Chapter 50: The “Foreign” Master

Chapter 50: The “Foreign” Master

Turning onto one of the two main streets, Klein, now bearing a different face, headed straight for the green mailbox and took out a letter he had prepared long ago.

It was a “death notice” he had written by imitating the format of a police document. Its recipient was the sheriff of Simim’s harbor town. Its contents stated that local resident Winter had died suddenly of illness in Bayam.

When deciding to carry out this acting attempt, Klein had already drawn up the corresponding plan. He sought to let the matter proceed smoothly, not deviate from its course, and avoid causing irreparable harm to the girl Renee.

His plan was to use a Slumber Charm to disguise real acting as a dream. In this way, if Renee had no romantic feelings for Winter and directly rejected his confession, then when she later learned of his death, she would not feel much guilt. At most, she would feel afraid, and that could be effectively soothed through prayer and confession at church.

If Renee did likewise love Winter and responded to his confession, then the excuse of it being a dream would help Klein withdraw. The death notice afterward would sever Renee’s expectations and avoid having an especially negative effect on her future life.

“But even so, it is still a little cruel. No matter what sort of woman she is, facing the matter of the boy she likes entrusting a dream to her after death in order to confess his feelings will surely leave her heartbroken and unable to let go for a long time.

“Mm… If I did nothing, once Winter’s death was reported normally, Renee would definitely be extremely sad as well, only perhaps not as severely. But the knot in her heart might never be untied. She might spend her whole life wondering whether Winter left to adventure in pursuit of their future, or simply because he did not love her…

“Ending things this way may not be bad. Once she eases through the pain, she may carry forward the tenderness of having once been sincerely loved and use it to face the rest of her life.

“Sigh. No matter what, for the sake of acting, forcing myself into someone else’s life and causing some degree of influence on an innocent person—even under the excuse of fulfilling a final wish—is not truly a kind thing. It really is like Roselle said. The further one walks along the Beyonder path, the more it gives off a twisted and evil feeling. The acting method itself might not be anything other than a catalyst… All I can do is try my best to minimize the effect…”

After mailing the letter, Klein exhaled. Wearing an unremarkable local face, he walked toward the only inn in town.

On the way, he summarized the experience from earlier. His conclusion was that “truly disguising oneself as another person and receiving feedback” should be a primary clause of the Faceless rules, second only to “You can disguise yourself as anyone, but you can only be yourself.”

If it were certain Faceless, perhaps for the sake of this acting, they would block news of Winter’s death, accept Renee’s confession, spend one or two years falling in love with her, marrying her, and having children with her, then, unbound by the relationships of that identity, remembering who they truly were, coldly leave… During that process, if they were never exposed, the potion would probably be nearly digested… But I truly cannot do that! I cannot get past myself at all. I can only skirt the edge… Klein was overwhelmed with emotion and inexplicable fear.

He shook his head and silently mocked himself.

“What Beyonders must fight at every moment is not only danger and madness, but also the many varieties of evil thoughts that come from within, and that downward pull of corruption one may sink into if careless…

“Even so, in the end, perhaps I will still be corrupted by the abyss, becoming the kind of ‘monster’ I once swore to eliminate. Sigh…”

Gathering his thoughts, Klein entered the inn and said to the owner behind the counter, “One ordinary room.”

The thin owner lifted his head and glanced at him.

“Valid identification papers.”

This face was just shaped a moment ago. How could I have any? Klein smiled awkwardly.

“I forgot to bring them.”

“Then you cannot stay. That is our town’s rule.” The owner lowered his head again and continued calculating the day’s income and expenses.

Klein took out a one-soli note and calmly pushed it over.

The owner immediately widened his eyes.

“No, no. Put that away! I do not wish to be locked up by the sheriff!

“Out, out. You dirty fellow without identification.”

Klein was chased out of the inn in mild astonishment, unable to believe that almighty money had just lost its power.

After pondering for a few seconds, he turned into a deserted alley and changed back into Gehrman Sparrow, with his sharply defined features.

Klein returned to the inn, lightly tapped the counter, and said in Loenese with a Backlund accent, “A room.”

The owner looked up and immediately put down what he was holding. Standing, he nodded with a smile.

“Of course, of course.

“Would you like a room with a sea view, or one that is quieter?”

He switched to awkward Loenese rich with the flavor of spices and no longer mentioned identification papers.

What a realistic world… Klein grumbled inwardly and replied politely, “Quiet.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The owner answered repeatedly.

Then he called over an attendant to watch the counter, took the key himself, and led Klein toward the second floor.

“Sir, how many days will you be staying? It is one soli and five pence per night.”

“Tonight.” Klein was somewhat unable to endure this enthusiasm and answered tersely.

At the Azure Wind Inn, the luxury suite he shared with Danitz cost five soli per night.

