Five young couples stood outside 2 Kirk Street with their children in their arms.
The mothers held their babies, their faces glowing with loving smiles.
The fathers stood in front. The man at the very front was the most neatly dressed of them all, but even he had patches at his elbows and knees. The basket he carried held eggs and bread.
These were gifts of thanks.
They were also the most precious things they could afford to give.
And who were they?
The parents from yesterday's baby-theft case.
Looking at the people before him, Arthur felt his palms grow slightly sweaty.
He was nervous.
When faced with malicious people, he could be ruthless, killing them without mercy.
But when faced with people brimming with goodwill who had come to thank him, he felt a little lost.
People were contradictory like that.
Arthur was especially so.
At that moment, he rather regretted yesterday's "publicity" outside 14 Kirk Street.
These parents must have learned about him there.
As for the newspaper?
Given these five families' financial circumstances, learning to read was beyond their means.
"Thank you for everything you've done for us!"
After handing the basket to Arthur, the father acting as their representative led everyone in a deep bow. Then the parents of all five families left with their children.
There were no further pleasantries, much less any petty scheming to take advantage of the occasion.
There was only simple, heartfelt gratitude.
They were not good with words.
They did not know how to adapt.
They only knew how to work hard.
The fathers would work hard to earn wages for their children, while the mothers would contribute what they could to the household income as they cared for the babies. They looked forward to their children growing up and did everything within their power to give them the best possible lives.
Arthur's gaze settled on the babies sleeping peacefully in their mothers' arms, on the smiles lighting up those five mothers' faces, and on the five fathers, whose postures were not quite upright but whose expressions were full of vigor.
He watched the backs of the five couples carrying their children beneath the morning sun.
At that moment, even the sunlight seemed to spread into a soft glow, becoming...
The truest hope!
Hope that children alone brought to a family.
There might be setbacks and hardships, but for their children's sake, the parents' hope would always endure.
Perhaps the parents of these five families could not read.
But their children might have the chance.
One day in the future, their children would hold a newspaper and tell their parents about interesting happenings in South Los.
After dinner, they would support their parents as they went out for a walk.
They, too, would become set in their ways.
Because they were not good with words and only knew how to work hard.
But,
Everything would get better, wouldn't it?
"May your lives be safe and happy."
Holding the basket, Arthur bowed slightly toward their retreating backs, then nodded to the neighbors casting curious looks his way. Under their friendly gazes, he returned inside 2 Kirk Street.
Arthur carried the basket straight to the kitchen.
He had not refused because it represented all their heartfelt goodwill.
A seemingly kind refusal would only hurt the five families' pride and invite gossip. Arthur did not want to see that happen.
Besides...
Food was a necessity of life.
And breakfast was the beginning of a pleasant day.
At the bottom of the basket containing eggs and whole-wheat bread, Arthur discovered a packet of corn grits.
After a moment's thought, he brought some water to a boil and poured in the corn grits.
Then he stirred continuously. Soon, the mixture thickened and gave off an enticing aroma.
The whole loaf of whole-wheat bread, as thick as a forearm and weighing a full kilogram, was as plain and unpretentious as the families who had just come to thank him. He cut it into six pieces, heated them in a frying pan, and put them on a plate.
Next came fried eggs and sausage.
The six fried eggs had also come from the basket.
The half-pound length of sausage had been delivered by the butcher's shop yesterday.
Naturally, all this food was for Arthur alone.
With his [Physique] having increased by another 0.1, Arthur felt that his appetite had improved even further.
Once the food was plated, he carried it to the nearby dining table.
He poured honey syrup over the cornmeal porridge. As he stirred, a sweet aroma immediately rose from it, and Arthur took a sip.
Sweet, and not scalding.
Arthur's eyes immediately narrowed in contentment.
Without realizing it, he began humming, "Heard you slurp, still eating baby snails, black carp's hard to chew, feet stay whole when braised, I take a straw, and suddenly you're hungry..."
He picked up a piece of bread and dunked it straight into the cornmeal porridge. Mixed with the honey syrup on top, it offered another flavor when he put it in his mouth.
