Interpreting "Afterimage"

Barton's final question—"Who are you, really?"—no longer carried any hostility, but it remained an unavoidable barrier, layer upon layer.

Lin Jie knew his identity crisis had been temporarily resolved, but a crisis of trust regarding his "abilities" had only just begun.

He had to give a reasonable explanation that a professional organization like I.A.R.C. could accept. Otherwise, he would forever remain a suspected and distrusted "outside variable."

"Before I answer that, perhaps we should find somewhere more suitable to talk." Lin Jie glanced around the filthy alley, thick with the smell of blood and sulfur, and suggested with a smile, "I assume you have somewhere like... what do you call them, a 'safe house'?"

Barton's eyebrows lifted again at Lin Jie's deliberate use of the term "safe house."

The young man seemed to have an unusually thorough understanding of how organizations like theirs operated.

Barton exchanged a look with Marcus, then finally nodded. "You're right. This isn't the place to talk. Come with us."

After Marcus swiftly dealt with the scene, the three of them left the alley, which had borne witness to far too many secrets, and disappeared into the labyrinthine night of Whitechapel District.

They took several winding turns before finally arriving at a nondescript shop with a sign reading "Corleone Clock Repair."

Using an oddly shaped brass key, Barton opened the shop door with a complicated sequence of pauses and twists.

Everything inside the shop was neatly arranged. Pendulums and gears of every kind covered the walls, making the place look like a museum of time.

In the back room, Barton stood before a wall covered in pendulums and turned the largest one in the sequence "three times left, twice right."

"Click."

With a soft sound, the entire wall swung inward, revealing a deep passage leading underground.

Following behind them, Lin Jie marveled inwardly.

Now this was what a professional secret organization should look like. It was leagues above the various rat's nests where he had hidden before.

At the end of the passage was a spacious, dry basement.

Unlike the Victorian classical atmosphere aboveground, this place had a simple, practical style that seemed ahead of its time.

A detailed map of London hung on the wall, marked with mysterious symbols in different-colored pins.

On a long table sat a variety of precision instruments made of brass and crystal, all incomprehensible to Lin Jie.

This was clearly one of I.A.R.C.'s outposts in Whitechapel District.

"I think we can pick up where we left off." Barton gestured for Lin Jie to sit in a chair, then took the seat opposite him.

Marcus stood behind Barton like an iron tower, arms folded and still on guard.

"Who I am is simple enough." Lin Jie leaned back in his chair, adopting a relatively relaxed posture. "My name is Lin Jie. I'm an unlucky Chinese man who ended up on the wrong ship at the wrong time. If you want to check, it should be easy to find my name on the list of surviving laborers from the Sea Witch."

He had volunteered his identity as a gesture of goodwill.

"Of course, we'll verify that." Barton nodded, clearly not entirely satisfied with the answer. "But that's not what I'm asking. I want to know how an ordinary person could predict a UMA's actions with such precision. The information in that diary was incomplete."

"Mr. Lin, in your earlier explanation, you used the word 'sensation.' I'd very much like to know what this 'sensation' of yours actually feels like."

Barton's gaze seemed to be trying to peel open Lin Jie's very soul.

Lin Jie's earlier explanation of "observation and deduction" hadn't convinced him completely. His instincts told him a deeper secret lay behind it.

Lin Jie fell silent.

This was the central question he couldn't avoid.

He couldn't reveal the existence of his transmigrator cheat. That would be like telling them, "I'm an anomaly you can't understand." He'd only end up on an experimental table.

He had to come up with a reasonable explanation that could be "reconciled" with this world's system of powers.

He remembered how, during battle, the revolver had helped him calm down and react faster. He remembered the hand lantern that had guided him at sea.

He realized that in this world, many supernatural powers seemed to be tied to some kind of "medium" and "ritual."

Perhaps he could frame his ability in the same way.

"Mr. Barton," Lin Jie began slowly. Instead of answering directly, he asked, "I'd like to ask you something first. When you track UMAs, do you use any... special mediums?"

He pointed to the Aether Fluctuation Detector Barton had used earlier on the table.

