Chapter 17 Golden Threads, Electric Shocks, and Fashionable Chaos

The next morning started with the kind of mystery even I couldn’t solve—Lily and Lucy’s private parent-conference.

Yesterday their parents had stormed into my house breathing fire like two overprotective dragons. A few whispered words from the girls later and—boom—a complete 360. Smiles, hugs, “take care sweethearts” and off they went like happy festival-goers. Whatever nuclear weapon of persuasion those two used, it was above my detective pay grade.

I tried poking around, of course. “So… what exactly did you two say to melt those icebergs?”

Twin angelic smiles. Zero answers.
Right. Classified information. Fine. I’m not that curious. (Okay, I totally am, but I also like living.)

Queen’s royal cart was waiting when we stepped out. Calling it a “cart” was like calling a palace a “cottage.” Gleaming white panels, gold trim, wheels that looked like they’d been stolen from a luxury chariot commercial. And the queen herself was already inside, lounging like she’d invented leisure.

“Finally,” she said, flipping her hair. “I thought detectives were supposed to be punctual.”

I climbed in with my best innocent grin. “I was packing survival gear. Priorities, Your Majesty.”

Survival gear in my case meant—brace yourself— a rechargeable torch, a battery-powered table fan (don’t judge me), and my trusty smartphone.

“Table fan?” Lily raised an eyebrow.

“Laugh now,” I said, patting the fan like it was a beloved pet. “When you’re melting under Beflo’s sun, you’ll fight me for it.”

Urara nodded seriously. “He’s right. I want first dibs.”

Jane—Urara’s sister—blinked at us like she’d stepped onto the wrong stage play. She had arrived just that morning, all tanned skin and red hair, dressed like a tailor who could take on a fencing duel mid-stitch. Her quiet, polite smile was clearly wondering what circus she’d signed up for.

Last night, my laptop’s “isekai browser” had finally paid rent. Turns out it can pull up maps of this world the way ours shows cat memes. With a few clicks I had the entire province of Alicia’s homeland glowing on the screen.

I’d called Alicia over and we played digital darts, marking every possible spot where a certain golden-thread towel might have gone missing. Twelve dots in all. Twelve possible crime scenes.

The plan: visit each one and retrieve Urara’s precious family heirloom before anyone else sniffed it out. The towel’s golden threads, apparently, were worth more than an entire vault of coins—some “lost mine” legend. Which made me want to check every bush twice, because of course someone might try to sell it on medieval eBay.

Lucy leaned across the cart window as we started rolling. “So, Detective, you think you’ll crack this case before dinner?”

“Of course,” I said, with all the bravado of a man who secretly hoped a monster attack would give him an excuse to finally use the AK-47 hidden in his… ahem, “special” pocket.

(Only I knew about that pocket. And the system. And the fact that I was itching for action. Everyone else thought I was just a gadget-obsessed detective with a suspicious love for portable fans.)

Queen stretched her legs like she was settling in for a spa day. “Try not to start any wars on the way. Father still hasn’t forgiven you for the… goblin incident.”

“That was self-defense,” I said. “And also, a perfectly reasonable stress-relief exercise.”

Actually we killed nearly 50 goblins and it was illegal to kill that much at once.

Urara giggled. Lily shook her head like a tired older sister. Alicia just smiled the calm, know-it-all smile of someone who already had twelve alibis prepared.

We rolled out of the capital in style—six travelers and one overstuffed cart of royal luxury. Beflo lay three days away, and the road wound through hills that looked like they’d been drawn by a bored god with a very green crayon.

Day one, we passed farmers who waved like we were celebrities. Maybe it was the royal emblem on the cart. Maybe it was Queen’s hair catching the sunlight like a second sun. Or maybe they just liked the sight of Urara hanging out the window shouting, “Next stop, golden towel!” every five minutes.

At night we camped under a moon so big it looked like it wanted to eavesdrop. My table fan earned its keep, purring softly while the girls tried not to admit they were grateful. Jane, still slightly shell-shocked, whispered to her sister, “Do you always travel with… this kind of crew?”

Urara grinned. “Nope. This is the deluxe chaos package.”

Day two, we crossed a river where children chased our cart, daring each other to touch the royal wheels. Lucy gave them a wink and tossed a handful of candies from her pouch. Chaos, cheers, and one kid nearly diving in headfirst for a sweet.

