Gilan chose Room 301 on the third floor.
It was close to the spiral staircase, making it convenient to go up and down.
That was all.
From what Mr. Stork had said, he guessed that another Record Society member lived in Room 302 next door. But as a newcomer, he had no intention of meeting anyone while he still looked so disheveled.
When he pushed open his door, a small but neat and tidy bedroom came into view.
A carved glass window faced the door. The near-noon sunlight streamed through it, making the room bright and even bringing out the vivid yellow-green patterns on the wallpaper.
On the right stood an old-fashioned wooden double bed, made up with a warm, soft patchwork quilt and bedding. At its foot was a red storage bench that could be used as a seat.
On the left was a fireplace, with a wall calendar hanging above it. But judging by the rectangular outline left on the wall, a large decorative painting had once hung there... Perhaps it had been removed and destroyed because of the Art Decree.
To the left of the fireplace was a coat rack; to the right stood a wardrobe and a full-length mirror.
Gilan surveyed the room and nodded in satisfaction.
He took off the black felt hat Mr. Stork had given him and set it on the bedside table along with his briefcase, then went into the washroom in the corner.
At last, I can take a shower...
He peeled off his filthy clothes and let out a sigh of relief.
He opened the water valve, and cold water poured from the showerhead, washing over him.
As the water pattered down, Gilan let his mind go blank.
The long-missed comfort helped ease his taut nerves.
All his tangled thoughts and worries about the future seemed to wash away with the blackish-red grime at his feet and disappear down the drain.
Gilan opened the tin soap dish in the hanging basket and took out a cut piece of orange-yellow soap.
Miss Sparrow said even the cheapest soap costs eight Pfennigs a pound. It not only cleans the body but also leaves a fragrance and wards off Miasma... But ordinary wage earners can barely afford it. Cleaning products in this world are absurdly expensive—practically luxuries.
In this era, in this country, beef cost only eight Melang a pound, while soap cost more than ten times as much.
His predecessor had bathed with nothing but water all his life, occasionally scrubbing himself hard with a bit of cheap tooth powder. Most of the residents in the Red Tree Street slums were the same.
As Gilan worked the soap into a lather and scrubbed himself, he thought:
According to her, these cleaning products contain a mysterious formula that can ward off Miasma... That's why they're so expensive.
Just then, an elderly man's 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."
"Good, thank you. Please thank Mr. Stork for me as well."
Gilan paused and called back through the door.
"Of course, sir," replied the butler, Old Jerry.
His footsteps soon receded, followed by the sound of the bedroom door closing.
A moment later.
Gilan finished his shower, dried himself with a fresh towel, and left the washroom to get dressed.
The outfit was simple: a white shirt and slacks, with a belt and a blue tie. The clothes were a little too big, but they didn't look bad on him. In fact, they gave him a relaxed, easygoing air.
After putting on his black felt hat, Gilan headed downstairs.
Thanks to the soap, he could smell its rich fragrance on himself: lavender mingled with the sweet scent of violets, leaving him refreshed.
As soon as he reached the first floor, Gilan heard bursts of laughter and conversation coming from the dining room.
He followed the sound and soon spotted four people—two men and two women—sitting around a circular dining table. Besides Mr. Stork and Miss Sparrow, there was another man and woman he didn't know.
Miss Sparrow had taken off her lace bonnet. Her smooth blond hair fell loose, gathered only into a simple low ponytail. A young woman sat beside her, chatting with her, the corners of her vivid red lips lifted in a smile.
The woman was tall and slender, dressed in a blue-gray ankle-length dress with a pale yellow flower pinned at the full bust. Her short black hair reached her ears. She had a high nose bridge and a sharply defined mouth, and her brows conveyed a resolute air unlike that of an ordinary person.
"Mr. Snowy Owl, you're here." Miss Sparrow's eyes lit up when she spotted Gilan, and she waved with a smile. "Come sit down. Old Jerry's preparing the meal; it'll be ready in a moment... And I have to say, those clothes really suit you. You look great!"
"Thank you."
Gilan nodded to her, then glanced toward the kitchen. The old butler who had just brought his clothes upstairs was now wearing an apron and expertly stirring a pot of soup.
So Old Jerry isn't just Mr. Stork's assistant and butler—he's the coachman and the cook, too?
Gilan couldn't help being impressed by Old Jerry's many talents.
Once Gilan took off his hat and sat down at the table, Mr. Stork, who sat at the head, raised a hand to introduce him.
