Mr. Death in the Steam World

As he left Professor Pip's office, Moen stood in the hallway and let out a long sigh.

What a wasted trip.

When he asked about his cough and his supernatural powers, Professor Pip just looked at him blankly and asked if he was too tired lately.

He was probably just an ordinary university professor, nothing more.

He straightened his coat collar and was about to leave when a tremor suddenly struck deep within his mind.

His heart tightened, and he immediately immersed his consciousness into the Immortal Mirror.

"What's wrong? What happened to Clara—"

"No, kid," White Rabbit's voice rang out, tinged with confusion.

"Someone has been knocking on your office door for quite a while, so we thought it would be better to let you know."

Knock on the door? It's so late, who would come?

"I'll go back right away."

Moen looked around and, after confirming that the corridor was empty, quickly walked into the stairwell.

The power of the Mirror surged in his palm, ripples spread across its surface, and his figure vanished in an instant, only to emerge a moment later from the dressing mirror on the second floor of the agency.

The knocking continued, so he quietly went downstairs and peered through the peephole.

A young man in a black priest's robe stood outside the door, holding a kerosene lamp in his hand. The orange light illuminated his somewhat nervous face.

Moen didn't rush to open the door.

"Who?"

"Excuse me, is this the Marcus Detective Agency?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"I have come on the orders of the priest to request your assistance in investigating a case."

Moen reached out and opened the door.

The young man strode into the office, and Moen walked behind the desk and sat down, gesturing for him to sit in the chair opposite him.

"What's your name?"

"Just call me Gary. I am a trainee priest at the Holy Church."

Moen raised an eyebrow. At a time like this, the Holy Church would come knocking on his door to make a request?

"Just tell me, what do you want me to investigate?"

"This..." Gary hesitated for a moment.

"The priest said he would explain the specifics of the mission to you personally. My job is simply to find a suitable detective and bring you before him."

"Bring him to him? Now?"

"Yes, Your Highness means that this matter is quite urgent and should be handled as soon as possible."

Moen sized up Gary; the man's expression was sincere, not like he was lying.

"Since it's a commission, what about the fees?"

Gary's body visibly stiffened.

"Eleven...eleven gold pounds, plus sixpence, fixed price."

After Gary finished stating the number, the expression on his round face could almost be described as "ready to die."

He probably knew that for a private investigator, this amount of money was hardly an attractive reward.

What he didn't know was that for the poor detective in front of him, who had been in business for less than a month and was short of money, this was a huge sum of money.

He had to repay the money Professor Pip lent him, he needed money for the firm's daily expenses, he needed money for Clara's tuition, he needed money for his bullets, and there were money to be spent everywhere.

Without making a sound, he reached out, took the envelope, opened the seal, and glanced inside. The gold pounds and pennies gleamed with a warm metallic sheen in the kerosene lamplight; they were genuine.

"make a deal."

He put the envelope in the drawer and stood up.

"I'm going to tell my family. You wait for me here."

Gary visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

After explaining things to Clara, the two left the office and walked along Second Street toward the church.

As he walked, Moen gradually felt that something was wrong.

He took this route with Fils to church this evening.

"Mr. Miller."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Why would the priest you mentioned have thought of sending you to find me?"

Gary thought for a moment: "The high priest told me to go to this area and find newly opened agencies, saying that newly recruited detectives are cheaper."

Moen's lips twitched.

It's cheap, they say.

"I first asked passersby on Third Street, and a lady said she knew you. She said you helped her find her daughter and were trustworthy, so I followed the direction she pointed and asked my way here. Later..."

"Could it be Ms. Coleman?"

"Yes, yes, that's the name." Gary's face showed a hint of admiration.

"She said you're the most trustworthy detective in all of Kansas City, and she went on and on about your exploits. If she hadn't given me directions, I probably would have had to search for a long time longer."

It turns out that Masa wasn't just saying it; she was genuinely promoting him.

He kept this gratitude to himself, his expression remaining unchanged.

"You said the priest asked you to find someone, why doesn't he come and find them himself?"

"The High Priest...it's not convenient for him to appear in person." Gary's tone became somewhat ambiguous. "Anyway, you'll know when you see him."

Moen's ominous premonition grew stronger.

We arrived at the church quickly, entered through the familiar side door, walked through the familiar corridor, and stopped in front of the familiar door.

"Priest Arthur, I have brought the person."

Arthur Aldridge stood in the doorway, his gaze passing over Gary and landing on Moen, a clear look of surprise flashing in his grey-green eyes.

Moen stared at him expressionlessly.

The two stared at each other for two or three seconds, then simultaneously turned to Gary.

"Is this the detective you hired?"

"Is this the officer you were talking about?"

Gary stood between the two, his round face shifting from blankness to confusion, and then from confusion to panic.

"Priest, you said you wanted to find a cheap, reputable detective who had just opened a business..."

"Mr. Marcus perfectly fits your requirements, and the opinions of passersby about him are truly very high..."

Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

After a long while, he let out a long sigh.

"Never mind, you can leave now."

Gary felt like he had been granted a pardon and turned to leave, leaving only Arthur and Moen in the room.

Arthur walked back behind his desk and sat down, resting one hand on his forehead and pointing to the chair opposite him with the other.

"Please sit down."

Moen sat down opposite him, and Arthur stared at him for a while before finally giving a wry smile.

"Oh well, maybe this is fate."

"You really believe this?"

"I'm a priest, if I don't believe in fate, what can I believe in?" Arthur's tone carried a hint of self-deprecation.

He picked up the now-cold teacup, and without caring about the taste, tilted his head back and took a big gulp. Then he put the cup down and his expression became serious.

"Since fate has led us to meet here, I will no longer hide it."

He took a map out of the drawer and pointed to the west with his long, slender fingers.

"The black smoke your sister coughed up was essentially the power of a demon."

"This force is drawing life force from these patients and converging it somewhere in the West Wing through some kind of ritual network."

Arthur's finger moved slowly across the map, from the city center all the way to the western edge of the district.

"I need you to help me find the source."

Moen silently processed the information Arthur had given him. Demonic power, huh...

Why don't you go yourself?

"I can't go, Marcus. I'm a priest at church, and I'm tied up with official duties."

"The fact that this plague could spread to this scale right under the church's nose means that someone within the church must be tampering with it."

"If I go to the West District to investigate in person, it will be tantamount to telling those people that I am investigating this matter."

"But you're not a member of the church. You're just a newly established private investigator; nobody will pay attention to what you're doing in the West End."

Moen tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest of the chair and exhaled softly.

Although Arthur's words sounded serious, in reality he was just sending him alone to investigate the unusual situation in the West District.

Besides, he had already accepted Arthur's money, and as a detective, he had no habit of going back on his word.

"What do you need me to find?"

Arthur took another piece of paper from the drawer and pushed it in front of Moen. The paper had several rough drawings on it, with dense annotations next to it.

"The power of the demon does not appear out of thin air to cover the entire city; it needs an anchor point, which could be some kind of rune, an object arranged in a specific shape, or a modified building structure."

"You should know better than me that the West End is a slum, and secrets can be hidden in any corner."

"You don't need to fight anything, nor do you need to try to destroy those anchor points."

"All you need to do is find them, write down their locations, and then come back and tell me."

"As for the rest, I'll handle it."