Chapter One: Wayne Detective Agency

March 13, 1938.

Kingdom of Windsor, City of London.

The departing winter did little to bring warmth to the city. Pedestrians hurried along the streets, still feeling the effects of the Great Depression, with the shadow of war looming overhead. This city was far from cheerful.

In the East District of London, on Bailey Street, stands the Wayne Detective Agency.

A two-and-a-half-story building, with a basement, facing the street. In the modest East District, it could barely be considered a happy place.

But this happiness belonged to the landlord, not Wayne. If he didn't pay the rent, he'd end up in the sewers.

On the ground floor office, Wayne smiled at his client, with two investigation reports laid out on his desk.

"Dr. Laina, regarding your two commissions, I have both good news and bad news. Which one would you like to hear first?"

"I've been having a run of bad luck lately. Let's start with the good news."

Laina shrugged. He was a middle-aged man whose prime had been mercilessly taken by time. Time had taken away his thick hair and handed it over to younger folks, leaving him with the greasiness they didn't want.

As a doctor, he couldn't even grow a beard in protest.

"The good news is about the used car you were eyeing. It's confirmed to be a salvaged vehicle. You can use this investigation report to negotiate a lower price."

Wayne handed over the first report. It was identified as having a forty-year-old soul ring attached, not recommended for night driving, and the previous owner might have wrestled with the steering wheel.

"That doesn't sound like good news. That was supposed to be a gift for my child. Now I have to find another one."

Laina sighed. "And what's the bad news? I hope I can bear it."

"The bad news is your wife indeed has a lover..."

Laina interrupted directly, "Who is it, that brainless dock worker, or that damn failed art student?"

"Actually, both."

"..."

Both? What did that mean?

Laina looked puzzled, struggling to understand such a simple word.

Seeing the confusion on his client's face, Wayne patiently explained, "Over the past week, Mrs. Laina met with the dock worker three times and the failed student three times as well. Each time, she met the student first, then went to see..."

"That's enough, I don't need to hear more. Give me the report to look at myself."

Laina interrupted again, picking up the report to read it himself. It was well-organized, with detailed descriptions of times and places, accompanied by photographs, which convinced him.

After a moment, Laina sighed. He didn't explode in anger but instead calmed down after a brief moment of frustration.

"Wayne, your reports are accurate, but you got one thing wrong."

"What's that?"

"This is actually good news."

"Well, I guess it is. How about some more coffee?"

"Sure."

Dr. Laina promptly paid for the additional commission, using coffee as his drink of choice while continually complaining about his unfortunate marriage to Wayne.

Perhaps because the money had been paid, Laina was no longer just a customer to Wayne, who had no intention of listening to his complaints. Instead, he interrupted and began pitching other services offered by the detective agency.

Like marital and family disputes.

"Haven't we investigated that already?"

"We have, but this one is for you."

Wayne took out a third investigation report from the desk drawer. It detailed evidence of Dr. Laina's extramarital affair with a nurse.

Laina began to sweat, trembling as he picked up the coffee cup to conceal his anxiety. The report was well-organized, with detailed descriptions of times and places, along with photographs, which convinced him.

"Wayne, how could you treat your clients like this?"

"Don't misunderstand. This commission came from your wife. To be honest, she's been much more generous than you."

"Damn it, that's my money."

Laina cursed, quickly realizing his status as a social elite. He attempted to probe, "She hasn't seen this report yet, has she?"

"Dr. Laina, my professional ethics require me to maintain client confidentiality. I cannot answer that question," Wayne sternly refused.

"Give me the report. I'll pay double."

"..."

"Triple!"

"Heh."

"Five times, five times is enough, with that much money, I could hire a professional hitman at the docks."

"Deal."

"Damn, you're a disgrace to the detective world."

Laina paid and took the report, cursing as he left the detective agency, swearing to come back to Wayne for future investigations.

Well, this kid had something.

