The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 86

The streets of Old Dunling were often crowded, making it particularly difficult for anyone to run. It was like a fish trying to move through mud, struggling with all its might yet unable to make any progress.

The great detective quickened his pace, his movements uncannily swift as he wove through the throngs of people, leaving those pursuing him far behind. At last, he ducked into a narrow alley, removing his deerstalker hat to tousle his flattened, pale gold hair. He took off his coat, turning it inside out, and then smeared dirt and grime from the ground onto his face.

Discarding his cane into a nearby trash can, he sat down beside a homeless man in the corner, the man swaddled in a filthy blanket and deeply asleep. The detective wriggled into the blanket, nestling close like a brother.

Less than half a minute later, another group of men burst into the alley, their guns plainly visible as they cursed aloud. They paid no attention to the two bedraggled souls huddled together, and hurried on down the alley.

About a minute passed before Lloyd climbed out of the heap of trash. The homeless man awoke, groggy and confused, hearing only a murmured thanks and the clink of a few coins dropping in front of him.

Retrieving his cane, Lloyd straightened his clothes as best he could to appear less disheveled. He then strode out to the street, where a carriage soon pulled up in front of him, its door swinging open.

"To be honest, Mr. Holmes, your current scent isn't very pleasant," remarked Officer Press, wrinkling his nose. The smell was akin to rotting cheese mixed with decaying fruit shoved into an oven.

But Lloyd seemed unperturbed. He'd crawled through Old Dunling's furnace pillar system before, risking his life to prevent a second outbreak of the Black Death. The entire underground drainage system had complex protocols, including timed disinfectant injections and scalding steam.

Lloyd had nearly been steamed alive on that occasion.

"But I think this will be well-received," Lloyd said, producing a letter from his pocket. The envelope was filthy, but the contents inside were pristine.

"Evidence of Baron Baloff's bribery."

Press's hand trembled slightly; he hadn't expected the detective to be so efficient.

"How did you manage it? That man is incredibly cautious."

The investigation into Baron Baloff's bribery had dragged on for ages. He'd embezzled a vast sum, but due to a lack of evidence, they couldn't arrest him.

"I know, he's protected around the clock. Just getting close to him is nearly impossible," Lloyd said with a confident smile. He relished these moments when he could show off his skills, enjoying the admiration and curiosity from those seeking his help.

"But everyone has those private moments when they're alone. You just have to seize that opportunity."

"Alone..." Press's face twisted slightly, as if he imagined himself in a vulnerable situation, like being in a restroom with a gun to his head. Truth be told, if Press were in that position, he'd confess everything just to get dressed again.

"What are you thinking about? It was the bathhouse," Lloyd interrupted, cutting off Press's disturbing imaginings.

"It's one of his few hobbies, and with the steam and mist, he probably didn't even see my face clearly."

Lloyd was immensely pleased with himself.

Suppressing his astonishment, Press stowed away the letter as the carriage came to a halt. Lloyd drew back the curtain—Cork Street.

"Same arrangement as before?" Lloyd asked.

"Yes, the payment will be transferred to your account. Just keep an eye out for it."

Nodding, Lloyd stepped out of the carriage.

Old Dunling had settled into winter, a cold and desolate season creeping into every corner.

It had been over two weeks since his conversation with Arthur. Lloyd had believed Arthur wouldn't really monitor him, but the next day, people from the Suyaran Office came knocking. Lloyd had almost resorted to violence, his Winchester rifle ready behind the door. But the envoy was a man in a wheelchair, a diplomatic figure, which calmed things down.

Arthur's invitation, though nominally from the Suyaran Office, was clear—they had recognized Lloyd's capabilities and wanted him as an external detective, paid by the case.

It was, of course, a form of surveillance. Lloyd had wanted to refuse outright, but the money was too tempting. It was enough to pay rent and even hire Mrs. Van Ruth to cook his dinners.

Mrs. Van Ruth's first reaction had been to ask where Lloyd had buried the money and inquire about the specifics of robbing a bank. Despite her age, she claimed she could still drive a getaway carriage.

But, let's put that crazy old lady aside for now.

Beyond the money, Arthur had shown goodwill in other ways, opening countless doors for Lloyd in Old Dunling.

Thus, Lloyd became a somewhat legitimate detective, at least officially affiliated with the Suyaran Office.

Officer Press, whom he'd encountered a few times, became his contact. Lloyd had expected it to be Eve, but Press mentioned that poor girl was apparently under house arrest by Duke Phoenix.

Pushing open the door to 121A Cork Street, the stench of filth mixed with the indoor fragrance. It hadn't bothered him in the carriage, but now Lloyd felt a wave of nausea. Fortunately, he managed not to vomit, as Mrs. Van Ruth had repeatedly warned him about the carpet's expense.

He trudged up to the second floor, noticing that the door across the hall was ajar. Lloyd was puzzled until he heard faint snoring. His long-lost roommate was still alive!

Alright, better not disturb this workaholic who seemed to have returned from a mission. Lloyd entered his own room, tossed his clothes into a hamper, and climbed into the bathtub.

In truth, Lloyd felt that his life had recently become almost normal—no more trips to the slums, no more gunfights. Just regular visits to the Suyaran Office for casework. This sense of normalcy was so unusual that it felt strange. Even now, he couldn't quite believe his life had settled down.

"Ah... life is beautiful," he mused, his eyes wandering until they landed on the door.

He hadn't closed it, after all, this was his own room. But now, at the edge of his vision, he saw someone sitting on his favorite chair.

The mix of surprise and resignation created a unique feeling of helplessness. Lloyd wasn't sure how much she had seen. While he wasn't ashamed, the sight of him stripping and sliding into the tub wasn't exactly flattering.

"When did you get here?" he asked.

The girl thought for a moment, then settled into a more comfortable position.

"I've always been here."

Ugh... so annoying...

Covering his face in embarrassment, Lloyd slumped into the bathtub. But like a final blow, the girl's perpetually cold expression softened into what could barely be called a smile—more of a sarcastic sneer.

"Honestly, you really stink."