March 13, 1938.

Windsor Kingdom, Lundan City.

The departing harsh winter did not bring much warmth to this city. People hurried along the streets, still feeling the effects of the Great Depression, with the looming shadow of war ever-present, making the city far from happy.

In the east district of Lundan City, on Berkeley Street, stands the Wayne Detective Agency.

A two-and-a-half-story building with a basement, facing the street, in the relatively modest east district, could barely be considered a happy place.

But this was the landlord's happiness, not Wayne's. If he didn't pay the rent, he would be forced to go underground.

In the office on the ground floor, Wayne smiled at his client, with two investigation reports laid out on the desk in front of him.

"Dr. Laina, regarding your two assignments, I have both good news and bad news. Which one would you like to hear first?"

"I've been having a streak of bad luck lately, so let's start with the good news."

Dr. Laina shrugged. He was a middle-aged man, mercilessly harvested by time. Time had taken away his thick hair and handed it to the younger ones, leaving him with the greasiness they didn't want.

As a doctor, he couldn't even grow a beard in protest.

"The good news is that the used car you had your eye on has been confirmed to be a salvage vehicle. You can use this investigation report to negotiate the price down."

Wayne handed over the first report, which indicated that the car was haunted by a 40-year-old ghost (note: the previous owner died at 40), not recommended for night driving, as the previous owner might try to grab the steering wheel.

"That doesn't sound like good news. That was supposed to be a gift for my child. Now I have to look for another one."

Dr. Laina sighed. "Now tell me the bad news. I hope I can handle it."

"The bad news is that your wife indeed has a lover..."

Dr. Laina interrupted directly, "Who is it, that brainless dock worker, or that damn failed art student?"

"Actually, it's both."

"..."

Both? What does that mean?

Dr. Laina looked puzzled, unable to comprehend this simple revelation.

Seeing the customer's confusion, Wayne patiently explained, "In the past week, Mrs. Laina met the dock worker three times and the failed student three times as well. She always met the failed student first and then went to meet..."

"That's enough, I don't need to hear more. Give me the report to read it myself."

Dr. Laina interrupted again, picking up the report to read. The report was well-organized, detailing times and locations, and included photos that convinced him.

After a moment, Dr. Laina sighed. He didn't explode in anger but cooled down after a brief moment of fury.

"Wayne, your reports are accurate, but you got one thing wrong."

"What is it?"

"This is actually good news."

"Well, indeed it is. How about some coffee?"

"Of course."

Dr. Laina promptly paid for the additional services like it was a bar tab, continuously complaining to Wayne about his unfortunate marriage.

Maybe because he had paid, Dr. Laina was no longer just a client to Wayne. He had no intention of listening to his complaints and instead bluntly interrupted him, moving on to promote other services of the detective agency.

Such as marital and family disputes.

"Haven't we investigated this already?"

"We have, but this one is for you."

Wayne retrieved a third investigation report from his desk drawer. It contained unclear evidence of Dr. Laina and a certain female nurse being involved in an affair.

Dr. Laina started sweating, trembling as he picked up the coffee cup to hide his confusion. The report was well-structured, with detailed information on times and locations, accompanied by photos that convinced him.

"How can you treat your clients like this, Wayne?"

"Don't misunderstand. This assignment came from your wife. Truth be told, she's more generous than you."

"Damn, that's my money."

Dr. Laina roared. As a social elite, he quickly realized his mistake and tentatively asked, "She hasn't seen this report yet, right?"

"Dr. Laina, my professional ethics require me to maintain client confidentiality. I can't answer that question." Wayne sternly refused.

"Give me the report, and I'll pay double."

"..."

"Triple!"

"Heh."

"Five times, five times will do. With this much money, I could hire a professional hitman at the docks."

"Deal."

"Damn, you're a disgrace to the detective world."

Dr. Laina paid and took the report, cursing as he left the detective agency, swearing to return to Wayne for future investigations.

That kid had some skill indeed.

The key was getting the job done for the money, efficiently. In Windsor, where processes were usually redundant and dragging, this kind of high efficiency was a valuable quality.

Wayne counted the money, and when the office was empty, he said, "Dr. Laina, I forgot to remind you, if your wife didn't get what she wanted from me, she won't give up easily. She'll likely hire other detectives to investigate. Good luck to you."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"..."

