Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
As Silver Coin Viper Oder wasn’t a pirate, there were all kinds of rumors about him, most of which could hardly be verified. Klein retracted his gaze from the staircase and walked to the bar counter. He found a seat at the counter and tapped it.
“A cup of Zarhar.”
This was a locally produced malt beer. It was a lot cheaper than Southville beer that needed to be shipped over from the Northern Continent.
“3 pence.” The bartender recovered from his silent state as he picked up an overturned cup.
The crowd in the bar began to break out into whispers as they were illuminated by the gas wall lamps. All of them were discussing the reason for Silver Coin Viper Oder’s purchase of ten tickets.
“He’s definitely being pursued by someone. Ten tickets among three ships… It’s clearly to prevent his pursuers from knowing which ship they boarded!” A gang member with his sleeves rolled-up, revealing his tattoo, shared his view based on his experience from evading capture twice.
An adventurer drinking Lanti Proof scoffed.
“You don’t understand Oder. If his plan was that simple, he wouldn’t have the title ‘Silver Coin Viper.’
“I dare bet that he won’t be on any of those liners from those ten tickets!
“The only thing I can confirm is that they’re heading to Pritz Harbor.”
Another adventurer shook his head when he heard that.
“Perhaps the news of him heading to Pritz Harbor is fake as well.”
The gang member from before was taken aback by what he heard. Refusing to be one-upped, he said, “According to your descriptions, Oder has likely thought of what you figured out. That’s precisely why he’s heading to Pritz Harbor and will be on one of the three ships!”
The two adventurers were about to retort him, but they decided that there was quite a nonzero chance of that happening after some careful thought. Momentarily, none of them said a word.
This made the gang member extremely happy as he downed the rest of his liquor.
Klein was holding a cup of Zarhar as he sipped it while listening to the conversation. He was waiting for the fake identification and tickets he needed.
There’s another 45 minutes. I hope nothing happens. Don’t make the bar into a mess… He silently prayed as he drew the crimson moon inwardly.
The light-yellow beer slowly dropped in volume while Klein would look at the wall clock from time to time, or at the entrance, hoping that time would pass faster.
Half an hour later, the door to the bar was suddenly opened with a loud thud as the evening wind gushed in.
No way… The corners of Klein’s lips twitched as he held back his urge to smile wryly. He turned his body to look at the sound.
Standing by the door were five people. Their leader had black hair and brown eyes, with recessed facial features and cut facial contours. He looked Loenese and looked to be in his early forties.
His expression was cold and he exuded a natural air of dominance. It made everyone in the bar quieten down without realizing it.
And the three men and the woman behind him were in trench coats. They didn’t hide the fact that they were holding revolvers, and that they would instantly aim and shoot if there was any slight sign of abnormalities.
I don’t know them. They aren’t on any wanted list or have any bounties on them… Klein mumbled to himself as he maintained his state as a spectator.
The five intruders suddenly scattered as they came before different customers, bent their backs slightly, and looked at them before asking, “Where is Silver Coin Viper Oder?”
The customers were hesitant to give an answer when they saw the black muzzle pointed at them, along with the handle made of ivory and ebony which exuded a strange sense of beauty under the lights.
“T-they went to the second floor!” The customers who had been asked nearly pointed to the staircase in unison.
Someone is really pursuing Oder. This is an act against Queen Mystic, or has Silver Coin Viper done something himself? Or could it be because of the mysterious hooded man beside him who was eating sweets? Klein drank another mouthful of beer as he saw the intruders send four people up to the second floor. One was left behind to continue questioning the customers.
Soon, the latter grasped the situation of Oder’s request to purchase tickets from Deniel. Immediately, the person walked straight to the thin and dark-skinned black marketer, and he asked in a heavy voice, “Tell me honestly. Where is Oder heading with those tickets?”
Deniel didn’t put on a front just because of his social connections. He forced a smile and said, “He didn’t make it clear. He requested for ten tickets that are to be distributed across three different ships. The departure date is set for tomorrow with the destination being Pritz Harbor.”
“For real?” The questioner was a seemingly radical man in his twenties.
Deniel softly replied, “You can ask anyone here. All of them heard it.”
“Dogsh*t!” The man shoved Deniel angrily as he turned to walk towards the other customers.
Deniel staggered backward and was about to fall and hit his head onto the side of a tiny circular table when he suddenly felt an additional force on his shoulder. Instantly, he regained his balance.
He subconsciously looked over and saw that it was the customer who had just requested to purchase a fake identity and scalped tickets.
“Thank you, those bunch of military hyenas!” Deniel first thanked him before softly saying through clenched teeth.
The person who had helped him was Klein. He didn’t wish for anything to happen to this “ticket scalper;” after all, he had paid a deposit of 5 pounds.
Of course, helping the innocent was also a habit of his.
Military hyenas? In Bayam, this description often refers to people from MI9… What did Silver Coin Viper Oder do? Klein silently asked himself as he eliminated the possibility that someone was targeting Queen Mystic.
To the Loen military, it was meaningless.
