Unfortunately, there was no microscope, not even in the residence of the esteemed Count. However, Rorschach already had a theory. The people of the Shadow Land had always believed "the water is alive"—perhaps it was a type of microorganism.

Moreover, they were microorganisms with Magic Power. The proof was that his Small Decomposition Skill and other Anti-Magic Skills could temporarily put the "living water" into a dormant state, as well as the Spiritual Light Rorschach had seen, which was distributed unevenly across the water’s surface.

’Why the surface? Could it be that the microorganisms in the water need some component from the air to generate Magic Power and, in turn, control the water body?’

This was Rorschach’s hypothesis, and the fact that the water lost its activity and became drinkable after being boiled was remarkably similar to sterilization.

He thought of an even simpler way to test this. He cast the Resuscitation Skill on the foul water body in the bottle. Sure enough, under his Arcane Vision, the active Spiritual Light grew more abundant and brighter, and the entire body of water began to energetically batter against the barrier inside the bottle.

’Unfortunately, I’m not a Mage from the Tower of Forest, so I can’t exploit this further. But this is something of great value. If these are truly Magic-wielding bacteria, it’s a major discovery. Compared to Dragons, the ’smallest Magical Beasts’ might be easier to utilize, but also more dangerous.’

Finally, Rorschach put the bottle away, letting the others who were watching his experiment breathe a sigh of relief. While Rorschach had been manipulating the foul water body, everyone from the Count to the Dwarf had wisely refrained from disturbing the Mage. Even the most boisterous Minstrel had just watched quietly.

"Are you certain?" Because Rorschach had agreed so readily, Count Elgin was beginning to have second thoughts. He finally sat up straight from his lounge chair, attempting to appear more serious. "No task is ever easy. Your friend, the poet Fred, is right. Even as one commission in exchange for another, our deal is unequal."

"You’re absolutely right, my lord—except for getting my name wrong," Freddy chimed in. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

’I get it,’ Rorschach thought. ’It’s like when you’re about to haggle and the other party suddenly makes a huge concession. Anyone would wonder if there’s a catch.’ He then said frankly to the Count, "Mr. Elgin, in my opinion, the investigation into the sewer anomaly and the strange group in your territory are likely one and the same. Have you considered that the two might be connected?"

"Ah? Oh... Of course! I’ve long suspected as much! It’s the work of those missionaries!" He began to pace around inside the carriage. "Yes, that would make sense... That’s right, they appeared around the same time."

’Excluding the two orthodox Churches, the only particularly vibrant and aggressively expanding religious group right now would be the Sect that worships the Earth Holy Mother. And the Living Water Body exhibits biological properties; its activity corresponds with the grotesque Vitality displayed by Mother Earth.’

The old Count suddenly looked at Rorschach, his murky eyes wide. "Mage, would you be willing to become my Magic Consultant? If you agree, you’ll be second only to me in the Semi-submerged Area. As an area that has dealings with Storm City, life here is tolerable. At least there’s no shortage of supplies. It’s nothing like other places that have completely fallen outside the bounds of civilization!" Evidently, the Count was quite satisfied with and proud of his domain.

The Minstrel shouted, "Old Count, have you gone senile! Who would want to be ’second-in-command’ in a sewer? There are countless residents of Storm City right above our heads!"

The words stung Elgin. If this were before he had fallen into the Shadow Land, he would have certainly ordered someone to rip out the insolent Minstrel’s tongue. But now, he just snorted sharply. "I wasn’t asking you, street performer. Fine. You all have great futures ahead of you. I wish you the best of luck!"

The Count then began to draft a missing person notice according to Rorschach’s description. The old coachman now had to act as the typist, CLATTERING away on a printer with an unresponsive keyboard. Fortunately, the type slugs were in decent condition; only a few of the most frequently used letters came out blurry.

Evidently, the old servant’s literacy level wasn’t high. When Rorschach saw the first draft was full of errors, the Count looked embarrassed and tried to explain, "He was completely illiterate before we fell down here! It was already a great act of kindness for me to teach this old dog to type. Where am I supposed to find a qualified secretary?"

In the end, the Minstrel finished the final draft. Because he’d added his own personal touches, it turned into a rather flowery and frivolous notice: "Teacher Caroline, where are you? Your student misses you dearly, misses your every smile and frown, misses your eyes that shine like the stars and moon..."

"’Her eye color is actually... Never mind. This is fine.’ Rorschach didn’t really expect the notice to be of much use anyway."

With the missing person notice for Caroline concocted, the old coachman and the three men disembarked. The Count had no intention of offering his guests a meal; he sent his old servant to print the notices and deliver his orders, while Rorschach, Singrev, and Freddy went to find a place to eat and stay. As investigators, they had received a pass for the Semi-submerged Area signed by the Count, which allowed them to move freely throughout the district.

Rorschach looked at a sign; they had gotten off at some place called Cross Street Station. A few normal-looking people were scattered across the platform. They showed no reaction to the sudden appearance of the old train or the strange group disembarking from it, preoccupied with checking the timetable and their own pocket watches. Those without watches simply stood there, all of them expressionless.

"They don’t notice anything, only thinking about their own affairs." As he spoke, the old coachman brushed past a passenger from the world above, and a small leather pouch appeared in his hand.

The Minstrel whistled. "A Count’s servant knows this trade, too."

The old man revealed an extremely ugly mouth, which one could assume was a smile. "These blockheads won’t notice anyway. I’ve had years to practice in this godforsaken place!" He seemed to be doing it for fun. He opened the wallet, disgustedly pulled out the money, but a fountain pen made the old fellow’s eyes light up. "The Count will like this."

The Dwarf disapproved of the petty theft. "A true Count wouldn’t appreciate stolen goods."

"If I don’t say anything, the Count will never know! Besides..." the old coachman retorted, craning his neck. It was clear the two of them were just deluding themselves. Rorschach finished the loyal servant’s unspoken line for him: "I hear that when Count Elgin was still in the Upper Realm, he stole plenty of cultural relics from other countries. He certainly won’t mind a bit of petty theft now."

To the other countries whose temples and ruins he had plundered, Elgin was nothing but an irredeemable robber.

"Those were spoils of war..." the old coachman muttered. He pointed toward a descending stairwell. "Just keep heading down and you’ll reach the main district. I’m off to get this printed."

"There’s a print shop here?" Rorschach was curious where the coachman was going to print the notices, but the old, hunched man didn’t answer, simply disappearing around a corner in the underground passageway.

"Can we trust the Count?"

"Of course. He’s bound by the rules of the Shadow City. Thank heavens, those rules are relatively fair—at least better than the regulations the lords up on the surface squabble into existence."

Rorschach neither agreed nor disagreed with the Minstrel’s assessment, focusing instead on observing his surroundings.

Freddy resumed his role as tour guide, leading the way down with Rorschach and Singrev following behind. At first, the decor was the same as the station—stairs with sheet metal edges and anti-slip treatment, handrails painted black, and tiled walls. Farther down, walls of red brick and even mud plaster appeared. Then they came to an ancient-looking spiral staircase built entirely of stone.

When they reached the bottom, the sound of voices grew louder. Rorschach could hear not only the Storm City accent, but also archaic tones mixed with the Jabber Language.

"Our luck is good. We’ve arrived during market time."