Chapter Thirty: The Investigator and the Classification

Chen Qing nodded, no longer pressing the issue. He glanced at the ear resting on the workbench and asked Kalans, “When can I expect to receive the reward for this task?”

Kalans considered the question, calculated the time, added a buffer of about a dozen hours, and answered, “The payment will be delivered to you tomorrow night, sometime between nine and midnight. Does that arrangement suit you?”

Chen Qing nodded. Kalans continued, “According to the requirements of your assignment, you will submit one E-level entity material, and the payment will be one D-level entity core. As the transaction is completed, the club will collect a 2% guarantee fee, which will be deducted as five club tokens in exchange.”

“A handling fee?” Chen Qing was momentarily taken aback, then smiled teasingly. “Two percent isn’t exactly a small cut.”

Kalans shook his head, smiling broadly. “No, no, sir. It’s not quite so simple. With this transaction, for example, the club assumes all risks before the deal is finalized and must provide validation services. If you can prove that the item is counterfeit, the club bears responsibility. So…”

Chen Qing was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Risk and profit, balanced, is that it?”

He chuckled, and added, “The rougher the waters, the dearer the catch.”

Kalans returned his smile without comment.

Chen Qing didn’t force the conversation. He turned away, his gaze drifting to the dance floor. “Is it permitted to use non-legacy items here?” he asked, curiosity tinging his voice.

“What sort would you like to use?” Kalans’ reaction was a mix of nervousness and anticipation as he looked at Chen Qing’s back—though youthful, the silhouette seemed imposing.

“Disguise-type.”

After a brief pause, Kalans nodded slightly. “That’s not an issue. In the club, as long as you don’t use investigative items to probe other guests’ information, and as long as you don’t ‘directly’ use offensive items to harm other guests, there’s no problem.”

Chen Qing nodded in understanding. “That matches with what you said earlier about your organization’s low level of constraint.” He looked at the scene outside, feeling a faint sweat in his palm, then, after a pause, smiled and shook his head.

“What is it, sir?” Kalans asked in mild surprise from behind.

“Nothing. I’ll be back tomorrow. I have another companion joining me then, and I’ll show her around.”

Kalans nodded in comprehension and asked, “Should we prepare a welcoming ceremony for tomorrow?”

“A ceremony?” Chen Qing shook his head. “She doesn’t seem the frivolous type. No, let’s focus on the essentials.”

Kalans murmured his agreement, then added, “Sir, the club provides a regular monthly stipend to every registered investigator. How would you like to proceed?”

Chen Qing frowned. “Registered? What does that mean?”

“Oh!” Kalans turned pale and hurried forward, bowing in apology. “My apologies, sir. Club rules dictate that every investigator who enters is automatically recorded in our files. Anyone who handles a task is logged, to prevent…”

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words.

“To prevent a bait-and-switch, right?” Chen Qing smiled, not letting him rise. “So, what exactly do you record?”

“An investigator’s rank, their potential classification, the abilities they possess on record, and—most importantly—the number of rooms they have completed and how many times they’ve entered. The first three have been recorded for you. As for the fourth, we’ve listed you as having completed one D-level room and three room entries.”

Chen Qing’s expression remained stern, though his mind was racing. “How do you determine investigator ranks? One, two, three, four, five?”

There was a touch of sarcasm in his tone. Kalans, however, didn’t dare laugh. He shook his head and explained, “As you know, because of the secrecy around non-legacy items, a person’s strength—and the help they can offer—are highly variable. We can only judge rank based on an investigator’s record. Of course, it’s not always accurate; there’s often a… lag. Sometimes a considerable one.”

“What’s my current rank?” Chen Qing asked.

“Somewhat renowned, sir.”

“Oh?” he pressed, “What are the other ranks called?”

“Unknown, Somewhat Renowned, Notorious, Eminent, and Legendary. Legendary is… the highest.” Kalans recited these with practiced ease, clearly having repeated them many times before.

“Oh?” Chen Qing smiled, deliberately making it difficult for him. “So, do you think my rank is too high or too low?”

Kalans hesitated, cold sweat forming on his brow. “Forgive me, sir. I mean no offense.”

“Is that so?” Chen Qing nodded. “At least you’re honest. You didn’t say I was ranked too low.”

