Ethan’s heart was pounding in his ears.

With shaking hands, he opened the letter.

Dear Mr. Morris,

It seems we have found ourselves in quite an interesting situation! I must say, my first impression of your world is - wow. Quite a colorful world it is, for certain.

I hope you are enjoying Arcalis, and my humble apartment. I am still at the “hospital”, and there are three different needles inside of me right now. Your local medicine sure is something!

But to the point you must be dying to know. Underneath the Dancing Imp statue, there is a little lockbox. Underneath the Crying Maiden statue, there is a key. Inside the lockbox, you will find the information for how to access my impressive savings: you will find they are more than enough to make you live quite comfortably for the rest of your life. I do not expect you to continue with my work; most people couldn’t. I recommend you take my savings and retire comfortably somewhere: I recommend the sandy beaches of Vasresht. Enjoy the rest of your life - our realm has plenty to offer.

I do not think I will be able to offer you help other than this - with me sending this, my connection to my Manor will be severed, and we shall live in each other’s lives forever.

Wish you all the best, Mr. Morris. It is a deep regret of mine we shall never meet.

Yours truly,

Gilbert Shadowveil

Ethan read the letter carefully, then read it again. Laes was at his side, trying to get on his toes to sneak a peek at the contents of the letter.

Ethan’s mind was racing. Gilbert did not seem worried at all about the predicament - even though he clearly got the shorter end of the stick here. Did he not yet realize the extent to which Ethan’s life sucked? Or was he just really, really chill?

No, nobody would be that relaxed in a situation like this. Unless…

He turned to Laes. “Can you show me where the Dancing Imp and the Crying Maiden statues are?”

Laes looked at him suspiciously, but led him to the statues.

Ethan took the little lockbox hidden underneath the Dancing Imp, and opened it without issue once he retrieved the key. Inside was a multitude of papers - locations and numbers of where Gilbert kept his money, jewels, gold…. Ethan’s palms were sweating when he looked at the numbers. He saw the prices of the little ramen bowls, printed on the side next to instructions- using that as his only reference, he tried to comprehend just how rich Gilbert was.

No, just how rich he was. If Gilbert is in his body, he currently has less than a hundred dollars to his name.

Serves the dick right.

“How do I get back?” he asked Laes.

“Just, uh, step out the gate and follow the road. You’ll be back where you were before you take ten steps.”

“Would I be able to come back here?”

“I think so. You are in the Master's body. But I don’t think you’ll find anything you want here,” added Laes quickly.

Ethan nodded. He disagreed - but he was tired of arguing.

“Until later, then,” he said, opening the gate into nothingness.

“Wait! Master Shadowveil- is he coming back?” Laes called after him.

Ethan did not bother answering.

----------------------------------------

It only took him three steps beyond the gate of the Shadowveil Manor to find himself back in his - Gilbert’s - no, his - apartment.

And he was not alone.

“You’ve not listened to my advice one bit, Shadowveil,” said the man sitting on his couch.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

The man looked bored. He was leaning forward, propping his head on his hand. His hair was long and bright red, and he wore a simple tank top and several bracelets.

“You know how it is, I like to forge my own path,” chuckled Ethan, wondering what the hell was this weirdo talking about.

“You’re even dumber than I thought.” The man stood up. “I warned you. I gave you time. I’m so fucking nice, I didn’t kill you right in front of your partner like I should have,” every word was dripping from his mouth like venom.

“I think it’s time for me to stop being nice,” he added.

A shimmering blade materialized in his hand, a falchion with a handle decorated with dark blue crystals. The edge of the blade shimmered a faint blue, and he lunged forward like a feral animal.

Ethan panicked. I’m not a fighter, I’m a fucking cybersecurity student!

He jumped out of the way of the attacker. “Maybe… we can talk things out?”

“Talk? Did you lose your last marble, detective?” The attacker kicked a chair separating them. He ran towards him once again. Out of options, Ethan reached for Gilbert’s wand, and pointed it at him.

Please do something. Please do something!

The wand did not do anything.

The blade cut through Ethan’s shirt, and a thin, red line appeared on his chest. The tip of the attacker’s blade touched his chin, lifting it up ever o slightly.

“Truly pathetic,” said the man. “You’re taking all the fun out of this.”

Welp, I’m gonna fucking die. Great.

He took Gilbert’s wand, and stabbed the attacker between the ribs.

The redhead’s eyes went wide, not expecting a wand to be used in such a manner. Ethan smiled despite himself as his attacker’s falchion lowered away from his chin.

If only I had some pocket sand-

Still wedged between the man’s ribs, the wand exploded in a burst of flame and wind.

Ethan ducked away from his reach, and ran for the kitchen as his attacker was catching his breath.

“Ow!” the man yowled. “What the fuck are you playing at, detective?!”

It was fully stocked. Unused. It’s gotta have something….

Oh yeah.

Ethan ran back to the living room, brandishing his wand proudly. “I’ll fucking do it again if you don’t leave my fucking house!”

“Oh, I’ll leave alright. After you get what you deserve,” said the man through gritted teeth, and lunged once again. Ethan’s mind was buzzing.

He ducked.

It was his one good skill, really. He had no strength, at least in his old body; fast reflexes is how he survived high school. He was shockingly good at dodgeball.

Only this dodgeball had a very sharp edge and was attached to a psycho trying to kill him.

His attacker yelled in frustration as Ethan ducked out of the way of his falchion. Ethan pointed his wand at the attacker’s face, who smiled a feral smile in response.

“Let me see you do it. It’ll be the last thing you do.” he moved to reposition his blade.

“No,” said Ethan, and threw salt into his eyes.

The screaming that followed was the loudest, most feral yell Ethan has ever heard. The falchion clattered to the ground, and Ethan grabbed it quickly.

“What the fuck is that?!” demanded the attacker.

“Self defense,” said Ethan, now throwing pepper into his eyes.

“You motherfucker!” The attacker was flailing wildly, trying to rub his eyes.

Ethan had to move quickly. He grabbed a fistful of salt and rubbed it along the edge of the falchion.

And then, he attacked.

The blade slashed the man on his back, leaving another bright, red line.

“You’re… fucking… dead!” he screamed out. Ethan saw angry tears in his red, swollen eyes.

And then, the attacker teleported out.

It took Ethan several minutes to regain his composure. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he really felt like he needed a drink.

He found some brandy in Gilbert’s apartment, and he had a glass. It was awful.

He found a little first aid kit and tried his best to clean up his wound. Luckily, it was incredibly shallow, and he’s had enough experience as a boy scout to know how to clean up a wound.

Who the fuck was this red haired creep?

Shaking his head, he headed back towards the living room, where the fight took place. It did not seem like the creep left anything of his behind. Shame, that was a nice looking falchion.

Incredibly nice. It didn’t just look expensive, it looked… important. The way centuries-old heirlooms and ancient artifacts are important.

Ethan turned his gaze towards the table where Gilbert’s wand was. The small lockbox with all of Gilbert’s financial information was now next to the wand, as physical as anything else in the room.

He reached for the wand. It did not make him go back to the Manor, nor did it shoot any more fire out. Tentatively, he brought it up to the witch dog cheesy ramen, and said the incantation. There was a soft hiss, and the bowl filled up with steam. He lifted the lid; the food was warm.

He ate the food in silence, then found some paper and a writing utensil. He needed to be writing things down, to organize his thoughts.

He had a case to solve, damnit.

Multiple, it seemed.