"Frogs! Bullfrogs! And delicious snails! All in a nice, hot soup pot!"

"Make way, your stall is blocking the path!"

"How about I trade this cowhide for your knife? If you don’t want that, then how about for..."

The sounds reached them before they saw anyone. Freddy pushed open a half-rotten wooden door, and a chaotic yet somewhat thriving underground world unfolded before the two newcomers to the Shadow Land.

Unlike the miserable, sorrowful, and bizarre atmosphere of the Jiaomao Peak District, the Semi-submerged Area was overwhelmingly full of life. Everyone walked on muddy ground amid a tangle of pipes and collapsed ancient structures. Residents’ small shacks and stalls clung to these ruins that had sunk into the Shadow Land, and some of the "bigger shops" even had signs made of wooden planks.

In this market, Rorschach sensed... a damned sense of life.

Everything here was abnormal. The monetary system had completely collapsed. People only used currency, whether the old Gold Coins or the current centimes, for keeping count. Some shops didn’t accept money at all, relying solely on barter. This made the market utterly inefficient. Right next to Rorschach, a customer and a shop owner were arguing over whether a tattered felt hat was a fair trade for a single frog leg.

"There’s no sun down here, what’s the use of a hat? Idiot!" The owner angrily banged on his soup pot, trying to drive away the customer who had nothing of value to trade. But the man clutched his hat, stared at the pot, swallowed hard, and insisted, "Boss, you’ll have a use for it. Above ground or below, all men eventually go bald. That’s when you need a good hat to cover your head."

The owner noticed Rorschach’s group. Their clothes were relatively neat, and their faces were healthy and ruddy. They were definitely fresh meat, newly fallen into the Shadow City. His eyes lit up and he quickly called out, "Hey, you two handsome guys over there... and a Dwarf! What a rarity, actually seeing a Dwarf..."

While the owner was muttering to himself, Singrev, filled with rage, stormed up to the stall like a gust of wind. "What did you just say? That I’m not handsome?"

The owner spotted the large hammer on the man’s back and realized he wasn’t someone to mess with. "You misunderstood, sir. I was just a little surprised. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a Dwarf... a handsome Dwarf... on this street."

"Hmph, that’s more like it." Since he was already there and it was about time to eat, Singrev rubbed his stomach. "How are you selling this soup?"

"Master Dwarf, you must be new here. Down in the underground, you can’t use money the same way as on the surface. We prefer to negotiate... Say, that hammer of yours looks mighty fine. I’d be willing to trade half a pot of soup for it..."

"Stop trying to fool people. I wasn’t born yesterday." Freddy pulled the Dwarf away from the stall. Rorschach had been in observation mode the whole time, neither stepping forward nor moving too far away. When the Minstrel brought back the gluttonous Singrev, Rorschach asked quietly, "Is there something wrong with the soup?"

"Mhm... Don’t listen to him shouting about frogs and snails. If you stir that pot and scoop some out, it wouldn’t be surprising to find a finger joint."

The Dwarf shivered. "I think I’ll pass on eating, then."

"Is there any safe food, then?" Rorschach felt like he’d been deceived by the name "Shadow City." This place wasn’t like a city at all. There were no supplies, and the clothes on the passersby were no better than what the Mouse Speaker wore.

Freddy gazed toward the end of the street, as if his sight could pierce through everyone. It had to be admitted that he and Rorschach were taller than the residents who had lived underground for a long time. As they watched the scurrying crowds, they noticed that because of the low ceilings throughout the Semi-submerged Area, everyone instinctively hunched over as they moved through the man-made and natural tunnels.

All the houses were cobbled together from wooden planks and cloth, not much different from a homeless person’s shack on the street. Any stable or doghouse from the surface world would be considered a mansion if it sank down here. There were some signs of former ruins, but now only low earthen walls remained. The bricks had long since been taken, one by one, but they hadn’t been reassembled into any new structures.

They walked to where the crowd was densest. A ship—unmistakably a small cargo vessel—was propped up on a roof, resting against a broken wall. The largest group of people had gathered around it, staring eagerly as a team of able-bodied young men went in and out, carrying something.

"That must be the cargo ship the Count mentioned, the one full of tea and sugar," Rorschach deduced.

The cargo ship had originally been a paddle steamer. You could still see its battered, misshapen smokestack. The paddle wheels were either shattered or had been dismantled, leaving only the holes where their axles used to be.

The Dwarf was heartbroken. "What a well-made ship! Look at those curves, and the paint job was fantastic, too. To sink just like that..."

’Is there a river directly above?’ The area was damp, but there was definitely no "Living Water Body." Directly above the ship, just like everywhere else, was a tangle of rock and dirt. ’It’s a mystery how it fell down here.’

But that question wasn’t important. Several able-bodied young men were moving supplies in and out, while others, armed with long spears (the cold weapon kind), stood guard, ready to drive away anyone who got too close. A flag made from a bedsheet hung high beside the ship, proclaiming that the vessel and its contents were now the property of Lord Earl.

No wonder only Elgin and his old servant were on the train. The so-called "Count’s Guard" had apparently been fully deployed to seize the supplies in the ship’s hold. They were called able-bodied young men, but they were just a group of youths who were slightly better fed than the others. They all wore cut-down barrels for helmets and had sheets of iron hanging on their chests and backs for armor.

When the crowd watching the sunken ship saw Freddy, they started calling out to him:

"Freddy!"

"You’re here..."

"Hey, Freddy, long time no see! How’s the weather on the surface?"

"Same as always, terrible!" Freddy led Rorschach and the Dwarf straight into the crowd. Rorschach was focused on protecting his belongings, while the Minstrel greeted each person who recognized him.

"You’re an underground superstar!" Singrev was shocked. It was like a celebrity meet-and-greet, with him and Rorschach Mage acting as the Minstrel’s bodyguards. "From now on, I’ll have to call you the Wandering Minstrel Poet!"

"Please don’t..."

"They all know you?" Rorschach had never heard Freddy perform a full song. He only ever seemed to strum a few chords on his instrument and hum a few short tunes.

"I once tried to write songs for the residents of the Shadow Land, and then go to the surface to sing them for the people of the Upper Realm," Freddy explained as they pushed their way toward the ship.

Rorschach nodded. "This place is bizarre and fascinating. A true treasure trove of material."

"That was part of the consideration, I suppose. But what I really wanted was to make the people of the Upper Realm remember these forgotten ones." The Minstrel’s voice grew quieter, almost drowned out by the greetings from the crowd. "As long as they weren’t evil, I wanted to interview them—write their experiences, why they fell, their old hobbies, their lives—into songs and poems, to see if it could help them escape the curse of the Shadow City."

"Just like you?" Rorschach remembered that Freddy claimed the reason he could cross between the two realms was that his poems were still being sung in the Upper Realm. Even if his name was forgotten, he wouldn’t completely fade away and would have a chance to return to the surface.

"Yes. But it only worked for me. People on the outside just think my inspiration comes from getting drunk. I wanted to write a novel, but I just can’t bring myself to put pen to paper... I’m a failed Minstrel."

Just as he finished speaking, they reached the inner edge of the crowd, where the Count’s men were blocking the way.

"We are special investigators for Lord Earl, let us through!" The Minstrel held out the pass issued by the Count. The Guards couldn’t read, but they recognized the dark red wax seal, which served as proof it was issued by Lord Earl himself.

Once they were let through, the supplies on the sunken ship beckoned to the three of them.