Footsteps echoed down the stairs, mingling with the patter of rain striking the roof.
Percival pulled a key from his vest pocket, inserted it into the lock, and slowly turned until a soft 'click' sounded. The doorknob twisted, and he stepped inside.
His gaze swept the dim room. Then, he exhaled a long breath.
He removed his muddy shoes and placed them on the shoe rack. There were no other shoes besides his own strewn about.
Percival ventured deeper, dragging his wet sock-clad feet. Each swing of his legs produced a creak, blending with the patter of rain outside the windows.
The living room he passed through was empty. Percival leaned his bag against the wall before heading to the bedroom.
Everything was still too perfect, too pristine. The room clearly remained clean and tidy, seeming untouched by human hands even until this very moment.
Percival sighed heavily once more.
Soon after, he returned to his own room, crossing the cold, silent hallway. His footsteps echoed alone until he finally reached an open door.
Percival slowly pushed it open wide. Humid air and thick rain mist swept in through the gaping window. Wind billowed the fluttering white curtains.
Percival's eyes slowly widened.
It's open... He narrowed his eyes a moment later.
He walked over to the window, letting the raindrops speckle his face. His eyes closed briefly as he inhaled the damp air carrying the scent of wet earth.
For one minute, Percival then slowly opened his eyes. He promptly shut the window tightly, blocking the gray light from the overcast sky still drenching the earth with its sorrow.
Percival turned to his desk not far from the window. There, he lit a candle with a match. The flickering reddish-yellow candlelight danced, illuminating the inked scrawls in a book he pulled closer.
His hand tapped a feather pen dipped in an inkwell, producing repeated tapping sounds on the wooden desk.
He exhaled another long breath.
Soon after, the pen began to move, dancing across the paper.
He started to write something.
His writing flowed, recording everything he remembered from the lecture earlier. And...
He slowly wrote poetry.
...
Viktor waved at Ellen as she boarded the carriage and disappeared from view. Although it was now raining, he felt a warmth reach and spread across his chest. He never expected to enjoy the time they had spent together.
In his previous life, Viktor never had many friends, especially after becoming an adult when his time was consumed working from morning till night. So it could be said he had forgotten how precious it was to spend time with someone.
Sighing, Viktor, holding an umbrella, walked through the rain-drenched streets of Backlund at night, purchasing a mask and cloak which he hid in a thin white cloth bag. Truthfully, the city looked a little ominous beneath the glowing red moonlight, but there was an undeniable peacefulness too.
The buildings were styled like old London, making Viktor feel like he had stepped into a movie.
Stopping his stride, Viktor stood at the roadside beneath a streetlamp. People were still milling about - this city was lively, and it seemed it would remain so until midnight struck.
A public carriage arrived, and Viktor climbed aboard to be greeted by the tightly packed crowd. Forcing a smile, he took a seat among them.
Viktor was headed to Olive Street to attend a Beyonder gathering. In his previous notes, he had decided to become stronger, so he would cast aside his laziness to enjoy his current lifestyle.
After a relatively pleasant journey, Viktor disembarked and paid the driver 2 soli. Turning around, he saw an impressive two-story house looming before him. It was quite large, with yellowish lights visible in each window, towering fences and gates.
Truthfully, he felt a little afraid of becoming involved with the supernatural, so with a pounding heart, Viktor went to an unseen spot, donned his black cat mask and cloak, then entered the courtyard and knocked on the door, speaking the words:
"Apple pie and hot tea are meant to be together." This was the secret code to have the door opened and gain entry - of course, the code changed daily.
The door opened to reveal a blonde man in a black cloak, wearing a mask with a wide grin. "You have good taste! So, welcome!"
Nodding, Viktor entered to find many others like him. They were spread throughout the room, standing, sitting on sofas, or on the stairs leading upstairs.
After waiting a few more minutes for additional arrivals, the host stood from his single chair, his voice artificially distorted: "Alright, we can't wait any longer, can we?" He approached two large chalkboards. "As before, those wishing to sell something, please write on the board to the right. Those looking for something, write on the left board.
"Form lines, each person gets 30 seconds to write."
People immediately murmured agreement and lined up one by one to write. Viktor followed suit, making requests like:
"Emperor Roselle's Notebook"
"Beyonder Knowledge"
"Magician's Potion Recipes"
"Beyonder Artifact for Combat"
After finishing, Viktor stepped back, but didn't forget to check the sales board, though sadly he found nothing interesting besides Beyonder weapons and other Pathway potion recipes.
A few minutes later, someone shouted after looking at the chalkboard, "I have a few pages from Emperor Roselle's notebook! Anyone interested?"
Viktor went over along with the cloaked man, who despite being visibly burly, wore only a white mask with eyeholes.
The man laughed, his voice extremely raspy. "Hehehe, I have around twenty pages! But only three are original, the rest are my copies. You don't mind the latter, do you?"
Viktor raised his brows, not expecting to get that many so quickly. As far as he knew, Roselle's notes were quite rare. "I'll take them all. How much are you asking per page?"
"I knew you wouldn't refuse! Heh...lately a lot of people have been buying the Emperor's notes. I know there must be something profound written in them, but in all the years I've had them, it's only recently that so many of you have suddenly wanted them...did you find a way to translate them?" The man ended in a whisper.
Hearing that made Viktor's mind race. What did he mean by many people suddenly wanting them? As far as he knew, there was only one person who had been transported to this world for hundreds of years - Emperor Roselle himself.
It was quite impossible for there to have been many others here for decades but leaving no trace, right? What he meant was, even Roselle had plagiarized some works from Earth, so it was unlikely the others would have missed such an opportunity too.
Were the people buying those notes newly arrived here at the same time as Viktor? How many of them were there?
