Mr. Death in the Steam World

Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the white curtains, casting pale golden stripes on the bed sheets.

Moen blinked, and before he was fully awake, the door to the ward was pushed open.

A young priest saw Moen sitting on the bed and dropped the medicine tray in his hand with a clatter to the ground.

"He's awake! The dead man is awake!"

Moen rubbed his ears, thinking that this was probably the most undignified welcome he had received since he transmigrated.

His awakening caused a small sensation within the church, since the doctors who had examined him had unanimously concluded that his vital signs were almost nonexistent.

Throughout the entire church, only Arthur showed no surprise at Moen's resurrection.

It seemed to him that it would be perfectly normal for the detective to crawl out of his coffin one day.

Of course, there was an even more important reason why Mohn's awakening only caused a "small sensation"—the entire church was working on one thing.

Sharon, the "Daughter of the Black Moon," briefly appeared in the world.

The date foretold in the oracle is approaching, and the gods will return to earth.

Just two nights ago, a black moon replaced the silver moon in the sky above the western part of Kansas City, and overwhelming divine power enveloped the entire city.

For hundreds of years, the gods have never so clearly displayed their miracles on earth.

The entire church was engulfed in turmoil by this incident, with the higher-ups issuing twelve urgent letters inquiring about the situation, and nearby parishes sending messengers to Kansas to gather information.

The monks of the Kansas parish wished they could replay every detail they witnessed that night a thousand times over.

In this atmosphere of collective excitement throughout the church, the fact that a few people would pay attention to the awakening of an ordinary detective already indicates that Moen is quite popular.

However, because he was awakened under the blessing of the Black Moon Maiden (at least that's how the other priests saw it), he was forced to undergo a great deal of interrogation.

Moen unleashed his superb acting skills honed over time, feigning bewilderment as he told each person who came to question him:

He was caught in the blast of the young man's attack, and everything went black before his eyes, and he knew nothing more.

As for what the Black Moon Daughter looked like and what she said, he had no idea.

After all, he had no magical energy fluctuations and was just an "ordinary person." It was perfectly reasonable for an ordinary person to faint under the impact of that level of divine power.

Whether those priests believed or not was none of his business.

Anyway, he was a hero, a contributor to the exorcism operation personally acknowledged by the bishop, so no one dared to use divine magic to interrogate him.

The matter was left unresolved, but the bishop did visit him in the hospital once.

"Mr. Marcus," the bishop said, standing before his bedside and taking a small velvet box from his pocket.

"This is the church's recognition of your contributions in this incident."

Moen opened the box, inside lay a silver medal.

The medal features an image of a holy sword crossed with a shield on the front, and his name and the date on the back.

This is a medal for exorcising demons. According to church custom, only those who have participated in the extermination of demons and made significant contributions are eligible to receive it.

To be honest, the medal held no appeal for Moen.

He's not a member of the church, so wearing a medal on his body is neither money nor food; at most, it's something to brag about.

But the bishop's next words immediately changed his attitude.

"In addition, as a further token of our gratitude, the church has decided to award you a bonus of thirty gold pounds."

"Your Excellency, it is my honor to serve the Church."

The next morning, a brand new bronze plaque appeared above the entrance to the Marcus Detective Agency.

The plaque was polished to a shine, with a simple pattern inlaid around the edges, and several large characters engraved in neat font in the center:

"Selected by the Bishop of the Diocese of Kansas, Church of Christ"

Below that is a line of smaller print: "A special medal for exorcising demons is awarded as proof."

If there's anything in this world that can bring in more business than word of mouth, it's authoritative certification.

The Church of Kansas City may not have the same absolute influence as in the countryside, but it is still a behemoth that spans several countries.

The only detective agency in the entire city to receive a personal commendation from a church bishop.

On the afternoon the plaque was hung up, three clients came to the door.

The number doubled the next day.

By the weekend, Moen had to start considering whether to hire an assistant.

