Who? How would they know I bought the " Sheriff " formula? Hugh's dark green pupils contracted as he looked around in astonishment, but found no suspicious stares.
According to Mr. A, transactions with him should be very safe and confidential... In the end, Hugh couldn't help but look at the single sofa. Mr. A, whose features were hidden by the shadow of his hood, was still quietly observing everyone without showing any unusual behavior.
She nudged Fors with her elbow and asked in a low voice:
Should I go?
Fors took the note, glanced at it, and answered without hesitation, "Go. At least Mr. A is watching over you now, so no one dares to do anything to you. You can take this opportunity to find out what their purpose is, and maybe you can really get the Potion ingredients you want?"
"That makes sense..." Hugh was a very proactive person, so he immediately nodded to the servant and followed him outside the study, where he put on a hooded robe.
This hat covers my entire face; I can barely see the road ahead... Hugh pulled up his hood, Door Opening, and glimpsed a man in a black tailcoat sitting behind the desk.
The man wore a golden mask that revealed his eyes, nostrils, mouth, and cheeks, making it impossible to imagine what he actually looked like.
The man's light brown eyes, hidden behind the golden mask, flickered, and he pointed to the chair opposite the desk, saying:
"Sit."
His voice was deliberately deep and hoarse, but nothing particularly special.
Hugh slammed the study door shut, straightened his back, and sat down in his designated spot with an air of authority, asking:
Do you have the main ingredients for the ' Sheriff ' Potion?
The masked man chuckled softly and said:
"Yes, I have both the eyes of the Demonic Worm of Fear and the right paw of the Silver-White War Bear."
"In fact, I was the one who had someone sell the ' Sheriff ' Potion recipe."
No wonder... Although Hugh is often ridiculed by her friends for being brainless, she is not a completely reckless person, having managed to survive in the Beyonder community, in the gangsters and poor people of the East Borough. She has a beast-like intuition for danger.
She asked in a deep voice:
Why did you do that?
"Select suitable helpers," the masked man chuckled. "Given your financial situation, it's unlikely you'll be able to raise the necessary funds for these two extraordinary materials in the short term. Of course, you could resell the formula at other gatherings of Beyonder, but believe me, that would bring you unnecessary danger. Our circles may not overlap, but I'm not alone."
Hugh frowned and said, "Since you have a huge organization, and even the formula for the ' Sheriff ' and ' Arbiter ' Potion, why do you need my help?"
"There are some things we don't want to do ourselves. There are many reasons for this, but I don't need to tell you. And every ' Arbiter ' who steps onto the path of the Beyonder on their own has some noble connections behind them, which is also what we need." The masked man explained briefly.
It seemed he didn't know my background, or even my reputation in the East Borough... Hugh relaxed a little.
The masked man continued:
"Consider this a commission outside of the Beyonder Gathering. I will give you some tasks and pay you accordingly. If you feel it's dangerous, you can refuse. This is a fair and free transaction. Once you've saved enough money, you can come to me to buy materials."
This... Hugh, who was currently troubled by his financial situation, was suddenly captivated and, after a nine-second pause, said:
"I can consider it as long as I have the right to refuse a task."
"No problem," the masked man chuckled. "We can arrange the location and method of our future meeting right now. To put your mind at ease, I'll leave the decision-making to you."
"Okay." Although Hugh was still completely confused and didn't understand why the other party wanted him to do something, he still agreed.
At least she doesn't see any obvious harm at the moment.
Throughout Sunday, Klein was busy buying chairs, tea sets, and mending clothes, spending a total of Soli 6.90 to restore the living room, dining room, and himself to their original state.
"What a loss! I hope the police department can eventually compensate me for my losses from Meursault's estate, but alas, the chances are slim, maybe a portion at most." Klein neatly arranged the invoices and receipts, waiting for the opportunity to use them later.
Of course, purely from an income perspective, he actually earned quite a bit; Meursault's Beyonder Characteristic were worth at least £300, or even more.
All of this is predicated on Klein having access to the circle of Beyonder.
After dinner, Klein put on a plain sweater and a gray-blue work jacket, donned a baseball cap, and went out again, changing trains twice, to reach Iron Gate Street in the Backlund Bridge Area.
He hadn't walked far when he saw the " Bravehearts Bar," a heavy-looking black wooden door, and a burly man nearly two meters tall with his arms crossed.
The burly man sized up Klein but didn't stop him from entering. However, when he heard cheers and toasts from inside, his Adam's apple bobbed.
This was the bar's peak business hours. Even before Klein entered, he felt the heat wave, smelled the strong aroma of malt liquor, and heard the noisy commotion.
Unsurprisingly, he saw two stages in the center of the bar: one where a dog-and-mouse game was taking place, and the other where two boxers patiently waited, preparing for the upcoming fight.
The aroma of alcohol mingled with the smell of sweat. Klein adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, pinched his nose, and, while protecting his belongings, struggled to reach the bar.
