Chapter 6: Private P.I

As the two left the Pleasure Hall, the women stood on their balconies, waving goodbye. Adrian waved back with a smile, despite nearly being overwhelmed by them.

Walking along the streets of the Underground, Adrian and August discussed Bernard and the Trinket.

"Bernard Sylvester is the master craftsman who not only created my Trinket but also forged Trinkets for my entire squad," August explained.

"I think I'd be more interested if I actually knew what a Trinket does," Adrian retorted.

"I haven't told you? My apologies." August chuckled.

Adrian suddenly sensed a surge of energy radiating from August as he grasped his pendant. The energy pulsed from his body into the pendant, which then began to shift and transform—morphing into the shape of an axe.

"How did you do that?" Adrian asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"It's a long explanation, and I'm not sure we have the time."

"Please, just tell me." Adrian insisted, eager for an answer.

August sighed but relented. "Alright, I suppose we have a moment." With that, he returned his axe to its original pendant form.

The two soon found a small café nearby. It wasn't particularly grand, but it offered both indoor and outdoor seating and served a diverse array of dishes from various cultures—something that greatly fascinated August. They took a seat at a small two-person table, and August called over a waitress, ordering food while insisting that Adrian try the octopus ink rice, a dish as peculiar as its name. Adrian hesitated but eventually agreed.

"So, can you explain now?" Adrian asked.

"Alright. Every human on this planet is born with a Soul Core. The Soul Core grants people the ability to channel their inner power and imbue a fragment of their soul into something called Purple Ore. Once the process is complete, the Purple Ore takes shape, becoming a Trinket—an artifact unique to its wielder, possessing special abilities."

"I think I understand. So humans have something called a Soul Core that allows them to bestow a fragment of their soul to something called a Soul Core?"

"Exactly!" August beamed, clearly impressed.

"Why do you look so excited?" Adrian asked, leaning back slightly, startled by August's enthusiasm.

"Sorry, but it took me a long time to understand all of that, and you grasped it in an instant. You're gifted." August grinned.

Just then, their food arrived. Adrian scrutinized his plate, eyeing the dark-hued rice warily before glancing at August, who was watching him with an expectant smile. Hesitantly, he took a bite—and to his surprise, the flavors burst on his tongue in a delightful explosion.

"It's actually good," Adrian admitted, mouth still full.

"Told you!" August laughed.

As they ate, they pondered their next move.

"This Emily Vester… I don't really know what she looks like or where to find her. We've hit a dead end," August muttered, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Couldn't we ask around?"

"I doubt that would help. Bernard is a secretive man. I don't think many people know anything about him, and since his shop is constantly moving, pinpointing its location is nearly impossible."

Both of them sighed in unison, scratching their heads in frustration. How were they supposed to track down a man with no fixed location?

Just then, a stranger approached their table—a tall man clad in a sharp black suit, a crisp white shirt, polished black shoes, and a black top hat. His demeanor was composed, his presence exuding an air of secrecy.

"Who are you?" Adrian asked warily.

"Richard Frederick… Private P.I.," the man replied.

"That's dumb. P.I. already means Private Investigator. So does that make you a Private Private Investigator?" August said, raising an eyebrow.

"Precisely," Richard responded, cutting him off.

"What do you want?" Adrian pressed.

"You're searching for someone. I can help you find them."

"That's great! So you can—" Adrian started, his excitement rising.

But before he could finish, August interrupted, mirroring Richard's earlier rudeness. He was skeptical, his expression dark with distrust.

"I don't know whether to trust you or not, so if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions first."

"I suppose that's fair. I have no ulterior motives," Richard said, his tone unwavering.

"Adrian, could you stand up for a moment?" August asked.

"Sure," Adrian complied, confusion written across his face. With his plate in hand, he observed as August locked eyes with Richard, the tension between them palpable.

"Is the name you gave us your real name?" August asked.

"Yes, it is."

August showed no reaction, continuing with his interrogation. He was waiting for something—something unspoken.

"Are you actually a P.I.?"

"No… I'm a Private P.I.," Richard answered.

Still no reaction.

"What's your real reason for helping us?" August pressed.

"I simply wish to assist."

August's eyes narrowed. "Your energy shifted. You're lying."

August gripped his pendant, preparing for a confrontation.

"Wait! Wait!" Richard exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Make it quick. I'm running out of patience," August warned.

Adrian watched, surprised. This was a different side of August—one far removed from the childish, carefree man he had come to know. In this moment, August radiated maturity and authority.

"My true reason for helping you also benefits me. By aiding you, I am also aiding myself," Richard admitted, his breathing uneven.

August closed his eyes, contemplating the revelation. Silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity. Then, at last, he spoke.

"Alright. We'll trust you." August extended his hand.

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement." Richard took his hand, sealing their alliance with a firm handshake.

And so, their short-term partnership began.