Secret Society Three

The room Gilan chose was "301" on the third floor.

This room was near the spiral staircase, making it more convenient for coming and going.

That was all there was to it.

According to Mr. Stork, he guessed that room "302" next door was likely occupied by another member of the Record Society, but as a newcomer, he had no intention of interacting with others in his current disheveled state.

After pushing open his door, a small but clean and tidy bedroom came into view.

The carved glass window faced the door directly, and the near-noon sunlight streaming through made the room appear very bright, even making the yellow-green patterned wallpaper look exceptionally vivid.

On the right was an old-fashioned wooden double bed, made up with warm and soft plaid cotton bedding, and at the foot of the bed sat a red stool-cabinet.

To the left was a fireplace with a wall calendar hanging above it, though judging by the square marks left on the wall, a large decorative painting had likely hung there previously... perhaps it had been removed and destroyed due to the Art Decree.

To the left of the fireplace was a coat rack, and to the right were a wardrobe and a full-length mirror.

Gilan looked around the room and nodded in satisfaction.

He took off the black felt hat Mr. Stork had given him, placed it on the nightstand along with his handbag, and immediately walked into the washroom in the corner of the room.

Finally, I can take a bath...

He stripped off his filthy clothes and let out a long, relieved breath.

Turning the water valve, cold water sprayed from the showerhead, washing over his body.

Amidst the pattering sound of water, Gilan let his mind go blank.

The long-lost comfort allowed his tense nerves to relax.

Those complicated thoughts and worries about the future seemed to be washed away into the floor drain along with the black and red sewage at his feet.

Gilan opened the tin soap box in the hanging basket and took out a pre-cut piece of orange-yellow soap.

According to Miss Sparrow, even the cheapest soap costs 8 Pfennig per pound. It not only cleans the body but also leaves a scent to ward off miasma... but the average working class can't really afford it. Cleaning supplies in this world are truly expensive; they're practically luxury goods.

One had to know that in this era, in this country, beef only cost 8 Melang per pound, yet the price of soap was more than ten times that.

The original owner had bathed with plain water from childhood, occasionally scrubbing hard with a bit of cheap tooth powder. Most of the residents in the Red Tree Street slums were the same.

As Gilan lathered up and scrubbed his body, he thought:

According to her, it's because these cleaning products are infused with mysterious formulas, which is why they can resist the 'miasma' and thus command such a high price...

Just then, an elderly male voice came from outside the washroom:

"Mr. Snowy Owl, Mr. Stork asked me to bring you a change of clothes. I've left them on your bed."

"Alright, thank you. Please thank Mr. Stork on my behalf as well."

Gilan stopped what he was doing and replied toward the door.

"Very well, sir," the butler, Old Jerry, replied.

Immediately, the sound of footsteps receded, accompanied by the sound of the bedroom door closing.

A moment later.

Gilan finished his bath, dried himself with a brand-new towel, stepped out of the washroom, and put on the clothes.

It was a simple white shirt and trousers, complete with a belt and a blue tie. The clothes were slightly large, but he didn't look bad in them; on the contrary, they gave him a sense of lazy, carefree ease.

Donning his black felt hat, Gilan headed straight downstairs.

Because he had used the soap, he could smell a rich fragrance on himself—a scent of lavender mixed with violets that made him feel refreshed.

As soon as he reached the first floor, Gilan heard bursts of laughter coming from the dining room.

He followed the sound and soon saw four people—two men and two women—sitting around a round dining table. Besides Mr. Stork and Miss Sparrow, there were two other strangers.

Miss Sparrow had removed the lace headpiece she had been wearing, her soft blonde hair falling down, tied only in a simple low ponytail. A young woman was sitting beside her, chatting and laughing, the corners of her bright red lips slightly upturned.

This woman was tall and slender, wearing a blue-gray dress with a beige bow tied at her full chest. She had short, ear-length black hair, a high bridge of the nose, and well-defined lips. There was a sense of determination in her brow that was unlike that of an ordinary person.

"Mr. Snowy Owl, you're here." Miss Sparrow's eyes lit up when she saw Gilan, and she waved with a smile. "Sit down quickly; Old Jerry is preparing the meal, and we can start in a moment... Also, I must say, this outfit really suits you. It looks very good!"

"Thank you."

Gilan nodded at her and glanced toward the stove in the back—the old butler who had just delivered his clothes upstairs was wearing an apron, skillfully stirring the soup in a pot.

So this Old Jerry is not only Mr. Stork's assistant and butler, but also doubles as a coachman and cook?

He couldn't help but feel surprised by Old Jerry's versatility.

After he took off his hat and sat down at the table, Mr. Stork, at the head of the table, raised a hand to introduce Gilan:

"This is the newest member of our society, Mr. Snowy Owl. His strength is quite impressive; he defeated Granny Remo single-handedly and has a new roll of film in his possession."