The key was getting paid to do the job efficiently. In Windsor, where processes were often redundant and drawn-out, this was a valuable trait.

Wayne counted the money, then began his work for the day. By the time he finished, the sun had set, and darkness began to envelop the city, with the streets quickly quieting down.

Accompanying the darkness was a faint mist.

As Wayne calculated how much rent he still owed, he went to the kitchen to prepare his dinner, expressing his gratitude to the Laina couple for their tacit understanding of marriage, knowing he wouldn't have to eat just potatoes tomorrow.

Not tomorrow, but tonight. At least tonight, he had to battle it out with the potatoes.

Potato chunks, fried potatoes, mashed potatoes, potato salad...

At first glance, it seemed quite lavish, with several dishes.

Wayne stabbed the potato chunks with his fork, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the bookshelf, projecting a face with black hair and black eyes.

There wasn't much to say. It was all about the potatoes!

Using Mrs. Laina as an example, if Wayne hadn't refused, he could have received long-term financial assistance like the failed student.

This was Wayne's third month in the Chosen Continent, inheriting everything from the unlucky guy 'Wayne,' from the detective agency to the rent, and even to the potatoes he meticulously counted in the kitchen, not one aspect had been overlooked.

When he first arrived, Wayne saw himself in a small building, on a commercial street, with an attic and a basement, and with an attitude of "follow the money," he quickly accepted the change.

Until the landlord came knocking and took away the radio.

Realizing he was in debt, Wayne couldn't laugh anymore, but then he thought about the even larger debts from his past life and realized it wasn't that hard to accept.

But then he couldn't accept it.

1938, Europe, Kingdom of Windsor, London... There were some slight variations in details, but it felt like imminent bombardment.

Just waiting for someone to raise the flag.

What he couldn't accept even more was that Wayne hadn't traveled through time but through space. This Earth had only two continents, the Chosen Continent and the Frozen Continent.

There was no familiar hometown, no bald eagle roaming around drumming up oil thefts.

The Frozen Continent referred to Antarctica, once known as the Dark Continent or the Abandoned Continent hundreds of years ago. The Chosen Continent extended partially to the North Pole, where it was frozen all year round, with limited living conditions.

Apart from that, this Earth was blue, with water everywhere on the world map.

Wayne took a long time to convince himself that life was what it was, with its own frustrations. He forced himself to look forward, and if that didn't work out, then he could give up later.

Then he saw the potatoes.

"I hate potatoes!"

Wayne smashed the potato chunks into mashed potatoes, thinking about the difficult three months. The previous occupant was a romanticist, no, he was an idiot.

Clearly an amateur, yet he had the confidence to open a detective agency. With the agency, he did nothing but spend his days lavishly in various social settings. Even without any commissions, he hired a secretary.

Wayne couldn't understand and was greatly shocked. When he first arrived, the room was filled with posters of female celebrities. Although he tore down the posters after the blonde and curly-haired female celebrities, he didn't throw them directly into the trash but kept them in his bedroom on the second floor.

Perhaps due to the side effects of his crossing, Wayne didn't receive too many memories from the previous occupant. The scattered fragments of memory were too chaotic to be sorted into a coherent story, so he just briefly skimmed through them and set them aside.

The clearest memory was in the small dark room, with a desk lamp on the table, surrounded by whispers, threats, and even curses and beatings, indicating that the previous occupant was a social reintegration participant with a criminal record.

In addition, the previous occupant had a future diary, similar to a summer vacation diary, with a jumbled and illogical narrative, with the vast majority of it fantasizing about marrying female celebrities and living shamelessly together.

Three times a day, occasionally five times.

Because of its artistic nature, Wayne collected the diary and placed it on the bedside table, occasionally studying the grammar when it was quiet at night.

The previous occupant was undoubtedly a failure. In Wayne's view, his own idleness had proved how excellent the detectives in the same city were.

