The Seven Minute Detective of Wexley Street

This was a time when magic was written into formulas, runes into machines, and airships sailed over cities. Lundwick, the capital of Albion, is standing in a golden age created by industry, magic and gadgets. And in Room B of No. 17 Wexley Street, there lived a private detective who could hardly afford to pay the rent. Edmund Holt. He has no affinity with magic and was expelled from King's University. He earns a living by repairing gadgets, tutoring fellow juniors and accepting some weird commissions. He also has a secret that he cannot let anyone know. An illegal relic transformed by his own hands. It allows Edmund to see the past seven minutes of an object. So—— The stolen relics in the Glass Palace of All Nations begin to crawl on their own; The dead engineer rises again with a contraption exoskeleton; An out-of-control land speeder opened fire on the crowd in the exhibition hall; Railways, factories, airships, underground ruins and the most secret corners of this huge city, things that should not exist appear one after another. And every time things start to go wrong— Edmund would take out his pocket watch. "Seven minutes." "That should be enough." Reasoning? It's just a show!