How can one earn money?
For a person to die twice in a single day, to experience trauma, and then awaken in another world in a body that was the victim of a murder… After all this, one might feel caught in an incredible adventure, or collapse under the weight of those traumas. But both are only possible under one condition: you are only free enough to be affected by trauma or to seek adventure if you have money.
Life is primarily built upon the struggle to meet a living being's basic needs. If a person can secure a pillow to lay their head on, four walls to surround them, and two meals to fill their stomach, they earn the chance to taste pleasures like suffering or having fun in life.
This was also the case for the Caspian Mortis. Despite everything he was going through at that moment, the only thing Caspian could think about was how to earn a living.
"What was your job in the other world?" Palm asked.
"I was a software engineer," Caspian said hopelessly. Thinking about the world they had seen, it was an easy conclusion that being a software engineer meant nothing here yet. If this world progressed at the speed of his own, his profession might start to mean something in fifty or sixty years. But for now, it was useless.
"Oh, right… that's completely useless in this world. Can you keep the detective business going, then?" asked Palm. He also didn't have any idea how to live like a human. Until now since his existence came into a shape he only followed the orders come from superiors.
"I don't know. I have no idea. I don't know how private detectives work here. You know there are also no cameras, recording devices, things like that..."
The only option that came to mind was to search through the detective's belongings one more time. Maybe he could find something to help him understand this world better. Even a newspaper would be useful. Perhaps there was also a notebook he took notes from his cases. If he can understand how he did his research as a detective maybe he could learn how to work as one.
After finishing their modest meal, Caspian returned to the desk and dived into the piles of paper. He really found a notebook. In the notebook, there were brief notes and names regarding past cases, but nothing detailed. It wasn't something he was expecting.
Then, he found the dead detective's final notes of an ongoing case.
"Jacob Gerald 88 years old. His only living son and family are in the capital. He is a former factory owner. Moved back to his hometown after retirement. Claims someone enters his house every night. According to the two employees living there, no one enters. Considering Jacob's age, they claim he might be hallucinating... Despite waiting around the house for two nights, I didn't see anyone sneaking in. Although, at first I also suspected it might be a delusion due to Mr. Gerald's age, he seems quite lucid. For now, Little Max will watch the house at night for me. But perhaps it would be better to enter the house with Jacob's permission and wait on guard, hidden from the employees."
"Hey, this sounds scary..." Caspian said.
"Do you still have things to fear? I thought people who have tasted death wouldn't have anything left to fear. After all, there's no punishment waiting for you in hell."
"But what if it's a ghost? Do ghosts exist here?"
"I don't know. I don't know the rules of this world. Every world has different characteristics."
"So, is it possible?"
"Of course it's possible. After all, it's something that can be imagined. If it can be imagined, its existence is possible."
"What kind of logic is that?" Caspian muttered, unable to make sense of Palm's statement.
"Anyway... if it scares you, don't do it. This is a detective office, isn't it? Someone will probably knock on the door eventually," Palm said, dropping the files in his hand on the coffee table and stretching out on the sofa.
"At worst, you'll starve to death this time, and I'll vanish along with you… how bad can it be?" he said with a blank expression on his face.
Just then, a knock at the door made them both sit up straight. After a brief exchange of glances, they rushed toward the door. When they opened it, they were met by a slightly plump woman in her fifties, wrapped in furs.
"Hello, Mr. Mortis."
"Hello... welcome, Madam... uh..."
"Oh, Mr. Mortis. I am Mrs. Willow. You must have so many clients to have forgotten my name so quickly," the woman said, acting slightly offended.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Willow. As you said, I've been so busy lately that I was just lost in thought. Please, come in."
"Thank you, but I have somewhere I need to be. I'm sorry for the delay in your payment. You said you would stop by, but when you didn't show up for a while, I wanted to bring it myself. It must be due to your busy schedule, as you mentioned. But my advice to you is to keep a better eye on your money," she said with a laugh.
"Yes... yes, I've been very busy. I'm sorry to have put you to this trouble. Thank you," Caspian said, taking the envelope from her hand while trying to hide his happiness.
After a brief goodbye, he closed the door gently and hurriedly opened the envelope. Palm waited right beside him with the same impatience. Caspian felt a surge of excitement when he saw "10 Juvel" printed on the banknotes. He began counting the money quickly.
"10, 20, 30... 350... There are exactly 500 Juvel here!"
"So, we aren't going to starve, right?" Palm asked joyfully.
"I don't think so. At least not for a while," Caspian replied with the same joy.
Although he didn't know exactly what he could buy with this amount of money, he was sure it could keep them fed for several weeks.
Who knows? During that time, he might actually start earning money as a real detective.