Before the bartender could speak, he interrupted:
"A glass of Southville beer."
This is the best beer produced in the Kingdom of Loen.
"Five pence," the bartender replied familiarly.
Klein pulled out a handful of coins, counted out 5 pence, and gave it to the other person in exchange for a large wooden mug filled with golden beer, the aroma of which was rich and enticing.
"Compared to it, many beers can't even be called alcohol; they're just beverages," the bartender chuckled.
Klein took a sip and found it refreshing and crisp, initially bitter with a hint of aroma, followed by a burst of malty flavor, and then a slightly sweet aftertaste.
He put down the cup, glanced at the fine, white foam, and took the opportunity to ask:
Where is Kaspars Kanlinen?
The bartender stopped wiping the glass, looked up and scrutinized him for a few seconds, then pointed to the side:
"In billiard room number three."
In the spirit of not wasting anything, Klein picked up his cup and walked out to the third pool room.
He knocked lightly, and the door creaked open.
The two men inside, who were holding pool cues, stopped and looked towards the door.
"I'm looking for Kaspars Kanlinen." In the ensuing silence, Klein quickly added, "' The Old Man ' recommended him."
Upon hearing this, the middle -Old Man with a large nose and wearing a linen shirt said in a deep voice:
"Come in."
He had a large, everted scar on his face that stretched from the corner of his right eye to the right side of his mouth, and his nose was a typical rosacea, almost completely stained red.
Klein, carrying a cup, slowly entered the room, only to see Kanlinen's pool opponent expertly put down his cue, leave the room, and close the door behind him.
Kaspars Kanlinen limped over and asked:
What do you want?
"A high-powered, specially made revolver and fifty bullets." Klein took another sip of Southville beer.
"3 pounds 10 Soli," Kaspars quoted. "That's certainly more expensive than a regular weapons shop, and it includes the risks I'm taking."
"Deal." Klein took out five one-pound notes that he had prepared beforehand from his pocket, counted out four of them, and handed them to the other party.
Kaspars casually checked its authenticity, nodded, and said:
"You're more straightforward than your appearance suggests. Wait five minutes for me."
He placed the banknotes on the pool table, leaned against the cue stick, and limped towards the door.
After watching Kaspars leave, Klein turned back and glanced idly at the currently popular billiards, noticing that it was very similar to the mature snooker on Earth.
It must be you, Emperor Roselle... He almost shook his head and laughed.
After waiting for a while, Kaspars pushed open the door and entered, carrying an item wrapped in brown paper and two 5- Soli banknotes.
Klein took the money and the item, opened them on the spot, and his eyes were met with a silver-white revolver with a long barrel; its handle appeared to be made of walnut wood.
In addition, there were fifty bright yellow bullets neatly arranged in a box.
Klein tested the empty gun, loaded five rounds, stuffed the revolver into the armpit holster he had bought beforehand, then gathered up the remaining bullets, looked up at Kaspars, and said carefully:
"If I want to hire a good bodyguard, who should I contact?"
"Extremely impressive, beyond human limits."
Kaspars rubbed his reddened nose, his gaze suddenly turning icy.
He scrutinized Klein for two minutes, creating a chilling sense of oppression through his silence:
"I can ask around for you, but I can't guarantee anyone will take on this task."
It seems he knows more than one Beyonder... Klein said with a smirk.
"Whatever the outcome, please allow me to express my gratitude in advance."
Kaspars collected the banknotes from the pool table and left again. A full ten minutes later, he returned to the room, while Klein had already finished his large glass of Southville beer out of boredom.
"He wants to see you before making a decision," Kaspars said in a deep voice.
"No problem. If it were me, I would also assess the difficulty of the task first." Klein smiled and nodded.
He followed the struggling Kaspars through the crowded side of the boxing ring and into the bar near the kitchen.
Kaspars suddenly stopped, knocked lightly on a door, and after receiving permission, led Klein through the door.
This is a card room where about a dozen people are playing Texas Hold'em.
Upon seeing Kaspars and Klein enter, a man in a white shirt and black vest slowly stood up, while the others playing cards stopped what they were doing and remained silent.
Klein glanced at it and frowned almost imperceptibly.
He noticed that, apart from the man who stood up, the other card players all had an inexplicable eeriness about them; their faces were pale and their eyes were like those of wild beasts.
Klein tapped his left teeth twice, and quietly activated his Spirit Vision.
His muscles tensed abruptly, and he almost lost control of his expression, because the aura of those card players was all deep black!
This means that, apart from the man who got up, the rest of the dozen or so people playing cards were all dead!
No, it's not just a dead person; dead people don't have an aura or color!
These are all Living Corpse!
A stench of decay washed over him as the man in the white shirt and black vest walked up to Klein.
His face was equally pale, and his eyes seemed to hold a deep malice.