The Secret Society

Neigh...

The brown horse slowed its pace, shook its head, and let out a whinny.

A man and a woman stepped down from the carriage. The middle-aged man, wearing a black top hat, leaned on a gold-inlaid walnut cane, the hem of his black overcoat reaching his calves. He seemed to ignore the wariness on Gilan's face, casually removing his hat with a smile.

"A magnificent battle, Mr. Gilan. It seems Detective Granny was no match for you; he died due to his own overconfidence."

Gilan narrowed his eyes to scrutinize the man. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, with two strands falling across his forehead, adding a touch of aristocratic elegance to his already mature and handsome face.

Those amber eyes seemed to have seen the world, hiding stories within their depths.

"Are you with him?" Gilan asked coldly.

"Oh, no." The middle-aged man shook his head. "We do not belong to any faction, but we have been watching you for a long time, Mr. Gilan."

"To have survived this long alone while being hunted by the police, the Oak Gang, and the Louis Family is proof enough of your excellence... We are willing to offer you sanctuary."

The middle-aged man's expression turned serious as he spoke.

However, the wariness in Gilan's heart did not diminish in the slightest. He took a step back, keeping his body turned to the side so he could strike or flee at a moment's notice.

"Sanctuary? Hah... Let's not talk about whether you have the capability to provide it; tell me what you want. I don't believe there are any free lunches in this world."

Gilan said flatly.

The middle-aged man ignored his defensive posture, nodded, and began:

"What we want is simple: your help."

"Help?"

"Yes. We need the 'True Film Reel' in your possession, and we need you to join us in exploring the secrets left behind by that Great Existence."

The middle-aged man pondered for a moment before speaking in a deep voice.

'True Film Reel'... So that mysterious black film reel is called by that name.

Gilan thought to himself.

At the same time, the "Great Existence" the other party mentioned likely referred to the Hour-Hand who created the film reels, the "Director" who symbolized February. Clearly, these strangers had some understanding of the origin and significance of the reels.

"So you're after the film reel, too," Gilan sneered.

"That is your property, Mr. Gilan. We are not bandits who take by force," the middle-aged man said with a shake of his head and a smile. "We only wish to cooperate and share what we have."

"What kind of cooperation?" Gilan raised an eyebrow.

Seeing that he seemed interested, the middle-aged man bowed slightly, placing his hat-holding hand over his chest.

"Let me introduce myself first. Our secret society is called the 'Record Society,' gathered solely to explore the mysteries of the 'True Film Reels.' Of course, as members, we also look out for one another... I currently serve as the host of the Record Society; you may call me Mr. Stork."

The middle-aged man smiled and gestured toward the young woman beside him.

"This is also a member, Miss Sparrow."

Dressed in a pale yellow long dress with a floral apron, Miss Sparrow performed a curtsy for Gilan, a smile gracing her pretty, lightly made-up face.

"Hello, Mr. Gilan." Her voice was sweet and gentle.

Gilan did not reply, merely nodding at her.

Mr. Stork continued:

"Although the Record Society does not have many members, they are all rare elites. I can guarantee that as long as you join us, neither the police, the Oak Gang, nor the Louis Family will be able to find you for the time being."

"As for our cooperation, you will need to provide your 'True Film Reel' so we may enter. Of course, you are also welcome to watch the two 'True Film Reels' we possess... though you will have to bear the cost of the 'Mercury Battery' consumption yourself."

Gilan fell silent after hearing the man's proposal.

Mr. Stork did not urge him, waiting quietly.

Gilan's greatest current predicament was the police pursuit, which kept him constantly on the run. Even with his ability to protect himself, it was difficult to escape Black City. As the blockade tightened, it was foreseeable that he would eventually be arrested.

At that point, even death might be a luxury.

The conditions Mr. Stork proposed were not harsh, and the fact that the Record Society possessed two other film reels greatly piqued Gilan's interest.

The reason he had managed to escape death time and again was precisely because he had obtained the exorcist's equipment and the White Cross Body-Forging Technique from Moon-Scorched Village #1.

If he entered a new film world, Gilan could rely on his "Iridescence" to obtain more armaments and improve his strength... This way, he would be better equipped to survive in this world.

As for the "Mercury Battery" the man mentioned, it was surely the silver cube used as energy to activate the film worlds... Gilan currently carried a large sum of money and felt this expense would not be an issue.

"Fine, I agree to join you," Gilan said in a deep voice. "But I have one condition."

"Please, speak."

"I must enter the film world you possess first before I hand over my film reel."

Gilan stared at the man.

Mr. Stork was startled for a moment, then gave a genuine smile and put his black top hat back on.

"Of course. That is the sincerity we should show... Welcome aboard." He removed his deerskin glove from his right hand and extended it. "But before that, I think you should choose a bird-themed codename for yourself. That is the rule of the Record Society."

Gilan thought for a moment, then reached out and shook his hand.

"Snowy Owl."

Gilan boarded the private carriage.

This was his first time riding in a carriage since arriving in this world.

The open-top leather seats were incredibly soft, and even while traveling over a gravel path, the jolting remained within an acceptable range.

Mr. Stork and Miss Sparrow showed no signs of contempt or disgust toward his attire or his "unkempt" appearance. Instead, Mr. Stork seemed to notice something, taking a brand-new black men's felt hat from a small cabinet by his feet and handing it over.

"Although it doesn't quite suit your temperament, it is better than wearing nothing at all."

Mr. Stork said softly.

Gilan looked at the man and woman sitting opposite him, hesitated for a moment, then took the hat and placed it on his head.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Mr. Stork smiled slightly.

"Mr. Snowy Owl, you have been contaminated by 'miasma'." Seeing Gilan's poor complexion and his clothes stained with mud and blood, Miss Sparrow spoke up in a low voice. "It's clear that you've had a rough time lately, you've even lost your hat... Once we return to the society's secret base, you will need a good bath, a change of clothes, and some rest."

Gilan heard the mention of "miasma" once again and thanked Miss Sparrow for her concern.

After a brief silence between the two parties.

"If one does not follow 'Mysticism Sartorialism', will they inevitably fall ill, suffer bad luck, and go mad?"

Gilan asked the question that had been buried in his heart for a long time.

Mr. Stork and Miss Sparrow did not seem to detect anything unusual, assuming this was merely a sign of Gilan's low spirits after his escape and contamination by the miasma.

"Yes, the world is filled with invisible and intangible 'miasma'; this has been a recognized natural law for hundreds, if not thousands, of years... But people are clever and always find ways to cope, and 'Sartorialism' is the most mainstream method."

Miss Sparrow tapped her index finger against the corner of her mouth, looking thoughtful.

"Aside from the protection of our houses, reducing the frequency of bathing and changing clothes frequently are also methods... Hmm, soap, fragrances, and perfumes should also be decent anti-miasma supplies. And there's also..."

She listed many things, and Gilan listened in silence.

Miss Sparrow's words made him feel that perhaps this strange world truly did have something called "miasma."

"Not everyone fears 'miasma,' either."

Mr. Stork spoke up at the right moment, joining the conversation.

"For instance, those mysterious astrologers, alchemists, and mages."

"Do such people really exist, Mr. Stork?" Miss Sparrow raised an eyebrow, looking quite interested. "Aren't those just fictional characters from storybooks..."

Mr. Stork shook his head.

"Of course they exist." He glanced at Miss Sparrow and Mr. Snowy Owl, his expression not appearing to be feigned. "Because I have seen them with my own eyes."

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