Chapter Text
The rain slicked streets of the city reflected the neon signs in fractured colors, casting long, wavering shadows along the sidewalk. Niko scowled at the puddles, hands stuffed in the pockets of her oversized jacket. Crystal, as usual, was already three steps ahead, boots clicking against the wet pavement, scanning the alleyways with sharp eyes.
“Seriously,” Niko muttered, kicking at a puddle. “Why do we always get the creepy cases?”
“You said it yourself,” Crystal replied, voice steady. “Dead Boy Detectives don’t do normal.”
Edwin lingered behind them, coat collar turned up against the drizzle, his hands wrapped around a small notebook. He wasn’t thinking about the rain or the case or even the ghost they’d been sent to investigate. He was thinking about a name. A name that had crept up in his memory over the past few days and refused to leave. Elizabeth Louise Payne.
Charles, walking next to him, glanced at Edwin and raised an eyebrow, noting the way his companion kept frowning at the notebook, as though the rain and the city and the mission didn’t exist at all. “You okay there?” Charles asked lightly, careful not to press too hard.
Edwin blinked, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Fine. Just… making sure I’ve got all the details,” he muttered, tucking the notebook into his coat.
Charles didn’t respond, just walked a little closer. Subtle, patient. The kind of quiet presence that said, I notice, and I’m not going anywhere. Edwin glanced up and met his eyes for a brief second, feeling that familiar tug—acknowledgement without words. He looked away quickly, frowning at a flicker of neon in the puddle.
The team reached the client’s building, an old, narrow structure squeezed between two taller apartment blocks. Its windows were opaque with grime, but the door had a small brass plaque that read: H. Carrington – Private Research & Investigation.
Crystal knocked sharply, and the door swung open almost immediately. A woman in her forties stepped into the dimly lit hallway, expression sharp but not unkind. “You must be the Dead Boy Detectives,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind me cutting straight to the point.”
“Not at all,” Crystal said. “We don’t do small talk.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to Edwin for a brief, lingering second, and he stiffened slightly, though he didn’t know why. “I need you to help someone,” she said. “It’s… delicate. Their family has a… complicated history. We need discretion.”
Niko shifted, unease written across her face. “Sounds like every case ever,” she muttered under her breath.
“Names,” the client said, producing a folder. “This person is the last in their line, a descendant of Elizabeth Louise Payne. They’re… involved with something dangerous. Something I cannot handle alone.”
Edwin’s stomach dropped. His notebook felt heavier in his coat pocket. He should have kept it together, stayed professional, focused. But the name hit him harder than he expected. Elizabeth. His sister. His mind spun with questions he hadn’t allowed himself to ask in years. And now… now he was looking at someone who carried her blood.
He blinked, forcing his attention back to the folder. “We’ll take the case,” Crystal said decisively, reaching for it. “Can you give us any more information about… the spirit, or the danger?”
The client hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll give you what I can. But be warned—this isn’t like anything you’ve handled before.”
Edwin swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on the client’s words rather than the torrent of thoughts rushing through his head. He could feel Charles’ gaze on him, patient, grounding. A quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone, even if he didn’t fully trust himself right now.
As they left the building, the rain had eased into a steady drizzle. Edwin kept his hands in his pockets, notebook pressed against his chest, mind spinning. Somewhere deep down, he knew this case was going to force him to confront the past he had buried.
And he wasn’t sure he was ready.