Early morning, in the washroom.
After washing his hands for the fourth time, Arthur still felt a stench clinging to them, one that seeped deep into his soul. He suspected that, in his dream, he had squeezed every last drop of urine out of that toad.
The Xiudik that toad came looking for must have been the ill-intentioned employer from the night before last!
Interestingly, Xiudik claimed to have deceived Them, while the toad said it wasn't one of Them... These supernatural beings, so far removed from ordinary people, seemed to be enemies of Theirs. Or was their relationship even more complicated?
What exactly was the mystical side like?
And shouldn't this stench have stayed in the dream? Why did it come out with me?
Standing before the sink, Arthur couldn't help pondering these questions.
After crushing the toad to death, he had returned to his bed in the bedroom on the third basement level of 2 Kirk Street. Nothing unexpected had happened during the process. His awareness had blurred for a moment, and then he was back.
It was as though he had simply woken from a dream.
Of course, it hadn't been a pleasant dream.
If anything, it had been an outright nightmare.
If possible, Arthur never wanted another nightmare like that, so he hoped to learn more about the mystical side.
Unfortunately, apart from "Them," he knew nothing.
And he had killed both people who knew anything.
Still, even if those two had lived, given their relationship with him, he couldn't have obtained any useful information from them.
Even if they had told him something, Arthur wouldn't have believed it.
Because it might well have been a trap-one that would leave him dead without even a grave.
If only a friendly person from the mystical side were willing to talk!
Or better yet, if there were some gathering place for people from the mystical side, I could inquire there and learn more!
There should be one, right?
It's just hidden somewhere ordinary people don't know about!
Arthur couldn't help thinking.
Unconsciously, he folded one arm across his chest, rested his other elbow on the back of that hand, and lightly tapped his temple with his index finger.
This was an unconscious habit Arthur had when thinking.
Normally, it helped him think.
Now?
He smelled that stench again.
Arthur frowned, turned the tap on again, and picked up the soap. Unlike the soft soap ordinary households made from fat and oil collected while cooking or obtained from slaughterhouses, mixed with wood ash they had saved, Arthur used a higher-grade white soap made from olive oil.
Based on his predecessor's memories, Arthur thought its cleaning power was about the same, but the added coconut oil gave it a better, longer-lasting fragrance.
Unfortunately, against the smell Arthur could detect now, it was barely a drop in the bucket.
He washed three more times in succession, but the smell remained. It was like food burned onto the bottom of a pot: after several washes, the pot was finally clean, yet the burned smell lingered.
Still, Arthur had to head to the first-floor hall.
It was already half past six, nearly time for the shop apprentices to deliver food and groceries. If no one collected the deliveries promptly, the apprentices would wrap them in oilpaper and leave them at the door, and the homeowner would have to pay a double tip on their next visit.
What if they refused?
The homeowner's reputation would suffer considerably.
Not only would they lose the convenience of monthly or quarterly billing and all discounts, but their bad reputation might even affect their own business.
Therefore, all the middle-class residents of Kirk Street were "quite happy" to tip.
After all, it was only 1 Los, wasn't it?
And it wasn't even every day.
Most households only made purchases once every two or three days. The apprentices made deliveries daily merely because the shopkeepers staggered their schedules.
Still, every apprentice was happy to do it.
After all, this was one of their few sources of income during their apprenticeship-perhaps their only one.
Usually, shopkeepers rotated delivery duty among their apprentices. Occasionally, a biased shopkeeper would give a particular apprentice a couple of extra turns.
Just like the bakery apprentice Arthur had met yesterday, who was delivering his bread again today.
"Good morning, sir!"
"Good morning..."
"Alvin. My name is Alvin."
Without needing any clearer prompting, the quick-witted bakery apprentice told Arthur his name.
"Good morning, Alvin."
Arthur smiled and took out 1 Los, but inwardly, he tensed.
He could smell the stench, yet Alvin showed no unusual reaction.
Clearly, either Arthur was the only one who could smell it...
Or Alvin had something to do with what had happened last night.
With that thought in mind, Arthur handed over the coin, discreetly observing him.
"Thank you for your generosity. I still have deliveries to make to other households. See you the day after tomorrow, sir!"
Alvin was as delighted as yesterday, showing no disappointment at receiving 1 Los less. Even as he walked away, he seemed full of energy.
Arthur watched his retreating figure, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Alvin probably really can't smell the stench. What happened last night... probably had nothing to do with him.