After Clara came home from school, she also helped receive several clients, but she was still a child and there was only so much she could do.

Moen wrote "Hiring Assistant" in his notebook, then circled it and marked it "To Do".

In any case, the Marcus Detective Agency has finally established itself and is truly thriving.

The church thoroughly cleaned up the area where the abandoned warehouse was located.

A dozen or so monks carried holy water and purification arrays and worked repeatedly on the ground to ensure that there were no traces of magic or demonic power.

The captured Society magicians spent an unpleasant time in the church's dungeon.

After a friendly and cordial "interrogation," they shifted all the blame onto their beloved, deceased mentor.

"It was planned by the mentor."

"The ritual was designed by the mentor."

"Demons are also summoned by the mentor."

"We were just following orders; we knew nothing."

This kind of blame-shifting was heard repeatedly in the interrogation room, causing the monks in charge of taking notes to frown.

Ultimately, the crimes of these sorcerers were brought to trial by the kingdom's judicial system, and most of them would spend the rest of their lives in some dark dungeon isolated from magic.

However, Moen didn't care about any of these things.

After the cough incident was completely resolved, the most noticeable change he could see was that Clara's condition had improved.

That evening, he slipped out of the church ward and pushed open the door of the office, where he saw Clara sitting on the sofa, holding Lucy and an arithmetic textbook in her hands.

"Brother!" Clara's eyes lit up as soon as she saw him. She put down her textbook, ran over, and hugged his waist.

"You're back! Mr. Baker came to visit me today and brought lots of fruit!"

Her complexion regained its rosy hue, her speech no longer contained coughs, and she even looked much more energetic than before.

Several weeks have passed since the cough incident.

Kansas City, whose rhythm was disrupted by the sudden and swift-to-return plague, is gradually regaining its pace.

White smoke began to billow from the factory chimneys again, and the school bells rang precisely on time every morning.

With Moen's support and guidance, Clara successfully passed every subject in her final exams.

She received an excellent report card, with each subject grade marked "Excellent" or "Good" in red ink by Ms. Baker.

The only "pass" grade came in art class, but art doesn't affect college admissions, so there's no need to worry about it.

Moen didn't show any particular emotional reaction to his sister's report card.

Just kidding. A college student who has received nine years of compulsory education plus three years of college entrance exam preparation can easily tutor a twelve-year-old student.

With rich exam preparation experience from the mysterious country of the East, dealing with a small final exam is like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

Of course, he didn't say this to Clara's face.

Days passed by like this. Every morning, Moen would take Clara to school and then return to the office to handle cases.

He would occasionally pick Clara up from school in the afternoon, but more often Clara would take the public carriage home by herself.

He spends the rest of his time at the firm.

More and more clients came, most of them ordinary people like Martha.

Some are looking for their cats or dogs, some suspect their spouses of infidelity, and some want to find out if their next-door neighbor is a thief.

This kind of case was no challenge for Moen. He didn't even need to use any supernatural abilities; his observation and reasoning skills, honed during his time as a gunman before his transmigration, were more than enough.

The only thing that disappointed him was that none of these cases were related to the contained objects.

He sometimes wondered if the incident with the Demon Lord had caused such a stir that it scared away all the containment objects in Kansas City.

Or perhaps there weren't that many extraordinary events to begin with; he was just "lucky" when he first transmigrated.

Fortunately, he no longer needs to worry about maintaining his lifespan, as Professor Pip regularly sends him laboratory animals.

However, perhaps Death Note has become picky, as harvesting the lives of these ordinary animals only prolongs lifespan and does not generate any new essence.

It doesn't matter anymore. Since he transmigrated, this is the first period of time he can truly call a leisurely one.

During this time, the only thing that piqued his curiosity was what exactly the gift Sharon had mentioned was.

Finally, the doorbell rang, and he eagerly opened the door. Standing outside were Arthur and Phils, each holding a thick stack of documents.

Today is the day that will determine whether he can become a magician.