"Welcome." The short-haired woman raised an eyebrow at these words and smiled slightly at Gilan. "You can call me 'Seagull'."

Her light brown eyes flickered, revealing a deep sense of curiosity.

"Miss Seagull, nice to meet you." Gilan nodded at her.

This woman gave him an inexplicable sense of aggression, which made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Welcome to the group, Mr. Snowy Owl."

Another stranger gave a hearty laugh and extended his hand toward Gilan.

"I never expected you to be able to defeat Detective Granny; he is an 'Instructor'-level pugilist... Oh, apologies, I'm rambling. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Oystercatcher. I enjoy combat sports in my spare time, so we should spar whenever you have a chance."

"No problem, Mr. Oystercatcher." Gilan reached out and shook his hand.

The man was sturdy, wearing a plaid shirt with a leather vest over it. He had short, reddish-brown hair, thick eyebrows, and a beard, exuding a sense of power in every movement.

However, the sense of threat Mr. Oystercatcher posed to Gilan was not as intense as that of Detective Granny.

"Since everyone is here, let's eat and talk."

Taking advantage of the moment Old Jerry brought the food, Mr. Stork spoke to the group.

"To show my sincerity, I have decided that for the next 'Movie Day,' I will enter the Black Lake film, and only after that will we slowly study the 'True Film Reel' in Mr. Snowy Owl's possession." He turned to look at Gilan.

Gilan nodded slightly.

"No problem." Miss Seagull cut her steak, her red lips slightly parted. "It just so happens that the last time we explored, it was that very movie, so we have already grasped some preliminary intelligence."

"Yes, I am currently compiling that information. I'll try to type it out on the typewriter tonight, and after making copies tomorrow, I will distribute a copy to each of you."

Mr. Stork ate his salt-grilled fish fillet and spoke softly.

The group discussed Black Lake for a while longer. Gilan, feeling completely lost, simply ate in silence.

By listening, he quickly learned that the "True Film Reel" titled Black Lake originated from Mr. Oystercatcher. It was an heirloom from his father, which he later donated to the Record Society free of charge.

The setting of the film was from an era not much different from the present, only it took place in a "Fayelane Town" he had never heard of, where legends about demons seemed to circulate.

The four members of the Record Society had entered it once before, but they had only scratched the surface; they retreated after roughly scouting the situation, intending to make thorough preparations before attempting a second exploration.

Their overall assessment was that the danger level was not high.

"Then, let's set 'Movie Day' for June 25th, the day after tomorrow, at ten in the morning."

Mr. Stork swallowed his food, picked up the napkin beside him to wipe his mouth, and spoke.

"Same old rules: we split the cost of the 'Mercury Battery' equally."

During the gap in the earlier discussion, Gilan had asked Miss Sparrow about the "Mercury Battery." According to her, this type of battery was different from a "Whale Oil Battery"; it could not be bought on the open market and seemed to be used exclusively to power mechanical equipment for the Empire's secret departments.

Yet, for some reason, only projectors using a "Mercury Battery" could properly play a "True Film Reel."

The manufacturing process was quite complex and involved technical barriers; aside from official channels, only a few black-market merchants had a supply.

Within the Record Society, both Mr. Stork and Miss Seagull had their own channels to purchase "Mercury Batteries," but the price was quite steep—100 Gold Caesars per unit—and the price occasionally rose.

With four people watching a film, it could be used twice.

Now, with Gilan added to the mix, the power duration would likely be shortened even further.

"No problem."

Miss Seagull and Mr. Oystercatcher nodded in agreement.

Miss Sparrow turned her head to look at Gilan, then whispered to Mr. Stork:

"In that case, I'll cover Mr. Snowy Owl's share for him."

Gilan was slightly stunned.

He saw Miss Sparrow wink at him and immediately understood; she knew he had come from the slums and was worried he didn't have enough funds to pay for this team expense.

"Haha, Miss Sparrow is as kind as ever."

Mr. Oystercatcher gave her a thumbs-up in praise.

Miss Seagull, however, wore a meaningful smile and teased:

"As expected of the little sparrow in the golden cage, you're quite wealthy... Why don't you cover my share too?"

"Miss Seagull has power and status, so please don't bully me."

Miss Sparrow rolled her eyes at her.

"Thank you, Miss Sparrow," Gilan suddenly spoke up. "I still have some money on me, enough to cover this expense."

As he spoke, he stood up and went upstairs, returning shortly with a handbag.

Then, to the bewildered expressions of everyone present, he pulled out a large gold pocket watch, two gold bars, two Borchardt Pistols, and a pile of magazines from the bag.

"By the way, does anyone here know where I can sell these?"