The sweetness did not mask the wheat's aroma. On the contrary, the crisp texture of the bread's freshly pan-fried crust only whetted Arthur's appetite.
Arthur ate with hearty slurps.
Every so often, he took a bite of sausage or swallowed a fried egg.
Arthur finished breakfast at remarkable speed. Just as he was about to have a glass of water and take a break, text suddenly appeared before his eyes-
[A simple breakfast made from ingredients given with heartfelt gratitude lifted your spirits; XP+5]
"Food!"
"So this was the kind of food it meant!"
Arthur stared at the text before him, momentarily stunned.
Then he let out a breath that sounded like both a sigh of emotion and one of relief.
He truly could not stomach maggot-like "delicacies."
But if this was the sort of food it meant...
There seemed to be plenty of room to work with!
Arthur considered meeting Scott for a chat. This additional way to gain XP still required Scott's cooperation-he would ask Scott to help him place an "advertisement" in The Horn Newspaper. Not an overt one, but something tucked into an ordinary "Medium solves a case" story, subtly explaining that anyone wishing to consult the "Medium" Arthur Credos would need to bring some food from home in addition to paying the necessary consultation fee.
As for the excuse?
Naturally, it could be something about sensing goodwill or a requirement for exorcising spirits.
As he thought, Arthur walked toward the basement-the corridor mechanisms at 2 Kirk Street had not yet been repaired. He intended to spend the day restoring them completely.
Otherwise, Arthur always felt he lacked the security he needed.
Upon reaching the first basement level, Arthur moved aside a shelf piled with miscellaneous items. Behind it was a hidden room.
Or, more precisely, the true weapons storehouse of 2 Kirk Street.
Large quantities of gunpowder, shot, and firearms were stored here.
From the handguns Arthur frequently used to Thunder Guns, rifles, and more, it had everything.
Arthur even spotted two small Emperor Cannons, with a crate of six-pound cannonballs and a complete set of artillery tools beside them.
Beyond these gunpowder weapons were melee weapons: Knight's Swords in the style of the Sacred Empire era, Lances, Infantry Spears, short blades, and Bastard Swords combining the styles of two-handed swords and war swords-though, even now, some stubbornly insisted on calling the latter illegitimate sons' swords.
After selecting suitable spears and leaving "Old Charlie's Arsenal," Arthur took a packet of flints from the storage shelf outside, picked up the kerosene in the corner, and returned straight to the ground floor.
Loading the spears, flints, and kerosene was the easiest part.
The carpentry and painting were not difficult either, since nothing at 2 Kirk Street had actually been broken.
In fact, what consumed most of Arthur's time was that scarlet painting.
Arthur possessed the [Simple Drawing] skill.
Even though it was a Lv1 skill that could not be upgraded, that still meant Arthur had ideas of his own.
He felt that plain scarlet was too monotonous to create a terrifying atmosphere and lacked depth. A knight being dragged into the scarlet would convey it better.
So he spent a day painting a fully armored knight amid the scarlet.
But [Simple Drawing] was only simple drawing, and it was merely Lv1. Instead of the knight he had imagined, what he painted looked rather like...
A Zaku.
"My knight can't possibly be a Zaku!"
Arthur immediately revised it.
After wasting another entire day, Arthur stared at the blue tin can on the canvas. Inexplicably, a battle cry seemed to echo in his ears-
Loyalty! The Emperor!
Expressionless, Arthur picked up a paintbrush, soaked it in red paint, and painted the entire picture red.
The original was best, wasn't it?
"How could anyone be good at everything?"
"This is perfectly fine."
Arthur shrugged, consoling himself over his lack of artistic talent, then prepared to head into the washroom-it was Saturday, the day of the "Lady of the Long Night's Salon."
To show the salon's host the respect she deserved, he had to tidy himself up.
But just then, text began appearing before his eyes.
[A painting with a soul always brings miracles!] [Simple Drawing Lv1 → Drawing Lv1]
The moment Arthur saw the text before him, his scalp prickled. An inexplicable intuition surged through him, telling him what he ought to do-and that he had to do it quickly!
Without any hesitation, he set fire to the painting he had just finished.
As the flames roared, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, but then his brow furrowed again.
Before you continue