Kevin slowly sat back down in his chair. He waited until the distant church bells tolled again, seven times in a row, before he leisurely stood up and walked over to the wardrobe to fetch his clothes.
A black vest, matching formal suit, slightly tight ankle-length trousers, and a half-height top hat, paired with a faint scholarly aura, made Kevin feel like he was looking at an actor from a British drama about the Victorian era when he glanced at himself in the mirror.
"I'm not going for an interview, just buying some groceries and preparing materials for the luck-changing ritual…" he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile.
Klein was so preoccupied with the upcoming interview that it had become ingrained in his body. Whenever his attention wavered, he habitually wore his only set of decent clothes.
Exhaling, Kevin removed the formal suit and vest, changing into an old brownish-yellow coat and replacing the top hat with a matching round-brimmed felt hat.
Once he was properly dressed, he strolled over to the bunk bed, lifted the top mattress, and reached his hand into an inconspicuous hole at the bottom. After some fumbling, he found the hidden compartment.
When he withdrew his right hand, there was a roll of banknotes in his palm, around seven or eight bills, dark green tinged with white.
This was Benson's current total savings, including three days of living expenses. There were only two five-souler notes, the rest being one-souler notes.
In the Ruen Kingdom's currency system, soulers were second-tier, derived from ancient silver coins, with one souler equal to twelve copper pennies, and came in one and five denominations.
At the top of the currency system were gold pounds, also paper money, backed by gold, directly linked to it. One gold pound equaled twenty soulers, available in denominations of one, five, and ten.
Kevin unfolded the banknotes, catching a faint whiff of special ink.
It was the smell of money.
Perhaps influenced by fragments of Klein's memories or due to his own unchanging desire for wealth, Kevin felt an instant affection for these little pieces of paper.
Look, their designs were so exquisite, making even the stern and rigid George III, with his small mustache, appear endearing…
Look, the watermark revealed under the sunlight was so enticing, and the carefully designed anti-counterfeit tags set them apart from the fake, garish imitations!
After admiring the notes for a few seconds, Kevin pulled out two one-souler bills, rolled the rest back up, and stuffed them back into the compartment under the mattress.
Smoothing the fabric near the hole, Kevin neatly folded the two extracted bills, placed them in the left pocket of his brownish-yellow coat, separate from the few pennies in his pants pocket.
With everything in order, he slipped the keys into his right pocket, picked up the dark brown paper bag, and briskly walked towards the door.
His footsteps, initially quick, gradually slowed and then stopped.
Kevin stood by the door, his brow furrowed.
There were many mysteries surrounding Klein's suicide. Would going out like this lead to some "accident"?
After a moment of contemplation, Kevin returned to the desk, opened the drawer, and took out the brass revolver.
This was the only defensive weapon he could think of, and it was powerful enough!
Even though he had never practiced shooting, just pulling out the gun would certainly intimidate people!
Caressing the cold metal cylinder, Kevin slipped the revolver into the pocket with the banknotes, gripping the bills tightly, and keeping his fingers on the gun handle, perfectly concealing it.
Feeling a surge of security, he suddenly had a concern:
"Could it accidentally discharge?"
Thoughts flooded his mind, and Kevin quickly found a solution. He pulled out the gun, flipped the cylinder to the empty chamber left by Klein's "suicide," and snapped it shut.
This way, even if it went off accidentally, it would only fire a "blank"!
Reholstering the gun, Kevin kept his left hand in the pocket, not taking it out again.
He adjusted his hat with his right hand, opened the door, and walked out with a clang.
The hallway remained dim during the day, with limited sunlight filtering through the window at the end. Kevin quickly descended the stairs and exited the apartment, finally feeling the warmth and brightness.
Despite being late June, nearing July, Tingen, located in the northern part of the Ruen Kingdom, had a unique climate. The year's highest temperature barely reached 30°C (86°F), and the mornings were particularly cool. Some streets were flooded with dirty water and littered with trash. In Klein's memories, such scenes were not uncommon in low-income areas, even with a sewer system, due to the high population density and daily life.
"Come, come, delicious pan-fried fish!"
"Hot and fresh oyster soup, a bowl in the morning keeps you energized all day!"
"Fresh fish from the port, only 5 pence each!"
"Small pancakes, eel soup with ginger beer!"
"Conch shells, conch shells, conch shells!"
"Fresh vegetables from the farm outside the city, cheap and fresh!"
…
Street vendors selling vegetables, fruits, and ready-to-eat food shouted loudly, calling out to the hurried passersby. Some stopped to carefully compare and buy, while others waved impatiently, their day's work still uncertain.
Kevin, smelling the alternating stench and fragrance in the air, gripped the gun handle tightly with his left hand and the banknotes with his right, holding down his felt hat, slightly hunched, and walked through the bustling street.
Crowded places meant pickpockets, especially in a neighborhood filled with semi-employed temporary workers and hungry children driven by others.
