Detective Guide to the Steam World

Chapter 9 The Twilight Church Trial

You seem to be in a hurry?

Upon hearing this, Rean frowned slightly.

He and old Henry were not close; apart from a few collaborative commissions, they had no other contact.

The last time the two contacted each other was more than a month ago, and their relationship was far from reaching the point where they were helping each other.

However, considering that old Henry still needed to investigate Baron Jesper's matter, Rean could only nod helplessly:

"Okay, I understand."

"When are you planning to go?" Kent asked. "Do you need me to come with you?"

Rean took out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. It was already five o'clock in the afternoon. In another hour, night would fall in Fog Harbor.

"Without further ado, let's go to the Hound Tavern tonight to see old Henry."

"Shall we go tonight?"

Kent paused, then said somewhat flusteredly, "What about the Fletcher family? You don't mean to leave me here alone, do you?"

"Don't panic, Mr. Kent. I don't need you to do anything, just keep an eye on me."

Rean picked up his top hat, put it on, and stood up. "As long as you don't provoke Miss Willow, I think you should be safe."

"Miss Willow? You mean Cyril's fiancée?"

Kent immediately tensed up. "Is there something wrong with her?"

"Yes, she's a superhuman, just like you. I suspect she's one of those hidden within the Fletcher family."

"Fuck!"

Kent cursed and stood up, muttering, "Damn it, I knew this job wouldn't be this easy! If I had known... well, for the sake of 50 pounds, some danger is to be expected."

After trying to reassure himself, he was still somewhat worried and couldn't help but ask:

"Rean, you'd better go and come back as soon as possible. These superhumans hiding in noble families are definitely up to something. I'm afraid I can't handle them alone."

"Sorry, I have to go home tonight. Good luck."

Rean shrugged. "You know, I've been locked up for three days. If I don't go back soon, my little one at home will starve to death. I'll come find you again tomorrow morning."

"Damn it, is my life less important than a cat?"

"Of course not."

Rean spoke up as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then looked at the somewhat exasperated Kent, smiled and stretched out his hand, palm up.

Seeing this inexplicable action, Kent looked puzzled:

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have any money on me, can you lend me 1 pound? Oh, and remember to pay the bill too, I'll treat you next time."

"Fuck!"

……

……

By the time Rean alighted from the carriage, it was completely dark.

The old gas lamps by the roadside flickered, casting an orange glow that distorted his shadow, making it appear almost lifelike.

Although it is only around 7 p.m., there are almost no pedestrians on the roads in the southern district of Wugang City, where people from the lower classes live in large numbers.

The concept of nightlife is far too distant for ordinary people struggling to make ends meet.

And the poorer a place is, the more likely it is to breed evil.

This has nothing to do with morality; it's all just about survival.

After all, it is never noble character that creates wealth, but money itself has the magic to transform all filth into nobility.

After walking for ten minutes along the potholed gray stone street, Rean turned a corner and a tavern with a sign painted with an old yellow-striped dog appeared before him.

Pushing open the door, a cacophony of noise and the strong smell of alcohol immediately hit me.

Ignoring the dazed drunks and the gamblers shouting in the tavern, Rean went straight to the bar.

"Look, who do I see?!"

The bartender, who was wiping the glasses, exaggeratedly spread his arms wide, then reached out and bumped fists with Rean with a warm expression.

"Welcome back, dear detective. It seems those bastards at the police station didn't give you too much trouble. How about a glass of ale to celebrate? It's freshly brewed, quite delicious."

"I'll definitely do it next time."

Rean smiled and declined the sales pitch, glancing around. "Where's old Henry?"

"He's in a private room today; it's the third room on the left after you go in."

The bartender gestured towards the aisle next to the bar, "Just go there if you need to find him."

Thanks.

Rean turned and left the bar, walking towards the dimly lit corridor.

At the entrance to the corridor stood a burly man with his arms crossed, a fierce-looking face, and the appearance of a thug.

Clearly, the real business of the Hounds Tavern is located behind this corridor.

However, since Rean was a familiar face, the thug only glanced at him twice, then stepped aside without asking any questions, making way for him.

Following the bartender's instructions, Rean skillfully navigated the winding corridors and arrived at the third private room.

The door to the private room was ajar, and warm light shone through the gap.

"Knock knock knock—"

Out of politeness, Rean did not push the door open directly, but knocked on it.

"Ahem... The door's unlocked, just come in."

Soon, old Henry's signature hoarse cough echoed through the private room.

Rean pushed open the door and entered, raising an eyebrow after seeing everything inside the private room.

The private room was not large and the furnishings were very simple, with only two somewhat worn sofas and a wooden coffee table.

Old Henry, wearing a brown low-cut coat, sat on the sofa, his wrinkled face showing a hint of unease and tension.

Opposite the broker sat a middle-aged gentleman who looked to be around thirty years old.

This man was not only dressed in an elaborate suit that was completely out of place in this setting, but his short hair was also meticulously styled, and he had a gold-plated cane beside him.

Most importantly, Rean smelled an unusually pungent odor on him.

That was an ominous aura emanating from a superhuman!

"Rean, you've finally arrived!"

Old Henry looked up, a look of joy immediately appearing on his face, and instinctively wanted to stand up.

However, he seemed to suddenly remember something, his movements froze, he glanced at the person opposite him with some unease, and then sat down again.

Seeing this, Rean had some guesses in his mind.

He stepped into the private room, sat down on the sofa, took off his top hat, and turned to look at old Henry.

"Is this why you asked me to come here?"

Old Henry looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Rean, the situation is a bit complicated, and I also..."

"Let me explain."

The middle-aged gentleman picked up the conversation, looked at Rean with an apologetic smile, and said, "Mr. Rean, I'm sorry to contact you in this way, but we have our reasons for doing so. Please forgive my offense."

"I don't really care about forgiveness or offense."

Rean leaned back on the sofa nonchalantly, his tone relaxed, "Since you were able to find me through old Henry, it must be something like hiring, which is within my scope of business, so it's not really offensive."

"However, all of this is contingent on you providing sufficient compensation and the events being interesting enough."

At this point, Rean glanced at old Henry, who was standing next to him like a wooden statue.

"I assume you knew my rules before you came to me, right?"

"Of course, we already know all of this, otherwise we wouldn't have taken the liberty of coming to see you, Mr. Rean."

Seeing that Rean did not show any resistance, the middle-aged gentleman's smile finally relaxed.

"Let me introduce myself."

He rose, removed his top hat, and bowed slightly: "Nice to meet you, Seth Godwin, a member of the Twilight Church's Inquisition."