"No, to be honest I'm just following the current too. I want to know what's hidden in those notes." Viktor lied, smiling in his tone. "So how much for each of them?"
The man fell silent for a moment. "100 pounds! For just the copies. And 300 pounds for the originals!"
Are you kidding me? That's highway robbery! Viktor grumbled, but he also knew Roselle's notes were expensive, and it seemed the man knew what Viktor was thinking as he continued, "Don't look at me like that. Roselle's notes used to be worth around 50 pounds per page, and now that many people are looking for them, of course the price will rise."
Viktor understood but still blamed the suspected fellow Earth residents. "I'll buy 20 pages, which means 2,600 pounds, right? That's a lot of money, surely you can give me a discount?"
"Alright, 2,300 pounds."
"2,000 pounds, you're just selling copies that you can sell repeatedly."
"They're still valuable goods. 2,250 pounds." The man met Viktor's gaze.
"Deal." Viktor conceded.
After that, they went to the host - this was a sizeable enough transaction that the host should at least check whether the goods were genuine, though Viktor was sure he couldn't read the notes.
But he still praised his dedication.
Having his pocket money robbed, Viktor had no funds left to buy the other items he wanted, having only brought 3,000 pounds. So he bid farewell to the Beyonder weapons.
Around 10pm, he returned home and decided to try his supernatural power.
He wanted to read Roselle's notebook.
...
The candlelight danced wildly, as if buffeted by a raging storm bursting through the window. Suddenly, a thunderclap boomed, startling Percival so that the candle extinguished instantly.
His room was plunged into pitch blackness, only the faint patter of rain pounding the roof and windows audible.
Percival froze in place, the hand formerly gripping his feather pen now stilled. He set the pen back in its place, then shivered as he hugged himself. A chill began to creep over his skin.
He reached for the matches, relighting the candle and casting a dim circle in the corner of his room.
Just as the flickering light illuminated his surroundings, the sound of the doorknob turning from outside suddenly rang out.
Percival's eyes widened, his hair standing on end.
He had forgotten to lock the door!
He rose slowly, gripping the candle plate as he tiptoed toward the door.
It swung open silently. The dim hallway beyond appeared empty. Percival held his breath as he stepped forward. The candlelight angled down revealed wet footprints, forming a trail leading inside.
Someone had entered!
Percival's heart pounded. He hurried to lock his front door securely. His breaths came in pants, then he swallowed hard.
Slowly, he made his way back into the house, scanning every corner.
Suddenly a faint creak sounded from the adjacent room. Percival started, nearly dropping the plate in his grasp.
There was indeed someone here!
He hurriedly flung the door open and searched the room. But no one was there.
Instead of finding an intruder, what he discovered was his mother's lockbox lying open and empty.
As a family member, of course he knew his mother kept money in this hiding spot. And now that money was gone!
A thief! Was this the thief those people had mentioned?!
This time, a faint rustle came from his own bedroom.
Percival's hair stood on end. He rushed toward his room, flinging the door open. The candle in his grip immediately extinguished as wind buffeted his face.
There, silhouetted in the gaping window frame, a figure was crouched, poised to leap.
Another thunderclap illuminated the silhouette in a flash. Its head turned toward Percival. But before he could make out the face, the thief hurled themselves out the window.
Without a second thought, Percival ran to the window and looked down, swallowing hard.
Was that a human?!
He had jumped from the second floor!
The silhouette immediately took off running into the distance, a large sack slung over its back.
Percival bit his lip in hesitation, deciding against leaping after his.
What kind of madman would dare jump from the second floor!
He swiftly ran out the door, not forgetting to lock it first behind him.
The rain drenched his body as he vaulted down the two front steps at once, nearly slipping on a puddle.
Percival sprinted after the figure, barefoot. His vision was obscured by the downpour, making it nearly impossible to track their trail.
Suddenly...
Bang!
The deafening boom of a gunshot shattered the night's silence, previously accompanied only by the rumbling rain.
A bullet tore through the thief's skull, ripping through flesh as blood sprayed heavily from the wound.
The thick liquid spattered everywhere, staining the muddy ground being lashed by the torrential downpour.
Percival startled to a halt.
He steadied himself against the nearest wall, peering through the curtain of heavy rain.
It was the man in the round cap!
He was aiming a revolver at the thief's body, now lying in the muddy street.
The thief's head lolled to the side, part of their face caked in the deep red stain that slowly melted into the pooling rainwater. One by one, the droplets of blood flowed with the muddy runoff, creating swirling crimson ripples.
"Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!
"He died before I could torture him!"
The capped man pulled the trigger again, sending another scorching lead round tearing into the thief's flesh.
Bang!
More blood spurted from the new wound, adding to the reddening ripples now merging into the muddy puddle.
The man had been following Percival out of suspicion earlier, thinking he was the thief. But to his fortune thanks to waiting patiently until midnight, he found the real thief robbing something from Percival's home. Creating the opportunity to shoot him!
Such a pity the thief died from just one shot!
The gunshots echoed in rapid succession, lacerating the night's stillness.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!!!
He continued to unload into the thief's corpse until his bullets were spent, leaving the body riddled with holes, blood gushing freely to mingle with the pooling rainwater on the ground.
He was afraid the thief might still be alive despite being shot once. Hence, he aimed for the head and fired until he had no ammo left!
Percival remained rooted in place, swallowing hard.
Until finally the capped man turned and scanned their surroundings.
Percival hid behind the wall, holding his breath as he heard the man's footsteps receding, disappearing into the dark, endless alleyway.
...
A/N: If you want to read the 7 advanced chapters with a faster update frequency than the webnovel, you can read it on my patreon whose link is below:
https://www.pâtreon.com/Junxt
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