Ryan stood at the corner of Starlight Residential District, staring in the direction where the black-robed figure had vanished. His clenched palm was damp with cold sweat. The heat from the bracelet fragments had gradually faded, yet the strange resonance of dark energy lingered in his mind like an unshakable shadow.
He took out his phone and called Old Gray, giving a brief report on the conclusion of the illusory pet cat case. However, he deliberately left out the appearance of the black-robed man—for now, he wanted to confirm whether that power was connected to the ancient dark organization Old Gray had once mentioned.
When Ryan returned to the Gray Hawk Detective Agency, Old Gray was back to his usual greasy self, sprawled on the sofa with a burger in hand. A cup of cheap coffee on the desk was still steaming.
"Not bad, kid," Old Gray said through a mouthful of food. "First solo supernatural case, and you wrapped it up cleanly. Didn't embarrass your 'former top-tier detective' boss." He pointed lazily at a brown paper envelope on the desk. "That's your internship allowance from the Balance Council. Two thousand bucks. Enough to treat yourself to a few decent meals."
Ryan picked up the envelope, but felt little joy. He opened the Shadow Pawn System interface and checked his current balance.
Pet cat case reward: 50 Shadow Points.Minus 10 points for the pre-issued Dispel Talisman.Remaining balance: 43 points.
He scrolled through the system shop.
Intermediate Fireball — 200 points.Basic Defense Barrier — 150 points.Insight Rune (enhances True Sight) — 120 points.
Even the most basic advanced item was far beyond his reach.
"Boss," Ryan said, frowning as he sat at the desk, "Shadow Points are way too hard to earn. I ran into a mysterious black-robed guy earlier—his dark energy was extremely abnormal. I don't even have the tools to deal with someone at that level. If I meet another enemy like that, I'll be relying on luck alone."
Old Gray put down his burger, wiped the sauce from his mouth, and his expression grew a bit more serious.
"The supernatural world runs on strength. Shadow Points aren't supposed to be easy," he said. "Low-level internship jobs pay little because the risk is low. If you want fast points, you need high-reward commissions."
He pulled a yellowed commission logbook from a drawer, flipped to a page, and slid it toward Ryan.
"Perfect timing. Yesterday, an antique shop owner came to us. Says his shop is haunted—suspects a cursed antique. He's offering fifty thousand in cash. The Balance Council has already registered the case. Complete it, and you'll get 200 Shadow Points."
"Fifty thousand? Two hundred Shadow Points?"Ryan's eyes lit up. The reward was on a completely different level—exactly what he needed.
"How difficult is the case? What kind of haunting?"
"I don't know the full details," Old Gray replied, leaning back into the sofa and picking up his burger again. "Client's name is Marvin. Owns a place called Timeless Antiques on Clocktower Street in the old district."
He continued casually, "Says a week ago, he acquired an antique vase. Ever since then, strange things started happening. After closing at night, he hears a woman crying inside the shop. In the morning, antique displays are mysteriously rearranged. One night customer claimed he saw a transparent figure floating around and ran off terrified."
"He hired a few so-called 'exorcists,' but not only did they fail—the phenomena got worse. That's when he came to us."
Ryan quickly noted everything down, already forming a preliminary judgment.
"Crying, transparent figures, moving antiques… sounds like a spirit manifestation, not a simple curse."
He closed the logbook and stood up. "I'll head to Timeless Antiques now."
"Hold on."Old Gray stopped him and pulled out a bronze-colored amulet, older and more intricate than the one he had given before, engraved with dense defensive runes.
"This is a Spirit Suppression Talisman. It can resist low-level spirit mental interference. Take it," he said. "Antiques tend to carry residual energies. Don't touch anything blindly. Use True Sight first."
Ryan accepted the talisman and hung it around his neck. A warm, steady energy flowed from it, calming his nerves.
He left the agency and drove toward Clocktower Street.
