Early morning.
The breaking dawn shone upon the land, breathing vitality into the world and stirring the city of Londan to life.
Minutes before the sun rose, the mist that had settled over the night slowly dissipated, as though the two had struck an unspoken agreement never to meet.
Wayne sat at his desk, pen scratching furiously across paper. Over the past two days, to keep the hound happy, he had been busy investigating the animal shelter and following up on the incident's news coverage—he hadn't even found time to write in his diary. It had run him ragged.
Because it was a Doberman, Wayne had named it Abin.
At first he had considered naming it A-Do, but reconsidered—mostly because the dog wouldn't work; it was too tall to crawl under a car.
The animal shelter incident had essentially reached a conclusion.
The employees mauled by Abin had run high fevers and ended up hospitalized. On the first day, the public expressed sympathy; on the second day, public sentiment reversed—being attacked by a vicious hound was purely their own doing.
The citizens were utterly disgusted, especially owners who had boarded their pets at the shelter, and were itching to march into the hospital to deliver some physical retribution.
Seeing that disaster was brewing, the hospital director disregarded consequences, broke the employees' fevers, and discharged them at top speed.
Staying admitted? Out of the question. Don't ask, and if you do, there just weren't enough beds.
The hospital's handling was entirely unreasonable and perhaps not even legal, but with public fury boiling over, no one dared step forward to pick a fight.
The traffic was too huge; before speaking up, one had to consider whether they'd be washed away by the tide.
Conversely, traffic also meant opportunity—a golden chance to craft a public persona. Sure enough, numerous councilmen joined the denunciation brigade, fiercely criticizing the shelter's lawless management and reaping a hefty wave of prestige.
By now, Londan had updated its animal protection meta. There was still profit in this wave of traffic; going forward, Wayne wouldn't need to spend a copper, as plenty of sponsors would open their own wallets.
The employees were driven out of the hospital, and that night, Abin didn't come home. It had developed a taste for the game of cat-and-mouse, and having recognized Wayne's abilities, it willingly became his faithful hound, dedicating its future to its master.
Having subdued his first Spirit of Vengeance, Wayne was in no rush to contract a second. His mana was insufficient; supporting one hound already stretched him thin, and taking on a second carried a massive risk of backlash.
Speaking of which, Abin was actually quite easy to maintain and consumed very little mana on a daily basis.
Especially at night, it could blend into the mist, drastically cutting Wayne's mana expenses. In other words, the hound was very sensible—knowing the household wasn't wealthy, it hunted outside to feed itself.
A dog never shuns a poor home. That went for dogs, but if it were a cat...
Well, that wasn't quite fair. A cat didn't care whether you were rich or poor, because rich or poor, a cat looked down on you just the same.
Back to the matter at hand. Busy as Wayne was running around by day, he hadn't slacked off at night either, and had gradually figured out the proper way to utilize a Spirit of Vengeance.
The moment night fell, Abin came alive, moving unimpeded across any area blanketed in mist.
Within the mist, all of Abin's attributes saw immense enhancements: its speed, strength, and endurance were astonishing. Under the cover of mist, it could not only turn invisible and stalk unseen, but also channel mist-based superpowers akin to magic.
Made by the mist, undone by the mist!
Once it left the mist-covered region—meaning the city of Londan—Wayne would have to sustain Abin with his own mana. That was a terrifying expenditure, one Wayne couldn't meet even if he were squeezed dry.
During the daytime, Abin grew listless and weak, its attributes drastically reduced, looking withered as if on death's door.
Under the sun, the mist shrouding its bare bones would even dissipate, leaving only a naked skeleton.
Likewise, Wayne could spend mana to grant Abin its nocturnal buffs during the day, but again, the mana drain was horrific; he simply couldn't afford to keep a dog by day.
Thus, Wayne only let Abin roam at night. In the daylight, without needing an order, Abin would dig a hole in the detective agency's backyard and bury itself.
