Progress

"Of course, if there's nothing else, I could personally escort you both out," offered the bald man.

"Elyon, let's depart. We've caused enough of a stir, and if we linger, the boss's business might suffer. Oh, and a small tip for you," Kappa continued, "check the sleeve of the customer sitting at the third card table from the staircase heading north. You might find a little 'surprise' that could undermine the fair reputation of your establishment."

The bald man appeared taken aback at first but quickly regained his composure and hastened after Kappa and Elyon, who had already left the office. Together, they reached the hall's entrance where the bald man personally pulled open the doors for the police officers. After the officers departed, he beckoned two security guards to the table Kappa had mentioned. Sure enough, they discovered a stash of playing cards hidden in the left sleeve of an eastern-seated patron.

"The Captain from the port division was only here to remind us that someone was cheating. That person has been caught," the bald man announced. "Unfortunately, this gentleman must now explain how much he's stolen from us. After compensating for the loss, he will be sent to the police station. To compensate for any inconvenience to our patrons today, the chip exchange fee will be waived."

"So it was just about some cheater. I thought some cultist or notorious pirate had slipped in."

"Don't joke about that. Pirates wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this, and if there were any, it'd be the navy's responsibility, not the police. Let's get back to gambling."

"You've been itching to say something this whole ride. Out with it," Kappa addressed Elyon, who was visibly holding back words.

"Do you really think that five-pound note he gave you is evidence?"

"Evidence, my foot. Try taking that to a judge and watch him laugh you out of court. That's last week's gambling debt repayment to the den, not the bank heist money from Monday. Even if it's from the trio who paid off the debt, we have no record of the bill's serial number. How could we prove it came from the robbery crew?"

"I thought you weren't in need of money."

"What's that got to do with anything? Cor's in need, isn't he? The funds from the chief will take time to come through, and I didn't just take the bald man's money for nothing. Catching a cheater has saved the gambling den's reputation, a value far exceeding five pounds. What do you think is the biggest capital for a casino?"

"Lavish decorations or the allure of sultry waitresses?"

"No, you have to offer the gamblers a sense of fair play. It's all about the illusion of winning by skill and luck. If people know they're bound to lose before they even sit down, would you go to such a casino?"

"No."

"Let's go then. We need to deliver the money to Cor. You know, the kid is smart and talented. Without a helping hand, he could become a big problem. But with one, he might just turn out to be an officer as good as you."

"I'm just a guy who was slacking on Earth before getting swept up in this world, longing for home," Elyon mused internally.

Upon reaching Cor's residence, they found the siblings prepping for dinner.

"Our young detective has been quite useful," Kappa said, ruffling Cor's hair.

"Did I help? Shall I start picking up the papers tomorrow and keep watch?"

"Speaking of which, we've managed to secure a bonus for you. Keep it safe," Kappa said, pulling out the five-pound note.

"Uncle Kappa, you aren't giving us your salary again, are you?" Cor hesitated to take the note, having never handled such a large denomination since his parents passed. It was enough to cover his tuition at the arithmetic school.

"Just take it. If you don't believe me, ask Uncle Elyon. It's a legitimate reward."

"Really? Thank you so much, Uncle," Cor beamed as he took the money.

"Keep it in a tin or ceramic container. It'll be safe from rats and termites."

"Alright."

When Kappa and Elyon returned to the station, it was already 5:30 PM.

"Captain, do we get a bonus if we recover the stolen cash?"

"A bonus? Do you really think those financial leeches would part with their money for us? We'd be lucky if they ease up on us during the year-end council session."

"So we're working overtime for nothing."

"You're complaining about overtime after just half an hour? You're learning Garrick's slacking ways too quickly. Let's hope Cor finds the manager, David, in the next few days."

"I hope this case wraps up soon, but something tells me it might blow up even bigger."

"Let's hope you're wrong."

On July 24th, Cor dug out his cleanest, least tattered set of clothes and ventured out, taking the public carriage for a rare treat. As he still looked like a child, the conductor only charged him six farthings.

That morning, Elyon and Garrick sorted through three to four hundred old newspapers, handing over fifty to Cor.

"You could sell them separately. Last week's and this week's papers for two farthings each—they're still relatively fresh. But older papers should go for just one farthing," Elyon advised before giving Cor a cardboard sign that read 'Old Newspapers for Sale'.

"Got it."

Cor had never been to North Suburb Street. Upon arriving on the carriage, he found it far cleaner and more orderly than the port district. The address Kappa had given was a small building beside the Craftsman and Technologist's Church on North Suburb Street. Cor straightened his attire and stood under a shady tree opposite the church, setting up his sign to officially start selling old newspapers.

The morning's foot traffic was sparse, with the occasional housewife picking up an old paper. He made just eight farthings by noon. Sighing as he checked his earnings, Cor felt both hungry and thirsty. Glancing at the church across the street, he decided to go in and ask for a drink.

Churches were typically charitable institutions, and upon seeing Cor's appearance, a nun quickly offered him a cup of water, taking the opportunity to preach to him about divine love and omnipotent kindness. Cor wanted to ask why this omnipotent deity didn't save his father from injury or prevent his mother from accidentally killing his father, why no miracle occurred then, or why the so-called servants of God had participated in the bullying he and his sister had faced in the orphanage. But, gazing at the kind-hearted nun, he simply thanked her after finishing his water and left.

Back on the street, Cor pulled a homemade sandwich from his pocket and began to eat.