang out in the classroom.

At first, it was just a chubby boy in the corner coughing twice, and Moen didn't pay much attention.

But soon, a girl in the front row also started coughing, and she coughed even more violently than the fat boy.

Immediately afterwards, as if it were contagious, coughing sounds spread throughout the classroom.