The old district streets were narrow and weathered, stone pavement polished smooth by time. Brick buildings lined both sides, heavy with age and history. At the end of Clocktower Street stood a quiet shop with a wooden sign reading Timeless Antiques. The door looked worn, and the antiques displayed in the window appeared eerie under the fading sunset.
Ryan pushed the door open. The bronze bell chimed softly.
The shop was dim, filled with the scent of old wood and dust. Shelves were packed tightly with porcelain, jade, paintings, and ornaments. Behind the counter sat an elderly man in a gray tunic suit, wiping a blue-and-white porcelain bowl.
He looked up.
"You must be Detective Ryan?" the man asked hoarsely. His face was etched with exhaustion. "Mr. Gray already contacted me. Please, have a seat."
He poured Ryan a cup of hot tea.
After brief pleasantries, Ryan went straight to the point.
"Mr. Marvin, please tell me everything that's happened. As detailed as possible."
Marvin sighed and set down the porcelain bowl, fear evident in his eyes.
"It all started a week ago. I bought a Song Dynasty celadon vase from a rural farmer—that one."
He pointed to the top shelf, where a green-glazed vase stood. Its shape was elegant, decorated with intertwined lotus patterns.
"Ever since I brought it into the shop, things haven't been right."
"The first night, a neighbor called saying my shop lights were on. The doors were locked, but the lights were indeed on—and some items had fallen to the floor. I thought it was a burglary, but the cameras showed nothing."
He paused, steadying himself.
"After that, every night I heard a woman crying inside the shop. Last night was the worst. I stayed overnight and saw a transparent white figure drift out of that vase… I nearly had a heart attack."
Ryan followed his gaze and discreetly activated True Sight.
A faint green energy seeped from the vase—gentle yet chaotic, completely different from the dark magic he had encountered before. More importantly, he sensed a weak soul fluctuation.
A spirit.
"Did you ask about the vase's origin when you bought it?" Ryan asked.
Marvin shook his head, regret written all over his face.
"The farmer said it was a family heirloom. I saw it was genuine Song Dynasty work, and the price was right… I didn't ask further."
Ryan approached the shelf. Even two meters away, a wave of sorrow washed over him, inexplicably heavy.
"This isn't a curse," Ryan said calmly. "It's a spirit attachment. The spirit has no malicious intent—its energy is unstable, which is causing the disturbances."
Marvin's expression shifted from terror to cautious relief.
"A spirit… as long as it's not a curse. Detective Ryan, can you fix it? I'll pay the full reward."
"There's a way," Ryan replied. "But first, I need to understand the spirit's attachment—why it's bound here, and what it wants."
Suddenly, the shelf shook.
A porcelain bowl fell and shattered. A faint woman's sob echoed from the vase—clearer than before.
The green energy surged. A vague female silhouette appeared within the vase.
"A strong obsession," Ryan thought grimly. "Communication will require proper tools."
He remembered the Spirit Communication Talisman in the system shop—150 Shadow Points. Far beyond his current balance.
"I need time to prepare," Ryan said. "I'll return tomorrow."
As he turned to leave, a sudden surge of energy exploded behind him.
The green glow flared violently. A clear female spirit emerged from the vase—long hair, white ancient robes, tear-streaked face, hollow eyes fixed on him.
"Help… me…"
Her form flickered, fading rapidly. The shop shook violently as antiques crashed to the floor. Marvin collapsed into a chair, pale and speechless.
Ryan reached for the Spirit Suppression Talisman—but it was useless against the surging energy.
"This is bad," he realized. "Her energy is collapsing. If this continues, she'll completely dissipate."
He had no communication tools. No Shadow Points. No way to stabilize her.
As the spirit faded, desperation tightened his chest.
Then a name flashed through his mind—
Valentin.
The vampire owner of Blood Moon Bar. Well-informed. Dangerous. Greedy.
If anyone knew how to handle spirits, it would be him.But asking for his help would come at a steep price.
A new problem had just landed squarely on Ryan's shoulders