“Remind me to keep you away from sugar supplies,” I muttered.

Lucy laughed. “Detective, sometimes morale is more important than stealth.”

I couldn’t argue. But I also couldn’t stop imagining one of those kids finding the AK-47. Yikes.

By day three the landscape flattened into golden grasslands. The air shimmered with heat, and even Queen admitted the table fan had been “a wise investment.” (Her exact words, I swear!)

I caught Jane staring at the fan with barely disguised longing. I tilted it toward her. “Want a turn?”

Her shy nod turned into a blissful sigh as the breeze hit.

“See?” I said to the group. “Never mock a man’s fan.”

Lily raised both hands in surrender. “Fine, Detective. You win.”

Finally, the distant rooftops of Beflo peeked over the horizon like the finish line of a very sweaty marathon.

We’d taken exactly three days, just as planned. Lucy had taken a royal holiday, Queen had approved it with a shrug, and I had an AK-47 hidden where no one would ever look. Twelve dots waited on the map. Twelve chances to prove my detective skills—or to unleash some spicy, bullet-flavored justice if any monster decided to test my patience.

Three days on the road sounds adventurous—until you realize it’s mostly an endless loop of eat, nap, repeat. By day two even the horses were yawning.

To kill the boredom I whipped out my laptop and decided to introduce everyone to the glory of Earth’s movies. At first, the gang leaned in, eyes wide like kids at a fireworks show. Thirty minutes later, the sparkle was gone.

Queen: “Why are they singing instead of fighting?”
Lily: “This villain talks too much. Just stab him already.”
Urara: snoring softly by the popcorn bowl

Okay, fine. Maybe interdimensional culture shock is real. I shrugged and watched alone while my fan hummed in sympathy.

We finally rolled into Beflo one hot afternoon, the kind of afternoon where even shadows look sweaty. First order of business: find a roof. I booked an inn—with my own coins, mind you. Three rooms:

Alicia didn’t need a room; this was her hometown. She practically skipped off to her parents’ house, humming like a happy sparrow while I mourned the loss of free snacks.

After a quick tour of the town and a little map-checking, Lily and I headed toward Alicia’s place. Meanwhile Queen and Lucy marched off to Beflo’s royal court to secure permissions and flash their “we’re important” badges. Urara and Jane stayed behind, busy disguising their fiery red hair.

They’d spent the entire three-day journey hiding under shawls. Urara was used to it, but Jane still fidgeted like someone wearing a wig made of angry cats.

Halfway to Alicia’s, my system decided to interrupt with all the subtlety of a marching band.

PING!

A glowing message hovered in my vision:

FIND CLUE AT HARDOCK YARD
REWARD: NEW TAILOR AUTOMATIC MACHINE

I almost fist-pumped on the spot.

“Automatic machine… for tailoring?” I whispered. “Jane is going to worship me. And I… may just start a side hustle. System, you beautiful capitalist!”

It was one the 12 spots we decided, glad now we don’t need to visit all 12 spots. I love you system.

Lily gave me a suspicious glance. “Talking to yourself again?”

“Practicing my… detective narration,” I lied smoothly. “Makes me sound dramatic.”

Alicia’s family welcomed us with open arms and plates the size of small continents. Her mother shoved a mountain of spiced bread into my hands before I’d even taken my shoes off. Her father poured tea like he was trying to drown me in hospitality.

If kindness were a weapon, I’d have been finished in seconds.

“Eat, Detective, eat!” her mother said, refilling my plate the moment it emptied.

“Yes ma’am,” I mumbled around a mouthful of bread, already plotting how to smuggle leftovers to my ever-hungry companions.

Alicia’s room, on the other hand, was a different battlefield—floor-to-ceiling books stacked like tiny fortresses. Maps, scrolls, and dusty tomes covered every surface. If a librarian fainted here, no one would find the body for days.

I leaned against a pile labeled “Ancient Trade Routes” and prayed it wouldn’t collapse.

“Quick question,” I said between sips of tea. “Ever heard of something called Hardock Yard?”

Alicia didn’t even blink. She reached for a rolled parchment like she’d been waiting her whole life for this trivia question.