In Wayne's words, there were no dark horses who repeatedly solved miraculous cases as soon as they entered the field. The previous occupant could be considered a black donkey in the detective world.

But it couldn't be denied that the previous occupant was very diligent. Wayne believed that with his idleness, he had proven how excellent the detectives in the same city were.

Using Wayne's words, there were no dark horses who repeatedly solved miraculous cases as soon as they entered the field. The previous occupant could be considered a black donkey in the detective world.

But it couldn't be denied that the previous occupant was very diligent. Wayne believed that with his idleness, he had proven how excellent the detectives in the same city were.

At first, Wayne refused to accept the identity of a detective. The previous occupant started late, and so did he. He was prepared to take a shortcut and become an inventor, relying on patents for a lifetime of comfort.

The results weren't great. He still started late as an inventor, and what he thought of, like rubber bands, paper clips, mosquito coils, zippers, and band-aids, had already been patented by someone else.

It was absurd, why were the natives so clever?

Helpless, in order to quickly fill his pockets and avoid starving to death, Wayne had no choice but to learn to become a qualified detective.

Here, I have to commend the previous occupant. He spent money lavishly, and all the detective equipment was complete. From entry-level to imprisonment, the bookshelf was filled with various detective novels.

There were also many well-known detective novels.

Although Wayne's business ability was limited, he loved what he did. Despite his hatred for potatoes, he worked very hard.

Perhaps due to the benefits of crossing, he had amazing learning ability and his thinking was much more agile than before. A few simple investigations couldn't stump him at all, and he could easily climb over walls to enter buildings, hiding outside the balcony window to take secret photos.

His agile physique had nothing to do with crossing. The instincts engraved in his muscles by the previous occupant, as evidenced by his experience in the small dark room, showed that the police uncles hadn't got the wrong guy, they just didn't keep him locked up long enough.

Wayne's crossing had another benefit.

A book!

Quietly suspended in his body, its specific location unknown, possibly in the brain, heart, or somewhere among the internal organs.

[Greed Book]

Mentioning this book, I have to mention that stormy night.

Before crossing, Wayne was a programmer. Seeing colleagues getting fired before the age of 35 and many others doing well, he and a colleague agreed to resign together and start a small game together.

Jose: It's best to start a business early. Instead of waiting for the boss to fire us, why don't we fire him and start making games?

Wayne: Makes sense.

The Greed Book was an item in the game. Due to the mischievous nature of making Easter eggs, the two of them put a lot of effort into the Greed Book, stuffing it with a bunch of bugs so that the code was contradictory but surprisingly still runnable.

One bug is a bug, but a bunch of bugs is a feature!

After the great success, the two of them were ecstatic in front of the screen, contacting each other by phone while looking forward to the game being launched on the platform, dreaming of becoming the chairman of the board and going public.

Whether Jose could cash in on the investment remains to be seen, but Wayne definitely didn't stand a chance. Whether it was lightning or a short circuit, as soon as he opened his eyes, he found himself on the God-chosen continent.

"Jose, oh Jose, don't forget the rich man's dog, remember to burn a few for me during the holidays..."

"How about I burn a few for you?"

Wayne closed his eyes, and with a thought, the Greed Book, with its dark cover and blood-red veins swirling around it, appeared in his sight.

The material was unknown, the cover was undulating, and it was slightly damp and sticky, resembling the back of a toad.

"It wasn't like this at first, did it mutate?"

Wayne tried to turn the pages of the book but couldn't. Like his previous attempts, only the eyeball embedded in the cover would slowly focus and look at him.

Similar eyeballs were scattered all over the cover of the book, and the dense protuberances were all tightly closed, only the large eyeball in the middle would respond to his gaze.

Limited to eye contact.

Crossing over, getting hung, couldn't open!

Wayne felt a chill for no reason, his scalp tingled, and he swallowed hard, eating a spoonful of mashed potatoes to calm down.

If he remembered correctly, he had closed the door.