Bernadette's Speculation

Gels, the manager of the underground fighting arena, sat behind his desk counting money. Simon, with his villainous face and ill-intentioned smile, said, "Kid, you could've made another 300 pounds."

He took a hard drag from his cigarette. His smoke-yellowed teeth seemed to have darkened another shade. "If you'd pretended to have a hard time winning the first two matches, you definitely could've made more money."

If that had happened, most bettors would have kept betting on Odys to lose. Not only would Odys have made more money, Simon would have too.

But Odys had won the first two matches too easily. If he hadn't placed an early bet on himself winning three straight, he wouldn't have made any money at all from the third match.

Sitting across from Gels, Odys said unhurriedly, "Don't be too greedy."

If he had really handled things that way, he probably wouldn't have been able to collect the betting money from Simon so easily now.

By then, Gels had finished counting the money. The winnings and reward came to a total of 332 pounds and 6 soli.

Only a small portion consisted of ten-pound notes; most were five-pound and one-pound notes, making for a thick stack.

Many of the surrounding bettors couldn't help swallowing at the sight of so much money, while some revealed greedy looks.

Since Odys had knocked down all the other fighters earlier, today's matches had come to an end, and most of the bettors had already left.

After Odys swept his gaze over them, all traces of greed vanished.

Odys stood up and was about to take the money when Simon suddenly pressed a hand over it. "Interested in working together?

"I know of a very high-end competition. Plenty of upper-class people watch and place bets there. Win one match, and the reward starts at 150 pounds!"

"Not interested." The moment Odys heard the reward, he knew it was a competition meant solely for aristocratic entertainment. He had looked into such things before.

But Simon said, "You can think it over some more."

With a nasty grin, he said, "I know certain information ordinary people don't. If I report your situation to the Church, heh heh heh..."

Odys already had a plan in mind. He said unhurriedly, "Don't make me hit you."

"You'll agree." Simon wisely withdrew his hand.

Odys picked up the money and counted it once, confirming that nothing was missing. Then he casually took a bottle from the nearby wine rack, pulled the cork out with his teeth, gulped down two mouthfuls, and strode away.

Of course, he had to drink to celebrate. He had made more than three hundred pounds in one night—an entire year's income for many members of the middle class.

However, this way of making money couldn't be repeated. After tonight, the bettors would know how well he could fight, and the odds would no longer be this high.

He could try looking for other underground fighting arenas, but by the time he found one, tonight's "feat" would probably have spread. He would no longer be able to use the information gap to make money from betting.

Odys still left through the bar, drinking as he carefully made his way through the dim alleyways.

Perhaps several drunk bettors would join forces to rob him.

Fortunately, he wasn't attacked all the way out of the alley.

Soon, he arrived on a slightly wider street. Carriages occasionally passed through here, while quite a few vagrants rested along both sides of the road.

Suddenly, Odys stopped. Among the vagrants, he spotted the informant of the Mandated Punishers.

More precisely, he saw the informant's corpse.

The informant was curled up on the ground, his eyes hollow. He seemed to have died only moments ago.

Odys was about to step forward and inspect him, but reason made him stop. Just as he was about to leave quickly, a familiar female voice suddenly sounded beside his ear. "His death is suspicious. Even his spirit body has been annihilated."

That voice belonged to Bernadette, Queen Mystic.

Odys looked around. Apart from a carriage approaching in the distance, the area was filled with vagrants trying to seize the chance to sleep before the police came to drive them away. Though he couldn't see Bernadette, he knew Queen Mystic was already nearby. "Why are you here?"

"I attended a Beyonder gathering nearby."

After the gathering ended, Bernadette had seen Odys "wandering" around the area as she was leaving, so she had come over to take a look. Instead, she found this clearly abnormal murder scene.

Odys asked, "Who killed this man?"

"A Sheriff."

As soon as Bernadette finished speaking, the mist beside Odys suddenly churned, forming a human figure made of fog.

The figure looked about twenty-six or twenty-seven, with a high nose bridge, vicious eyes, and a small black spot on his cheek.

Then, the somewhat illusory figure vanished.

"I've seen his photograph," Odys said. "He's one of the Royal Guards."

Then he asked, "Can you erase the traces of me stopping here?"

Erasing every trace of his passing through would only make things suspicious, so it was enough to erase the traces of his brief stop here.

"Yes."

Odys immediately felt as though he had become weightless, like a spirit body wandering the real world.

As he hurried away, he said, "As far as I know, the dead man was an informant for the Mandated Punishers.

"Why would someone from MI9 kill an informant for the Mandated Punishers?"

"I don't know." Bernadette's drifting voice came from nearby. "But I have a feeling that a considerable secret is hidden within this. I'll quietly conduct some investigation."

Odys was slightly stunned and reminded her, "This isn't something you should be curious about."

"I won't investigate it proactively," Bernadette said. "I have a feeling that you'll be involved in the investigation in the future as well."

She hadn't come to Backlund for sightseeing. She had received a prophecy that this city might experience something with far-reaching consequences for the entire world, and she had come seeking an opportunity for advancement.

Just now, she had sensed that a huge conspiracy lay behind this informant's death.

She had also sensed that she might be drawn into it in the future. If there was an opportunity, it would be better to conduct some investigation herself.

"Well, thanks a lot." Odys didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I'd still like to live another couple of years."

Getting involved in matters concerning secrets would shorten his life!

Bernadette suddenly asked, "With an intelligence network as well-informed as yours, you must have noticed it too, right? Backlund is brewing something major."

Odys said, "I've only noticed that the situation has been a little chaotic lately, and the conflicts between various sides are becoming more obvious."

Of course, he knew this was a subtle sign of George III's attempt to become a god. At the same time, he knew that with his current strength, it was better to pretend he knew nothing.

"This is the prelude!" Bernadette said with certainty.

"Let's talk about something else," Odys said. "I'm just Low Sequence. This kind of thing is too high-level. It isn't something I should worry about."

"All right." Bernadette didn't insist. "Then let's talk about the two bookmarks that went missing from the Royal Museum that day."

How about we talk about world peace instead?

Thanks to Anpei Hero for the donation.