Kalans turned a shade paler, but relief flickered across his face.

“Who counts as Legendary? Is the official who promoted the change in nomenclature among them?”

Kalans shook his head, and with the change of topic, seemed slightly relieved. “No, sir. Please remember: there are no living legends in this world.”

“Oh?” Chen Qing raised his eyebrows. “What is this, a hall of heroes?”

“No. It’s just that anyone worthy of the title ‘Legend’ has long since fallen in the line of duty that earned them the name. If they were ordinary, how could they be called legends?”

Chen Qing was silent for a few seconds, then smiled and nodded. “True… Someone who merely survives has no claim to legend. Anyone who became a legend must have burned for their ideals. Still, perhaps some survived… maybe one or two?”

Kalans smiled, his tension easing. “Yes… perhaps one or two do still live, slipping in unnoticed, sitting at the bar with a drink.”

A laugh escaped Chen Qing. “If I ever become a legend, I promise you—my last day won’t be spent dying here.”

“And if—”

“I would stand atop the world, and with the largest payload of explosives, make the most beautiful firework the world has ever seen.” He smiled, the innocence of his face startling Kalans.

“I don’t care what comes after.”

Kalans was silent for a moment, then nodded slightly.

“You’re… not bad. Will you be here again tomorrow?” Chen Qing asked.

“Yes! Absolutely, sir!” Kalans was almost eager. “I’ll be at your service at all times! If you need someone to manage your affairs, you can rely on me completely. I’ll be the most meticulous steward.”

Chen Qing chuckled, nodding. “No need to worry. I’ve no plans to dismiss you yet—no need to be so anxious.”

He walked over to the workbench where Kalans had been standing, picked up a pen, and wrote down an address. “Go to this address. I’m staying there for now.”

Kalans glanced at the slip. The address was a notorious rental on the outskirts—a place in a village within the city.

“Sir… you’re currently…” he paused, emphasizing the word, “‘currently’ living here?”

Chen Qing looked at him, nodded slightly. “That’s right. Find a place nearby, but let me warn you: for a long time, you won’t be drawing a salary.”

Kalans smiled and nodded his understanding.

In the silence that followed, Chen Qing tilted his head, gaze drifting back to the dance floor.

He watched the “ordinary people” there, whirling in reckless abandon, squandering their lives with wild indulgence, and laughed derisively.

“Fate… sometimes it really does toy with people.”

…

The next afternoon, after sneaking home at around four in the morning, Chen Qing had a deep, satisfying sleep.

Dragging himself out of bed, he quickly deleted the messages from his homeroom teacher and began sifting through his mailbox, as was his routine.

Kalans had already settled in nearby—his speed was astonishing. According to him, he had moved in just across the hall.

“That is convenient,” Chen Qing mused, pressing his fingertips to his forehead—the pain from the “Yin-Yang Dawn” still lingered. Simulating the memory of a forced suicide at a designated location was no simple feat.

He had paid a steep enough price.

Groggy, he climbed onto a chair to take down the mirror from the balcony—he’d long since lost track of how many people he’d reflected in it for his daily quota.

Back inside, he retrieved the ear stone he’d hidden away and examined it again. But as Kalans had said, no hallucinations ever came.

He decided he would ask Kalans about it again that evening.

Not long after, Jiang Wan appeared at his door as expected, arms laden with bags. With practiced ease, she took out a key and unlocked the door.

The familiarity of her motions made Chen Qing’s lips twitch.

“Hold it!” he barked at Jiang Wan, who was already taking off her shoes. “Hold it!!”

“What?” Jiang Wan paused, but didn’t stop, slipping off her shoes—her stockinged feet didn’t pick up a speck of dust.

“Wait—are you here on vacation?” Chen Qing buried his face in his hands with a sigh, then asked, “Where did you get that key? Didn’t I take it back yesterday? I even told the landlord not to give you one.”

Jiang Wan grinned, tilting her head. “Ever heard of breaking and entering? Look—” She brandished a key labeled “spare” in her hand—the very one she’d gotten from the landlord yesterday, and that Chen Qing had reclaimed from her.

At that, Chen Qing could only sigh—he knew exactly what had happened.