Mythology Rebooted

The Detective Agency's front gate had been violently vandalized, but for the Queen's sake, Wayne didn't pursue it; it was only children who worried about right and wrong, whereas adults lay down to collect the money.

He moved a cabinet in front of the door, planning to replace the lock the next morning, and then lifted a box, taking considerable effort to get to the half-floor on the second level.

What was called the half-floor was actually the third floor; only half of the third level was built, leaving an open-air balcony that could be used for planting flowers and plants or for hanging clothes.

Wayne was poor; he had no right to plant flowers or grass. All he could do was strive ceaselessly, so the balcony had always been empty.

Veronica was very pleased with the layout of the third floor, holding the black cat and enjoying the night scene by the window.

Wayne knocked on the door and frowned, "The nights in Lundan are quite eerie, you'd better close the windows, and don't draw back the curtains either."

"Indeed, the city is quite dangerous, especially for the ignorant..."

Veronica didn't turn around, closed her eyes to enjoy the breeze of the night, and the black cat in her arms stared into the distant night sky with a pair of golden eyes.

Wayne curled his lip; he knew Veronica was no ordinary person, shrouded in secrets from head to toe; he just didn't want any trouble.

After all, things like Drifting Ghosts, though they had existed for many years, were still too advanced for carbon-based life forms.

"May I ask, will William be living in the Detective Agency permanently?"

"Yes, he's the clerk you hired for the Detective Agency, responsible for handling the archives."

"..."

This guy was built like a bear, even bears shook their heads at him, how could he look like a clerk?

Wayne grumbled inwardly and unconsciously asked, "What about his salary, does he also get paid to work?"

"What else?"

Right!

Wayne nodded with a serious face; it was indeed his fault to have cast such an insulting doubt on a wealthy woman.

Wayne reminded Veronica to close the windows and go to sleep soon, then turned to go to the second floor to clean up. He had to hurry; who knows if William was already trying on his clothes.

"Wait, Wayne, no, boss."

Veronica turned around, speaking earnestly, "As your assistant, I suggest the Detective Agency closes for the day tomorrow for a thorough cleaning inside and out, top to bottom."

"Hmm, it has become a bit messy."

Wayne expressed his support. He had also planned on a major cleanup before; being poor and busy meant he never found the time and had only managed a quick tidy-up.

After Wayne left, the black cat in Veronica's arms leapt onto the windowsill and said in a hoarse voice, "He has the scent of Death on him, strong, and there are marks on the walls indicating he has had close contact with a Death Walker recently; he's been targeted."

The black cat spoke human language, but Veronica wasn't surprised. She protected the black cat with her hands to prevent it from falling out of the window, "He's a detective; he comes into contact with many people every day. It's going to be too difficult to investigate, but a Death Walker won't give up on their target easily. We will know in a couple of days."

"If we can't wait, we could check the archives in his office; maybe we'll find some clues."

"That's all we can do now."

Veronica frowned, clearly distressed, "The aura of death on him is too thick, very abnormal. If he weren't obviously a living person, I would almost suspect he was dead already."

"Yes, but thanks to him, we've been able to locate the Death Walker so quickly."

————

Second floor.

Wayne walked into his bedroom to find the tall and burly William organizing all of the female movie star posters, laughing joyfully with a Future Diary he had found on the nightstand, his laugh as robust as barbells.

A muscular dude towering at two meters with abundant body hair was wearing a blue and white striped sailor outfit, yet he didn't chastise the heresy of watching men and women fight as prescribed by the "Youth Training Manual," leaving Wayne utterly incredulous.

Where's your philosophy, come on, criticize it!

"Future Diary" was the original owner's last work, equivalent to being written by Wayne himself, and although he didn't want to carry that burden, he had no choice but he didn't step forward to take back the diary.

Compared to social death, he was more afraid of never-ending mutual debts—what if William didn't let go, wouldn't that be a disaster?

"Wayne, you're here! Where did you get this diary from, did you write it?"

That's not a diary, that's a single Mage's spellcasting materials!

William winked meaningfully, "You've got good taste, but Lily Hayworth is a singer, she hasn't acted in many movies. I prefer her male co-star in the movies—handsome, witty, attentive, optimistic, always smiling and very talkative—just the ideal partner, don't you think?"

Wayne's face soured, he was precisely that ideal partner.

"Wayne, what are you spacing out for, come over here!" William patted the bed beside him.

"No need, I'll just tidy up a bit and go downstairs, Veronica said we have to get up early tomorrow for a big clean-up." Wayne quietly took a half step back, ensuring that if William rushed at him, he could close the door and flee at the first opportunity.

Hearing this, William didn't give Wayne a hard time any longer, and the latter moved a bunch of spellcasting materials to the warehouse and brought his bedding roll to the office sofa.

A silent night passed.

Wayne woke up hungry the next day. The physical labor from the night before had drained his last bit of energy, granting him a sleep akin to that of a new father.

So much so that even with the crash and bang in the kitchen, he could still sleep like a log, until the tantalizing scent drifted in, when he abruptly opened his eyes.

It was grilled meat, not the damn Potatoes!

Wayne looked over surprised, he had misunderstood the young mistress. He had assumed she was just someone who spent money, but her cooking skills were exquisite.

Leaving aside the appearance and taste, just the aroma alone, she had nailed it perfectly, even the greedy worm in his stomach woke up.

Soon, William emerged from the kitchen in an apron, his strong chest and arms making the narrow apron look hilarious. Those with good eyesight could even see tufts of chest hair poking out of the collar of the sailor outfit.

William called Wayne over to try his signature dishes: "You slept like the dead, it's noon now. I've prepared fish and chips, sauced beef, and stir-fried mushrooms with noodles—are you eager to dig in?"

Wayne: (눈_눈)

Take back what he said before; he hadn't misunderstood the young mistress, he had misunderstood the muscular guy.

Soon, Veronica returned from shopping. She wore a white shirt with a knitted suit jacket, jodhpurs, and boots, the ensemble was simple yet competent, heavy with workplace vibes.

Wayne nodded in appreciation. Not every good-looking person has a beautiful soul, but at least she was good-looking. Veronica's figure and face looked good in anything she wore, and even in his own era, her style wouldn't be outdated.

Veronica bought lots of things, including simple furniture and household supplies, as well as potted plants, prime soil for planting, and jars filled with plant seeds—seemingly in preparation to decorate the third-floor open-air balcony.

After the meal, she put on an apron, a hat, and arm protectors and began the big clean-up of the third floor, with the black cat Monica as her helper, earnestly wiping the windows with a rag.

William was assigned a bunch of physically demanding tasks like moving furniture and taking out the trash, which made him grumble non-stop. He had applied to be a clerk, or at worst, a chef.

Veronica didn't assign anything to Wayne, it was apparent she didn't like him very much. Unless necessary, she wouldn't even initiate a conversation.

This rendered Wayne totally out of place in the Detective Agency. While everyone else was busy, he was idle, like he was the outsider.

The outsider is me!

People do have a sense of shame and a desire to avoid defeat, so Wayne picked up a mop and joined the cleaning, busying himself for an hour until the door of the Detective Agency was knocked again.

Madam Laina!