"Hello... Shadow Store at your service," Luomiu answered the phone, his voice sounding utterly drained.
"You sound like you've been dead for a month."
"I hope one day you, too, can experience the sheer agony of losing your wallet, Miss."
"Then you have my deepest sympathies... What exactly do you sell here?"
"Daily necessities, small inventions you can't find anywhere else, and... do you enjoy fine dining?"
"Not particularly," the voice on the other end replied with a lazy, nonchalant yawn. "I mean, do you have anything else I might need? For instance... the kind of transaction that only takes place under the cover of night."
Luomiu had a sudden epiphany. "I don't sell my body, Miss."
"...Excuse me?"
"Oh, and Little Sa isn't for sale either."
"..." A moment of silence followed. "Goodbye."
"Wait, wait!" Luomiu quickly called out to stop her. "Just a joke, Miss. What can I get for you?"
"You probably couldn't get your hands on high-level materials anyway—honestly, it's almost the twentieth century; I'm surprised you occult peddlers haven't gone extinct yet."
In this era, traders like Luomiu had to deal with more than just the fading of the supernatural; they also had to contend with government crackdowns and the cutthroat competition of free trade.
"Though I'm curious how you've managed to survive, I'm not one to meddle... Do you sell demon blood?"
"Oh, Miss, you've called at the perfect time. We just received a fresh shipment," Luomiu said, referring to the demon that had possessed the Artist. "How many liters would you like to pre-order?"
"Liters... I don't want liters. I want two large buckets of blood."
"Right, two large buckets. But how many liters would that be?"
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Stop arresting me, Miss Holmes (40 Chapters, Ongoing)
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"I want blood, not liters!" The woman was clearly growing impatient.
Luomiu blinked, then proceeded with the sale. The woman provided an address—an old castle on the outskirts of the city—and a name: Behemoth Albess. Luomiu noted the name in his ledger, privately concluding that this was likely a "vampire" who was terrible at math.
Afterward, Luomiu dragged a pig and a sheep out from the shadows. After slaughtering them and draining their blood into buckets, he slapped on a label: [Demon Blood, 8.5L, includes 0.5L bonus]. This wasn't being a dishonest merchant; this was "Trade with Victorian Characteristics."
Once the order was processed, Luomiu sat back down at his desk. Two hands reached out from the shadows to hand him newspapers and documents. By summoning the power of an angel, he managed to restore a scorched letter.
As it turned out, Luomiu was a rare type of Summoner—his contracts included both demons and angels simultaneously. The fundamental purpose of opening the "Shadow Store" was to collect demonic mana, sorcerer's magic, and angelic divine energy all at once.
The telephone rang again. It was Sherlock, bringing both a piece of good news and a request: a professor had agreed to take them on, but the condition was that they had to help a new student get settled.
"That's not too difficult a request, Sherlock. You—"
"H-hello..."
A timid, hesitant voice interrupted Luomiu. He looked up and saw the girl from before. She was still wearing the bright red padded jacket, her hair in a side ponytail, her dark eyes wide with nerves. In her hand, she clutched one of his recruitment fliers.
Their gazes locked, and both of them stared in shock.
"Sorry to disturb you!" The girl spun around to bolt.
"Keep the money, just give me back what was inside!" Luomiu shouted as he realized who it was, but the girl had already vanished into thin air.
Luomiu turned back to the phone, exasperated. "What was that professor's name again?"
Luomiu's eyes were currently scanning the signature on the restored letter—the very response that had incited Bruce Wayne's fall and manipulated the Artist. A single name was written clearly at the bottom.
At the same time, Sherlock looked at the elegant, smiling woman standing before her and spoke into the receiver:
"Her name is Grace Moriarty."