The alley he had turned into was merely a narrow passage squeezed between two buildings. Aside from the garbage and filth strewn across the ground, there was nothing else cluttering the space.
Shade's heart pounded. He knew full well this decision was a risk, but the voice in his head had assured him it was the correct path. To seek the extraordinary meant taking risks. The psychiatrist or the church might seem safer, but in reality, every path he could take in this unfamiliar world carried its own dangers.
Nothing comes without a price. He accepted that.
"If anything seems wrong, I'll retreat immediately."
Clutching his cane, he moved forward, footsteps light, careful not to make noise. The end of the alley was blocked by wooden crates, plastered with wanted posters—murderers who had fled to Tobesk.
At the end of the alley, it split left and right, leading into the slums of Lower Tobesk. Shade hid behind the crates, peeking through a gap to watch the place where the man had turned.
The young man was standing alone in the middle of another narrow passage. He glanced around warily, even tilting his head up to scan the sky. Finally, he placed his black suitcase on the ground, slipped the pebble ring off his right index finger, and, to Shade's shock, kissed it.
Head lowered, he muttered something Shade couldn't hear, his words lost to the wind and distance.
After that silent ritual, the man seemed to relax slightly.
Then, sliding the ring back onto his finger, thick black smoke immediately billowed from his body, rising from beneath his clothes and enveloping him entirely.
Shade flinched. Strange whispers filled his ears—not the elegant voice of the woman in his mind, but something else. Something broken. The whispers were disjointed, gnawing, like a hundred voices chewing or cursing at once.
His head swam, like trying to walk straight after spinning in circles. The whispers clawed at his mind until, for a moment, Shade thought he saw a ghast rushing at him.
Then it vanished.
Gasping, he blinked rapidly to clear his spinning vision. And when the black smoke dispersed—
His breath caught.
Madam La Soya stepped out of the fading smoke.
She dusted off the hem of her skirt calmly, then bent to pick up the suitcase. Her lips curled into a faint, contented smile as she surveyed the alley cautiously, unaware anyone had seen her transformation.
Satisfied, she walked away down the far end of the alley.
Shade clamped a hand over his mouth, pressing himself deeper into the shadows between the crate and the wall, too afraid to move.
He understood now. Earlier that day, the so-called church investigator handing out pamphlets had been surveilling the club, just like he himself had been. But now, it made sense—they had been watching Madam La Soya.
And as he finally got the courage to slip out of hiding, three moons—silver, yellow, and red—hung quietly in the night sky. The yellow moon gleamed brightest. The night looked serene.
No street lamps lit this remote street. In the dim moonlight, Shade wasn't sure what expression he wore. He pulled out his pocket watch—it was nearly eight o'clock. He had hidden there for almost two hours and hadn't realized how much time had passed.
"Forget the relief food..."
He shook his head, mood sinking. He turned toward home. Hungry or not, at least he had a roof over his head.
But the worst realization struck him now: the generous commission he'd accepted to investigate Mrs. La Soya was all but impossible to finish.
Obviously, Mrs. La Soya could transform into a man using the ring. Or perhaps, the young man had the ability to become Mrs. La Soya. Either way, he couldn't report this to his employer—nor could he submit the dead detective's previous reports like nothing had changed.
If Mrs. Lawrence received the report, she would inevitably alert Madam La Soya, knowingly or not. And Shade didn't want to gamble on what someone like Madam La Soya might do in retaliation.
"This world's far more complicated than I thought... Is Mr. Lawrence in love with a man or a woman?"
Maybe Madam La Soya wasn't dangerous. Maybe she simply lived her life as she pleased. But less than 24 hours into this new world, Shade had stumbled straight into a situation like this.
"The extraordinary attracts the extraordinary..."
Tiredly, he trudged home. He didn't dare take shortcuts through the alleys, fearing robbers, drunks, or worse. All he had for defense was a cane and a fruit knife.
"What a miserable day..."
Rounding the corner at Old John's Pawn Shop, he sighed again. Sleeping in a house where someone had just died didn't help his mood.
"Since the extraordinary exist... ghosts probably do too..." He stopped, confused. "Wait... where did I just turn?"
Stepping back, he looked up at the shop's sign and the warm gaslight within.
"Ah... Maybe this isn't all bad. Things will get better."
He patted his pocket watch for reassurance and pushed open the door.
He didn't pawn the watch in the end. Instead, he sold the cane.
The pocket watch, scratched and battered, wasn't worth much—ten shillings, the old man at the counter had said.
But the cane? £1 and 12 shillings.
"Do you understand? Natural snow fir from the Drado Mountains. Look at this craftsmanship."
Shade knew the cane was worth more. But exhausted and unwilling to argue, he took the money, signed the papers, and left with two one-pound notes.
With this, he could survive comfortably for at least two weeks, longer if he stretched it. Enough to cover rent and basic meals. Enough to perhaps even arrange a funeral for Sparrow Hamilton, though he wasn't considering that yet.
"At least, I've solved the food problem."
Dinner came first. He ate nearby—a hot soup and steak, heavy but satisfying. When he finally reached No. 6, Saint Teresa Square, it was nearly ten.
He turned up the gas lamp in the sitting room, letting warm light fill the space, and collapsed onto the sofa. Through the open bedroom door, he could see the bed where Sparrow Hamilton had once slept.
No.
Shade wouldn't wait passively for danger to find him. If he was going to live as a detective in this strange city, he needed the power to protect himself. He needed answers.
He saw three possible paths:
First, Mr. Schneider, the psychiatrist. Second, the five orthodox churches of Tobesk. And third—Madam La Soya herself.
Each had risks. Each had potential. But in truth, Shade knew too little about this world to choose confidently.
There wasn't even a public library here. The private ones demanded money and connections—both of which he lacked.
Sparrow Hamilton's notes were sparse. The man hadn't even been a book collector. And tracing Sparrow's mysterious death felt too dangerous to attempt, not yet.
"Any suggestions?"
He slapped his forehead, hoping the woman's voice would respond.
Only soft laughter answered him. That mysterious voice had led him through the day's events, guided him to the ring's secret... but now, she said nothing more.
"In the end, people have themselves to rely on."
He whispered to himself, gazing out the window at the unfamiliar sky where three moons glowed. The sight soothed him. Especially the silver moon, whose light seemed to ease his mood just a little.
No. He couldn't delay anymore.
If he wanted to survive, he needed to act. He needed to know the truth behind this world.
"Church... psychiatrist... Madam La Soya..."
He was wary of the third. That woman, after all, had likely been the target of both the church and police today.
The church felt safer. Enlightened, perhaps. But then again... he wasn't a believer. And as an outsider, would their so-called enlightenment even apply to someone like him?
"I'll investigate a few more days. I won't starve. I've got time... I'll figure out which path to choose."
With that thought, he drifted to sleep in Sparrow Hamilton's bed.
In his dreams, the woman's laughter returned, faint and distant. Strangely, it comforted him. That night, Shade slept soundly.
He dreamed of sitting on a quiet ridge beneath the silver moon.
But fate rarely waits.
The next morning, an unexpected event shattered his fragile plans.