The meat of the combfish is certainly not as good as that of the Merfolk, but the unique blend of various spices, with their distinct layers, still impressed Klein. He felt that he wanted to eat more and couldn't stop.
"Actually, if there are truly Beyonder here who want to leave the dangerous circle and live the life of an ordinary person, they can open a Rorsted- style restaurant in Backlund, specializing in similar grilled fish. With the inclusiveness of a metropolis, the business will definitely not be bad. The only problem is that many spices will definitely not be as cheap as here, so the cost will be very high, and the target audience needs to be well defined..." Klein put down his rather rough chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and thought aimlessly.
In his view, the reason why ordinary people often cannot find a way to get rich is because they lack vision. However, vision is limited by their education and daily experiences, and is constrained by their social class, making it very difficult to break free. To break through this limitation, the most effective way is to strive for better and higher-level education. The second most effective way is to be willing to take risks and venture out. Of course, this is very risky, and many people have disappeared silently on this path.
This meal cost Klein 2 Soli and 5 pence, which wasn't cheap, but he always spent money on good food, and recently Danitz had taken care of most of his expenses.
He pulled up his collar, put on his hat, picked up his black cane, and walked out of Old John Restaurant, just in time to see a police officer chasing away homeless people on the street.
The natives of the Rorsted Archipelago have a darker complexion than the people of the Southern Continent, approaching the bronze hue of those who frequently the Sun. Their hair is predominantly dark black and naturally curly, quite different from the colonists of the Kingdom of Loen.
This area has been fully colonized for less than 50 years. The Original, Loen cooperated with the native princes and Chieftain under the name of the Midseashire Company to extract economic benefits. However, the management of the Midseashire Company quickly became corrupt, fighting for power and profit, and even provoking enemies and starting wars for personal gain. Most absurdly, they also reported each other, accusing their competitors of accepting Bribe. As a result, they each sought out their own members of parliament to attack each other during parliamentary sessions, almost taking the matter to court. (Note 1)
The local natives could hardly imagine that the important figures in their eyes, who could make princes Chieftain bow down, kiss the shoes, and present cart after cart of gifts, were minor figures in Backlund who weren't even members of parliament—although most of them came from noble families, their inheritance rights were very low.
Following that conflict, the King and the Prime Minister reached an agreement to redeem the shares, end the Midseashire Company, and send a fleet and soldiers to fully occupy the Rorsted Archipelago, thus establishing true colonial rule.
Currently, the archipelago is governed by a governor's office, a parliament, and a court. The upper echelons are all under the jurisdiction of the Loen people, while some of the middle-level officials, members of parliament, and Judge of the magistrate's court are descendants of the original princes and Chieftain. The lower echelons are open to the local educated indigenous people, including police officers below the rank of superintendent.
The man wielding the short stick and driving away the homeless was a local policeman, and his target also had distinct Rorsted racial characteristics.
Upon seeing Klein, dressed in a double-breasted long dress, a top silk hat, and carrying a black walking stick, looking over, the policeman immediately put away his baton, stood up straight, brought his legs together, and bowed.
Good afternoon, sir.
"Is there anything I can help you with?"
Klein felt somewhat conflicted and nodded slightly.
"Aren't there any horse-drawn carriages here?"
"The Governor's Office stipulates that carriages are not allowed on this street; you must go to the street ahead," the policeman explained, both fearful and enthusiastic.
"Thank you," Klein casually remarked, "Your Loenese is quite good."
The policeman was so surprised and excited:
"I believe, I believe, these are essential qualities for being a good police officer."
He wanted to say that he also considered himself a Loen, but he was afraid that the gentleman opposite him would be angry.
Klein let out a silent sigh and slowly walked towards the street corner.
He observed that the local clothing styles were completely different from those of continental cities like Backlund and Tingen, and even from ports like Damir and Bansy, which had been colonized for over two centuries.
The respectable people from Loen, dressed in formal attire, top hats, and bow ties, carrying walking sticks, made those around them subservient, afraid to look directly at them or make contact. The other natives or mixed-race individuals preferred thick jackets with wide-legged, loose trousers and flat caps from the mainland. They disliked black, favoring tan, coffee, and light gray. To Klein, this was indeed somewhat strange, but it also gave him a strong sense of being in a foreign country.
Of course, the higher-status natives and mixed-race individuals also imitated the clothing of the Loen people, believing that this was a sign of civilization.
At 2 PM, " Swordfish Bar," a well-known gathering place for adventurers.
There weren't many customers at the time, Klein easily made his way across the tables to the bar.
He noticed that what made this place different from other places was that there were three blackboards supported by wooden frames on the side of the bar, with yellowish-white notices pasted on them. The content was varied and bizarre: some were hiring bodyguards, some were asking for help in finding people, some were investigating the situation of a certain island, some were offering a high reward for the head of a certain pirate, and some claimed to have obtained a treasure map and wanted to form a team. In short, the business that had been divided up by private Detective and security companies in the Kingdom of Loen was still the domain of adventurers here.
"A glass of Zarha." Klein tapped the bar counter.
This is a locally produced malt beer, inexpensive and with a good flavor, loved by adventurers, Klein learned of it from " Blazing " Danitz.
"Three pence." The bartender glanced at the customer casually, his attitude unchanged despite the customer's unfamiliar face.
After getting his beer, Klein sat on a high stool at the bar, sipping it slowly and quietly listening to the conversations of the other patrons, looking for a worthy target.
Nearly an hour later, as the bar became more crowded, Klein finally overheard something that might be useful.
He perked up and became even more focused.
Four people were sitting at a table less than 3 meters away from him, lamenting the fate of a man named Wencter:
"I always thought Wencter had gone to sea, but it turns out he's been at home the whole time, very ill."
"Sigh, if I had knocked on the door two days earlier, he wouldn't have died. You have no idea how horrible the room was; mushrooms grew on his body, patch after patch, all white."
"Bullshit! Stop talking! Can't you see I'm eating sausage?"
"Okay, okay, Wencter's room is infested with bugs—moths, flies, butterflies, bees, cockroaches! It's like a storm is Storm! I can't believe this is a human dwelling. Even the police who came later were shocked!"
As the conversation reached his ears, Klein frowned slightly, feeling that Wencter's death was not normal. Not many days after his death, his body was covered with mushrooms, and all sorts of insects were flying and crawling around the room.
Related to a supernatural event? An anomaly of this magnitude would definitely be reported to the " Mandated Punishers " team by the police... It sounds like it happened three or four days ago, and everything that needed to be dealt with should have been taken care of... Klein seriously considered whether he should go and take a look. At least that man named Wencter was an adventurer in Bayam all alone, and none of his companions wanted to deliver news of his death.
After listening in for a while, he got a preliminary idea of where Wencter was renting an apartment at 47 Blackhorn Street nearby.
After finishing the last of his Zahrja beer, Klein put on his hat, left the bar, and headed straight for the apartment building.
Once inside the gate, he half-closed his eyes and muttered to himself:
"A room where someone recently died."
After repeating this seven times, Klein used his cane to quickly and easily reach the room where Wencter had previously lived.
It hasn't been rented out again yet, the anomalies inside have been dealt with, and it seems fine.
Klein put away the note he used to Door Opening, locked the door behind him, and carefully looked around the room.
After confirming the situation, he took out hydrosol, essential oil, herbal powder, and specially made candles, and quickly set up a " Spirit Channeling ritual" in front of the bed.
Although several days had passed and only the most superficial, incoherent, and fragmented information could be obtained, Klein believed that something was better than nothing.
Undoubtedly, he was still praying to himself, then entered the Gray Fog to respond and grant Spirit Channeling power.
The candle flame suddenly rose higher, and as it flickered, it took on a deep blue hue.
Klein felt everything quiet down, as if he had entered a realm that did not belong to reality.
His pupils were completely black, even the whites of his eyes were gone.
No longer needing to use the technique of " Dream Divination," having already advanced to the level of " Faceless," he directly saw Wencter's Spirituality, unwilling thoughts, aided by the Gray Fog that had just begun to enter reality.
There were three scenes. First, Wencter, tall and slender with slightly curly black hair and striking features, stood before a discarded corpse, stunned to see a shimmering, life-filled turquoise gem materializing on it. Second, Wencter lay on a bed, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, various mushrooms sprouting from his skin, surrounded by swarms of cockroaches and moths. On his chest was a silver necklace, the pendant being the same turquoise gem. Third, a pretty, flaxen-haired girl with delicate features and bright eyes sat by the sea, surrounded by Wencter's resentful voice.
" Renee, I'm going to die. I regret it so much, I regret never telling you that I love you, that I want you to marry me..."
The image shattered, the Spirit Channeling session ended, and Klein looked around, finding that the house still retained a sense of gloom and darkness.
This guy's really unlucky... Klein shook his head and sighed.
He had a preliminary understanding of the cause of Wencter's death: picking up things haphazardly.
Most Beyonder are unaware of the law of conservation and immortality of Beyonder Characteristic, and never consider that their dead kin can also extract characteristics and become materials. This process is relatively slow and easily missed. Therefore, after killing Beyonder, they usually just loot the body and discard it, leaving it to passersby like Wencter or creatures in the ocean.
Wencter was unaware that it possessed Beyonder Characteristic, mistaking it for a magical gemstone. He had it made into a necklace and kept it close to his body, only to be slowly affected by its contamination and die in agony.
Note 1: This is about the British East India Company's messy affairs in India. As expected of a bureaucratic empire, it has everything it needs in this regard. I laughed so hard when I was looking at the information before.
PS: Requesting monthly tickets and recommendation votes~