Chapter 1

"Did you remember everything I told you?"

Xia德 finally snapped out of his daze, looking around with some confusion. In his last memory, he was helping his friend with funeral arrangements, and the next moment, he found himself here.

This was definitely not a bedroom from the 21st century. The room was dimly lit by a soft yellow light, and the somewhat dark wooden floor was relatively clean, but the walls were already yellowing. A stack of books was piled in the corner, leaning precariously as if about to fall. On the bookshelf beside the stack were some metal pots and picture frames.

The photos were all in black and white.

On the walls, in addition to oil paintings, there were two metal pipes. The clips connecting the pipes were slightly rusted, and one of the thinner pipes branched off at the desk. The brown wooden desk was covered with papers, and the drawers on both sides were half-open, revealing documents and papers inside.

On the desk, a lamp connected to the brass pipe was still lit. The heavy lamp had a unique trumpet-shaped design—

"Hmm? Not an electric lamp? A gas lamp?"

It was difficult to determine if it was a gas lamp just by looking, but the pipes on the wall and the wall lamps connected to them clearly weren't electric. The warm yellow light wasn't very bright, only illuminating the desk area, but it gave Xia德 a sense of warmth.

By the light, he saw the decorative oil paintings on the wall, the black-and-white portrait on the desk, and the newspaper spread out in the floor's shadow. He couldn't read the content of the newspaper, but he could see that it was in letters, not Chinese characters.

This sense of anachronism made it clear that wherever he was, it was no longer his hometown.

The air was filled with a decaying smell, but it was more like the smell of a funeral home. Xia德 remembered this smell, as he had just been helping his unfortunate friend who had passed away.

"Did you remember everything I told you?"

The voice sounded again, and Xia德 finally snapped out of his daze. The young man quickly realized that someone was holding his right wrist. Only then did he look down.

He was beside a bed in what seemed to be a 19th-century man's bedroom. The bed was a four-poster, but only three sides had curtains. The visible parts of the bed and the headboard shimmered with a metallic luster under the gas lamp.

The bedside lamp was shaped like a small angel holding it, which caught Xia德's attention for a moment.

The person holding his hand was the man lying on the bed. This middle-aged man, who might be the owner of the bedroom, was wearing a dark plaid nightgown, with everything except his head and right hand hidden under the covers.

He had a distinctly Caucasian face, but his eyes were sunken, his cheeks sagged, and his right hand, which held Xia德's wrist, was alarmingly thin. He looked like someone who was being starved to death, and Xia德 even believed that if he spoke too loudly, he would have to beg the man not to die.

Xia德 knew nothing about the situation and needed to understand it from the man.

"So, I've been transported to another world?"

He thought to himself, gaining a rough understanding of the situation.

Fortunately, the man on the bed, though weak, didn't have any signs of rigor mortis. Otherwise, Xia德 would have been truly worried about his current situation.

"Did you remember everything I told you?"

The weak man asked for the third time, his brown eyes deeply sunken but fixed on Xia德. Although Xia德 didn't understand why he had been transported here, he knew that it was best to play along and understand the situation before making any plans.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to realize that the man wasn't speaking Chinese or any language he knew, but he somehow understood it. He wanted to respond in the man's language but could only open his mouth slightly, as he understood it but couldn't speak it.

"Really? I can understand but can't speak it?"

His ears buzzed, and his back itched from nervousness. Being unable to speak the language of this world was not something he had anticipated, and it was the worst-case scenario.

His head buzzed, and he realized that the sound wasn't due to his nervousness. He understood the voice in his head, which was a woman's, speaking in a whisper:

[Sixth Era, Common Calendar 1853, Summer, the day of the Silver Moon, you have arrived in this dark world. You need an identity, so you must inherit everything from this body. This is the first step, prove that you can enter this world.]

"System"

His instinctive reaction was that this was a legendary system, but he immediately realized it wasn't a system.

The woman's voice was exceptionally elegant and soothing, like a poem recited in a whisper, captivating him. However, the language she used was different from Chinese and the man's language.

The language was more ancient and profound, like a gentle breeze from ancient times, suddenly blowing through the veil of time. The language itself was a tangible mystery, and even just understanding its meaning made Xia德 feel as if he were seeing the deepest darkness.

Although Xia德 understood this second language, just understanding it made his head buzz, and his new body's stomach reacted with nausea.

This was a mental pressure, and the language used by the voice in his head had extraordinary power.

"This is the language of this world! The voice in my head isn't a system; it's something that existed in the original body!"

Xia德 made this judgment, his pupils narrowing, and he had a more terrifying guess based on what he saw:

"A new world, a world that seems to be in the Victorian steam age, is a world of the extraordinary and the mysterious!"

He wasn't the type to reject reality. Since he had been transported, the existence of the extraordinary wasn't entirely unacceptable. However, his first task was still to understand the current situation, answer the man's question, and figure out his identity.

So, Xia德 tried to convey information to the voice in his head using his own language:

"Whoever you are, listen carefully. I want to accept everything from this body, but I don't have the body's memories or language habits."

[Now, you have them.]

It felt as if a brick had been forcefully shoved into his skull and maliciously stirred. Xia德 thought it was a miracle that he didn't pass out.

He didn't gain the original body's memories but was forced to accept some knowledge, specifically about the "Common Language of the Northern Kingdoms, the Delarion Kingdom Language." However, this knowledge was just present, like a translation device, and he couldn't immediately integrate it, understanding all the slang, dialects, religious culture, or language habits.

"Sorry, sir, I'm not feeling well. Could you repeat what you asked me to remember?"

Using this knowledge, he translated his Chinese thoughts into the "Common Language of the Northern Kingdoms" in his head and deliberately spoke with a translation accent. The weak man holding Xia德's hand suddenly tightened his grip, which was hard to imagine given the thinness of his wrist:

"You're still like this, aren't you? Your head isn't very good, is it? I'll say it again."

It seemed the original body owner wasn't very bright, and Xia德's words didn't raise suspicion.

"Shade"

The pronunciation of the name was very similar.

"I'm about to die. I knew three months ago that I would die, so I chose you from the homeless. I changed your life, gave you a new name, taught you to read and write, and taught you some basic knowledge. After I die, you will inherit everything I have, my detective agency, and all my wealth. But you need to do one thing for me, a very simple thing—"

Although his voice was very weak, his terrifying eyes, like those of a dying lone wolf, stared at Xia德. The fear in his eyes made the outsider, who was already unfamiliar with this world, feel a chill.

But Xia德 kept his breathing as steady as possible and avoided eye contact. It wasn't that Xia德 was afraid at the moment, but he had initially understood the situation of the original body owner.

Therefore, he absolutely should not make eye contact with the man but should look away in fear, which fit the character's known traits.

"Inherit my detective agency. You can use it for whatever you want, but you must keep it in operation. Until September 5, 1853, three months from now, you will receive a letter. Fetch the letter and burn it. This is the price you pay to inherit all my wealth."

His hand gripped Xia德's tightly, and even when Xia德 acted as if he was struggling slightly, he didn't think he could break free. The man's strength was truly great:

"This is the only requirement I, Spyro Hamilton, have for leaving my inheritance to you, Shade Hamilton."