Who? How did they know I bought the "Sheriff" formula? Xio's emerald-green pupils contracted as she looked around in surprise, but she didn't catch any suspicious gazes.
According to
She nudged Fors lightly with her elbow and whispered: "Should I go?"
Fors took the note, glanced at it, and answered without hesitation: "Go. At least with Mr. A watching, no one dares do anything to you. You can take the chance to figure out what the other party's real goal is. You might even end up getting the potion materials you want."
"That makes sense…" Xio was a person of considerable initiative by nature. She nodded to the attendant right away and once again followed him to outside the study, where she pulled on the hooded robe.
This hood covers my entire face — I can barely see the road ahead… Xio pulled the hood into place, opened the door, and caught sight of a man in a black tailcoat seated behind the desk.
The man wore a golden mask on his face, exposing only his eyes, nostrils, mouth, and cheeks, making it impossible to imagine what he truly looked like.
The light brown eyes behind the golden mask shifted, and the man pointed to the chair across from the desk: "Sit."
His voice was deliberately deep and hoarse, but carried nothing else unusual.
Xio closed the study door behind her, held her head high, and sat in the designated seat without conceding an inch of presence, asking: "Do you have the main ingredients for the 'Sheriff' potion?"
The masked man chuckled softly: "Yes. The eyes of the Fear Worm and the right palm of the Silver-White War Bear — I have both."
"In fact, that 'Sheriff' formula was listed for sale through a proxy of mine."
No wonder… Although Xio was often mocked by her friends for being brainless, she wasn't entirely reckless — she had survived in Beyonder circles, among the gangs and the poor of the East End, thanks in part to a beast-like instinct for danger.
She asked in a low voice: "Why did you do this?"
"To find a suitable helper," the masked man said with a light laugh. "With your financial situation, it would be very difficult to scrape together the money needed for those two Beyonder materials in the short term. Of course, you could go to other Beyonder gatherings to resell the formula, but trust me — that would bring you unnecessary danger. Our circles don't necessarily overlap, and I am not working alone."
Xio frowned: "Since you have a large organization and even the formulas for the 'Sheriff' and 'Arbiter' potions, why do you still need my help?"
"There are certain matters we'd rather not handle ourselves — there are many reasons, but I have no need to tell you. Besides, every 'Arbiter' who has entered the Beyonder path on their own tends to have some noble connections behind them, and that is something we need as well." The masked man offered a brief, vague explanation.
So he doesn't know my background — he doesn't even know my reputation in the East End… Xio relaxed a little.
The masked man continued: "Consider this a commission outside the Beyonder gathering. I'll give you certain tasks and pay you accordingly. If you feel the danger is too great, you can refuse — this is a fair, free transaction. Once you've saved up enough money, you can come to me to purchase materials."
This... Xio, who was currently fretting over her financial situation, was immediately tempted. She restrained herself for nine seconds before replying: "As long as I have the right to refuse tasks, I can consider it."
"No problem." The masked man chuckled. "We can arrange the time and place to meet in the future right now. To put your mind at ease, I'll let you take the lead on that."
"Fine." Though still shrouded in confusion and not understanding why this person wanted to hire her for work, Xio agreed.
At the very least, she couldn't see any obvious danger.
…………
Throughout Sunday daytime, Klein was busy buying chairs, tea sets, and mending clothing, spending a total of 6 pounds and 9 soli to restore his living room, dining room, and himself to proper condition.
"What a loss. I hope the police department will eventually compensate me from Morosso's estate. Sigh, not likely — at most a portion." Klein neatly filed away the invoices and receipts, keeping them for a future occasion when they might prove useful.
Of course, purely from a revenue standpoint, he had actually earned quite a bit. Morosso's Beyonder characteristic alone was worth at least 300 pounds, possibly more.
And all of this hinged on Klein's ability to access the Beyonder community.
After dinner, having changed into a solid-colored sweater and a grey-blue worker's jacket, Klein put on a flat cap and headed out again. After two transfers, he arrived at Iron Gate Street in the
After just a few steps, he spotted the "Brave Dog Bar," the seemingly heavy black wooden door, and a burly man nearly two meters tall standing with his arms crossed.
The burly man sized up Klein but didn't stop him from pushing the door open and entering — only when he heard the cheering and clinking of glasses from within did his throat bob up and down.
This was peak business hours for the bar. Before Klein had even stepped inside, he felt the wave of heat washing over him, smelled the rich aroma of malt beer, and heard the boisterous, noisy clamor.
As expected, he saw two platforms in the center of the bar — one hosting a dog-catching-rat contest, the other where two boxers waited patiently, preparing for the upcoming fight.
The smell of beer mingled with the scent of sweat. Klein adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, pinched his nose, and protected his valuables as he pushed his way toward the bar counter.
Before the bartender could speak, Klein spoke first: "A pint of South Wales beer."
This was the finest beer produced within the
"Five pence." The bartender replied briskly.
Klein pulled out a handful of coins, counted out five pence, and exchanged them for a large wooden mug filled with golden-hued beer. The aroma was rich and inviting.
"In front of this, a lot of other beers can't even be called beer — they're just beverages," the bartender chuckled.
Klein raised the mug and took a drink. He found it crisp and refreshing — first a bitterness carrying a hint of fragrance, then the malt flavor surged forward, finishing with a faint sweetness.
Setting the mug down and glancing at the fine white foam, he seized the opportunity to ask: