Roselle's Diary

The gathering continued.

Someone else spoke up. "I have some of Roselle's Notes for sale. Anyone interested?"

Roselle's Notes? The ones belonging to that transmigrator, who was supposedly from China?

Lorne suddenly perked up and sat straight, waiting for the man to continue.

"I have three pages here, for just five pounds. I can guarantee they're authentic."

Five pounds... Lorne weighed the price in his mind.

"Ha! You're selling something nobody can even read? Why are the people at today's gathering so lacking in standards?"

"These were left behind by Emperor Roselle. They're genuine treasures," the man retorted.

"Nobody can read them. However precious they are, they're useless," a hoarse female voice said.

"I can buy them," Lorne said amid the mockery. "But I want to see one page first."

The elderly gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom spoke up beside him. "It's said that Emperor Roselle wrote his notes in a secret script, or perhaps symbols, of his own invention. But even today, after hundreds of years, no one has found the correct way to decipher them."

Is he telling me not to waste my money? Lorne caught his meaning.

"I'd like to give it a try." Lorne declined the elderly gentleman's kind advice, then turned to the seller. "Do you agree?"

"Certainly." Seeing that he had found a sucker, the man promptly agreed to the deal.

Before long, an attendant brought over a page of Emperor Roselle's notes.

Lorne took the sheet and saw a mass of crooked, scrawled characters. On closer inspection, however, he could still recognize them as Chinese-Simplified Chinese, at that.

He just couldn't tell whether the crooked handwriting was the copyist's fault or Roselle's own handwriting was that ugly.

Faced with this chicken scratch, Lorne steeled himself and read on.

"January 1, 1184. A magnificent New Year's party. Mrs. Flonal really is a stunning woman."

Lorne frowned at the very first sentence. This transmigrator really was unreliable.

"January 2. The gentlemen on my Foreign Affairs Committee are all idiotic donkeys!"

"January 3. I was too hasty with my initial choice. Looking back now, whether Apprentice, Seer, or Marauder, any of them would have been better. Unfortunately, there's no going back."

Is this a diary? Lorne looked at the long string of dates.

"Well? Have you finished checking?" The seller grew impatient when Lorne remained silent.

"All right. I agree to the deal."

"By the way, can you really not read these?"

Lorne asked the question out of the blue.

"I certainly can't. Why, can you?"

"Of course not. I'm just curious," Lorne hastily denied.

"Does nobody really understand them?" Lorne muttered again.

Lorne looked around and saw nothing but blank gazes.

Ah! You don't understand? Neither does he? Nobody can read them? Ah... then I could...

An idea suddenly flashed through Lorne's mind.

Since Emperor Roselle's notes were so valuable, couldn't he forge some himself?

Nobody could read them anyway. If he got this business going, it would cost him nothing.

At the thought, Lorne couldn't help growing excited, and his resentment toward Roselle eased a little. It seemed this senior transmigrator had at least left his successors a way to scrape by.

Just as Lorne finished his transaction, another woman spoke. "I have a weapon for sale. It's a short blade, extremely sharp, capable of slicing through sheet iron with ease. Simply carrying it on your person can temporarily enhance your physical abilities and reduce your sensitivity to pain. It also lets you instantly become proficient with all kinds of cold weapons and light firearms."

"What are its negative effects, and what do you want in exchange?" someone asked, tempted.

"Carrying it for a prolonged period will gradually make the user cold-blooded. Over time, they'll lose normal human emotions."

"But as long as you don't carry it for more than a day, those problems will resolve themselves without any serious consequences."

"My price is five hundred pounds, or the potion formula for Sequence 8 Barbarian."

So expensive! Lorne inwardly sighed.

Although Lorne was also somewhat interested in the weapon, he could only smile helplessly when he considered how few gold pounds he had left.

Still, the woman's words gave Lorne a rough idea of the price of a Sequence 8 potion formula. Even allowing for a possible markup, it would cost at least four hundred pounds.

At that price, he was still a long way from advancing.

While Lorne was calculating the cost, a gentleman bought the short blade.

Others then proposed transactions. Some succeeded, while others failed.

After a while longer, the sitting room fell quiet, and no one else spoke.

The elderly gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom stood and announced, "That concludes this gathering."

He then began arranging everyone's departure. Lorne noticed that there were several exits, and everyone left at different times, staggered as much as possible.

"To stop anyone from trying something?" Lorne guessed.

Once everyone else had left, the elderly gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom looked at Lorne. "You wanted information about Assassins. I can tell you now."

