Chapter 137: Unable to Speak

Chapter 137: Unable to Speak

Oravi Medical Relief Foundation.

The woman responsible for volunteer registration hurriedly bent down and fumbled in panic for the fountain pen that had fallen to the floor. At that moment, Klein also noticed that what she had been reading earlier was an issue of News Report from a few days ago—the one containing his portrait and deeds.

This place subscribes to newspapers from the Rorsted Archipelago too? Counting the time needed for ships to arrive, they really can only read news three or four days old… If I had known, I would have reshaped my face and come with a fake name… Klein stood before the office desk, thinking somewhat helplessly.

The woman in her thirties finally picked up the fountain pen. Lifting her face, she asked in a trembling voice, “You, you want to be a volunteer?”

“Yes,” Klein replied affirmatively.

“But—but you are an adventurer.” The badly frightened woman stammered and found an excuse.

Instinctively, she did not want such an extremely dangerous fellow to become a volunteer.

Being famous is not necessarily a good thing… Forget it. I will change my face, clothes, and name later, then come again… Klein had already given up inwardly, but outwardly he displayed no emotion as he asked in return, “Who says adventurers cannot be volunteers?”

The woman in charge of registration wore an expression as though she were about to cry. She blurted out, “Not me!”

The volunteer registration room instantly became abnormally quiet. Klein was first stunned, then almost laughed, and only with difficulty managed to maintain Gehrman Sparrow’s image.

The woman calmed herself slightly and realized that there was an obvious problem with her answer. Forcing out a smile, she said, “No, what I mean is, no one says so.

“It is just that in my impression, adventurers are all very busy and often need to go out to sea. They rarely have time to volunteer.”

“That is them,” Klein replied concisely.

The woman lifted a hand to cover her mouth briefly, then forced out another smile.

“Alright. I will register you immediately.”

As she spoke, she pulled out a form and handed it over.

“Fill this in. We will provide corresponding training and volunteer posts according to your request.

“We will contact you proactively, or you may come by and inquire yourself.”

Inwardly, she had already made up her mind not to put Gehrman Sparrow’s form into the archives, but to hand it directly to the foundation’s director—and to the police station.

Goddess, why would such a dangerous person run here to volunteer? She silently drew a crimson moon over her chest.

Klein nodded soundlessly, accepted the form, sat down, picked up the fountain pen, and began swiftly filling in the basic information.

During the process, a man wearing a doctor’s white coat entered and asked, “Juana, are there any new volunteers? We are about to begin this morning’s training.”

Juana, the registrar, wanted very much to shake her head, but Gehrman Sparrow sitting before her gave her an extremely strong sense of urgency even though he neither spoke nor lifted his head. It made her afraid to lie.

“Yes,” she first answered the man in the white coat. Then she looked at Klein. “Mr. Sparrow, would you like to receive basic volunteer training now, or tomorrow?”

Klein thought for a moment.

“Now.”

He planned to become familiar with it, so that when he changed identities to volunteer later, he could weave in the necessary professionalism. That way, he could quickly begin helping at the hospital.

Juana visibly inhaled and said, “Then after you finish filling out the form, follow Mr. Graya.”

“Alright.” Klein answered calmly.

Half an hour later, the calm and polite yet secretly mad adventurer, Gehrman Sparrow, looked at the exceptionally filthy toilet in front of him, held his breath, and said, “Scrub it?”

“Yes. You have already received simple patient-lifting training, but this is not what we do most often at hospitals. We are mainly responsible for cleaning up patients’ vomit, changing and washing bedding, and keeping the washrooms clean and sufficiently sanitary. Heh, things like bandaging wounds are left to professionals. We only need a basic grasp.” Graya pinched his nose, pointed at the toilets ahead that were covered in yellow-black stains, and said, “Other volunteers demonstrated earlier. Now you begin.”

This is different from what I imagined… different… Klein’s first reaction was to turn and leave, but in the end, expressionless, he picked up the cleaning tools, endured intense nausea, approached, and crouched down.

Then, with his body slightly leaning back, he stretched out his right hand.

At noon, Klein removed the white coat, put on his top hat, and left the Oravi Medical Relief Foundation with a cold expression.

Regarding whether he would later go volunteer in order to search for acting opportunities, he had suffered a powerful internal wavering.

Only after reaching Sweet Lemon Bar by carriage did he finally make up his mind and decide to continue trying.

“I must become a Marionettist within 1350, digest that potion, and begin seeking clues to the higher Sequences.” Klein emphasized his goal to himself again.

He collected his mood, entered Sweet Lemon Bar, and spent eight pence at the bar for a pork chop served with apple juice and a piece of bread with butter.

Together with a 1.5-pence rye beer, this made up Klein’s lunch.

He finished at a leisurely pace, took out a handkerchief, wiped his mouth, and said to the bartender, “Where is your boss? I have something to discuss with him.”