“It’s here,” she said, spreading the map across a desk already drowning in papers. A neat circle marked a spot on Beflo’s outskirts. “Old storage yard near the docks. People say it’s haunted, but really it’s just creaky wood and drunk fishermen and now a days many people go there as tourist spot.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Haunted yard, late evening… Sounds exactly like the place where Erik drags us for fun.”

I grinned. “Exactly. Adventure with bonus ghosts. What’s not to love?”

Before we left, Alicia’s mother slipped me another loaf of bread “for the road.” My arms were now basically a bakery.

“Detective,” her father said warmly, “take care of our daughter. Even if she pretends she doesn’t need it.”

Alicia rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m not a kid.”

Seems DETECTIVE word is famous in isekai, thanks to Queen and Lucy for it.

“Sure,” he said, handing me yet another bag of snacks. “But take the food anyway.”

I was already picturing Jane’s face when she saw that tailor machine… and maybe imagining the piles of gold coins my future clothing empire would bring. I can turn this opportunity into a business model.

But first—Hardock Yard.
And if the local ghosts wanted to audition for target practice, well… the AK-47 in my hidden pocket was itching for its grand debut.

The air in Hardock Yard smelled like a mixture of old wood, rust, and that faint scent of “why did I agree to come here again?” I was sprawled on a crate, munching on snacks like a king surveying his tiny, crumb-covered kingdom. Bags of chips, a few pastries, and some energy bars—basically the stuff that fuels detective geniuses like me. It’s afternoon now but many people still here. I am enjoying my fresh air here and waiting for clue.

Lily and Alicia wandered off toward a tiny stall that sold drinks, arguing quietly about whether apple juice was superior to orange. Honestly, I was too busy inhaling my snacks to care. I mean, three days of travel had me convinced that any calorie not consumed was a crime against survival.

Then—out of the corner of my eye—I noticed a figure. A man. Massive hat, mask covering his face like he was auditioning for a cheap drama, and a suspicious bulge in his pocket. My heart did a little flip.

Could it be… the golden thread?

I squinted. My gut screamed yes. The thread shimmered in the afternoon sun, teasing me like a golden noodle dangling over a boiling pot. Slowly, I slid off my crate, trying to look nonchalant while actually performing the world’s clumsiest stealth maneuver.

The man spotted me immediately. His eyes, if you could see them under that ridiculous hat, went wide. And suddenly, he bolted.

“Of course he runs!” I muttered, tossing my snack wrapper in the nearest puddle. “Why would he just hand over stolen goods like a normal person?”

The chase began. I dashed after him through the maze of alleyways in Hardock Yard, my legs screaming in protest. The streets here were narrow, littered with crates, half-eaten food, and cats that clearly hated humans. The man zigzagged, hoping to lose me, but he hadn’t counted on me having… preparation.

By the time we reached the empty downtown area, the man pulled out a sword. Classic villain move. He swished it around dramatically, probably expecting me to panic.

“Well,” I muttered to myself, “you forgot one crucial thing.”

I reached into my system pocket and pulled out my trusty pistol. The golden threads in his pocket glinted as I aimed, and with one precise shot, his thumb fractured with a crack that echoed down the empty street.

He stumbled, tried to kick me in retaliation, but I was ready. A quick zap from my system-given electric shock skill and… pow. Down he went, twitching slightly. Moral of the story: never underestimate the detective with snacks, a gun, and borderline insane system powers.

I interrogated him briefly.

“Where did you get the golden threads?” I asked, trying to sound intimidating.

“I… I stole them…” he whimpered.

Ah. That explains everything.

Victory. Case solved. The golden threads were mine. Well, technically the system’s, but who was keeping track?

DING!

SYSTEM POPS UP
MISSION COMPLETE: GOLDEN THREAD TOWEL RETRIEVED
REWARD DELIVERED: TAILOR AUTOMATIC MACHINE – HOME

I almost fell over. Yes! Automatic tailor machine. Jane would flip out. I could already see it: her designing royal gowns while I lounged nearby, supervising like a benevolent emperor of fashion.

The man, surprisingly cooperative after his electric reminder, led me to the street and the shop where he had stolen the threads. I let him go after marking the area on my map—strictly for investigative purposes, of course. The place was crowded with shops selling all sorts of items, but clothes seemed to dominate. Fabrics in every color, pattern, and questionable smell imaginable. A paradise… if you were a fashion thief.