"Tsk, he left so quickly!"

Wayne counted the income, started organizing today's work files, and casually took out his diary, writing down the client's praise for him.

The words were full of compliments.

Just by reading this diary, he seemed like a helpful, generous young man who was passionate about life.

As for earning quick money by ignoring professional ethics, Wayne had no guilt. Despite making a profit, he was the one at a loss.

Half of Mrs. Laina's deposit would have to be refunded, a failed investigation would damage the reputation of the detective agency, and he risked facing questions about his competence and potential threats from hitmen. Though he made five times the fee with tears in his eyes, he was the real loser.

Money earned by skill, willingly given and taken, required no guilt.

By the time Wayne finished his work for the day, the sun had set, and darkness enveloped the city, quickly quieting its streets and alleys.

With the darkness came a hazy mist.

Wayne calculated how much was left for his rent while preparing his dinner in the kitchen, sincerely saying, "Thanks to the Laina couple, thanks to your tacit marriage, I won't have to eat potatoes tomorrow."

Not tomorrow, not today. At least tonight, he had to face off with potatoes.

Chunks of potatoes, fried potatoes, sautéed potatoes, potato salad, mashed potatoes...

At first glance, it seemed quite abundant, with several dishes.

Wayne speared a chunk of potato on his fork, his eyes catching a glimpse of the mirror on the bookcase, reflecting a face with black hair and dark eyes.

There wasn't much to say; it was all about the potatoes!

Taking Mrs. Laina as an example, if it weren't for Wayne's persistence in refusal, he would have received long-term financial assistance like a dropout.

This was Wayne's third month in the Divine Continent, inheriting everything from the unlucky 'Wayne,' from the detective agency to the rent, and now to the meticulously counted potatoes in the kitchen.

When he first arrived, Wayne saw his small building on a commercial street, complete with an attic and a basement, and with a 'money-first' attitude towards life, he quickly embraced the change.

That is until the landlord came knocking for rent and took away the radio.

Realizing he was in the negatives, Wayne couldn't find it in himself to laugh, but considering the debts he owed in his past life, it didn't seem entirely unacceptable.

Then he found it unacceptable.

1938, Europe, Windsor Kingdom, Lundan... Details had some variations, but it all felt like a prelude to a bombing.

Just waiting for someone to raise the flag.

What was even more unacceptable was that Wayne didn't time travel; he traversed space. This Earth had only two continents, one being the Divine Continent and the other the Snowy Plain Continent.

There was no familiar hometown for him, no bald eagle drumming up oil theft everywhere.

The Snowy Plain Continent was Antarctica, once known centuries ago as the Dark Continent or the Godforsaken Continent. The Divine Continent extended partially to the Arctic, where it was frozen all year round, with extremely limited living conditions.

Apart from that, this Earth was overwhelmingly blue, with water dominating the world map.

It took Wayne a long time to convince himself that life was just that—full of compromises. Buck up, look ahead, and if all else fails, it wouldn't hurt to pivot.

And then he saw the potatoes.

"I hate potatoes!"

Wayne carved up the chunks of potatoes on his plate while recalling the challenging three months. The previous owner was a romantic, or rather, a fool.

Despite being a novice, he confidently started a detective agency; despite having one, he spent his days idly wandering through various social places; despite having no clients, he hired a secretary anyway.

Wayne couldn't comprehend it and was thoroughly shocked. When he first arrived, the house was plastered with posters of female celebrities. The original owner wasn't just clueless but a fervent fan.

Removing the posters of the female celebrities, Wayne didn't toss them in the trash but kept them all in his bedroom on the second floor.

Perhaps due to the side effects of his crossing, Wayne didn't acquire many memories from the previous owner. The sporadic memory fragments were too chaotic to form a coherent storyline, so he merely skimmed through them and set them aside.

The clearest memory he had was in a dark room, with a desk lamp illuminating it, surrounded by whispers, threats, and even curses and beatings, indicating the previous owner had a criminal background.

Additionally, the original owner had a diary from the future, similar to a summer vacation journal, with jumbled and illogical writing throughout. Most of it was about fantasizing marrying a female celebrity and living a shameless life together.

Three times a day, occasionally five.

Because of its artistic nature, Wayne kept this diary by his bedside, sometimes studying its grammar in the quiet of the night.

