Chapter 50: Old Neil’s Method for Repaying a Debt

Chapter Fifty
Old Neil’s Method for Repaying a Debt

Half past seven in the evening, beside the dining table of the Moretti household.

“Klein, why do you, as a consultant, need to arrive early as well? Are emergency matters at a security company rather dangerous?” Benson asked while spearing a potato from the stewed beef with his fork. His question carried concern hidden beneath casual words.

Klein carefully spat out a bone from the pan-fried meat fish. Prepared for such a question, he answered, “A batch of historical documents needed to be transferred immediately to Backlund. I had to be present to count and confirm that nothing was missing. You know how it is. Those fellows who only know how to wave their fists around cannot recognize ancient Feysac at all.”

Hearing this answer, Benson finished chewing and could not help sighing.

“Knowledge truly is important.”

Seizing the opportunity, Klein took out the remaining five-pound note and passed it to Benson.

“This is the extra payment I received today. You need a decent set of clothes as well.”

“Five pounds?”

Benson and Melissa spoke at the same time.

Benson picked up the note and looked at it again and again. Half surprised and half doubtful, he said, “This security company really is generous…”

His weekly salary was one pound ten soli. Four weeks together made exactly six pounds—only one pound more than this extra payment.

And relying on such a salary, he had supported his younger brother and sister, given them a fairly decent place to live, allowed them to eat meat two or three times a week, and bought them several new pieces of clothing every year.

“You do not suspect I am lying?” Klein deliberately asked.

Benson gave a chuckle.

“I do not think you have the ability, or the courage, to rob a bank.”

“You are not someone who lies,” Melissa said seriously, pausing with knife and fork in hand.

I… I am now someone accustomed to lying…

Klein instantly felt a little ashamed.

Although reality had forced him into it, his sister’s trust still filled him with melancholy.

“Today’s matter was urgent and important. I played a rather critical role in it… That is why it was worth five pounds,” Klein explained briefly.

In a certain sense, everything he said was true.

As for the five pounds in funding that would soon be approved—the sum he had initially planned to use to join the Divination Club—he intended to hide it for now. First, bringing home another five pounds would truly frighten Benson and Melissa and make them suspect him of doing something illegal. Second, in order to study as a Seer and master more mystical knowledge, he needed to save some money to buy additional materials.

Benson tore off a satisfying bite of oat bread. After thinking for more than ten seconds, he said, “My current work does not require especially decent clothes. Mm, to be precise, clothes made from fine fabric. What I have at home is enough.”

Before Klein could persuade him, Benson took the initiative to add, “With this additional income, we finally have real savings. I plan to buy a few more accounting books and study in greater depth. Klein, Melissa, I do not wish, five years from now, to still have a weekly salary below two pounds. Heh. You know my boss and my manager both have their heads filled with excrement. Whenever they open their mouths, a foul stench comes out.”

“An excellent idea,” Klein agreed. Taking the chance, he guided, “Why not look through the grammar books in my room as well? If one wants to become a truly respectable person and obtain sufficiently generous pay, that is an extremely important factor.”

Perhaps before long, the civil service examination will appear in the Loen Kingdom. Preparing ahead of time may bring a considerable advantage…

Benson’s eyes brightened as he listened.

“I truly forgot about that. Come. Let us drink to a fine future.”

He did not drink rye beer. Instead, he poured oyster soup into three cups and lightly clinked them with his younger brother and sister.

After drinking the soup, Klein looked toward Melissa, who was still battling the pan-fried meat fish, and said with a low laugh, “Aside from Benson’s books, I think Melissa also needs a new dress.”

Melissa raised her head and kept shaking it.

“No. I think it would be better to—”

“Save it,” Klein finished for her.

“Mm.”

Melissa nodded emphatically.

“In fact, if we do not pursue expensive fabric or the newest design, it will not cost too much. We can save the remaining money,” Klein said in a tone that allowed no refusal.

Benson joined in as well.

“Melissa, do you want to attend Selena’s sixteenth birthday dinner still wearing your old dress?”

Selena Wood was Melissa’s classmate and close friend. Her family circumstances were fairly good. Her elder brother was a solicitor, while her father was a senior employee at the Tingen branch of Backlund Bank.

Of course, the “dinner” they spoke of was merely inviting friends to share a meal, chat, and play cards.

“All right,” Melissa lowered her head and muttered, then stabbed fiercely at a piece of stewed beef.

After a brief silence, she suddenly remembered something and quickly lifted her head.

“Mrs. Shod next door had her maid send over a visiting card. She hopes to make a semi-formal visit on Sunday afternoon—that is, tomorrow at four—to meet her new neighbors.”

“Mrs. Shod?”

Klein looked blankly toward his brother and sister.

Benson tapped the edge of the dining table with his fingers, appearing thoughtful.

“Mrs. Shod of Number 4 Daffodil Street? I have met her husband. He is a senior solicitor.”

“A senior solicitor… Perhaps he knows Selena’s brother,” Melissa said, sounding a little happy.

