…

“Ah. Mr. Sherlock, here is a letter for you from boss Sabine.” Lena call out to Sherlock, who came down from the stairs.

“Thanks. I heard boss left Shelbur to the neighboring Lorena for some business, any news when he will return?” Sherlock walked past the counter, looking at Lena petite face, then asked.

“He hasn’t left any words since he left… With the recent storm gathering in Lorena, it seems it won’t be a long while.” Lena stressed, but her charming expression didn’t loosen even as she sigh.

“You’re right. I hope he won’t encounter any trouble, especially with the recent assassination attempt on Algus, the new governor of Lorena.”

At this time, another guest arrive through the front door.

Lena spoke with Sherlock for a bit. There were other business he had to take care of, so he couldn’t stay to keep her company for long.

After he left, Lena went back to lodging the other customers.

A week has passed since he worked as a bodyguard for the pub. He has gotten used to his identity.

During his time working as a bodyguard, only a few incidents has occurred. Fights between drunks customers, along with thug that would cause problem on the street appear throughout the week. Nonetheless, it was not an issue for him. After breaking through a series of hoops, his strength greatly differ from the old him, handling a couple of thugs was a simple matter.

This new increased strength drew quite a bit of suspicion from his boss, but he simply dismiss it as him recovering from his injuries. Of course, Sabine wasn’t convinced, but did not attempt to dig any deeper into his secret and simply pass it off.

As a bodyguard, his shift end in the evening, as that’s when everyone seems to cool down by then. Maybe they got tired from their morning work, or they had business to attend, but the customer starting from the evening seems to be more reserved than those crazy hooligans in the morning.

For a bodyguard, he’s responsible for stopping fight from escalating. As such, there’s a lot of free time in between his shift, as not every hour would a fight occur. He usually spend this time tuning in with the customer, listening to their gossips or enjoy a mellow cup of coffee at the bar since he wasn’t a fan of alcohol.

The most recent matter is the election of a new governor for Lorena, a neighboring nation next to Shelbur. Apparently, on the day of the ceremony, an assassin attempts to assassinate the governor. During that time, Saint Venir intervene to stop the culprit from achieving his goals.

This spark quite a few uproars as the Church of the Holy Sun stance is ‘regarded’ as neutral. For the first time, they have taken a stance.

A day after this occur, his boss left a letter saying that he have business to finish in Lorena. The detail was brief, as it was simply a leaving notice. Nonetheless, this caused Sherlock to speculate more on the matter regarding the Governor’s assassination, drawing the conclusion that it’s not as simple as it looks on the surface.

In the end, it’s not something an individual like him can interfere, therefore, he only show a slight interest in the matter before disregarding it altogether.

However, what Hao Xu, aka Sherlock, doesn’t know is that he is the catalyst behind this conspiracy.

...

At this moment, It was noon.

Sherlock left the corner of the street, looking in the right direction of the pub.

After walking for a while, the crowd street began to loosen as it become more ghostly. Along with the steamy fog that engulf the whole town, the building located at the edge of the town stay isolated.

He walked toward the back, though people rarely pass through this place, he still watches his surrounding as he shuffle his way through the fog with his rifle strapped on his back.

Sherlock stand in front of a solid metal door. He hears a creaking sound, as a gap in the door slowly opened.

“Detective Sherlock?” A cold, resolute voice came from the small rectangle gap.

“Yes, I’m here for the appointment with Mr. Arwin.” Sherlock took off the hat, placing it in his hand as he did a courtesy bow gesture with his head lower.

The eyeball gleam through the gap, sizing him up and down, before the sound of clanking smack his eardrum.

Sherlock could see the door slowly opening.