Identity Secured

When the midnight bells of Saint Selena Church rang, Hagg reappeared at Wild Heart. He held a thin sheet of paper and handed it to Angel, who had already lost a full 2 pounds at Dog Catches Mouse.

"This identification will be enough to deal with the Tingen police for now, but the Central Archives Bureau in Backlund doesn't have your records yet. It won't stand up to verification by letter. If you get into any trouble in Tingen City and the police telegraph Backlund to check your identity, it'll be exposed immediately. I suggest waiting about a week. Once the forged identity has been filed, you'll be able to go out openly."

Angel nodded to show that she understood.

She lowered her head and carefully examined the identification in her hand under the bar's dim lighting.

Name: Angel Granger; Gender: Female; Date of Birth: June 28, 1331...

That was right. She bore the Granger surname as well. In the false information she had submitted, she was a distant cousin of Cole Granger and Lily Granger, from remote Sivellas County. Her parents had died in a border conflict between the Ruen Kingdom and Intis.

She had also prepared her reason for coming from Sivellas County to Tingen City. Having lost her parents, Angel Granger had decided to bring all her savings to seek refuge with distant relatives living in Tingen City. Cole Granger had taken her in and let her stay on Narcissus Street.

Angel's decision to tie her new identity to the Granger family had been thoroughly considered.

First, she could legally live in Cole Granger's home. Property on Narcissus Street was far from cheap; buying a house required nearly a thousand Gold Pounds, while even renting one cost dozens of pounds a year. With a ready-made place to stay, finding another house, whether to rent or buy, would be an enormous expense just for housing.

Second, her connection to locals made her identity more credible. Compared to a stranger with a completely blank background, a "distant relative" of local residents would clearly be accepted more easily.

Finally, as a relative who had spent some time in contact with Cole Granger, Angel would have a chance to expose the crimes he had committed and seek justice for the dead.

As Cole Granger's "successor," this was the last thing she could do for him—atonement.

After carefully putting away the identification that had cost forty pounds, Angel Granger left the still-boisterous Wild Heart bar.

The street outside was no longer as crowded as before. Though Tingen City had no curfew, most residents of Iron Cross Street were poor laborers who only ate when they worked. To them, staying up late was a bad habit.

Especially in an era when nighttime lighting was rather expensive.

Looking around, Angel saw that the burly doorman was already dozing on an empty beer barrel, seemingly unaware of her departure. The lookout on the second floor across the street, however, remained diligent, still keeping watch from the open window.

Angel tightened her hood and began retracing her route.

The Gas Lamps on the street had long since been turned off, and the residents on both sides had extinguished their lights to rest. Only the Crimson Moon overhead illuminated the quiet street, though clouds drifting past made it incomparably dim.

Even with no one around, Angel, who possessed Dark Vision, honestly played the part of an ordinary person with no Beyonder abilities. She walked slowly down the street by moonlight, carefully avoiding puddles of filthy water and rubbish scattered everywhere.

She had not gone far before her keen hearing detected someone following her from not too far behind.

This did not surprise her.

When she had paid Hagg's "document fee" at the bar, Angel had noticed more than a few greedy gazes focused on her from the shadows. That was why she had avoided using large Banknotes while shopping before. Unfortunately, a payment of forty Gold Pounds would draw attention no matter what.

Besides, even if no one else had targeted her, an intelligence dealer like Hagg might not necessarily let prey already in his grasp escape. Mr. Hanged Man had saved Hagg's life, but his friend had not.

The follower's Footsteps were unsteady, and he made no effort to conceal them. He was most likely an ordinary person, and one who had drunk quite a bit. But even if he was not a Beyonder, an ordinary thug armed with a firearm could still threaten her. Angel had no intention of taking that risk.

Using Dark Vision to avoid obstacles in the road, she quickened her pace. As long as she left the lower street and reached the intersection with Iron Cross Street, she could use the crisscrossing roads to shake off her pursuer easily. There was no need to risk her life against some drunk greedy for money.

The follower's Footsteps paused, then quickened as well. But the dim surroundings gave him considerable trouble. Behind Angel came the constant clatter of rubbish being kicked aside and splashes from stepping into standing water.

Just then, the clip-clop of hooves sounded. Angel turned to look and saw a four-wheeled carriage approaching. Under the light of its hanging oil lamp, the emblem on the side of its black carriage body—"crossed swords surrounding a crown"—shone brightly. It was the symbol of the police system used throughout the Ruen Kingdom. The driver wore a top hat and suit as he calmly guided the carriage through the filthy street.

The follower had already fallen quite a distance behind. As the carriage passed him, he shuddered upon seeing the police emblem and immediately slipped into the gap between two apartment buildings by the roadside.

As an undocumented resident, Angel instinctively wanted to lower her head and hide. But then she reconsidered. This era did not have high-tech tools such as facial recognition. Even if she walked straight up to the police face-to-face, as long as she did not commit a crime on the spot, there was nothing to worry about.

Trying to hide would only make them more suspicious.

With that thought, she raised her head again and turned sideways, shuffling toward the side of the street to make room for the carriage in the middle. At the same time, she used the agility of her Assassin body to avoid the filthy water splashed up by the wheels.