Barton hadn't expected him to ask a question in return. He paused, then admitted frankly, "That's right. We call them 'spiritual mediums.' The core of this detector is a specially treated UMA crystal, highly sensitive to spatial fluctuations. It lets us sense 'anomalies' ordinary people can't detect."

"I see." Lin Jie put on an expression of sudden realization. This was exactly the opening he needed.

"My situation might be a little like your instrument's." Lin Jie chose his words carefully and began the account he had prepared. "I can't explain where this ability came from. Maybe I was born with it, or maybe it awakened by chance after something happened aboard that ship. All I can tell you is what it feels like."

"I call it... 'Touch of Afterimage.'"

He offered up the name of his ability himself.

"When my body, especially my blood, comes into contact with objects deeply entangled in 'anomalous events,' I receive extremely vague, fragmented impressions in my mind, like echoes. I call them 'the afterimages of an event.'"

He began describing his experience in detail, but artfully embellished it:

He recast Touch of Afterimage from something triggered passively into an active ability requiring "blood as a medium."

That made his ability sound more like an ancient, bloodline-based occult art from this world, rather than a cheat that had appeared from nowhere.

He emphasized the ability's "limitations" and "dangers."

"The information I receive is incredibly vague and full of noise, like a damaged old dream. Most of the time, all I pick up are strong emotions—fear, anger, sorrow."

"I have to piece the fragments together myself and interpret them. And..." Lin Jie pressed his temple at just the right moment, a pained look crossing his face. "Every time I do this, it puts a tremendous strain on my mind."

"If the 'afterimage' is too powerful, like... like what happened aboard the Sea Witch, I could go completely mad from mental exhaustion."

He had woven the "cost" of his ability perfectly into his explanation. An ability with serious flaws and drawbacks was far easier to believe and accept than one without a single weakness.

Finally, he gave his explanation for his astonishing performance in the Ripper case: "At the scene on Berner Street, I touched the wall and sensed an 'afterimage' of malice, exactly like the Mist Walker in the diary. That's how I confirmed its identity."

"And when I predicted Mitre Square, I couldn't actually see the future. I just... while interpreting the diary, repeatedly touched that sketch and picked up an extremely vague guess about this UMA's patterns from the 'afterimage' left behind by Mr. Karl, the Cartographer."

"I'm just a translator, someone who translated what he never got to finish saying."

He cleverly credited his greatest contribution—his prediction—to Karl, the dead hero. It was both plausible and a shrewd way to earn their goodwill.

The basement fell into a long silence.

Marcus listened, dumbfounded. He couldn't make sense of an ability so insubstantial, based on "perception" and "interpretation."

Barton, meanwhile, lowered his head and absently tapped his fingers against the tabletop.

He was digesting, analyzing, and evaluating the credibility of Lin Jie's account.

A mysterious art awakened through one's bloodline? Contact-based perception? Mental afterimages? Interpreting fragmented information? An immense mental burden?

Lin Jie's explanation sounded absurd, yet, unexpectedly, it fit perfectly within I.A.R.C.'s understanding of the Underworld's system of powers.

Their records contained all kinds of bizarre ancient abilities that required a medium and a price to activate.

Crystal-ball divination among the Romani, the Celtic druids' whispers in the leaves... These all bore similarities to what Lin Jie had described.

Most importantly, this explanation neatly accounted for all of Lin Jie's suspicious qualities.

Barton looked up. The sharpness in his eyes had given way, and all traces of scrutiny and doubt had faded.

"I see... a blood- and contact-based ability of the 'retrograde induction' type." Barton gave Lin Jie's ability a highly technical classification. "And on top of that, you have a... terrifyingly calm 'tactical mind' that can turn those fragmented impressions into precise plans of action."

"Mr. Lin," Barton said, rising to his feet and extending his hand to Lin Jie, "I take back all my earlier offense. Allow me to introduce myself properly."

"I'm Barton Chris, a Level Three I.A.R.C. investigator. It's my great honor to fight alongside such a powerful 'Interpreter' as you."