Since he had already verbally agreed to join the Adventurers’ Mutual Aid Association, Klein naturally would not miss the chance to make use of this loose alliance. He intended to ask Bilt Brando to help contact a wild Artisan, or one willing to take private jobs, and create something similar to Azik’s copper whistle. Otherwise, summoning his messenger every time required arranging a ritual, reciting an incantation, and dealing with all kinds of complicated, troublesome delays.

Of course, if Bilt Brando did not know any Artisans, Klein would not force the matter. After all, joining the Adventurers’ Mutual Aid Association did not cost money.

The bartender pointed toward the stairs.

“He is on the second floor.

“If you have already agreed to join his alliance and have met those bodyguards, they will let you up.”

Klein nodded almost invisibly, slowly rose, and walked toward the staircase.

As expected, no guards stopped him. Only after he reached the second floor did a bodyguard approach to ask a question.

Thanks to Gehrman Sparrow’s reputation, he smoothly met Bilt Brando again and discovered a strange man standing beside him.

“My friend, Sotos Young, an important member of the Mutual Aid Association.” Bilt pointed toward the man wearing the dark-red headscarf.

At the same time, he exchanged a glance with the other man and saw the same gravity and doubt in each other’s eyes.

After a brief greeting, Klein found a chair and sat. He spoke very directly:

“I wish to obtain the help of an Artisan. I wonder whether the Mutual Aid Association can provide any clues.”

“Artisan?” Bilt took a puff of his cigar, paused for several seconds, and carefully said, “I do know an Artisan, but he is unwilling to meet unfamiliar people. That would bring him tremendous danger. If you have some need, I can help act as an intermediary. I believe I should have that much credibility.”

To the various Churches, under certain circumstances, mid- and low-Sequence wild Beyonders with no subjective malice could be ignored. But Artisans had to be handled indiscriminately. Otherwise, the proliferation of mystical items would bring great instability to human society.

It seems Bilt did not organize the Adventurers’ Mutual Aid Association purely to waste money. At least he has already gathered quite a few resources and channels… Klein took out the murloc swim bladder he had prepared earlier.

“I want this made into a ring that mainly provides the ability to move underwater.”

For the moment, he did not mention anything related to the messenger. He planned to first test the Artisan’s ability and the credibility of Bilt’s group. If the incantation for summoning the messenger spread too widely, it would cause many unnecessary problems.

A Sequence 9 Beyonder characteristic is not expensive. Even if Bilt becomes greedy and pockets the finished mystical item, it does not matter much. In any case, I still have a pile of charms in Sea God’s domain… And it is not like I cannot collect debt personally. That might be even better. If he can organize the Adventurers’ Mutual Aid Association, he must have no small amount of money and materials… As Klein thought and thought, he could not help looking Bilt up and down one extra time.

At that instant, Bilt shivered for no apparent reason, and all the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

He felt that Gehrman Sparrow’s gaze just now had been like someone looking at treasure!

And for the treasure, that was not a good feeling.

Bilt glanced at Sotos beside him and squeezed out a smile.

“That is a murloc’s swim bladder, yes?

“With a material at this level, there should basically be no accidents in making a mystical item.

“The Artisan’s fee is 150 pounds. You can pay me once the matter is completed.”

A very fair price… Klein nodded soundlessly and tossed the murloc swim bladder over.

After Bilt caught it, Klein added, “Also ask that Artisan whether he is capable of fixing a ritual for summoning a spirit-world creature into an item. The requirement is that it be usable for at least one year.”

“No problem.” Bilt let out a breath of relief and gave Sotos a look.

Sotos rubbed the edge of his sunken eye socket, took a step forward, and said, “Mr. Gehrman, are you interested in going out to sea recently?

“We already have several decent ships and are preparing to gather people to hunt pirates in the east.”

Fairly interesting… But my recent focus is digesting the potion… Klein calmly shook his head.

The smile on Sotos’s face stiffened for a moment before vanishing.

He did not say anything more, because that was a refusal from a pirate admiral-level adventurer—and he and Bilt had already collected the corresponding newspapers and confirmed Gehrman Sparrow’s authenticity.

Klein slowly stood, pressed his top hat to his chest, and bowed slightly.

“Thank you for your help.”

The muscles on Bilt’s face twisted, as though he were forcibly enduring something and certain words were about to escape his mouth.

At last, he slowly inhaled and smiled.

“It should be: may our cooperation be pleasant.”

Klein detected something abnormal about Bilt and Sotos, but suppressed his own doubt and asked nothing.

I cannot ask. Once I ask, there will be trouble. Something will happen… Recently, I need to digest my potion in peace… Klein turned, walked to the door, and twisted the handle.

“Mr. Gehrman,” Bilt suddenly blurted out.

The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched slightly. Calmly, he turned his head and looked over.

“Nothing. Haha. I mean, as a member of the Mutual Aid Association, drinking here will be cheaper for you,” Bilt forced himself to say with a laugh.

You think I will ask what the matter is? Tsk… Klein nodded lightly, opened the door, and walked out.

Watching his figure vanish, Bilt froze for two seconds, then let out a long sigh.