Woodpecker Inquiry Office

The shop signs jutting out from both sides of Leiteqi Street cast a warm glow.

Fan Ning's expression remained unchanged as he walked westward at an unhurried pace, occasionally stopping in front of a shop to study the goods displayed in its window.

Yet his mind was racing.

Who was following me?

Based on what he knew so far, there were two most likely possibilities: the mysterious force behind the school's series of deaths, or the Special Inspection Office.

If they came from that mysterious force, what were they after? Where did they draw the line? And what if they were from the Special Inspection Office?

That force probably wouldn't cause trouble so brazenly.

Going home wasn't necessarily safe, but as long as it wasn't too late, public places should be safe enough.

What if it was the Special Inspection Office?

In theory, he had never needed to fear them.

Or rather, he wasn't that afraid of them. Although there was a certain risk that the secret of his transmigration might be discovered by one of their Knowers, on the other hand, he was technically a victim. The inexplicable shadow lingering in his heart had yet to fade, so their intervention might not be a bad thing for him.

But after learning certain information at the art museum, the situation had become somewhat delicate.

His father's work files surfaced in Fan Ning's mind.

And there was that piece of symbolic papyrus in the inner pocket of his trench coat, whose purpose he still didn't know.

Although he still didn't understand the Special Patrol Bureau's rules, position, or style, they at least investigated mysterious incidents and confiscated contraband, right?

Did the thing in his pocket count?

As an official institution of the empire, did they investigate people based on evidence and the law?

I'm just a student. I really have no ability to resist being dragged into something like this.

Fan Ning suddenly found himself yearning to become a Knower.

I'd better not go home for now. He didn't turn into the alley connecting Leiteqi Street and Lunwan Avenue. Instead, he continued forward.

Would it help if I hired a carriage and took a detour?

Or should I go to the school?

No...

Thinking of the enclosed space inside a carriage, Fan Ning felt it would be even more dangerous.

As for the campus—if it was truly safe, how had those people ahead of him died?

Fan Ning slowed his pace somewhat, but soon reached the intersection.

What should he do? What should he do...?

He stood at the roadside, pretending to wait for a carriage, but still had no idea what to do.

That feeling of being watched, as if thorns were pricking his back, never left.

"Sir, do you need a room for the night?" A young man in a short jacket was soliciting customers for his small tavern.

"No, thank you." Fan Ning declined with a smile, then looked toward the road sign decorated with openwork tin patterns.

Leiteqi Street ran east to west, while the north-south road was Katzton Street.

"Katzton Street...?"

Fan Ning's brows drew together slightly.

That's right. The letter Teacher Anton gave me told me to visit Lord Viadlin at 43 Katzton Street in East Mechelen District.

The letter had said that Lord Viadlin was away and that it would be safer to visit in December, so Fan Ning hadn't kept the matter at the forefront of his mind.

Would going there now help?

Fan Ning's expression shifted uncertainly.

Although he trusted the person recommended by Teacher Anton completely, it was only November 24, and the man might not have returned yet.

Besides, he was looking for him to learn the piano.

If a conflict really broke out, could a piano be used to smash someone?

But he truly had no other choice now. Could this be the only "ace up his sleeve" Teacher Anton had left him?

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind. Once he made up his mind, Fan Ning stopped hesitating and turned right!

There were considerably fewer people here.

He walked south along Katzton Street for a while before arriving at the next major intersection.

If he turned left here, he would be on Lunwan Avenue and could reach his residence without much trouble.

But Fan Ning chose to continue forward!

Number 40, 41, 42...

Number 43, Katzton Street!

At the corner, Fan Ning saw two potted pomegranate trees by the entrance, a small stretch of transparent floor-to-ceiling windows, tables and chairs and decorations dominated by pale purple and red, and several scattered customers nearing the end of their meals...

Seriously? This is a small restaurant?

Fan Ning looked bewildered, unsure whether he should go in.

He looked around but found nothing unusual. Then he raised his head and saw, on the higher second floor, an unbelievably ugly signboard. Its lettering, colors, and layout were enough to drive any designer insane:

[Woodpecker Inquiry Office]

All right. Since this was the address recommended by Teacher Anton, the name sounded more reliable than a restaurant, at least closer to what he had expected.

But Fan Ning wandered around the street corner, pacing back and forth, and still couldn't find a way up to the Woodpecker Inquiry Office.

The uneasy feeling of being watched grew stronger and stronger. Fan Ning even felt that the person lurking in the shadows was about to pounce.

He looked at the restaurant entrance, gritted his teeth, and stepped onto the luxurious carpet laid before the door.

Warm air enveloped his entire body, dispelling the chill of late autumn without a trace.

Along with it came an irresistibly tempting aroma of food: the meaty fragrance of meat cooked with what seemed to be special spices, mingled with the fresh scents of fruits and vegetables and the sweetness of pastries.

An unbearable hunger surged through him. It felt as if his entire stomach had been hollowed out. He was so hungry that stars danced before his eyes and his legs went weak—the sort of hunger that made him feel capable of eating an entire cow.

"Sorry, sir, but we've just closed," said a young waitress in a light-colored fitted dress.

"Oh..." Fan Ning replied while trying to look as far inside as possible. He saw a young man at the cashier counter with his head lowered over a thick book. Farther in, someone in a chef's uniform was clearing away plates, leaving only his back in view. Other than them, there was just the waitress.

"Um, no, are you that Woodpecker something?" Fan Ning swallowed and asked somewhat nervously.

The young man at the cashier counter looked up, put on the black-framed glasses resting beside him, and looked at Fan Ning. "Our inquiry office is closed as well. Please come back tomorrow, sir."

"Um, I'm looking for Lord Viadlin. I'm Caloin Van Ning, Teacher Anton Conall's student." Fan Ning was surprised that his speech had suddenly become so awkward.

Was it because he hadn't eaten much all day and was now too hungry to think straight?

"Anton's student?" A booming voice drifted down from somewhere above.

At that moment, Fan Ning suddenly felt the prickling unease at his back recede.

Not far from the entrance, in a place he hadn't noticed before, a curtain whose color blended with the surroundings was pulled aside, revealing a staircase leading to the second floor.

A middle-aged-looking man in a gray short jacket and white canvas trousers walked down the stairs.

"President," the other two greeted him.

His features were sharply defined, his skin dark, and his build burly. He was nearly bald, with limbs as sturdy as mooring ropes and eyes sharp as knives.

Fan Ning even felt that this man had nothing of the temperament he had expected from a pianist.

Of course, he still greeted him politely. "Hello. You're Lord Viadlin, aren't you?"

The bald man scrutinized Fan Ning, making him feel somewhat flustered.

After a long while, the bald man asked, "Have you eaten?"

"??? What?" Fan Ning wondered if he had heard wrong.

"I asked whether you've eaten." The man's voice grew even louder.