Preparing the Diary

After making up her mind, Angel felt the gloom that had weighed on her all morning ease away. Even the slovenly Public Carriage attendant looked more pleasing to the eye. Of course, he would have looked even better if he did not charge a fare.

"Narcissus Street." She stated her destination, handed three Copper Pennies to the attendant collecting fares, then climbed into the carriage and found a corner seat.

She was riding a trackless Public Carriage drawn by two horses. Including the roof, it could carry around twenty people.

It was nearly noon. Though foot traffic was lighter than in the evening, Zoteland Street was one of Tingen City's busiest streets, and quite a few people getting off work at noon needed a carriage home. After Angel boarded, three more passengers entered the compartment in quick succession. Those who arrived afterward could only sit on the roof. By the time the carriage slowly set off, every seat inside was occupied.

The advantage of a full carriage was that it would not stop for passengers hailing it from the road unless someone was getting off. The attendant hung a piece of Red Cloth by the door, indicating that passengers could only get off, not board.

There were drawbacks too. In the crowded compartment, passengers were pressed shoulder to shoulder and back to back, swaying as the carriage rounded one bend after another. Combined with the scorching summer heat, it filled the cabin with a strange smell.

The awful environment even made Angel consider whether taking a Hired Carriage whenever she went out was feasible. But after doing some quick calculations, she dismissed the thought. A two-wheeled Hired Carriage cost four times as much per mile as a Public Carriage. Even if she only traveled between Zoteland Street and Narcissus Street once a day, it would cost over ten Soules a week. Her weekly salary would rise to six Gold Pounds after becoming an official Nighthawks member, but even then, such transportation costs would be hard to bear.

I'll just treat it like riding a bus. A little crowding won't kill me...

Angel shifted farther into the corner, moving closer to the window so she could breathe fresher air. Her gaze fell upon the seat opposite hers, where another passenger wore a helpless expression after being squeezed by the crowd. He had a pleasant round face and looked barely old enough to be an adult. Sensing Angel's gaze, the round-faced young man looked up and gave her a shy smile, only for it to vanish when another passenger lurched into him as the carriage turned.

Thankfully, the roof of the Public Carriage is too low to sell standing tickets. Otherwise, it would probably be twice as crowded... Angel grumbled inwardly.

Only after several passengers got off at Iron Cross Street did the atmosphere in the compartment ease somewhat. The round-faced man got off there as well. Watching his departing figure, Angel inexplicably found him familiar.

Where had she seen him before?

Angel recalled everything she had experienced these past few days but found no useful memory.

She watched from the window as the round-faced man boarded another Public Carriage and headed toward the Docklands. Then she withdrew her gaze and thought no more about it.

After quickly finishing lunch at the Silver Crown Restaurant on Narcissus Street, Angel returned home. As she took off her windbreaker and hung it on the coat rack by the door, she discovered that her close-fitting clothes had already been soaked with sweat.

"I used to mock those Nighthawks gentlemen for choosing style over comfort, wearing formal clothes even in this blazing heat..." Angel mocked herself. "And now I'm doing the same thing whenever I go out..."

To conceal the appearance bestowed upon her by the "Witch" Potion, as well as the figure that made even women like Rosanne jealous, Angel now wrapped herself in a windbreaker whenever she went out. In crowded places, she even wore a hood.

Though Tingen City was not at a low latitude, it was July, and the afternoon sun was still enough to make people gasp for breath. Angel's solution was to go out as little as possible.

Entering the bathroom, she took off her clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket. She pinned up her smooth golden hair and took a cold shower.

After living in this body for nearly two weeks, Angel no longer had to grope around with her eyes shut just to take a bath as she had at the beginning. Looking at the perfect female body in the half-length mirror, the initial shyness had long vanished, making her marvel at the adaptability of human beings.

But soaking in a bath, once her favorite leisure activity in her previous life, was still impossible. Spending ten minutes standing under a shower was one thing; lying in a bathtub for half an hour was another entirely.

Pulling her gaze away from below her neck, she dried herself with a towel, changed into a light indoor dress, and went to the desk in her study.

Before that afternoon's Tarot Club gathering began, Angel still had one important task to handle—forge Emperor Rosell's Diary.

Calling it forgery was not entirely accurate, because the contents of the diary were all genuine. She merely intended to "expand" part of it, turning three pages into four.

This was not changing the diary's contents. No one completely ignorant of Chinese could pull off something so difficult.

The batch of diaries Old Neil had shown her had likely come from different copyists. The handwriting on the three pages was not the same size. Two pages had wider spacing and larger characters, while the other had graceful handwriting and a far greater density of text.

Of course, to those unaware of the truth, perhaps even the differing sizes of these mysterious "Rosell Symbols" carried specific meanings, just as in mysticism, a palm-sized holy emblem was more effective than one the size of a fingernail.

