Demoness

Cherwood Borough, Backlund.

After changing into a black trench coat and putting on a flat cap as a disguise, Lorne arrived outside a bar called the Grizzly Bear.

This was where the original owner of his body had bought potion ingredients. Today, he intended to try his luck and see whether he could find any leads on the Assassin potion.

Facing the heavy-looking door and the fierce-looking burly man standing beside it, Lorne pushed the door open and walked in without much hesitation.

The burly man outside looked Lorne over but made no move to stop him.

As the door opened, a pungent blend of tobacco and alcohol hit him, making Lorne frown slightly. He looked toward the center of the bar, its noisiest spot. There was a boxing ring there, where two fighters were locked in a fierce bout while a crowd screamed and shouted around them.

Lorne had no intention of watching. He adjusted his cap, clenched his fists, and carefully studied everyone around him, afraid some pickpocket might steal what little money he had.

Following the flow of the crowd, Lorne squeezed his way to the counter. He glanced at the menu in front of it and said to the bartender,

"A Southville beer."

"Seven pence," the bartender said, giving him a practiced glance.

Lorne looked down, counted out a few coins, and handed them over.

The bartender turned and passed him a glass filled with golden liquid.

"Grain prices have been high lately, so beer's gotten a little more expensive too," the bartender remarked.

You don't have to go out of your way to remind me.

Thinking of all the grain the bank had seized from his predecessor's father made Lorne's heart ache.

Lorne picked up the glass and took a sip. It tasted bitter at first, then sweet, with an exceptionally refreshing finish. It was nothing like the beer in green glass bottles he had drunk before transmigrating.

"Is Bottle here? I need to see him."

The bartender looked up and sized him up before saying, "He's in the room at the far end of the second floor."

"Thanks." Lorne had intended to leave straightaway, but just as he rose, he remembered something. He picked up his glass and drained it. After all, that beer had cost him two days' worth of breakfast.

Lorne reached the room upstairs and gave the door a gentle push. It swung slightly open.

An exceptionally burly man holding a glass of liquor gave him a hostile look.

"I'm here to see Bottle," Lorne said, then added,

"I was here just a few days ago."

"Come in." A gray-haired old man with a fleshy, brutish face stepped out of the shadows.

He wore a burgundy checked, high-collared cotton vest and dark gray wool twill trousers.

He stood at least a hundred and seventy-five centimeters tall, which was quite tall for this era. His sharp eyes gave him an imposing presence.

As for his appearance, that fleshy face and large frame...

One word came to Lorne's mind-Feysac.

By this world's standards, he had the typical appearance of a Feysac man.

The man holding the glass said nothing. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Bottle looked Lorne over and recognized him. "Oh, it's you, lad. What do you want this time?"

"I came to ask about something. Do you know anything about Assassins?" Lorne asked.

"Assassins? Who are you trying to assassinate?" Bottle asked, startled.

"Not hired killers. I mean... something like the formula I bought last time."

Bottle lowered his head and thought for a moment before answering, "No, I don't have any information like that. But I can ask around for you."

"All right, then." Lorne felt a little disappointed. With no information to be had, he saw no reason to linger and turned to leave.

But Bottle stopped him. "Since you paid so readily last time, I can take you somewhere. You might find what you're after there."

Somewhere I can find potion formulas?

A Beyonder gathering?

Lorne's interest was piqued. He nodded. "All right. Sorry for the trouble."

Bottle nodded slightly and made a gesture at Lorne.

"Ahem-hrrm-cough, cough!"

Lorne did not understand and made no move.

"Two pounds!"

Seeing that Lorne had not responded, Bottle said, "I want a two-pound introduction fee."

Realization dawned on Lorne, and he handed Bottle two one-pound notes.

It pained him a little. In terms of purchasing power, two pounds was close to two thousand yuan.

"You're a strange lad."

Bottle took the notes as he spoke.

"Will you be free in three days?" When Lorne nodded, Bottle glanced up at the clock on the wall and continued, "All right. Come see me at this time in three days, and I'll take you there."

"I'll ask around in some other circles over the next couple of days too. I'll tell you what I find when you come."

Lorne thanked Bottle and quickly left the Grizzly Bear without lingering.

It was nearly midnight by the time Lorne returned to 69 Rose Street. He had headed back a little too late and missed the last public carriage. Any carriage still running at this hour charged exorbitant fares.

