Preparing the Diary

After making up her mind, Angel felt the gloom that had weighed on her all morning ease away. Even the scruffy Public Carriage attendant looked much more pleasant to her—though he would have looked even better if he did not charge a fare.

"Daffodil Street." She stated her destination, handed three copper pennies to the attendant collecting fares, and climbed into the carriage to find a seat in the corner.

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

It was nearly noon. Although the flow of people was not as heavy as in the evening, Zouteland Street was one of Tingen City's busiest streets, and quite a few people getting off work at noon needed to take carriages home. After Angel boarded, three more passengers entered the compartment in succession. Those who arrived later could only sit on the roof. By the time the carriage slowly started moving, the compartment was already packed to capacity.

The advantage of a full carriage was that it would not stop for passengers hailing it from the road unless someone got off. The attendant had hung a red cloth by the door, signifying that passengers could only get off, not board.

There were drawbacks as well. The cramped passengers were pressed shoulder to shoulder, swaying as the carriage went around bend after bend. Coupled with the scorching summer heat, the compartment was filled with a strange odor.

The miserable conditions even made Angel consider the feasibility of taking hired carriages when she went out. But after doing a rough calculation, she dismissed the idea. A two-wheeled hired carriage cost four times as much per mile as a Public Carriage. Even making just one round trip between Zouteland Street and Daffodil Street every day would cost more than ten soli per week. Her weekly salary would rise to six pounds once she became an official Nighthawk, but even then, such transportation expenses would be hard for her to bear.

I'll just treat it like taking a bus. A little crowding is no big deal...

Angel shifted farther into the corner, closer to the window so she could breathe fresher air. Her gaze fell on the seat opposite her, where another passenger wore a helpless expression from being squeezed. He had a pleasant round face and looked like he had just come of age. Sensing Angel's gaze, the round-faced boy looked up and gave her a shy smile, only for it to be wiped away when another passenger toppled into him as the carriage turned.

Fortunately, the roof of a Public Carriage was too low to sell standing tickets. Otherwise, it would probably have been twice as crowded... Angel grumbled inwardly.

It was not until several passengers got off at Iron Cross Street that the atmosphere inside the compartment became more relaxed. The round-faced man also got off at Iron Cross Street. Watching his retreating back, Angel inexplicably felt that he looked familiar.

Where had she seen him before?

Angel recalled her experiences over the past few days but found no useful memory.

She watched through 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 Daffodil 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 were already soaked through with sweat.

"I used to mock those Nighthawk Gentlemen for caring more about appearances than comfort, wearing formal clothes in this heat..." Angel mocked herself. "And now I'm doing exactly the same thing whenever I go out..."

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

Although Tingen City was not located at a low latitude, it was July. The afternoon sun could still make people feel unable to breathe. Angel's response to this was—go out as little as possible.

She entered the bathroom, took off her clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket, tied 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 closed even while bathing, as she had at first. Looking at the perfect female body in the half-length mirror, the initial embarrassment had vanished without a trace, making her sigh at the adaptability of human beings.

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

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 the Tarot Club that afternoon, Angel still had one important task to complete—forge Emperor Roselle's Diary.

Calling it forgery was not quite accurate, because the contents of the diary were genuine. However, she intended to "expand" part of it, turning three pages into four.

This was not altering the diary's contents. Someone who did not understand Chinese at all could not pull off something that difficult.

The diaries Old Neil had shown her should have come from different copyists. The handwriting sizes on the three pages were not the same. Two pages had wider spacing and larger characters, while the other had elegant handwriting and a far greater density of text.

Of course, to those unaware of the truth, even the varying sizes of these mysterious "Roselle symbols" might represent particular meanings, just as in mysticism, a palm-sized holy emblem was more effective than one the size of a fingernail.

But after understanding that this was merely a form of writing from the homeland of the transmigrator Emperor Roselle, Angel knew that the size of the characters depended solely on the skill of the first copyists. The diary's owner certainly would not use different character sizes to record his moods.

That gave her room for "forgery."

She planned to recopy the three pages of Roselle's Diary from her memories onto paper, rewriting the page with the highest information density using the same character size as the other two. That way, she could squeeze out an additional page of diary content.

Mr. Fool had only said that everyone needed to submit two pages of diary entries. He had not specified a word count or line count, which gave Angel the confidence to do this. After all, the diaries circulating in the world were mostly copies that had been recopied or printed repeatedly. The amount of content was not something Tarot Club members searching for diaries could control, and Mr. Fool would not punish them over it.

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

Picking up a pencil, she reproduced the square, neat Chinese characters from her memory one by one on the blank paper. After adjusting the character size several times, she successfully turned the three pages Old Neil possessed into four. Although the last page had only about three-quarters of a page's worth of content, it could barely still be called a page.

If she had not been a Beyonder with a memory far surpassing that of ordinary people, she truly would not have been able to remember so many unfamiliar characters...

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

Since she did not recognize the characters, she had practically drawn out the contents of those 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 Mr. Fool had assigned her, and she had even exceeded it. He had asked for two pages of diary entries, but she had four!

Of course, Angel did not intend to hand in all of them at once. She planned to first see how much the other two had accomplished before deciding whether to submit some or all of them. Opportunities to obtain diaries were rare and hard to come by. It would be best if she could keep 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 in the Tarot Club's meeting place, just as she had the previous two times.

The relative positions of the participants had not changed. Miss Justice was still to Angel's left, Mr. Hanged Man sat opposite her, and 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 nearly impossible to see.

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

Angel speculated.

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

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

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

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

Angel looked in surprise toward Justice at her left.

She had only obtained the Spectator Potion formula from Hanged Man last week, right? In just seven days, she had gathered all the materials, successfully brewed the Potion, and become a Spectator?

The Main Materials for all Potions were genuine Beyonder Ingredients. Not only were they expensive, but they almost never appeared on ordinary markets. The Orthodox Churches might keep some in reserve for the advancement of their members. If ordinary people obtained 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 suppressed the urge to activate Spirit Vision and examine Miss Justice.

Even outside this Grey Fog Space, only the power spilling out immediately after consuming a Potion could be observed through Spirit Vision. Besides, casually activating Spirit Vision was a major taboo for Beyonders. Especially with a mysterious existence like Mr. Fool nearby, if she accidentally saw something she should not see, she would likely lose control on the spot.

"Thank you, Mr. Fool, and Mr. Hanged Man. The Potion formula you provided was completely accurate."

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

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

Is this friend of yours named Gold Pound?

"Miss Empress, thank you as well for your advice last week. The method of setting up civil service examinations to select officials who would serve long-term has won the approval of quite a few parliament members. Though given the Kingdom Government's efficiency, these proposals will probably not become policy for another half a year."

After thanking Mr. Fool and Hanged Man respectively, Justice turned to Angel as well. She spoke with a slight nod, her voice brimming with delight.

What? Approval from parliament members? Government policy?

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

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

Just then, light tapping sounded from the head of the long table. Everyone turned toward it at once. Mr. Fool was withdrawing his right hand from the edge of the table.

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