But after learning that this was merely a script from the homeland of Emperor Rosell, a transmigrator, Angel knew that the size of the characters depended only on the skill of the first copyist. The diary's owner would certainly not use different character sizes to record his moods.

That gave her room for "forgery."

She planned to copy the three pages of Roselle's Diary from her memory onto paper, rewriting the page with the densest information using the character size of the other two. That way, she could squeeze out enough content for an extra page.

Mr. Fool had only said that each person needed to submit two pages of diary entries. He had not specified a word count or line count. That was why Angel dared to do this. After all, the diaries circulating in the world were mostly copies reproduced through repeated transcription and rubbings. The amount of content was not something the Tarot Club members searching for diaries could control, and The Fool would not punish them over it.

Maybe Hanged Man and Justice found even less than I did... Angel thought, soothing her vaguely aching conscience.

Picking up a pencil, she reproduced the square, neatly lined Chinese characters from her memory one by one on the blank paper. After adjusting the character size several times, she successfully turned the three diary pages Old Neil possessed into four. Although the last page was only around three-quarters full, it could barely be called a page.

If I weren't a Beyonder with a memory far beyond that of ordinary people, I really couldn't have remembered so many characters I don't recognize...

Angel sighed as she looked at the crooked Chinese characters beneath her hand.

Because she did not understand the characters, she had practically "drawn" the four pages.

After checking them again and confirming that they matched the characters in her memory, she finally let out a breath and put down her pencil.

That completed the task The Fool assigned me, and I've even exceeded it. He asked for two pages, but I have four!

Naturally, Angel did not intend to submit them all at once. She planned to first see how much the other two had accomplished before deciding whether to hand over part or all of them. Opportunities to find diary pages were rare, and the best outcome would be saving one or two pages for the next knowledge exchange.

As the hands of the pocket watch hanging from the bookshelf pointed to three in the afternoon, familiar crimson light surged around Angel.

The crimson faded, mist rose, and Angel instantly appeared at the Tarot Club gathering place, just as she had the previous two times.

Everyone's relative positions had not changed. Miss Justice was still on Angel's left, while Mr. Hanged Man sat opposite her. At the head of the long table to her right, the gathering's initiator, Mr. Fool, was shrouded in denser Gray Fog than before, making his figure almost impossible to see.

His power has grown stronger... or perhaps recovered?

Angel speculated.

Without realizing it, she had begun using the form of address reserved for deities when referring to The Fool.

As usual, Miss Justice was the first to greet everyone. Including The Fool, they all politely returned her greeting, and amid the friendly atmosphere, the third Tarot Club gathering began.

"Congratulations, Miss Justice. You have become a Beyonder."

The Fool was the first to congratulate Justice. He seemed to have some method of seeing whether someone was a Beyonder.

Angel looked toward Justice on her left in surprise.

She only obtained the Spectator Potion Formula from Hanged Man last week, right? In merely seven days, she gathered all the ingredients, successfully brewed the Potion, and became a Spectator?

After all, the Main Materials for every Potion were genuine Beyonder Ingredients. Not only were they expensive, but they almost never appeared in ordinary markets. The Orthodox Church might keep some in reserve for members advancing in rank. If ordinary people acquired such materials, they would either use them as soon as possible or sell them for Gold Pounds. Few would keep such precious materials on hand.

Thinking of how easily Justice had helped Hanged Man find the Beyonder Ingredient he needed, one hundred milliliters of Ghost Shark Blood, Angel realized that she had underestimated this sheltered young lady.

She resisted the urge to activate Spirit Vision and observe Miss Justice.

Even outside this Grey Mist Space, only the power leaking from someone immediately after drinking a Potion could be seen through Spirit Vision. Moreover, casually activating Spirit Vision was a great taboo for Beyonders. Especially with a mysterious existence like The Fool nearby, if she accidentally saw something she should not see, the only outcome waiting for her would likely be going Out of Control on the spot.

"Thank you, Mr. Fool, and Mr. Hanged Man. The Potion Formula you provided was entirely accurate."

"Faster than I expected," Hanged Man commented calmly. "As expected, ordinary materials are not a problem for you."

"A friend helped me quite a bit," Miss Justice answered modestly.

Is this friend of yours named Gold Pound?

"Empress Miss, thank you as well for your advice last week. Your method of establishing Affairs Officer examinations and selecting Affairs Officers for long-term appointments has won the support of quite a few members of parliament. Though, given the Kingdom Government's efficiency, these proposals will probably not become policy until half a year from now."

After thanking The Fool and Hanged Man in turn, Justice turned to Angel as well. With a slight nod, she spoke joyfully.

What? Support from members of parliament? Government policy?

Weren't we just talking politics last week? Wasn't that your university assignment?

Angel's eyes widened, and she forgot to respond for a moment.

At that moment, a soft tapping sound came from the head of the long table. Everyone turned at once. Mr. Fool was withdrawing his right hand after tapping the edge of the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen, have you found Rosell's Diary?"