Arc 0: Chapter 6 - Rest For The Weary

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Situated on the doorstep of the tall building on Heming Street was none other than Mr. Kingsley, the man with the keys to the office, the self-titled landlord, even though the office was, in fact, the only room in the building he owned.

Kingsley was of a peculiar size and age, the man was hitting the edge of his sixties, or he could very well be an adult’s grandfather already. Everything about the man, besides his age and voice, was of the typical kind, he was the type of man who would complain about anything, but never actually seek to fix anything.

With his bright multi-colored striped shirt and his oversized plain beige pants, Kingsley certainly looked like the kind of father that was ready to burn whatever money he had since he probably already had his dreamboat, but the three, perhaps four counting a toddler, spoiled brats that he raised would stop him from doing so.

“Ah, you must be the guy I’m looking for… Mister Locke, right?” Kingsley welcomed Flynn with open arms.

“Y-Yes yes, that’s me!” Flynn replied as he struggled for air. The man’s “hug” was just too tough to deal with.

“Well well, I’m glad to finally meet ya. Watchmen’s been talking about ya day and night, what’d you say you worked as before?”

“Same job really…,” he replied once again. However, there was something else on his mind. Kingsley’s earlier comment about the watchmen’s gossip seemed rather odd to him, he was just a random new inspector in town, nothing special about him. ‘B-But why… why would the watchmen talk about me?’

“Oh, ya’know, you’re a private inspector and stuff. Pretty rare occasion in a beat-up town like ours, surprised they let you through in the first place. I bet some of ‘em people are already talking about ya — it’s not everyday they meet an unfamiliar face.”

He was right. Flynn was just overthinking, but it was natural, things have been bizarre for quite a while that taking notice of small comments like that was nothing. He felt at ease for some reason. This town was so old that it’s population always remained the same, and everyone knew each other. He always wished for that kind of familiarity in his life, to not only know his neighbor, but everyone around him. Something like that was sure to bring some warmth to his heart, as opposed to the cold environment of the city were everyone’s to themselves and strangers are strangers.

“But don't worry about all that. We’ll make you feel right at home in no time. I bet them Binaria guys are preparing a welcome party for you and then some — they always do that with new customers at their cafe here. What’d you say you were, again? Forty-five?”

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Flynn was baffled, “Thirty-seven! I never mentioned my age before…”

“My bad… thought you looked Forty-five. It doesn't matter though.”

Kingsley tried to greet Erina, who stood a little far behind Flynn (her mouth smudged with the second cream puff she was eating that day) but immediately turned away in fear when she gave him a threatening glare. “Eheh, that woman uh…,” his tone had shifted to a rather worrisome one, “She with you?”

Flynn briefly glanced at her and sighed, “Unfortunately…”

“I-In any case, welcome to our esteemed town!” He climbed the stairs and stepped through the entrance as the two followed behind him. “It’s a shabby old flat, but it ain’t bad even for an office, so I do hope you make yourself at home. It’d be a shame if we were to chase you away, Mister Locke. Things have been looking rather peculiar in this town as of late. We need someone like you.”

Before they knew it, the door to the office was right in front of them. Kingsley rummaged through his keys until he finally found the right one and unlocked the door open.

However, Flynn’s mind was elsewhere, “Someone like me?!” He raised an eyebrow to Kingsley’s earlier remark.

“Um, you know,” Kingsley’s head trembled as he tried to find the words to use, “ghost… g-ghost inspector and the like.”

A smile formed on Flynn’s face, “I’m just your average private inspector.” He tapped his hand on Kingsley’s shoulder before stepping inside the office along with Erina right behind him (her hand deep inside the box of Taku Puffs, looking for more after she had finished the one she had).

Taking a brief glance at the place, he was able to quickly surmise what to do with it. It was quite old, as Kingsley had said earlier, the floor creaked beneath their feet, the wood slightly bounced off with each step. The ceiling was coming off but the walls were freshly painted in an odd color of orange. Sewage-infested water dribbled down from the broken sink in the kitchen. A fireplace nestled itself in the center wall facing the entrance, it was riddled with dust and reeking of whatever odor the dead verments possessed. However, Flynn paid no heed to any of those details. All that mattered to him was the space and this was more than enough.

“Itsh nish!” Erina remarked, her mouth stuffed with food.

“Yeah, we’ll manage.” Flynn nodded. “You shouldn’t buy into gossip, dear Mister Kingsley. The more you listen, the deeper you go down the rabbit hole. And you know what they say,” he turned and approached him at the doorstep, “beware of the rabbits and always keep to yourself.”

“Who says?” Kingsley was baffled.

Flynn widened his smirk, “Tom Bombadil.” He shut the door.

Startled by the door shutting in his face, Kingsley turned away, his face riddled in confusion. “Who’s Tom Bombadil?”