The circus

Over the past few days, Lorne had been trying to find clues about the name "Antigonus."

But none of the books contained any relevant records. Unwilling to give up, he had gone through almost every history book concerning the Fourth Epoch, only to come away empty-handed again.

"Looks like I won't find anything in publicly available sources." Lorne sighed.

Besides searching for information about Antigonus, he had also been looking for a way to authenticate Potion formulas.

Although he had already checked them through divination, he still wasn't entirely reassured.

First, his divination skills were only at a beginner's level, and he remained somewhat skeptical of his own abilities.

Second, a faulty Potion formula could get someone killed.

It was better to be cautious with things like this. He didn't want the authorities coming after him over it.

Deep down, Lorne already believed that those Potion formulas were genuine.

Still, "better safe than sorry" was one of his guiding principles. He had scrolled past plenty of examples of things going disastrously wrong because someone neglected quality control.

To be safe, he had kept the Notebook in his shoulder bag and carried it with him at all times.

The reason he wanted the formulas authenticated was to sell them for money. Yet two days had passed, and he still had no leads. Beyonder gatherings usually relied on existing members bringing in newcomers.

You could only join if you found a suitable intermediary to introduce you. That made them particularly unfriendly to newcomers without connections.

That was why Lorne considered it a miracle that the body's original owner had managed to buy both the correct formula and the correct ingredients.

Lorne could more or less understand why things worked this way. From what he had observed, the authorities in this world strongly opposed ordinary people coming into contact with supernatural powers.

A vast gulf separated Beyonders from ordinary people. The complete omission of anything supernatural from ordinary history books made that clear.

Lorne understood why the authorities wanted to control Beyonder powers. Unfortunately, as a transmigrator, he was naturally on the opposite side from the official churches.

It went without saying that the authorities' attitude toward unaffiliated Beyonders would be far from friendly.

"Perhaps that's another reason the Transmigration Guide said going through the authorities wasn't an option." Lorne let his thoughts wander.

As he strolled along the street, Lorne found himself in a relatively open area. Unexpectedly, though, his surroundings were growing increasingly lively.

The noise around him pulled Lorne out of his thoughts.

"Is this a circus?"

The enormous tents, the cheers occasionally drifting out of them, and the crowds of visitors all around convinced Lorne that this was indeed a circus.

"Entertainment that really fits the era."

In an age without television, radio, or films, a circus performance was about as good as entertainment got for ordinary people. That also explained the crowds.

Not all of them would buy tickets to the show, but they could still enjoy the atmosphere.

"Ta-da!"

Lorne turned to see a tall, thin figure leaning against a lamppost. Pointed leather shoes with upturned toes stuck out beneath his striped trouser legs, and he was juggling three bright red apples.

His shoes seemed to have springs fitted inside them, and he bounced toward Lorne.

Three red apples rolled from his cuffs into his palms. At first, he simply tossed them in a rotating pattern.

After two rounds, the clown suddenly threw an apple toward the streetlamp and somersaulted beneath it. As it fell, he caught it neatly on the tip of his nose, while the other two landed one after another on his upturned shoes and bounced back into his hands.

Watching the performance, Lorne stared for a moment before an appreciative look crossed his face.

He had to admit, the man was pretty impressive. Even as a Beyonder, Lorne couldn't match that level of coordination.

Clap, clap, clap!

Seeing how much effort the man put into his performance, Lorne applauded generously. He even considered tossing him a few coins as a tip.

The clown grinned again and pointed toward the circus. His expression seemed to say, "Come watch our show. There's even more excitement inside the tents."

That successfully piqued Lorne's interest. He had never seen a circus in his life, and ever since transmigrating, he had remained constantly on edge without ever taking time to relax.

"Since I happened to come across it, I might as well take a look." With that, Lorne went to the ticket booth and bought a ticket for two soli.

As soon as he entered the performance tent, Lorne realized the interior was much larger than he had expected-almost as big as his old school auditorium. Before he had taken more than a couple of steps, a burst of cheering reached him.

"Woo!"

A beast tamer stood onstage with a whip, directing a lion through hoops.

"Whoa, the legendary flaming-hoop act. Minus the flames, anyway."

Finding the performance to his liking, he hurried forward and took a seat near the front.

Crack! At a flick of the beast tamer's whip, the lion performed another clumsy somersault.

Next, the clowns came onstage to perform backflips and juggle balls.

He also spotted the clown who had performed for him outside.

A few of the clowns even made deliberate mistakes for comic effect, pretending to slip during backflips and knocking several others over as they fell.

The ridiculous scene had the audience laughing again and again.

Then a figure appeared at the center of the stage.

It was a magician wearing a tailcoat, a rose-colored bow tie, and a tall, oversized top hat.

The moment he stepped onstage, he snapped his fingers. A stream of flames shot into the air from his cuff, immediately drawing cheers and applause from the audience.

Inside the circus dressing room.

Several clowns were removing their makeup while complaining to the magician. "Boss, when can we go back?"

The magician stopped adjusting his formal attire and glanced at the clown. "Probably at the end of next month."

"What? That long?" the clown complained.

"You should count yourself lucky to get an assignment with absolutely no danger. And you're actually complaining?"

"But I feel like this is even more exhausting than our usual fieldwork. Having to make a fool of myself on purpose is stressing me out like crazy."

The magician turned away, ignoring him.

"Come to think of it, why does the Society send different teams here to perform every year?" another clown asked.

"To digest our Potions, of course. You must have felt your Potion digesting too," the magician said matter-of-factly.

"Then why this particular city? If we deliberately avoid major cities to stay out of the authorities' sight, there are other small cities that would be more suitable."

That question stumped the magician. After thinking for a while, he answered, "Perhaps it's a tradition. Who knows what the higher-ups are thinking?"

"Lord King of Spades, the Amon avatars hiding among the special operations teams have been eliminated."

"And here is the information you requested."

"Thank you for your hard work. Just leave it on the desk."

After his subordinate left, the man addressed as the King of Spades picked up the documents in front of him, glanced through them, and murmured to himself.

"1349. A year of special significance."

"And the year He always used to mention."

"Interesting!"

Looking at the documents before him, the King of Spades reached out, produced a Monocle from thin air, and placed it over his right eye.