Oliver, a native of Belfast. Like most orphans, he had only a first name and no surname. Like most residents, he had never left the place where he was born.
Not because it was his home—he was an orphan, and the idea of “home” was a distant, unattainable concept for him.
“Alright, maybe it is because of home. I have a sister... uh, not by blood. I picked her up from a trash bin. In fact, just a few days before I found her, I’d decided to try my luck out there in the wider world.”
This was Oliver’s response when questioned by Lu Li on the day they met.
Lu Li knew Oliver was pulling a sob story, trying to elicit sympathy to get hired. Oliver claimed he had just turned 20 and that his sister still had four years until adulthood.
This meant that Oliver had found her when he was only four.
A four-year-old planning to venture out into the world.
Lu Li didn’t expose Oliver’s harmless lie. He simply listened silently as Oliver recounted his background.
Regardless of whether Oliver had really wanted to leave Belfast to explore the outside world, he stayed. He took on the responsibilities of an older brother, caring for the sister he had found.
Oliver briefly summarized the struggles he and his sister faced growing up. His words were concise but carried enough weight to move the listener—clearly, he’d told this story many times before.
Because of years of irregular meals, Oliver was small and thin, standing just over 160 cm. He had spent a long time as a gang member, earning the nickname “Skinny Monkey” during that period.
As expected.
Oliver spent several years working under the gang’s boss. But after realizing he would never make it as a leader—or even a minor boss—he snuck away, determined not to let his sister follow in his footsteps.
No one wants to stay at the bottom—except for those who were born at the top.
Oliver decided to send his sister to school. Taking a significant risk, he managed to scrape together enough money to pay her tuition, successfully enrolling her in a school in Belfast.
Of course, tuition wasn’t a one-time thing, and his sister’s food, clothing, and other needs also required funds. Until this little sapling grew into a towering tree capable of sheltering her older brother, Oliver would have to keep supporting her.
Oliver did any job he could find—fishing, manual labor, gang work, begging, pickpocketing, and even selling himself twice. He didn’t go into detail, but his face showed clear regret as he insisted he would never do it again. The second time, in particular, left him with a deep psychological scar—unless, he joked weakly, he could choose his clients next time.
Three days ago, relying on his network of contacts, Oliver learned about a new detective agency on Sailors’ Street. Uninvited, he showed up at the door, enthusiastically promoting his skills and claiming he was well-connected. He even boasted that, if Lu Li wanted, he could find out what color Baron Joshua’s underwear was that day.
Lu Li had no interest in the baron’s underwear, but he was very interested in learning about the world he had found himself in—and why people insisted on staying in the light after dark.
The agreed-upon meeting spot. Lu Li frowned slightly.
In front of him, Oliver was heavily made up and wearing a dress he’d probably stolen from somewhere. Surprisingly, it fit him well. But it looked far too strange—Oliver’s dark, rough skin made him resemble a monkey playing dress-up in human clothing.
“As an informant, it’s necessary to have many identities,” Oliver said with a delicate laugh, covering his mouth.
“Or you just enjoy crossdressing.”
“Oh, you’re so mean~!” Oliver stomped lightly, pretending to pout.
The pedestrians on the street scattered, keeping their distance.
“Tell me about the client,” Lu Li said calmly, unwilling to waste more time discussing Oliver’s attire.
In an exaggeratedly sweet voice, Oliver said, “The client’s name is Braaadley Tolkin~!”
“Speak normally.”
“The client’s name is Bradley Tolkin,” Oliver returned to his usual tone, reporting the details to Lu Li. “Tolkin is the second mate on a fishing boat. A few days ago, his youngest son suddenly stopped eating and began muttering to himself all day. Tolkin consulted other exorcists, who concluded that the child might be possessed by a ghost. But their fees were too high, so Tolkin is still hesitating. If your commission fee doesn’t exceed 300 shillings, there’s a good chance he’ll hire you.”
“What’s your opinion?” Lu Li asked. Based on just a few sentences, he couldn’t determine whether this was a supernatural case or a simple illness.
Oliver adjusted the slipping strap of his dress. “I’m definitely not going in there.”
38 Ward Street, Bradley Tolkin’s residence. Tolkin was visibly pleased by Lu Li’s arrival—not just because it meant his son might be saved, but also because it could save him a significant amount of money.
With a mix of enthusiasm and worry, Tolkin led Lu Li to his son’s room and opened the door.
A malevolent aura filled the air, and faint whispers echoed in every corner of the room.
On the bed, Tolkin’s youngest son, Henry, lay pale and motionless, his cold gaze locking onto Lu Li.
“I’m leaving.”
Without a second thought, Lu Li turned and walked out of the room.