Undoubtedly, the original owner was a failure. In Wayne's eyes, with his lackadaisical ways, he proved how exceptional the detectives in the city were.

In Wayne's own words, without a dark horse who cracked cases upon entering the field, the original owner could be considered a black donkey of the detective world.

But it couldn't be denied that the original owner worked hard, diligently avoiding real work. If he hadn't worked hard, he wouldn't be where he was today!

Initially, Wayne had rejected the identity of a detective. The original owner changed careers midway, just like him. He was looking for shortcuts, aiming to become an inventor and live a comfortable life solely on patents.

Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. As an inventor, he was still a novice. The items he could think of, like rubber bands, paper clips, mosquito coils, zippers, band-aids, had all been patented by someone else.

"It's ridiculous, why are the natives so smart?

Helpless, in order to quickly fill his pockets and avoid starving to death, Wayne had to change careers and become a qualified detective.

Here, I have to praise the original owner. Spending lavishly, equipped with all sorts of detective gear, the bookshelf is filled from beginner to incarceration with all kinds of criminal investigation books.

There are also many well-known detective novels.

Although Wayne's skills are limited, he loves his work. Fueled by his hatred for potatoes, he works very hard.

Perhaps due to the benefits of transmigration, his learning ability is astonishing, his thinking is much sharper than before, and imple investigations don't stump him at all. His agile body allows him to easily scale walls and sneak into buildings, hiding outside balcony windows to take photos stealthily.

His agile body has nothing to do with transmigration. The instincts carved in his muscles from his original self, along with his experiences in the 'small dark room', indicate that the police uncles didn't arrest the wrong person; they just kept him locked up for too short a time.

Wayne's transmigration also comes with a perk.

A book!

Quietly suspended within him, its exact location unclear, maybe in his brain, maybe in his heart, or perhaps in some internal organ.

[Book of Greed]

Speaking of this book, one cannot help but mention that stormy night.

Before his transmigration, Wayne was a programmer. Seeing his colleagues getting rid of their bosses before the age of thirty-five and making a fortune, he and a colleague decided to resign and venture into making small games.

Jose: "We should start a business early. Instead of waiting for our boss to fire us, why don't we get rid of him and make games together?"

Wayne: "Makes sense."

The Book of Greed is an item in the game. Out of a mischievous sense of making Easter eggs, the two of them put a lot of effort into the Book of Greed, stuffing it with bugs so that the code became contradictory but surprisingly still worked.

One bug is a bug, a bunch of bugs is a feature!

After successfully completing their work, the two of them in front of the screen were elated: one making phone calls, the other anticipating the game's release on the platform, dreaming of becoming a chairman and going public.

Whether Jose could 'reap the benefits' remains to be seen, but Wayne definitely had no chance. Whether it was a flash of lightning or a short circuit, as soon as he opened his eyes, he found himself in the Divine Continent.

"Jose, oh Jose, if you strike it rich, please take care of my family for me..."

Wayne closed his eyes, his mind shifted, and the Book of Greed, with its dark cover swirling with blood-red veins, appeared in his sight.

The material was unknown, the book cover uneven and slightly damp and slippery, resembling the back of a toad.

"It wasn't like this at the beginning. Has it mutated?"

Wayne tried to turn the pages, but to no avail. Just like in his previous attempts, only the eyeball embedded in the cover slowly focused and looked back at him.

Similar eyeballs were scattered across the cover, all tightly shut, only the large eyeball in the center responding to his gaze.

Just limited to staring.

Transmigrated, with perks, but unable to use them!

The more Wayne thought about it, the angrier he became, stabbing one potato chunk after another until they turned into mashed potatoes.

Even more frustrating, one less dish!

Putting down the fork, Wayne sighed, "Why does my life consist of nothing but hardships and endless struggles? Why is it only Mrs. Laina providing long-term financial assistance? Aren't there any noble young ladies running away from home, getting lost, and coming to my door, willingly offering money to be taken in?"

Knock, knock, knock...

The office door was being knocked on, and through the dim glass, a black shadow lurked outside.

"Gululu!"

Wayne inexplicably felt a chill, his scalp tingling. He swallowed hard, eating some mashed potatoes to calm his nerves.

If he remembered correctly, he had closed the door."