"Oh, right, the videos! I need to write down everything I can remember." Lorne suddenly remembered the videos he had watched before transmigrating.
He hurried to his feet and found pen and paper in the room, relying on his memories.
He had transmigrated right after finishing the videos. For all he knew, they might have been hints meant for him. He needed to write them down while they were still fresh in his mind.
5. The authorities in this world are extremely dangerous. They will treat you, a transmigrator, as a heretic and eliminate you. If you encounter them, be sure to pick up the handgun beside you and defend yourself.
6. If you choose the "Apprentice" Pathway, you can drink the Potion on a full moon rich in Spirituality. This gives you a chance of receiving a certain great being's blessing.
7. When you believe there is no hope of advancing, you can try reciting ■■'s Honorific Name. This will guarantee your promotion to Angel.
8. If you find yourself in a predicament you cannot resolve, shout ■■■■ at the sky, and all your problems will vanish into thin air.
Lorne's writing hand suddenly stopped. He realized he could not remember the crucial names in entries seven and eight, no matter how hard he tried. He remembered everything else, yet the most important names had completely slipped his mind.
It was as though fate itself would not let him remember them.
After a moment's thought, Lorne decided to set his doubts aside for now and write down the remaining two entries first.
9. If you lack confidence in your looks, you can choose the "Secrets Suppliant" Pathway. Trust me, it will greatly improve your appearance.
The body's original owner had not been bad-looking, so Lorne paid little attention to this entry and continued writing.
10. There are many faiths in this world. You do not have to limit yourself to the orthodox churches. You can try worshipping other beings; you may reap unexpected rewards.
Faith? The body's original owner worshipped the God of Steam and Machinery, didn't he?
Steam and Machinery? That name has no gravitas whatsoever. It sounds like someone lucked his way into godhood. Even God of All Machinery sounds better.
If nothing else, he could at least call himself the Omnissiah.
After inwardly mocking the original owner's faith, Lorne put down his pen. Apart from the two names he simply could not recall, he had written down everything he remembered.
He did not dwell on those two names. They were Western names, after all, so forgetting them was perfectly normal.
"I'll call it the Transmigration Guide. If I follow these ten rules, I shouldn't run into any problems down the road, right?"
He went over everything he remembered once more. After confirming that nothing was missing besides the two names, Lorne stood and stretched.
He glanced at the mechanical clock on the wall. It was 6:03 in the morning. He briefly tidied the things on his desk, then decided to wash up before going out to take a look at this world.
Lorne currently lived at 69 Rose Street. It was a small, two-story house, and he rented a room upstairs. The second-floor washroom was directly across from his room.
After Lorne's father, Tarkin, died, Lorne, who was still in school, abruptly lost his source of income. The father he had inherited with this body had already sold their family home, leaving him no choice but to use what little money remained to rent a room in this house. The location was poor, but the surroundings were decent enough.
Although it was only one room, rent in the capital was not cheap: one pound a month. For the sake of so-called respectability, the original owner had gritted his teeth and rented it despite having no prospect of income in the near future.
Lorne splashed cold water over his face. Noticing the metallic tang of the water, he looked up at the mirror above the sink and saw his current appearance.
Slightly wavy, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and refined features did give him the look of a wealthy family's son, though his deathly pale complexion made him seem haggard.
He composed himself and decided to go out for breakfast first. He was already feeling a little hypoglycemic.
He descended the stairs, which showed some signs of age, with light steps, pausing after each one for fear of waking his landlady, Mrs. Griffin. Houses in this era were not particularly soundproof, after all.
Mrs. Griffin lived on the ground floor. She was a widow of around sixty, with a son who worked out of town. Ever since her husband died in an accident ten years ago, she had lived here alone.
From what Lorne remembered, Mrs. Griffin was seriously tough. She had once boasted to him about her glorious past: in her youth, she had served in the colonial army, not as a medic or a clerk, but as a frontline combatant.
He had no idea how she had managed it, but he could well imagine how tough a woman had to be to become a soldier in this era.
She had also boasted that she had taken a fancy to her husband back then and proposed to him in her own hardcore fashion. Apparently, her husband had tried to resist at first, but after failing to beat her in a fight, he had no choice but to give in.
Lorne had no way of knowing just how hardcore that proposal had been. He had questioned Mrs. Griffin's claims before, but whenever he thought of the decorative firearms in her room and the swords covering half a wall, he chose to keep his mouth shut.
Opening the front door, Lorne looked at the Victorian-style buildings before him and could not help feeling a little melancholy.
"This is a whole new world!"
"When will I be able to go home? I heard the original novel was a transmigration story."
"Come to think of it, did the protagonist ever get home in the end?"
After pondering for a moment and finding no answers, Lorne put those questions out of his mind for now.
What surprised him was that, unlike the Victorian era on Earth, the entire street had a degree of tidiness beyond what he would have expected of this age. Not that the street was particularly clean, but it was nothing like his impression of Victorian streets, with filth everywhere and excrement littering the ground.
Following the route in his memories, Lorne walked a short distance and arrived at a café. It was small, but nearby, and the interior was reasonably sanitary. The original owner had often come here for breakfast and was fairly familiar with the proprietor.
"Oh, Lorne! What would you like today?" As soon as Lorne entered, the proprietor, who doubled as the waiter, came over to greet him.
"Uh, I'll have a cup of decent coffee, and a... some black bread." Lorne glanced down at the menu.
"Black bread? I thought you only ate oat bread!" The proprietor looked puzzled.
"Oh! Then I'll have oat bread."
"All right. Four pence."
Lorne took four coins from his pocket and handed them over.
"You've given me the wrong ones. These are five-penny coins." Noticing the mistake, the proprietor returned the money.
"Oh, sorry. I wasn't paying attention." Lorne took the coins back, then pulled out four one-penny coins and handed them
over.
The proprietor took the money and headed for the kitchen, muttering to himself.
"What's gotten into that boy today?"
Before long, the food was brought out. Ravenous, Lorne dug in without a second thought.
As for the taste, Lorne, who was used to modern, industrially produced food, could only say that it was not bad. It still fell far short of what he considered good.
With his stomach full, Lorne finally had the energy to think about his next steps. He currently had around fifty pounds left. Even counting the secret stash he would only touch as a last resort, he had less than a hundred pounds.
Of course, he also had some shares and investments left to him by his late father. However, those arms factories had yet to turn a profit, so there were no dividends. Miss Hall's fund was also closed-end, meaning he could not cash it out anytime soon.
Lorne had actually had several hundred pounds to his name, but the original owner had spent it all on a Potion formula and ingredients.
From what Lorne remembered, a little over three hundred pounds would have been enough to deposit in a bank and live off the interest alone.
He could not help grumbling about the original owner. He could have lived an easy life, yet he had insisted on gambling. Worse, he had bought a Potion with a name as strange as "Monster."
If he was going to buy one, he should have bought "Assassin"!
Still, looking at it another way, the original owner had been fairly lucky. Formulas and ingredients were extremely easy to fake, yet he had actually found a trustworthy merchant and bought the genuine articles.
After turning it over in his mind, Lorne decided to choose the "Assassin" Pathway, as recommended by the videos he had watched before transmigrating.
It was "Assassin," after all. Assassin's Creed!
Besides, the videos had said that "Assassin" was good for staying alive. For a transmigrator like Lorne, who might be treated as a heretic by the orthodox churches, there could hardly be a more suitable ability.
He planned to ask about the Potion formula at the place where the original owner had bought the "Monster" Potion ingredients, to see whether they had any leads.
As for the money, he could always sell the "Monster" Potion and use the proceeds to buy "Assassin."
Before you continue