Alvin's expression had been normal, and his body had shown no sign of injury, but Arthur wasn't entirely reassured.
After last night's strange encounter, Arthur's vigilance had already reached its peak.
In fact, after waking from that nightmare, Arthur had inspected not only Kirk Street No. 2, but also the surrounding area.
Yet he had found nothing.
Although he had never encountered the mystical side before, and most of what his predecessor remembered about it was hearsay, Arthur was certain of one thing.
Namely-
Contact had to precede an incident!
It couldn't come out of nowhere!
If someone could truly ignore all rules and drag him into a nightmare, then, as Arthur understood it, that would be beyond mere supernatural power. It would fall within the realm of gods.
Against such power, he would have had no chance of resisting.
Let alone crushing his opponent to death with one hand.
So there must have been contact.
And only a handful of people had come into contact with him between yesterday and today.
The most suspicious among them were naturally Miss Caesar and that beggar.
Miss Caesar went without saying. She was already the person Arthur was most wary of.
As for the beggar?
That faint, elusive unease always bothered him.
But Arthur suspected the others as well.
He could only resort to the slow, methodical process of elimination in the days ahead.
That would undoubtedly be a major undertaking.
Moreover, the mystical side possessed far too many powers he didn't understand.
For example, although he appeared to have crushed the toad to death, Arthur wasn't sure whether it had truly died, merely been injured, or used some kind of item as a substitute.
Another example was this stench, which seemingly only he could smell.
And that stench had led Arthur to another thought-
Could this smell be some kind of mark?
If so, would it attract more people?
This gave Arthur a sense of urgency.
Yet that urgency did nothing to obstruct his established plan: grow stronger!
Because he knew that only by becoming stronger could he handle anything unexpected.
So Arthur was now eagerly anticipating what sword techniques he might obtain at the Swordsmanship Club.
Before that, however, Arthur turned and entered the kitchen.
People are iron, and food is steel.
Arthur had always taken this saying from his homeland as gospel.
There was no elaborate preparation, just the simplest, most convenient meal: milk, fried eggs, and bread.
Enduring the lingering, nauseating smell, Arthur finished his breakfast. Fortunately, the occasional cries of "Extra! Extra!" drifting into his ears offered him a little comfort.
[You appeared in the newspaper again. People were curious about your upbringing and life, and your autobiography attracted a considerable readership; XP +10] [The "Vengeful Evil Spirit" drama astonished the people of South Los, and they would surely discuss it eagerly for some time to come. You gained fame again: XP +10]
20 XP gained!
This time, Arthur didn't spend the points immediately. With [Basic Swordsmanship] upgraded to its maximum level, Lv5, he could no longer put points into it.
Although Arthur had some ideas about his remaining support skills, he still wanted to try his luck at the Swordsmanship Club.
If he managed to learn a more advanced sword technique, those 20 XP would be the best way to improve it.
It wasn't that Arthur lacked confidence in his talent.
On the contrary, Arthur had considerable confidence in it.
Wasn't [Omniscient Cuisine] his talent?
Hadn't he raised [Basic Swordsmanship] to its maximum level in a single day through his talent and hard work?
The latter, especially, had been absolutely crucial.
If anyone asked him in the future, he could say without a shred of shame, "I did it all through my own hard work!"
With these consecutive reports, some of South Los's people should already know my name. As time passes, more XP should keep coming in!
Arthur was quite certain of that.
Only a minority of South Los's people could read.
Those who had learned his name yesterday and today were all literate.
Those who couldn't read would only learn his name from those who could, over time. This process would inevitably be extremely slow, but its advantage was its staying power.
Arthur could already foresee occasional "XP +1" notifications continuing for a considerable time to come.
Should I hire a bard to spread my fame?
The instant that thought arose, Arthur shook his head and rejected it.
He was only just getting started. Doing that would be too deliberate, and if someone found grounds to use it against him, it would backfire.
Once the time was right, he would definitely use bards to reap a haul of XP!
Thinking this over, Arthur put on his coat, picked up the Medium's Case, into whose hidden compartment he had just placed two extra bundles of dynamite, and headed out. They hadn't taken up any additional space in the case; Old Charlie had deliberately left ample room when designing it.
Adding those two bundles of dynamite made Arthur feel safer.
But just as he stepped outside, Arthur suddenly remembered something.
Before you continue