The next day, at noon on Thursday.
Lorry arrived by carriage at the edge of the East Borough, then slowly made his way inside on foot.
There was no need to ask why he had come at noon. He was looking for suitable targets to digest his potion, and his first choice was naturally those gang members who committed all manner of crimes.
For them:
Drinking heavily, fooling around with women, partying late into the night, and sleeping until noon the next day were the norm.
Two hours later, Lorry turned into a cheap café by the street, ordered a coffee at a window seat, and sank into thought as he watched the people passing outside.
"Strange-
"Something isn't right-"
He sipped his coffee absentmindedly, deep bewilderment flickering in his eyes.
Judging by the original owner's memories of getting by in the East Borough, he had chosen exactly the right time, perfectly matching the hours when gang members got up and went about their business.
The facts had also proven that judgment correct.
In just two hours, he had already "happened upon" no fewer than ten targets.
Yet his total haul was less than five soli-most of his targets had carried only a few coins, and some had pockets cleaner than their faces.
This clearly made no sense.
Generally speaking, gang members were fairly well-off, at least much better off than ordinary people. Otherwise, they would not have taken the risks involved in this line of work.
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Lorry spotted two tough-looking men pushing open the café door side by side. They sat by the window, one table away from him.
His intuition told him these two were also gang members.
An idea struck him, and he quickly pricked up his ears,