Chapter 129: The Great Detective Victor Makes His Entrance

As Victor approached Sylvester, the merchant had just completed a transaction and turned around, satisfied, to face the young man.

“Good day, sir. How may I assist you?” the merchant greeted, and Victor noticed the fine craftsmanship of his belt.

He pulled out the wanted poster and shook it lightly. “I’m here about this case. Are you really dealing with a little demon causing trouble? The notice wasn’t written by that little demon, was it?”

Sylvester scrutinized Victor from head to toe. Today, Victor wore a Van Helsing-style outfit adorned with armor plates—imposing yet elegant. His hair was tidily tied back in a ponytail, sunglasses covered his eyes, and four distinct scars marked his face. Two swords were slung across his back.

After a brief assessment, Sylvester nodded in approval. This was a man he could trust.

“Demon hunter, don’t joke around. I know little demons only exist in fairy tales, but I saw one stealing from my stall with my own eyes!”

“What did the little demon steal from you?”

“The first time, it was bread. Then fish, apples—small things, but they add up, and I’ve lost a lot of money! And it’s not just me; every stall in the market has had things stolen!”

“Alright, what does this little demon look like?”

“It looks like a fierce, fat cat, very big, about waist-high to me. And it walks only on its hind legs!”

“Is that so? Would you like me to give it a proper lesson with my silver sword?”

“If you pay enough, of course I’ll help. But you should know, demon hunters are becoming rarer. Supply is low, demand is high. I have to be selective about the cases I take.”

Without wasting words, Sylvester showed his left hand with two fingers raised, while his right hand formed a fist—a gesture indicating two hundred crowns, convertible to four hundred Orens or six hundred Ducats. True to Novigrad’s standards, the starting price was impressive.

Victor remained expressionless, showing three fingers on his left hand and five on his right—immediately countering with three hundred fifty crowns. Prosperous places demanded quality service, and quality service required premium prices.

“That’s too much! You must be joking, sir. I can’t pay that for a little demon,” the merchant complained.

Victor raised his eyebrows and signaled three with his left hand and a fist with his right.

The merchant shook his head, rejecting again. “Still too high, but we’re close to an agreement.”

Frowning, Victor decisively showed three fingers with his left hand and kept his right in a fist. The merchant’s belt was inlaid with silver; Victor believed three hundred crowns wouldn’t break him. Besides, he wasn’t the only one paying—other stall owners would surely chip in.

The residents of Novigrad were skilled negotiators—not like the shameless pity plays of Lindenvale villagers. They had their own ways of bargaining befitting big-city folk.

Sylvester’s expression darkened, displeased. “Time is money, demon hunter. You’re wasting both! Take my offer—two hundred fifty crowns—or I’ll hire someone else!”

Looking at the merchant’s arrogant demeanor, Victor shrugged off the wanted poster. “This notice is a bit outdated, I believe it’s been up for some time. Good luck. I hope someone willing to charge less comes along soon to make up for your losses.”

With that, Victor turned to leave.

“Master, please wait!” The merchant’s words betrayed the admission of defeat; Victor had seen through his bluff.

Even if the price was inflated, the merchant could only accept the extortion. Such was the nature of negotiation—there were winners and losers.

Sylvester’s tone shifted from arrogant to humble. “Three hundred crowns, then. We have an agreement. Your bargaining skills are impressive—I hope your silver sword is just as sharp.”

“Three hundred fifty crowns—you’ll see.”

“I thought you said three hundred just now.”

“Time is money,” Victor said, spreading his hands with a casual smile.

“Agreed. But you must resolve this matter thoroughly.”

“Relax, I’ll handle it. As the saying goes... small businesses are the backbone of economic growth.”

“Thank you, demon hunter master. I’m not sure if this helps, but the last time I saw the little demon, it jumped over that wall and ran into the right alley… carrying several of my goods in its hands.”

In the world of monster hunting, promises were not absolute, but few would intentionally break them. Religious influences, especially in areas under the sway of the Eternal Flame, cultivated a widespread principle of trust among people.

After the agreement, Victor climbed over the wall and landed softly, carefully inspecting the scene. The merchant was right—the footprints looked feline, but no cat could be so large or walk solely on its hind legs.

Though most city streets were paved with stone slabs, some alleys remained dirt paths. Amid the chaotic footprints, the apprentice demon hunter was fortunate to distinguish those belonging to the little demon.

Following the trail, Victor quickly... lost it entirely.

After all, he was not a true demon hunter—no supernatural senses, no professional training.

Thankfully, losing the trail wasn’t fatal. A waist-high, upright fat cat didn’t exist in any monster compendium. But there was one creature capable of assuming the form of a little demon—a shapeshifter.

...

“Shapeshifters are beings that can alter their appearance at will,” Victor explained as he stirred the large cauldron.

“Humans have many names for shapeshifters. Demon hunters call them mimics, common folk call them shapechangers, doppelgängers, imitators, and more. Most shapeshifters dislike these names; ‘shapeshifter’ is what they call themselves.”

Angulan held a cup of Redanian beer. “I thought shapeshifters were just legends—stories drunkards tell on the streets or fools in dark alleys high on wild grass.”

“They do exist, but humans once launched large-scale hunts against them, drastically reducing their numbers.

“In truth, they aren’t monsters but naturally kind humanoids who rarely harm others maliciously.”

“Then why do the stories say they secretly kill people and replace them to live in the city?”

“Humanoids generally prefer city life to living wild and untamed. Their mistake is their transformation ability is so powerful it can mimic perfectly.

“When their mimicry threatens individual uniqueness and identity, humans naturally harbor deep hatred, using every excuse to justify their destruction.”

At that moment, the alchemy was complete, and the cauldron shimmered with iridescent light. Victor pulled out a newly crafted “Shapeshifter Detection Suit.”

Angulan eyed the suit suspiciously. “If, as you say, shapeshifters are such master mimics, how can we catch them? Can this suit really help?”

Victor chuckled. “If I were a demon hunter with supernatural senses, I could track them to the ends of the earth. Unfortunately, I’m not. Even with a silver rod, I can’t distinguish them until I strike and reveal their true form.

“But our Phantom Troupe has its own unique methods.”