"Isn't this just bad luck?"
Shade silently cursed his encounter with Dr. Schneider, but his growling stomach dragged him back to reality.
The commission came first.
It hadn't even been twelve hours since he crossed into this world, and already he was starving. In a forest, perhaps he could have hunted. In a war-torn world, maybe he could've scavenged.
But here, in a prosperous, ordered city, survival required following the rules.
Shade leaned against the wall by the newspaper office, glancing towards the club where the "upper class" came and went. His stomach twisted with hunger. For now, all he could do was wait for the target to leave.
He glanced at his surroundings and whispered to himself, half-joking:
"I've never heard of a transmigrator who starved."
But blaming himself felt useless. His situation was what it was. He could only pray that Mrs. La Soya would leave soon, so he could submit the report and get paid.
While lost in thought, someone shoved a flyer into his hand.
Startled, Shade looked up.
It was a missionary—round-faced, cheerful, wearing a white priest's robe with a silver holy emblem pinned to his chest. A black pendant hung from his neck as he smiled and handed out leaflets to passersby.
They were near the city center after all—missionaries seeking converts picked their spots wisely.
Shade glanced down at the flyer.
It was a church pamphlet.
Specifically, from the Church of War and Peace.
He recognized the name. While searching Hamilton's home earlier, he'd learned of this world's belief system. In the current age, five gods were recognized by both governments and the public—known as the Five Orthodox Churches:
- Father of Peace — also called the God of War and Peace. Holy emblem: a white dove with gray wings.
- Mr. Lumen — the God of Light and Shadow. Emblem: a notched brass ring.
- The Old Man with the Lamp — God of Sun and Earth. Emblem: a golden sun pattern.
- Ms. Creation — God of Creation and Destruction. Emblem: a silver wrench.
- The Lord of All Things — God of Nature and Evil Thoughts. Emblem: two overlapping leaves, one green, one yellow.
He recalled that the corpse-carrier from earlier belonged to the last Church.
"Why do the domains of these gods sound like contradictions?"
The thought struck Shade, strange and unsettling. Peace and war. Light and shadow. Creation and destruction.
Before he could make sense of it, a faint whisper tickled his ears:
[You are feeling a 'miracle'.]
A miracle—the third of the four mystical elements mentioned by the voice. Only "blasphemy" remained.
"Three out of four in half a day... that's faster than expected."
The woman's melodious laughter echoed faintly in his mind, and this time, Shade wasn't even surprised.
He shook his head, looking back at the pamphlet. The Five Churches were said to coexist peacefully, their relationship far more cordial than that between rival human kingdoms.
Tobesk, as the pearl of the north, housed branches of all five, each competing quietly for influence.
Shade skimmed the pamphlet's contents idly—basic teachings of the Father of Peace, invitations to sermons, and...
His eyes narrowed.
At the bottom of the page, in small print, it mentioned something crucial:
Free relief food
On weekends at 5:30 p.m., anyone presenting this leaflet could queue up at the church gates to receive free rations. No matter how long the line, anyone arriving before six would be guaranteed food.
Shade nearly laughed.
"At least I won't starve today."
He carefully noted the church's address, folded the pamphlet solemnly, and placed it inside Hamilton's old notebook.
"Thank you, Father of Peace." The whispered prayer wasn't entirely sarcastic.
His hunger still gnawed at him, but knowing he had a safety net calmed his mind.
"Guess my luck's not so bad after all."
Mrs. La Soya wouldn't be leaving the club for at least an hour or two. Bored, Shade considered approaching the missionary to ask questions about the gods. In a world where faith was near-universal, ignorance could be dangerous.
But before he could act, the missionary moved on.
Shade sighed.
"Later. When I've stabilized, I'll learn about it properly."
For now, he simply waited.
He wasn't alone. Many people loitered near the newspaper office: reporters waiting for fresh leads, errand boys killing time, and ordinary idlers hoping for newsworthy scraps.
Valente Pedestrian Street was bustling, even under the fog.
The air smelled faintly of soot and burning coal. The smog thickened as the day wore on.
Shade's thoughts drifted.
That was when another carriage pulled up outside the club.
His heart tightened.
From a distance, he recognized Mr. Lawrence—the client's husband.
"Unexpected bonus."
Grinning to himself, Shade quickly noted the time and scribbled details into his notebook.
Mrs. Lawrence, the client, had spent generously. If Shade could catch her husband meeting his mistress today, she might be willing to pay a little extra.
"Or she'll kill the messenger."
He muttered grimly, watching.
Unfortunately, Mr. Lawrence entered the club alone.
From across the street, Shade could still read the excitement on the man's face.
He wasn't here to drink tea.
"Good luck, indeed."
With that, Shade meticulously recorded Mr. Lawrence's appearance—down to the cut of his coat and the color of his gloves.
This would make his report more credible.
And hopefully, more profitable.