To save money, Lorne had no choice but to walk home. Of course, he was not used to the jolting carriages of this era anyway.

He crept back into his room, washed up briefly, then took off his coat and went straight to bed. After running around all day, he was exhausted.

A few days later.

In an alley near his home, Lorne hurried back with a large load of groceries.

He shifted the canvas bag into his left hand. Two small fresh fish dangled from his right, swinging with his steps.

The bag contained bread, vegetables, and just under half a ham.

He had no income for the time being, and eating out every day was too extravagant, so he had bought some ingredients to cook for himself.

His predecessor had been a pampered young master who had barely set foot in a kitchen. But as a single university student, Lorne knew how to cook a few basic dishes.

"Eight pence for two fish, four pence for the vegetables, the bread..." Lorne looked down as he worked out the cost. These ingredients would feed him for several days.

His only regret was that he had not found any rice at the market. He could only eat bread with his dishes, which felt somewhat unfamiliar.

"Maybe I could try making some steamed buns."

"Huh?"

Lorne noticed an orange shape following him.

A cat?

Lorne turned and saw an orange cat staring fixedly at the fish in his hand.

"You're hungry too, huh?" Lorne slowed down. The cat immediately backed away two steps, the tip of its tail twitching nervously against the ground, but its meows grew longer and more insistent.

"A stray? All right, you can have one." Lorne tossed it a fish.

The orange cat retreated half a step, its nose quivering just above the fish. Then it suddenly pinned the tail with a front paw and let out a rumbling purr, not even bothering to shake off the bone fragments clinging to its whiskers.

Something about the sight moved Lorne. He crouched down, reached out, and gently stroked the orange cat's back.

He felt the cat shiver, but it did not react violently. It simply let him pet it.

Lorne began to consider adopting it. After all, he was alone now. Having some company would be nice.

He just did not know whether Mrs. Griffin would allow him to keep a pet.

Perhaps he could move into a slightly larger place.

"Ah, no money." Lorne sighed softly.

It was not as though he had not thought about using his advantages as a transmigrator to find a way to make money over the past couple of days, but...

Lorne promptly began cursing Emperor Roselle in his mind.

That fellow was definitely a transmigrator, though Lorne could not be sure whether he had transmigrated into a book like him.

But he was definitely no good. He had blocked every possible route for other transmigrators.

He had become a politician, a scientist, an inventor, and even an emperor.

He had even plagiarized literature.

He had given all sorts of famous books, anime, and famous quotations a coat of otherworldly paint and published them as his own.

Steam engines that boiled water, guns, all sorts of machinery, fashion designs-he had even copied underwear.

He had shown none of the consideration a senior transmigrator ought to have. If he was going to eat all the meat, he could at least leave some broth for those who came after him. He had even called himself Emperor Caesar, copying that title too. Why hadn't he just called himself the Heavenly Khan?

Because of him, many of Lorne's original ideas were no longer feasible. The usual plagiarism-ahem, borrowing-that transmigrators relied on to get started was completely out of the question.

Before transmigrating, Lorne had been a university student majoring in electromechanical engineering. But this world had no computers, not even electric lights. At university, he had done all his 3D modeling on a computer. He had almost forgotten how to draw mechanical plans by hand. Back in his own era, purely mechanical products had long since lost their market. There was only much demand for things with some electrical component.

But this era had mechanics, not electromechanics! Purely mechanical devices were better than electrical ones.

"Maybe I could write a book too." Lorne began to consider plagiarizing literature. Although Roselle had already copied plenty of books, there had to be some he had missed.

I remember my predecessor was something of a pen pal with a novelist. Lorne lowered his head and began recalling the details.

Apparently, she was a female author, and he had written to her before she became famous. His predecessor had always liked using her books to show off his distinctive taste.

Though he had not particularly liked the author herself. He had merely used it as a talking point in social situations. Still, they had exchanged many letters, and at least on paper, they were on good terms.

That novel she wrote was called Wuthering Heights, I think. It sold pretty well. Maybe I could write to her and ask whether she has any advice.

"Rrrowl!"

"What?"

The orange cat, which had been gnawing on the fish, suddenly bristled and let out a low growl. For some reason, Lorne felt his heart tighten, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"I hear you want to become an Assassin."

An ethereal yet seductive female voice rang out.