Without question, the room the owner selected was clean and tidy. Even the dampness common in harbor inns was basically absent. Klein looked around and nodded in satisfaction.

“Very good.”

“It is my honor.” The owner’s flattery carried obvious fear.

Klein put down his suitcase, rested for a while, then rose and returned to the ground floor, preparing to solve the problem of dinner.

Across the entire first floor, apart from the counter, many tables were arranged haphazardly. Their surfaces all looked somewhat greasy. In the corner, a fireplace burned vigorously, radiating light and heat.

The Rorsted Archipelago lay rather far south. Even in winter, the lowest temperature was only around ten degrees Celsius. But to the locals, this was still cold enough to require a fire.

Klein casually found a seat and ordered local-style grilled meat, fragrant-leaf mushroom soup, and potato bread as the staple.

While waiting, he quietly swept his gaze across the diners in the restaurant. His eyes instinctively landed on one woman.

This woman had simply tied-up black hair and an extremely distinctive pair of bluish-gray eyes. Her appearance was the type that became more attractive the longer one looked.

She was clearly not of the local race, yet wore a man’s shirt with a tea-colored thick jacket. Beside her hand rested a round-brimmed hat with a dented crown.

This was a rather common adventurer outfit on the sea. The three men seated at the same table dressed similarly and bore clear signs of long exposure to sun and rain.

Klein never concealed that he appreciated beautiful women, but the reason she drew his attention was not her appearance.

The sea had an intensely discriminatory atmosphere toward women. A woman who could secure a certain position among adventurers or pirate crews either had exceptional cunning and skill, was very strong, or possessed both. She was a target one had to treat carefully and guard against!

There is fairly fresh mud on their boots… Just returned from the jungle? Heh. They really are adventurers… Based on a few traces, Klein made a preliminary judgment.

If the four adventurers had come by ship from Bayam, then even if they had stepped into dirty water or mud before, the traces should have dried long ago. Meanwhile, the roads inside town were still relatively clean because it had not rained in the past two days, though they were a little dusty. Once those two possibilities were excluded, the only explanation left was that the group had returned from exploring the jungle outside town.

Klein had heard before that many adventurers ventured deep into the primeval forests of the colonial islands, seeking abandoned and forgotten pagan temples or altars. Such places often held gold and jewels offered in ancient times, only to be buried later for various reasons in places no one visited and no one knew. In the bars of every island, there was no shortage of legends about someone striking it rich overnight after returning laden from a jungle adventure.

There may be evil spirits wandering in those places… Hunting pirates is still better. At least corresponding information can be obtained in advance… Klein withdrew his gaze and focused on waiting for the food.

The seven major Churches classified all gods from primitive colonial beliefs as evil spirits, but Klein believed that some of them should actually be nature spirits.

After a while, the local grilled meat was served. It had been cut into many small pieces and skewered on wooden sticks. A brown-red sauce coated the surface, and the aroma was rich, the color enticing.

A bit like skewers from my previous life… In Loen, they roast meat in large chunks, and only after roasting does the chef cut it apart… This method lets the flavor soak in more deeply… Klein picked up a skewer and bit off a piece of meat, immediately feeling the juices seep out slightly, sweet within the salty fragrance.

This is the type I like! He nodded in satisfaction.

Klein enjoyed the meal quite a bit and even tasted the local “gulu tree juice,” a specialty drink resembling lemonade mixed with sugar and milk.

Back in his room, because he had been hunting the previous night and had not slept at all, he washed up early, extinguished the fireplace, and crawled under the covers.

But sleeping too early inevitably led to one problem: being woken by the need to urinate in the middle of the night.

Klein’s pleasant dream broke off. He opened his eyes and slowly accumulated the courage needed to lift the quilt.

Simim at midnight was around eight or nine degrees Celsius. In terms of bodily sensation, it already counted as cold.

After lying quietly for a while, Klein stretched out an arm, then silently pulled it back.

After thinking for a few seconds, he reached out again and picked up the Sun Brooch from the bedside cabinet.

Although it only provided the spiritual sensation of high summer and did not offer actual warmth, at least it could deceive him into believing it was not cold right now.

Klein moved out from under the quilt and headed straight for the washroom inside the room.

He half closed his eyes, easing the pressure in his lower abdomen.

Once everything was finished, he pulled up his trousers and prepared to wash his hands, only for his spiritual intuition to suddenly be touched.

Klein frowned slightly and lifted his gaze toward the washroom vent.

Suddenly, something black and slick dropped down, hanging there.

It was a venomous snake flicking its tongue!

Klein was startled. He opened his mouth and produced a sound:

“Bang!”

The venomous snake was struck cleanly and split into two pieces.

What happened? Klein stared for several seconds. Seeing no further movement, he walked out of the washroom and took a gold coin from the pocket of his clothes.