"Yes." Lorne nodded.

"Assassin is the name of a Sequence 9 potion. They all possess exceptional physical abilities. As the name suggests, Beyonders of this Pathway possess highly advanced assassination skills and exceptional tracking abilities."

"Their eyesight is excellent, allowing them to see their targets clearly in darkness. They can also unleash all their strength in a single strike."

He looked Lorne over before continuing. "As far as I know, most Assassins are psychologically abnormal. If you've offended an Assassin, don't try to confront them head-on. Run as soon as you can."

"Although Assassins can track and perform divination, given the speed of modern steam trains, they may not be able to find you if you flee far enough."

Uh, he saw right through me.

The corner of Lorne's mouth twitched. He hadn't expected this gentleman to be so perceptive.

Without saying anything else, he took money from his pocket and handed it over.

The elderly gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom accepted the money and said to Lorne, "You must be fairly new to mysticism, yes? Would you consider buying some knowledge from me?"

"Knowledge?" Lorne was puzzled.

"That's right. Knowledge."

The elderly gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom nodded and said:

"A newcomer like you is bound to go astray without sufficient knowledge. There's plenty of both true and false information in mysticism, and newcomers often can't tell the difference."

"If you want, I can sell you some basic knowledge about the world of Beyonders. Just ten pounds.

"Believe me, it'll be more than worth the money."

Why do I feel like he's treating me as an illiterate? Lorne was rather speechless under the elderly gentleman's gaze.

Although he disliked that look, he couldn't deny that, in the field of mysticism, he really was half-illiterate.

The elderly gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom seemed like a decent person. Getting reliable knowledge of mysticism from him was indeed a good opportunity.

It was just the price. In terms of purchasing power, ten pounds was worth eight or nine thousand.

"Fine. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Gritting his teeth, Lorne took out another ten pounds.

"A wise choice."

The elderly gentleman from the Eye of Wisdom accepted the banknotes and led Lorne into the study. He took a stack of documents from a desk drawer and handed them to him.

"This is certainly more detailed and reliable than anything you'd find on your own."

"Thank you." Lorne took the documents, then left under an attendant's guidance.

He first returned to the Grizzly Bear Bar to retrieve his luggage from Bottle, then hurried straight toward Backlund's railway station.

After hearing the description of Assassins, Lorne knew he stood no chance in a head-on fight. The Silver-Haired Woman who had given her the potion was most likely also a Beyonder of the Assassin Pathway, and her Sequence was certainly not low.

"This is far beyond what I can handle. I need to get out of here, fast." Lorne decided to follow the elderly gentleman's advice and hide somewhere outside the city.

To reach the railway station sooner, Lorne even splurged on a hired carriage.

About half an hour later, Lorne arrived at Backlund's railway station. Rather than admire the Victorian-style building, he went straight to the ticket counter and told the clerk, "I want to leave the city. Is there a train departing immediately?"

"Yaaawn... Sir, have you even looked at the time? It's almost midnight. How could there possibly be a steam train now?" replied the ticket clerk, who had been sleeping on bedding laid out on the floor, sounding rather exasperated.

"What!" Lorne realized he had made a basic mistake. In an era without even electric lights, passenger steam trains almost never ran at night.

"Then I want the earliest train tomorrow."

"Wait a moment. Let me check." The clerk picked up a timetable and looked through it.

"Will anywhere do?"

"Yes, anywhere, as long as it's out of town," Lorne said urgently.

The clerk looked up at Lorne. "Well, there's only one destination, then."

"That'll do. Give me a ticket." Lorne urged him on before he could finish.

"All right. Only second-class seats are left. Ten soli."

Lorne took out a ten-soli banknote and handed it to the clerk.

The clerk then gave Lorne a second-class ticket. Taking it, Lorne headed straight for the platform without stopping.

Watching Lorne hurry away, the clerk muttered:

"What a strange man."

Sitting on the platform steps, Lorne played absentmindedly with the kitten. Now that he was at the station, he had no intention of returning to Rose Street or finding a small inn. With only a few hours to wait, there was no need.

And so Lorne simply sat waiting at the railway station.

"I'll call it saving money."

"But this really is unbearable!"

After enduring several hours of night, Lorne saw the sun slowly rise and heard a train whistle in the distance.

With a rumble, the steam train pulled into the station.

"Finally." Lorne put the kitten back into his bag, then picked up his luggage and headed toward the train.

Before boarding, Lorne glanced at his ticket. Only then did he learn that the train's final destination was-Tingen.