All told, after being remodeled by the Book of Greed, the wraith had transitioned into a Spirit of Vengeance, becoming a magical lifeform and Wayne's most powerful asset at present.
...
With some free time, Wayne set to work on the investigation file for the Town of Kafuno. He excised large sections and erased any supernatural traces, making the file appear completely ordinary.
Afterward, Wayne opened his diary, faithfully recording the client's high praise for him, and dedicated a modest portion to lauding his own unimpeachable moral character and consummate professional caliber.
Inspiration struck like a surging spring. The more he wrote, the more invigorated he felt, rambling on for over five thousand words and still feeling an itch to write more upon finishing.
It didn't matter if there were no readers for now. As long as he updated consistently and placed the diary somewhere conspicuous, a pretty young lady was bound to discover his virtues sooner or later.
"That'll do. Too much is as bad as too little—going on any longer would just bore the reader."
With all that settled, Wayne pushed open the detective agency's front door and waited for business.
He was broke!
To please the hound, he had spent all his savings, pouring every cent earned from the young miss right into it. Flat broke, he was once again facing the predicament of being unable to pay rent.
Wayne didn't think there was anything wrong with that; money was meant to be spent when needed, without skimping. He merely felt a bit wronged—why hadn't the young miss come by to alleviate his poverty yet? There was nothing left at home except potatoes.
Sitting and waiting for business, Wayne grabbed today's newspaper and flipped through it, following up on the animal shelter developments while browsing recent anecdotes and curiosities.
As a detective, Wayne subscribed to a large number of newspapers and periodicals, and had developed a habit of listening to the radio.
Having recently changed class to a mage, he had also started paying attention to the gossip sections, examining them from a mage's perspective to look for clues and truths hidden within the tabloids.
These were all intelligence!
"Series of disappearances suspected to be human trafficking; victims mostly young women aged sixteen to twenty-four..."
"Another mechanic stabbed to death last night, marking the third violent attack against mechanics this month. After many years, the shadow of the Ripper once again looms over Londan..."
"Police urge public to reduce night travel in the coming days..."
Wayne scanned down the pages one by one, frowning slightly. "God bless... no, Goddess above, pray that these bastards run into Veronica on their night walks."
"Come to think of it, both the disappearances and the attacks on mechanics happened at night. The culprit probably isn't an ordinary person."
Wayne narrowed his eyes. It was time to give Abin something to do instead of spending whole nights chasing those few employees. They were just scumbags; tormenting them in his spare time was one thing, but obsessing over them like a devoted lover was just demeaning!
"Wayne, I'm here!"
Villy's energetic voice rang from the front door. Wayne looked up to see her hopping in, lively as could be.
Wayne was quite disappointed not to see Veronica, and wore that emotion plainly on his face.
Villy shook her fist in annoyance, snatched the newspaper from Wayne's hands, and began reading. "I bet the culprit isn't an ordinary person. They're definitely scoundrels from the Free Mages Alliance, especially those black mages who attack women from time to time to harvest wicked, bloody casting materials."
Wayne nodded. He thought so too.
"Forget that. Did you hear the latest front-page news? The largest animal shelter in the East District shut down. It was close to the warehouse district—we even passed by it before." Villy flipped the paper quickly.
"I've heard a bit."
"A bunch of bastards! If they fell into my hands, I'd break their legs for sure," Villy said, gritting her teeth.
Totally unnecessary!
Wayne shook his head, mentally urging the girl to show mercy. If their legs were broken and they couldn't run, Abin wouldn't have any fun.
"Let's not dwell on such depressing things. What brings you here today?"
"To bring you a gift, of course!"
Villy set down the newspaper, planted her hands on her hips, and lifted her chin, practically demanding to be praised.
Where was the gift?
Wayne glanced down. Her assets were quite considerable—visually not quite up to Chris's, but definitely outdoing Veronica's.
To be fair, although this 'holy gift' was a bit different from what he had expected, still...
He wouldn't say no!
Chapter 22