The Bizarre Detective Agency

Rodster Port, once one of the most renowned harbors on the Allen Peninsula.

The steam-powered battleship Azazel, built and launched here, was once seen as the backbone of human civilization—back when humanity’s backbone had not yet been broken.

That fateful expedition not only brought disaster to the entire world but also caused the battleship to vanish, never returning from the depths of the sea to the embrace of human civilization.

From that point on, humanity abandoned its exploration of the ocean, confining its activities to the coastal waters near home. The once-bustling scenes of fishing boats filling the nearshore waters can now only be glimpsed in the pages of history.

Despite the collapse of the maritime industry, Rodster Port remains one of the major harbors on the Allen Peninsula.

The coastline stretches into a crescent-shaped bay, with Rodster Port nestled at its heart.

Belfast is built upon low hills, its streets and houses layered in a terraced arrangement that stretches from the mountaintop to the hillside, and from there to the foot of the mountain.

Throat Street, the closest street in Belfast to the coastline.

Lu Li stood by the railings, removing his hat.

Lu Li arrived at just the right time.

The fishing boat named Rodder was easy to spot. It was docked at the edge of the harbor, with the surrounding fishing boats retreating to other areas as if avoiding a plague.

By the railings, a crowd of onlookers, much like Lu Li, had gathered to watch the scene. Curious children were quickly carried home by their frightened mothers.

Several police officers had arrived at the harbor to maintain order, but they clearly didn’t know how to handle such a situation. All they could do was disperse the idle crowd and instruct the crew of the Rodder to stay put.

The noise carried by the sea breeze was too jumbled to make sense of, and the tiny, pea-sized figures of the crew made it impossible to discern their current state. Lu Li could only focus on the docked Rodder.

The Rodder was a three-masted sailing ship, about fifty meters in length. After the disaster that marked the end of deep-sea fishing, these medium-sized, non-powered vessels were used for nearshore fishing. Their instability and slow speed made them unsuitable for venturing into the deep sea, where returning before nightfall was a necessity.

Once night fell, the dangers in the ocean were far more terrifying than those on land—even light would be of no help.

The Rodder showed no visible damage or abnormalities compared to other vessels. Under Lu Li’s prolonged gaze, there were no low murmurs or strange illusions that arose.

Everything appeared normal.

The number of spectators by the shore continued to grow. While many were afraid of such things, just as many were curious—especially the fearless youth.

Amid the noise and chatter, a commotion arose at the other end of the street.

Two steam-powered vehicles drove into Throat Street, the crowd parting for them as they made their way to the wooden bridge leading to the harbor.

Under the watchful eyes of the onlookers, the two vehicles stopped in front of the harbor. Several doors opened, and black leather boots stepped out onto the ground.

The group that emerged was sleek and mysterious, clad in matching black uniforms with armbands featuring a fully open eye. At the sight of them, Lu Li couldn’t help but connect them to the “Night Watchers” Hades had mentioned. �

After stepping out, they made their way toward the harbor. One figure stopped in place, suddenly turning to scan the crowd on Throat Street.

That pair of scrutinizing eyes swept over the crowd, pausing briefly on Lu Li before pulling away and following the rest of the group.

“Are those cops idiots? Getting so close to the ship!” Matthew walked briskly at the front of the group, practically charging ahead, eager to kick away the reckless officers.

“They’re just civilians. It’s normal that they don’t know better,” Joel turned his head and called to the figure lagging behind. “Boss, could you walk any slower?”

“No rush,” Pulis replied, catching up to the group at a steady pace. He began issuing orders. “Team One, board the ship. Team Two, assist the police in evacuating the workers—make sure they stay far from the crew and the boat. Then, support Team One.”

“Understood.”

The reply was scattered and disorganized as seven team members dispersed to carry out their tasks.

Pulis stayed where he was, quietly waiting for his subordinates to report back with their findings.

A few minutes later, Matthew poked her head out from the Rodder’s deck, her ponytail hanging down as she waved and shouted, “Boss! We’ve found contaminants! This ship definitely ran into trouble.”

Pulis looked up. “Do you know which type?”

“Some of the crew said a fog drifted over the sea while they were sailing, and then those things showed up.”

“Fog…” Pulis murmured softly before nodding. “Understood. Bring the entire crew back for quarantine and observation. Tow that thing and the Rodder to the sea burial site and sink them. Keep an eye on the workers—don’t let them pocket anything.”

“Got it! We won’t make the same mistake twice!” Matthew laughed loudly in response.

Pulis didn’t laugh. A vague sense of unease lingered in his mind.

Something occurred to him, and he called up to the ship, “Ask the crew where they encountered the fog.”

The current time was 10 a.m. The Rodder couldn’t have spent the night in the deep sea, which meant they must have set sail at dawn… and it had only been five hours since then.

Five hours. Factoring in the return trip, how far could they have gone?

Matthew seemed to realize this as well; her face turned pale, and her head disappeared from the edge of the deck. A few seconds later, her loud shouting could be heard, followed by her reappearance.

“They said it was 35 nautical miles from the harbor!” Matthew’s expression turned grim. A necklace slipped out from her shirt, swaying in midair. “Damn it, those cursed things are getting closer to the coastline!”

Thirty-five nautical miles—right on the edge of the nearshore waters, dangerously close to home.

Pulis fell silent for a moment before replying, “Go tell Joel to come here.”

“Got it!”

Matthew responded and disappeared again. Not long after, Joel appeared at the edge of the deck.

“Where’s Matthew?” Pulis frowned.

“She called me over and then went searching for contaminants herself.”

“Ugh…” Pulis let out a barely audible sigh, rubbing his forehead. “Go bring Matthew back. You come down too.”

“Understood.”

Unlike the brash and impulsive Matthew, Joel was far more rational. He nodded and walked away. A moment later, Matthew’s sharp voice echoed from the deck.

“Anything else, boss?!”

“No other boats have reported issues. This might just be a one-off encounter. But just in case—Joel, stay here to wrap things up. Matthew, you’re coming with me back to the station to see the chief.”

By the time Matthew ran down, Pulis and she left the harbor, heading toward the steam-powered vehicle parked in front of the docks.

The crowd on Throat Street had not yet dispersed. For some reason, a pair of calm, pitch-black eyes surfaced in Pulis’ mind. He instinctively glanced toward a certain spot beyond the railings.

Faintly, a tall figure wearing a bowler hat disappeared into the crowd.

“Boss, what’s wrong?” Matthew asked curiously.

Pulis withdrew his gaze and shook his head lightly.

“Nothing, just spotted an unfamiliar face.”

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