As he was thinking, the MI9 members who had headed up to the second floor rushed down. As they ran, they said to their partner, “He has long fled through the window!”
The group of people came and left in a rush. Soon, the bar resumed its usual din, but the still gently wobbling main door proved that it wasn’t as calm earlier.
Klein’s wait for his fake identification documents and scalped ticket paid off. He didn’t need to worry about any possible interruptions.
After paying the remaining 15 pounds, he left the Seaweed Bar, and he returned to the ordinary inn he stayed at.
John Yode… This name is way too simple, isn’t it? Before I return to Backlund, I need to make a more realistic identification document. Klein flipped through the series of identification documents before throwing them inside his suitcase.
He took a bath and relaxed, prepared to leave Bayam tomorrow, and begin the last stage of his sea “travels.”
At this moment, he heard knocking at the door.
Who is it? Klein hurriedly took off his bathrobe, wore his clothes and pants, and walked to the door.
Outside were a few policemen in black. One of them looked Loenese, while the rest were either mixed-bloods or pure natives.
“What’s the matter?” Klein asked, puzzled.
“Please show us some identification,” a mixed-blood said politely since the gentleman in front of him was apparently a Loenese.
Thankfully, I just made one. Otherwise, I’ll be spending the night at the police station, or I’d have to flee on the spot, change my looks, and redo everything… Klein mumbled as he returned to his room, and took out the identification documents.
The Loen police officer casually flipped through it as he said, “Mr. Yode, are you living alone?”
“Yes, everyone in the inn can vouch for me,” Klein replied frankly.
The Loenese police officer revealed a smile and said, “Have you seen this person before?”
As he spoke, a constable beside him unfolded a portrait. On it was an elder who was abnormally thin with white messy hair. Apart from that, nothing stood out.
“No.” Klein shook his head.
“He likes to eat sweets,” the Loenese police officer added.
“Sweets…” Klein suddenly recalled the mysterious hooded man behind Silver Coin Viper Oder. He had been eating plenty of coffee-colored sweets in a short period of time.
After a short deliberation, Klein said without hiding anything, “Perhaps. Back when I was in the Seaweed Bar, I saw a man who loved eating sweets and was following Silver Coin Viper Oder.”
The Loenese officer didn’t hide his disappointment. After a simple word of thanks, he ended the questioning.
Only after he knocked on the other guest rooms did Klein close the wooden door, and return to the reclining chair.
Oder’s matter has not only attracted MI9, but it has also gotten the governor-general’s office to send manpower to do a city-wide search. This is quite something… he muttered and decided to head above the gray fog to browse through the prayer points of light around the Sea God Scepter. He could gain more information from the prayers of the believers in Bayam. He didn’t wish to end up embroiled in a massive maelstrom for giving the wrong response.
After entering the bathroom, he went above the gray fog where he summoned the white bone scepter from the junk pile. Swirling around it were countless points of light.
As he browsed through each point of light, he determined that the questioning wasn’t on a small scale. The target was Oder and the mysterious man, but he couldn’t figure anything else out.
After some thought, he cast his gaze on a point of light that had been specially marked out by godhood.
It belonged to a mixed-blood policeman named Boulaya. He claimed to have swallowed humiliation by changing his faith to the Lord of Storms for the Sea God so as to climb up the police ranks.
He was already a superintendent!
Then, Klein cast the Sea God’s will into the corresponding point of light.
Boulaya, who was in the police station, assigning work to his subordinates suddenly broke out into a cold sweat. He hurriedly found an excuse to enter the washroom as he silently prayed.
“Blessed of the sea and spirit world, the great Kalvetua, your pious believer has something to report to you.
“The person we are specially searching for tonight is a very thin elder. His hair is completely white, but he has luxuriant hair. It’s just very messy. He’s very afraid of the cold, and he wears thick clothing even in Bayam. He loves to eat sweets, as though he’s a steam engine himself and sweets are high-quality coal. The higher-ups have informed us to find him, but not harm him.”
Klein ignored Boulaya and reined his thoughts back as he tapped the side of the long table.
Compared to the portrait, such a description gives me a sense of familiarity.
It’s like I’ve heard of it somewhere in the past…
To a Seer, a sense of familiarity meant a clue. Hence, Klein wrote a divination statement and began questioning his spirituality.
As he chanted the statement, he leaned back into the chair. He fell asleep with the aid of Cogitation.
In the gray and dark world, Klein found himself back in Backlund, back in 15 Minsk Street which he previously rented.
In front of him was the red-eyed Ian. This teenage boy looked up and said, “Turani von Helmosuin, the greatest scientist after Emperor Roselle, a mathematician, a mechanist, and the father of the second generation difference engine.”
Suddenly, Klein woke up and knew who MI9 was looking for!
They were finding the great scientist who caused many deaths between the Loen military and the Intis spy organization solely because of a third-generation difference engine!
They were finding the science freak who had mysteriously disappeared for years!
It’s no wonder Admiral of Blood’s intelligence officer, Old Quinn, had a modified radio transceiver that surpassed those in Backlund! Klein was instantly enlightened.
