"Whoa..."
The brown horse slowly came to a halt, tossed its head, and whinnied.
A man and a woman got out of the carriage. The middle-aged man in a black bowler hat leaned on a gold-inlaid walnut cane, the hem of his black coat brushing his calves. He seemed not to notice the wariness on Gilan's face. Removing his hat as if nothing were amiss, he smiled and said:
"That was quite a fight, Mr. Gilan. It seems Detective Granny was no match for you. He died because of his own overconfidence."
Gilan narrowed his eyes and studied the man. His neatly combed, graying hair fell to about his shoulders, with two strands hanging over his forehead. They lent an air of nobility to his already mature, handsome face.
His amber eyes seemed to have seen the world, with stories hidden in their depths.
"Are you working together?" Gilan asked coldly.
"Oh, no." The middle-aged man shook his head. "We don't belong to either side, but we've been watching you for a long time, Mr. Gilan."
"Surviving on your own until now, despite being hunted by the police, the Oak Gang, and the Louis Family, is proof enough of your abilities... We're willing to offer you protection."
The middle-aged man's expression turned serious as he spoke.
Yet Gilan's wariness did not lessen in the slightest. He took a step back and kept his body angled, ready to strike or flee at a moment's notice.
"Protect me? Heh... Setting aside whether you're capable of it, tell me what you want. I doubt there's such a thing as a free lunch."
Gilan spoke calmly.
The middle-aged man paid no attention to his movements and nodded before speaking:
"What we want is simple: your help."
"My help?"
"Yes. We need the 'True Film Reel' in your possession, as well as your membership, so you can help us uncover the secrets left behind by that great being."
The middle-aged man paused to consider his words, then spoke in a low voice.
"True Film Reel"... So that mysterious black film reel is called that.
Gilan thought to himself.
The "great being" the man spoke of was most likely the Hour-God who had created the reel, the "Director" who represented February. It was clear that these unfamiliar man and woman knew something about the reel's origins and significance.
"So you're after the reel too." Gilan sneered.
"It belongs to you, Mr. Gilan. We're not thieves who take what we want by force." The middle-aged man smiled and shook his head. "We simply want to cooperate and share what we know."
"What kind of cooperation?" Gilan raised an eyebrow.
Seeing that he seemed interested, the middle-aged man lowered his head slightly and placed the hand holding his hat against his chest.
"First, allow me to introduce myself. Our secret society is called the 'Record Society.' We've come together solely to investigate the secrets of the 'True Film Reel.' Of course, our members also look out for one another... For now, I serve as the Record Society's chairman. You may call me 'Mr. Stork.'"
Smiling, the middle-aged man gestured to the young woman beside him.
"She's also a member: Miss Sparrow."
Miss Sparrow, dressed in a pale yellow gown with a floral sash, curtsied to Gilan. A smile appeared on her pretty, lightly made-up face.
"Hello, Mr. Gilan." Her voice was sweet and gentle.
Gilan didn't reply. He merely nodded to her.
Mr. Stork continued:
"The Record Society may not have many members, but each is an exceptional talent. I can assure you that once you join us, neither the police, the Oak Gang, nor the Louis Family will be able to find you for the time being."
"In return, you'll need to provide your 'True Film Reel' for us to enter. Of course, you'll also be allowed to view the two reels we have... but you'll have to cover the cost of the Mercury Batteries they consume."
After listening to him, Gilan fell silent.
Mr. Stork did not press him, but simply waited.
Gilan's greatest difficulty at present was being pursued by the police, which had left him constantly on the run. Though he could defend himself to a degree, he still couldn't escape Black City. As the blockade continued to shrink, it was only a matter of time before he was caught.
By then, he might not even be allowed the luxury of dying.
The terms Mr. Stork had offered weren't unreasonable, and the fact that the Record Society had two other reels greatly interested Gilan.
The reason he had escaped danger time and again was that he had obtained an Exorcist's weapons and equipment, along with the White Cross Body-Forging Technique, from Moon-Scorched Village #1.
If he entered a new film world, he could use "Iridescence" to acquire more weapons and increase his strength... That would also help him survive in this world.
As for the "Mercury Batteries" Mr. Stork had mentioned, they were presumably those silver cubes that powered entry into the film worlds... Gilan was carrying a fortune at the moment, so he didn't think the expense would be a problem.
"Fine. I'll join you," Gilan said in a low voice. "But I have one condition."
"Go ahead."
"I'll only hand over my reel after I've entered one of the film worlds you have."
Gilan stared at the man.
Mr. Stork was taken aback for a moment, then smiled sincerely and put his black bowler hat back on.
"Of course. That's only fair; it's the least we can do to show our sincerity... Welcome aboard." He removed the deerskin glove from his right hand and held it out. "But before that, I think you should choose a bird codename for yourself. It's a rule of the Record Society."
Gilan thought it over, then reached out and shook his hand.
"Snowy Owl."
Gilan got into a private carriage.
It was his first time riding in a carriage since coming to this world.
The open carriage's leather seats were very soft. Even as it rolled along the stony path, the bumps were tolerable.
Neither Mr. Stork nor Miss Sparrow showed any contempt or disgust toward his clothing or his "filthy" appearance. Instead, Mr. Stork seemed to notice something. He took a brand-new black felt hat for a man out of a small cabinet by his feet and offered it to Gilan.
"It doesn't suit your style, but it's better than going without one."
Mr. Stork spoke softly.
Gilan looked at the man and woman sitting across from him. After a brief hesitation, he accepted the hat and put it on.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Mr. Stork smiled faintly.
"Mr. Snowy Owl, you've been contaminated by 'Miasma.'" Miss Sparrow noticed his poor complexion and the mud and bloodstains covering him, and spoke softly. "I can tell you haven't been doing well lately. You've even lost your hat... Once we're back at the society's secret headquarters, you'll need to take a good bath, change your clothes, and get some rest."
Gilan had heard someone mention "Miasma" again. He thanked Miss Sparrow for her concern.
After a brief silence between them,
"Will people definitely get sick, have bad luck, and go mad if they don't follow 'Mysticism Sartorialism'?"
Gilan finally asked the question that had been on his mind for a long time.
Neither Mr. Stork nor Miss Sparrow seemed to notice anything unusual in his question. They assumed it was because Gilan was in low spirits after fleeing for his life and being contaminated by Miasma.
"Yes. The world is filled with invisible, intangible 'Miasma.' That's been accepted as a natural law for hundreds, even thousands, of years... But people are clever and always find ways to cope. 'Sartorialism' is the most widespread method."
Miss Sparrow raised her index finger to the corner of her mouth, looking thoughtful.
"Besides protecting your home, bathing less and changing clothes often are also methods... Hmm, soap, incense, and perfume should be good for warding off Miasma, too. And..."
She listed many things, while Gilan simply listened in silence.
Miss Sparrow's words made him wonder if this other world really did have something called "Miasma."
"Not everyone is afraid of 'Miasma.'"
Mr. Stork joined the conversation at just the right moment.
"Take the mysterious astrologers, alchemists, and magicians, for example."
"Do people like that really exist, Mr. Stork?" Miss Sparrow raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Aren't they all made up in storybooks...?"
Mr. Stork shook his head.
"Of course they exist." He glanced at Miss Sparrow and Mr. Snowy Owl, his expression perfectly sincere. "I've seen them with my own eyes."
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