Just as an ordinary Passerby should when encountering a speeding carriage.

The Police Carriage indeed passed by without slowing down.

In the instant it brushed past her, she saw through the window that two people sat facing each other inside. One wore black clothing and a top hat, with a police star on his shoulder. He had short light-brown hair and gray eyes, and he stared ahead with a stern expression as he said something. The other was clearly much younger, with black hair, brown eyes, a linen shirt, and an indifferent expression.

This wouldn't be some official's son using a public carriage for private business late at night, would it? Angel grumbled inwardly.

Before she could think further, the four-wheeled carriage sped away. The faint light cast by the oil lamp hanging from its cabin vanished, and the street once again fell beneath the dim glow of the moon.

Footsteps sounded behind her once more. To her surprise, the follower had not given up. Taking advantage of Angel's brief distraction, he quickened his pace and closed in again.

A strong stench of cheap liquor drifted over. The Footsteps stopped about a meter away, followed by the sound of clothing rubbing together.

Angel knew the conflict could not be avoided, so she decisively turned around and swiftly assessed the situation with Dark Vision.

The follower was a middle-aged man wearing coarse trousers and a short-sleeved shirt. His unkempt beard and hair already matted together showed that he was not well-off. He had most likely lost his job recently and was using cheap liquor at the bar to escape reality.

Seeing him reach into his trouser pocket for something, Angel moved first. She stepped forward, raised her right foot, and kicked sideways into the left side of his knee joint. The man, whose balance had been impaired by too much alcohol, felt a sharp pain in his knee and dropped to his knees on the dirty street.

Only then did his right hand pull a small, oddly shaped pistol from his trousers. Before he could raise it and aim, Angel reached out, gripped the hammer, twisted the gun from his hand, and seized his weapon amid his cry of pain.

"Ah... my finger, my finger..." The man paid no attention to the pistol that had been taken from him. Instead, he knelt on the ground, clutching his right hand with his left. His index finger joint was bent backward at an unnatural angle, clearly dislocated.

"Just a sprain. Go see a doctor. You should be grateful that only your finger was injured." Having subdued the follower in two moves, Angel held the confiscated pistol and spoke unhurriedly. This small Revolver appeared to be made for women. It could only hold four rounds, and its caliber was smaller than standard Pistol Bullets. Its lack of maintenance had allowed grease seeping from the frame to harden into clumps, leaving the weapon mottled and filthy. Angel even suspected that the primers had become damp and the bullets could not fire at all.

Pointing the gun at the man, Angel asked, "Now, I ask and you answer. Where did you pick up this gun?"

"Outside the city... at the docks outside the city. I found it at the docks. I used to help those people unload cargo there, so maybe someone dropped it. There were only three bullets in it. I never dared use them, just hid it under my bed. Now I've lost my job and I've got no money, so... I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Don't kill me!"

With the gun pointed at him, the man looked terrified. He did not dare hide anything and poured out the Revolver's origins to Angel like beans from a bamboo tube.

"Did someone put you up to this?"

"Wh... what? No, no! I just saw you being so generous, giving Hagg that bastard a huge sum of money, and I wanted to make a little profit. It was all that Rye Beer's fault!"

The man lifted his head in panic. Seeing the dark muzzle still pointed at him, he quickly lowered it again and repeatedly denied it.

Seeing how flustered the follower was after being disarmed, Angel felt that he had indeed probably been tempted by money and decided to follow her on the spur of the moment under the influence of alcohol, rather than being a pawn sent by Hagg or someone else to test her.

Of course, it was also possible that the other side had hidden things more deeply, and even this disposable pawn knew nothing.

Angel looked in the direction of Wild Heart bar but found no trace of anyone else.

"All right, today's your lucky day. I don't want to kill anyone yet. Find an honest job in the future. I'm confiscating this gun." No longer paying attention to the kneeling, pleading man, Angel took several steps back with the pistol. Only after seeing that he still did not dare lift his head did she turn and quickly leave the scene.

The streets of Tingen City were empty after midnight, as though the bustle of the first half of the night had all been an illusion. Angel did not idle on her way home. She dismantled the pistol and threw the cylinder and the gun body into separate sewer drains, while tossing the few bullets into a rubbish pile at a street corner.

She had no intention of keeping the ladies' pistol for herself. Not only would the specially made small-caliber ammunition be difficult to buy, but its poorly maintained appearance alone had killed any interest she had in using it.

When she reached Narcissus Street, Angel entered through the front door this time. She inserted the key, turned the lock, and caught the note that slipped through the gap beneath the door. She did not relax there. Instead, she used Dark Vision to carefully inspect the entire living room, comparing it to her memory from before she had gone out. Only then did she enter the house.

After locking the door and taking off her cloak to hang it to one side, her tense body finally relaxed completely. From this moment on, she had truly gained a foothold in this world.

Obtaining her own identification was only the first step. She already had a rough idea of how to use this identity to settle down in Tingen and fabricate a suitable reason for living in Cole's home, but there were still many gaps to fill before she could form a detailed plan.

Changing into loose, comfortable clothes, Angel entered the study again, dipped her pen in ink, and spread open her notebook. This would be another sleepless night.