We are Number 2 Daffodil Street…

Klein nodded slightly.

“Getting to know the neighbors is necessary. But as you know, I still have to go to the security company on Sunday and can only rest on Monday. Please apologize to Mrs. Shod for me.”

At that point, he remembered the neighbors from his childhood in his previous life, then the neighbors from the apartment on Iron Cross Street. With amusement, he sighed.

“A semi-formal visit… Shouldn’t neighbors get to know one another and interact naturally?”

“Haha, Klein, you do not understand. You have read quite a few newspapers lately, but you have not come into contact with those magazines written for households and women. They call families with annual incomes between one hundred and one thousand pounds middle class. They claim this group is the framework of the entire Kingdom, and praise the middle class for lacking the arrogance of nobles and the wealthy, while also avoiding the roughness of the low-income classes.”

Benson explained in a light and pleasant tone.

“These magazines simplify many rituals from aristocratic interactions and use them as markers of the middle class. The distinction between intimate visits, semi-formal visits, and formal visits comes from there.”

As he spoke, he shook his head and laughed.

“Generally speaking, gentlemen, madams, and young ladies who regard themselves as part of this class care a great deal about such details. Their visits to neighbors and friends, between two and six in the afternoon, are called morning calls.”

“Morning calls?”

Klein and Melissa asked back at the same time, both surprised.

What sort of morning call takes place from two to six in the afternoon?

Benson set down his knife and fork. Spreading his hands, he smiled.

“I do not know why either. I only read several magazines brought in by my female colleagues. Mm, perhaps it is because one is supposed to wear morning dress when making such visits…”

The original morning dress had been formal attire for mass and public gatherings. Later, it came to refer to daytime formalwear, distinguishing it from evening dress.

“All right. Remember to buy some decent coffee powder and tea tomorrow morning, and a few small muffins and lemon cakes from Mrs. Slin. We cannot be discourteous before our neighbor,” Klein said with a laugh. Then he dipped the remaining bread into the meat sauce, tucked in some potato, and placed it into his mouth.

…

The next morning, Sunday.

Klein finished the last mouthful of inferior tea, set down the newspaper, put on his silk half-top hat, took up his silver-inlaid black cane, and leisurely left the house. He boarded a public carriage and arrived at Zouteland Street.

After greeting Rozanne, who had just finished night duty and was preparing to sleep in the rest room, he descended all the way underground.

At a corner, he encountered a member of the Nighthawk team: the Sleepless, Royale Reideen.

She was a woman who looked rather cold and indifferent. Her eyebrows were long and fine, her eyes large, and her black hair smooth as silk.

“Good morning, Miss Reideen,” Klein said with a smiling salute.

Royale looked at him once with deep-blue eyes and gave a nearly imperceptible nod in return.

Just as the two were about to pass each other, Royale suddenly stopped. Staring straight ahead, she said, “Ritual magic is a very dangerous thing.”

Ah…

Klein froze. By the time he turned around, all he could see was her receding back.

“Thank you,” he called softly toward Royale Reideen’s back, frowning.

Turning left, he soon saw Old Neil in the duty room outside the armory, along with Bright, who should not have been there at all.

“Let us go to my house. I have already collected the corresponding materials. Bright has agreed to watch the armory for me.”

Old Neil said this with a cheerful smile.

Klein was immediately surprised.

“Not here?”

Old Neil lifted the small silver box and clicked his tongue.

“There is no space here to practice ritual magic.”

Klein asked no more questions. He followed Old Neil back to the surface. Then the two took a public carriage to the suburbs north of the city.

Old Neil’s home was a detached house. In the front garden grew roses, golden mint, and other “materials.”

Immediately inside was a carpeted entryway, furnished with two high-backed chairs and an umbrella stand.

Past the entryway lay a spacious living room. The walls were covered in light-colored wallpaper; the floor had been painted dark brown. A small carpet printed with patterns lay in the middle, upon which stood a heavy round table.

Around the round table were comfortable benches, chairs, and a piano.

“My late wife loved music very much,” Old Neil said casually, pointing at the piano. “The sofa and tea table are in the sitting room… We will perform today’s ritual magic in the living room.”

“All right,” Klein answered, a little restrained.

Old Neil set down the small silver box and smiled.

“I will demonstrate one ritual magic for you first. Watch carefully and remember.”

As he spoke, he took a sheet of imitation parchment from the silver box. Using specially prepared black ink that gave off a tranquil fragrance, he began drawing strange patterns upon it.

Klein looked once, then again, and discovered that Old Neil seemed—probably—possibly—to be drawing a bill.

When Old Neil filled in the number “30” at the appropriate position, along with the corresponding symbol for “pounds,” Klein finally could no longer hold back. Both confused and baffled, he asked, “Mr. Neil, what ritual magic are you going to perform?”

Old Neil coughed twice and answered with extreme seriousness, “Today, I am going to use magic to resolve that thirty-pound debt.”

That works too?

Klein’s eyes widened. His mouth half-opened.