Mr. Eaton specifically told Dylan's suggestion to himself. Could it be that he also had the same intention?
A suspicious white light flashed across Ed's black pupils.
Directly become an official agent - you must know that Arthur is just a trainee agent.
"...What do you mean?" he probed cautiously.
"If you agree, I will take you to the branch in the East District tomorrow. If other members have no objections, you are one of us."
"OK."
He nodded in agreement. There seems to be no room for maneuver in joining the Bureau. Anyway, sooner or later, you will become an investigator. It is better to do it in one step and get more salary.
"By the way, what's the barrel behind you?"
Eaton pursed his lips, then put out the pipe in good faith and pointed in the direction of the door.
"Well……"
Ed didn't expect Mr. Eaton to come back early. He also thought about taking it back to the detective agency to clean it first, and then temporarily renting a warehouse or basement to store the armor tomorrow.
"It's an antique I found in Flea Alley. It's in good condition, but the smell is a bit strong. I originally wanted to clean it and resell it to make some money."
Although this excuse was not very good, he couldn't think of a better explanation for a while.
The old detective stood up and walked to the barrel, as if recalling the past:
"I used to go there a lot when I was young. I bought my first formal suit from there, and it still had urine stains on it. I was really down and out at that time."
Flea Alley is the largest flea market in the Quayside and East End, where you can buy everything from furniture, antiques, clothes, records, household machinery and even forged identity documents.
"...By the way, which stall did you buy it from? Maybe I even know the stall owner."
"The fat pig Bodie in the southeast corner, the one with the colorful fabric hanging on the roof. He looks like Freud's twin brother and has an accent from the other side of the river."
Although he felt embarrassed, Ed remained calm. At this moment, he just hoped that Mr. Eaton would not remember the past so clearly that his lies would not be revealed.
Eaton ran his fingers along the edge of the barrel, which was soaked and rotted by sea water, and gently twisted his fingertips:
"Oh, how much did it cost?"
"Twenty pounds, the barrel was given for free. The boss asked me for fifty pounds, but he insisted that it was passed down from his family. I smelled a rotten smell on it, and I insisted that it was stolen from a grave. I threatened to call the police, but he gave in. I saw that this thing was worth at least twenty-five pounds if it had a clean handle, so I stomped off."
"Twenty pounds?" Eaton's eyes glanced at Ed, making him uncomfortable. "Where did you get so much money?"
"I scraped together eight pounds myself and borrowed the rest from Mr. Dillon."
Ed said calmly. Judging from Dylan's attitude towards Eaton, he is very likely to help him fulfill this lie.
"Um……"
Eaton nodded and stopped questioning. He turned his back and stopped staring at the barrel:
"Since it's your own business, you should handle it yourself. Remember to give it a good brushing. It's also good to put it in the room as decoration."
What? Ed was confused for a moment. Mr. Eaton asked so many questions, obviously doubting the origin of the armor, but why did he suddenly give up and continue asking?
"If you have nothing to do, go to bed early. I still have to deal with documents here."
The man named Bernard Eaton sat back at the long curved desk, as if an old tree was rooted in the soil. The cheap corn pipe ignited with a faint flame again.
Ed moved the barrel containing Catalina's armor into the bathroom, disassembled the belt and put it into the tin bathtub, ready to be washed.
He used an old brush to scrub some foam on the small, green, hard square soap provided in the public bathroom, and washed away the blood stained with the stench of rotting corpses.
[He knows you are lying. 】
Sylvie reminded.
I know. But since he doubted me, why not continue to ask?
[Because he is not doubting you, but testing you. 】
Test me?
[Yes, he is testing your ability to adapt to situations. Congratulations on passing the test. 】
What on earth does he want to do?
[We will find out tomorrow. 】
Ed washed the armor again with clean water and took a towel to dry it. Moistened by water and dew, the dark surface of the armor flows slowly like condensation, like a deep abyss.
It's too small, he commented.
In almost all historical records, Sir Gelt is a tall and majestic figure, more than two meters tall, with broad shoulders and as thick as a mountain. Even Katarina could barely put on this armor.
Could it be that the real Silver Knight is actually a dwarf?
[Don’t you find it strange? She knew the Silver Knight far better than you did, but she didn't show the slightest surprise. 】
You mean, Catalina knows the origin of this armor?
[Who knows, don’t mistake naivety for stupidity, my dear good sir. 】
…
The sleep passed, and dawn soon came again.
The East Branch of the Bureau of Investigation and the Mental Hospital are across the street, as if there is not much difference between the two. The white paint on the wall slowly peeled off, revealing dark brown spots.
Ed didn't expect that agents from the Bureau of Investigation would live in such a crude place. If it weren't for the crest of the quiver and the horn, he might have simply regarded this place as a club in decline.
"I must remind you of one thing before you go in—" Mr. Eaton said seriously.
"If you see a little girl wearing a mask, absolutely, never laugh or smile in front of her."
"Understood." Ed nodded sincerely.
"...As for the others," Eaton smiled helplessly, "Although they have very different personalities, I think you should be able to slowly learn how to get along with them."
After that, the two walked into the main door.
The first thing that comes into view is a bar. A strong and lean woman is sitting at the bar, holding a cup in her hand.
Ed took a deep breath and was about to say hello to his new colleague openly. Unexpectedly, the other person turned his head and startled him:
It was a man's face, with a strong chin and full lips. This is obviously a big bonus for men, but he used thick cream, lipstick, wigs and hairnets to look like a woman, which gave him a rather creepy feeling.
Ed even had some doubts as to whether this person ran from across the street.
"Uh..." He hesitated for a long time before he said, "Hello, I am..."
I saw the man waving his hands in a showy manner, holding up the cup with his little finger and shaking it gently:
"Okay, I'm not interested in hearing it. Maybe you will turn into a corpse in a few weeks. People here call each other by 'code names'. You can call me 'Bakuya'."
Byakuya? Ed thought of the white arrow that broke through the window at the Freud mansion.
It's him? !
If the scary makeup on his face were wiped off, the other person would indeed look somewhat similar to what he expected.
Bai Ya's voice was twisted and sharp, like a rooster being choked:
"Only lunatics, fools and incorrigibles join the Eastside Special Operations Squad."
"...We'll figure out what kind of person you are."
