Chapter 10: Confusion of Men and Women |
The narrow alley was merely a passage between two buildings, leaving little room for anything besides trash and filth. Heart pounding wildly, Shade knew his decision was risky, but the voice in his mind was right. If he desired the extraordinary, he had to accept the danger. The safer routes—through the psychologist or the church—offered no guarantees either. No matter the choice, the risk was his to bear.
"Anything goes wrong, and I’m out of here," he murmured, gripping his cane tightly as he tiptoed forward, striving for silence. At the alley’s end were a few wooden crates. Faded wanted posters, nearly illegible, were plastered on them, warning of a serial killer on the run in Tobesk. The alley branched left and right into the city’s slum-filled lower district.
Shade crouched behind the crates, peering through the gaps toward where the man he followed had turned. He saw another alley and the young man with the white pebble ring. Standing midway through the passage, the man glanced cautiously around and even squinted toward the sky. After a long pause, he set a black briefcase on the ground, removed the ring from his right index finger, and kissed it lightly, all under Shade’s astonished gaze.
The man muttered something Shade couldn’t hear, his words lost to the wind and distance. After the kiss, his demeanor relaxed slightly. Replacing the ring, his body suddenly emitted dense smoke as if he’d caught fire. The thick plumes seeped from his clothes, enveloping him entirely.
Shade's ears picked up whispering—not the elegant woman’s voice in his mind but a guttural, unintelligible murmur that resembled chewing or curses. His head swam with disorienting sensations, akin to spinning in circles before trying to walk straight. The whispers grew louder until, for a moment, he imagined a malevolent spirit lunging at him.
Thankfully, the hallucination ended quickly. As the smoke dissipated, Shade questioned his vision. Emerging from the smoke was a figure, now wearing a white pebble ring, brushing down their skirt before picking up the briefcase. Madame Lasso turned to scan her surroundings with a sly smile. Confident she hadn’t been seen, she proceeded toward the alley's other end.
Shade pressed his back against the wall, his hand over his mouth, wedged tightly between the crates and the wall. He stayed frozen for a long time. Just earlier, he’d wondered why a church investigator would be handing out flyers, but now he understood—they might have been watching Madame Lasso, just as the bumbling detective Shade was pretending to be.
When he finally emerged, the silver, yellow, and red moons had risen together. The yellow moon, pale and bright, dominated the trio. The night was serene, as tranquil as his past world. This secluded street lacked streetlights, leaving Shade uncertain of his expression as he glanced at his pocket watch. It was nearly 8 p.m. He’d been wedged in the alley for two hours.
"Forget about the relief food," he muttered bitterly. Feeling disheartened, he headed home. Despite the prospect of hunger, he was grateful to have a roof over his head. The pressing issue was his investigation into Madame Lasso—it seemed untenable now.
“This world is more troublesome than I thought... Is Lawrence in love with a man or a woman?” Shade mused. Madame Lasso might not be malicious, but barely 24 hours into this new world, Shade already felt on edge.
"Perhaps the extraordinary truly does attract the extraordinary," he sighed. Wary of muggers, drunks, or illicit activities, he avoided alleys, relying on his cane and a fruit knife for protection.
“What a rotten day…” he muttered, turning left at Old John’s Pawnshop. The thought of sleeping in a room where someone had recently died soured his mood further.
"Given the extraordinary exists, ghosts might too… Don’t scare yourself. Wait, where did I turn just now?" Retracing his steps, he saw Old John’s sign again, its interior gaslights glowing. He chuckled wryly. “Maybe luck isn’t entirely against me.” Checking his watch, he pushed open the shop’s door.
Instead of pawning his watch, Shade pawned his cane. The watch was essential, whereas the cane was not. Despite its value, the shopkeeper, John Jones, only offered 10 shillings for the scratched watch, likely due to its wear.
But for the cane—made of natural snow cedar from the Derado Mountains—the old man offered 1 pound and 12 shillings, lamenting Shade’s ignorance of its worth.
Shade didn’t haggle; he accepted two 1-pound notes and signed the contract. The money could last him two weeks comfortably or even a month and a half with frugality. It was enough to sustain him and arrange a modest funeral for the late detective if he ever felt inclined.
“What to do about the extraordinary and the mysteries?” he pondered over dinner—rich soup and a meat steak. Returning home at nearly 10 p.m., he confirmed his hair placed as a marker remained undisturbed before entering.
Exhausted, he collapsed on the sofa under the soft gaslight, resolving to confront the extraordinary soon. While danger hadn’t yet arisen, this world’s complexity left no room for complacency.
His options were limited: Bill Schneider, the psychologist; the city’s Five True God Churches; or Madame Lasso herself. Each path had risks, and his limited understanding of this world didn’t help. The lack of a public library further hindered his search for free knowledge.
He decided to delay, relying on pawned items to buy time. As he drifted to sleep, he heard the woman’s laugh again—a strangely comforting sound. That night, he dreamed of sitting by a field, gazing at the radiant silver moon.
Plans seldom survived reality. The next morning, Shade's three-pronged approach was upended.
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