"This is our newest member, Mr. Snowy Owl. He's quite capable. He defeated Granny Remo all by himself, and he also has a new True Film Reel."
"Welcome." The short-haired woman raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly at Gilan. "You can call me Seagull."
Her light brown eyes flickered with keen curiosity.
"Miss Seagull, it's nice to meet you." Gilan nodded to her.
The woman gave him an inexplicable sense of aggression, making him slightly uncomfortable.
"Welcome to the society, Mr. Snowy Owl."
The other unfamiliar man smiled warmly and held out his hand to Gilan.
"I can't believe you managed to beat Detective Granny Remo. She's a fighter at the Instructor level... Oh, sorry, I'm talking too much. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Oystercatcher. I'm fond of martial arts, too. Maybe we can spar sometime."
"Sounds good, Mr. Oystercatcher." Gilan reached out and shook his hand.
The man was stocky, wearing a checkered shirt with a leather vest over it. He had short reddish-brown hair, thick brows, and a beard. His every movement brimmed with strength.
But Mr. Oystercatcher didn't make Gilan feel nearly as threatened as Detective Granny Remo had.
"Now that everyone's here, let's eat while we talk."
As Old Jerry brought over the food, Mr. Stork addressed the group.
"To show my sincerity, I've decided to enter the Black Lake film on our next Movie Day. After that, we can take our time studying Mr. Snowy Owl's True Film Reel." He turned to Gilan.
Gilan nodded slightly.
"Sounds good." Miss Seagull cut into her steak, her red lips parting. "That's the film we explored last time, so we've already gathered some preliminary information."
"Yes. I'm compiling our findings. I'll try to type them up tonight, and after I make copies tomorrow, I'll give one to each of you," Mr. Stork said softly as he ate his salted fish.
The others spent a little longer discussing Black Lake. Gilan was completely lost, so he simply ate in silence.
By listening, he soon learned that the True Film Reel called Black Lake had come from Mr. Oystercatcher. It had been his father's keepsake, which he later donated to the Record Society without compensation.
The film was set in an era not much different from the present, but in an unfamiliar place called Fayelane Town. It seemed to be known for its legends about demons.
The four members of the Record Society had entered once, but only made a brief foray. After getting a rough idea of the situation, they withdrew, planning to prepare thoroughly before making a second attempt.
Their overall assessment was that the danger level was low.
"Then let's set Movie Day for June 25, the day after tomorrow, at ten in the morning."
Mr. Stork swallowed his food, picked up his napkin, and wiped his mouth before speaking.
"As usual, we'll split the cost of the Mercury Battery."
During their earlier discussion, Gilan had asked Miss Sparrow about Mercury Batteries. According to her, unlike Whale Oil Batteries, they weren't available on the open market. They seemed to be made specifically to power mechanical equipment used by the Empire's secret departments.
For some reason, though, only projectors powered by Mercury Batteries could play True Film Reels properly.
The manufacturing process was extremely complicated, with a high technical barrier to entry. Aside from the government, only a few black-market dealers had a supply.
Within the Record Society, Mr. Stork and Miss Seagull both had ways to get Mercury Batteries. But they were very expensive: each one cost 100 Gold Caesars, and the price sometimes went up.
With four people watching at once, they could only use the battery twice.
Now that Gilan had joined them, the available runtime would probably have to be cut even shorter.
"Sounds good."
Miss Seagull and Mr. Oystercatcher nodded in agreement.
Miss Sparrow glanced at Gilan, then spoke softly to Mr. Stork.
"I can cover Mr. Snowy Owl's share for now."
Gilan was taken aback.
He saw Miss Sparrow wink at him and immediately understood. She knew he'd come from the poor district and was worried he might not have enough money to cover his share of the group's expenses.
"Ha ha, Miss Sparrow is as kind as ever."
Mr. Oystercatcher gave her a thumbs-up in praise.
But Miss Seagull smiled meaningfully and teased her.
"As expected of the little sparrow in a gilded cage. You've got quite a bit of money... Why not cover my share, too?"
"Miss Seagull, you're powerful and influential. Don't pick on me."
Miss Sparrow rolled her eyes at her.
"Thank you, Miss Sparrow," Gilan suddenly said. "I still have some money on me. It's enough to cover my share."
As he spoke, he got up and went upstairs. Soon, he came back down carrying a briefcase.
Then, under everyone's puzzled looks, he pulled a gold pocket watch, two gold bars, two Borchardt Pistols, and a pile of magazines from the case.
"By the way, does anyone know where I can sell these?"