Alongside the darkness came, there also came a misty fog.
Wayne calculated how much he still owed in rent while heading to the kitchen to prepare his dinner, sincerely saying, "Thanks to Madam Laina and her husband, I'll be free from potatoes tomorrow."
Tomorrow was fine, but today was not; at least by tonight, he had to deal with the potatoes.
Potato chunks, fried potatoes, pan-fried potatoes, potato salad, mashed potatoes...
At first glance, it seemed quite abundant, with several dishes.
Wayne jabbed the potato chunks on his plate with a fork, catching a sight of his reflection in the mirror on the bookshelf, where a black-haired and black-eyed face stared back.
Nothing much to say, very down-to-earth with potatoes!
Taking Madam Laina as an example, if Wayne hadn't insisted on rejecting, he could have received long-term economic assistance just like a dropout.
This was Wayne's third month on God's Chosen Continent; he inherited everything from the unfortunate 'Wayne,' from the detective agency to rent, right down to the potatoes calculated by the crate in the kitchen.
Upon arrival, Wayne noticed he had a small building, on Commercial Street no less, complete with an attic and a basement, and quickly accepted the change with a money-first attitude.
Until the landlord came to collect and took away the radio.
Realizing he was in debt, Wayne couldn't bring himself to laugh, though considering he owed the bank more in his previous life, it seemed somewhat acceptable.
Then he couldn't accept it anymore.
In 1938, Europe, Windsor Kingdom, Lundan... some details had changed slightly, but no matter how he saw it, it was on the verge of being bombed.
Just waiting for someone to raise a national flag.
An even less acceptable situation hit, as Wayne found he crossed not through time but through space. This Earth had only two continents, God's Chosen Continent and Icebound Continent.
There was no familiar hometown, nor that bald-headed eagle banging drums everywhere stealing oil.
The Icebound Continent was equivalent to Antarctica, hundreds of years ago known as the Dark Continent, God-Forsaken Continent, while God's Chosen Continent extended partly to the Arctic, icebound all year round with extremely limited survival conditions.
Besides that, this Earth was abundantly blue; the world map was all water.
Wayne spent a long time convincing himself that life was life because of its own hardships; he decided to stay strong and look forward, to step back if it really didn't work out.
Then he saw the potatoes.
"I hate potatoes!"
Wayne dismembered the potato chunks on the plate while reflecting on the tough three months. His predecessor was highly romantic, no, more like a blockhead.
Clearly an outsider, yet confidently started a detective agency; clearly having a detective agency, yet never attending to business, frequently indulging in various social occasions; clearly lacking a single commission, yet seemingly competent enough to hire a secretary.
Wayne couldn't understand and expressed great shock. When he first arrived, the room was plastered with posters of famous actresses; his predecessor was not just brainless but a brainless fanatic chasing celebrities.
For the sake of the actress's golden waves of long hair, Wayne tore off the posters but didn't throw them directly into the trash, storing them instead in his bedroom on the second floor.
Possibly due to the aftermath of crossing over, Wayne inherited few memories from his predecessor, and scattered memory fragments were too chaotic to be pieced into a clear storyline, so he just cursorily browsed and set them aside.
The clearest recollection was in a small dark room with a lamp on the table, surrounded by whispers, threats, and even curse-filled interrogations, showing his predecessor was a socially reintegrated person with a record no doubt.
Additionally, his predecessor had a future diary, like a summer vacation diary, but completely disordered and illogical, majority fantasizing about marrying a celebrity and living a shameless little life.
Three times a day, occasionally five.
Due to its artistic nature, this diary was collected by Wayne to his bedside cabinet so he could occasionally study its grammar during quiet nights.
Undoubtedly a failure, in Wayne's view, he used his negligence to demonstrate how outstanding the detectives in the same city were.
In Wayne's words, without being a dark horse cracking strange cases upon entry, his predecessor was a dark donkey in the detective community.
But it must be acknowledged that his predecessor exerted great effort, striving to neglect business; had he not tried, he wouldn't be in today's situation!
Initially, Wayne rejected the detective identity, like his predecessor did partway, but he too was one; he planned the shortcut of becoming an inventor, living worry-free through patents.
The result was not promising; he was still a novice in innovation, and what ideas he had like rubber bands, paper clips, mosquito coils, zippers, and band-aids had all been patented by someone else.
Which was ridiculous; why were the natives so smart?
Helplessly, to quickly fill his wallet and avoid starving, Wayne could only become a qualified detective partway.
Here, he couldn't help but praise his predecessor; he spent excessively and equipped various detective gear completely, filling the bookshelf with detective literature from entry to imprisonment.
And quite a few famous detective novels.
Though Wayne's professional ability was limited, he loved what he did, working hard out of hatred for potatoes.
Perhaps due to the perk of crossing over, his learning ability was astounding, and his thought process was much quicker than before; simple investigations posed no challenge, while his agile physique allowed him to easily scale walls, hiding outside balconies snapping photos secretly.
This agility had nothing to do with crossing over; it was ingrained muscle memory, referencing his small dark room experience showed the police didn't arrest the wrong person, just for a short duration.
Wayne's crossing over had another benefit.
A book!
Quietly floated within him, its specific location unknown, maybe the brain, perhaps the heart, or even somewhere among vital organs.
[The Book of Greed]
Mentioning this book, one can't avoid talking about that stormy night.
Before crossing, Wayne was a programmer; seeing peers firing bosses before reaching thirty-five, flourishing, he planned with a colleague to resign and collaborate on small games.
Jose: It's crucial to start early, rather than wait for our boss to fire us, let's fire him first and develop games.
Wayne: Makes sense.
The Book of Greed was an item in the game; due to the evil jest of making Easter eggs, they put significant effort into it, stuffing numerous bugs so that while the code contradicted, it could still run unexpectedly.
A single bug was a bug, but a bunch of bugs is a feature!
Upon completion, they were joyous in front of the screen, phoning each other while anticipating the platform launch, dreaming of being a chairman, listing and profiting.
Whether Jose could profit was uncertain, Wayne certainly couldn't; whether it was lightning or electric leakage, he blinked and found himself on God's Chosen Continent.
"Ah Jose, don't forget us when rich, remember to burn some for me during festivals..."
"Or should I burn some for you."
Wayne closed his eyes, focusing his mind; the blood-tinged black cover of The Book of Greed appeared in sight.
Unclear material, the cover undulated and bulged slightly, with a moist and slick texture like a toad's back.
"It didn't start like this, has it mutated?"
Wayne tried opening the pages but was helpless, just like previous attempts; only the embedded eyeball gradually focused, looking up to him.
There were many similar eyeballs, all the tiny raised bumps on the cover were tightly shut, only the large eyeball in the middle responding to his gaze.
Limited to mutual gazing.
Crossed over, there's a hack, but can't be opened!
Wayne became increasingly agitated, crushing the dismembered potato chunks into mashed potatoes one forkful after another.
Now that was annoying, one dish less!
Wayne put down the fork, lamenting, "Why does my life only have failures and endless efforts? Why is Madam Laina the only one providing long-term economic aid? Isn't there any runaway noble lady wandering to my door with money in hand begging for shelter?"
Knock, knock, knock---
The office door was knocked from outside; through the dim glass, a black silhouette lurked out.
"Gulp!"
Wayne unwittingly sensed a chill creeping, his scalp went numb as he swallowed saliva, taking a mouthful of mashed potatoes to calm down.
If he remembered correctly, he had closed the door.