Continuing forward, once the crowd density returned to normal, Kevin straightened his back and lifted his head, looking towards the end of the street.
There, a homeless accordion player was performing, the melody alternately melodious and lively.
Around him were many children in ragged clothes, their faces sallow from malnutrition.
They listened to the music, swaying to the rhythm, dancing their self-created dances, their faces filled with joy, as if they were little princes and angels.
A woman with a dull expression passed by, her skirt dirty, her skin dark.
Her eyes were vacant and lifeless, only showing a glimmer of light when looking at the children, as if seeing herself thirty years ago.
Kevin walked past her, turned onto another street, and stopped in front of "Slyn's Bakery."
The bakery owner was an old lady in her seventies named Wendy Slyn, her hair completely gray, her face always wearing a gentle smile. She had been selling bread and pastries here since Klein could remember.
Her self-baked Tingen cakes and lemon cakes were very delicious… Kevin swallowed, smiling.
"Mrs. Slyn, 8 pounds of rye bread."
"Oh, little Klein, is Benson not back yet?" Wendy asked with a warm smile.
"A few more days," Kevin vaguely replied.
While Wendy was fetching the rye bread, she sighed and said:
"He's such a hardworking young man, he'll find a good wife."
Then, with a playful smile, she added:
"Now that you're graduated, our Hoy University history graduate~ You'll soon be making money. You shouldn't be living in your current apartment, you need at least a private bathroom."
"Mrs. Slyn, you're as lively as a young lady today," Kevin responded with an awkward laugh.
If Klein could successfully pass the interview and become a lecturer at Tingen University, the whole family would indeed move towards a comfortable life!
In his fragmented memories, he had even fantasized about renting a detached house in the suburbs, with five or six rooms upstairs, two bathrooms, a large balcony, two rooms downstairs, a dining room, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a basement storage room.
This wasn't a pipe dream. Even as an intern, a lecturer at Tingen University earned 2 gold pounds a week, and after becoming full-time, it was 3 gold pounds and 10 soulers. For comparison, Klein's brother Benson, after working for many years, earned 1 pound and 10 soulers a week, while ordinary factory workers earned less than 1 pound or just a bit over. Renting such a detached house cost between 19 soulers and 1 pound 18 soulers.
"This is the difference between a monthly income of three to four thousand and fourteen to fifteen thousand…" Kevin muttered.
However, all this depended on passing the interview at Tingen University or Beckland University.
Without connections, it was impossible to get recommended for a public position, and a history graduate's job prospects were even narrower. There wasn't much demand for private consultants to nobles, bankers, or industrial magnates.
Given that Klein's knowledge had become "fragmented," incomplete, and lacking, Kevin felt awkward and guilty about Mrs. Slyn's expectations.
"No, I've always been this young," Wendy humorously replied.
As they spoke, she packed the sixteen loaves of rye bread into Kevin's dark brown paper bag and spread her right hand:
"9 pence."
Each loaf weighed around 0.5 pounds, with unavoidable variance.
"9 pence, wasn't it 11 pence just the other day?" Kevin asked instinctively.
Two months ago, it was 15 pence.
"You should thank the repeal of the 'Corn Laws' and those who marched," Wendy said with a smile.
Kevin nodded, not fully understanding. Klein's memory of the Corn Laws was fragmented, only remembering that they aimed to protect domestic agricultural prices, not importing grains from southern countries like Feynapotter, Masi, and Lenburg until prices rose significantly.
Why would anyone protest against it?
Kevin
felt he couldn't remember more details, so he asked more directly:
"Mrs. Slyn, what did those who protested do?"
"Those people are remarkable. They formed the Anti-Corn Law League and raised money to buy 'The Sun,' turning it into a platform for their demands. They held grand rallies, invited politicians, parliamentarians, and famous speakers to speak, and organized various protest activities. In the end, His Majesty George III compromised, and the current prime minister, Lord Hall, decided to abolish the Corn Laws… Anyway, it's complicated. Look, the newspaper from two weeks ago covered it in detail," Wendy explained, pointing to an old newspaper on the counter.
The headline read, "The Victory of Free Trade! The End of the Corn Laws!"
Kevin pondered for a moment. When he learned about the Corn Laws in modern times, he had to consider the era's communication and transportation constraints.
No wonder Mrs. Slyn said they were remarkable.
Handing over 9 pence, Kevin took the rye bread, left the bakery, and headed towards the nearest grocery store, Fragrance Street, filled with shops.
He planned to buy matches, essential for starting a fire for heating or boiling water. He also needed garlic and bay leaves, which Klein's diary mentioned as necessities for the ritual.
Additionally, he considered getting pepper, salt, and other spices. Kevin wasn't sure if these were effective, but he thought having them might increase his chances of success.
As he walked down Fragrance Street, Kevin noticed a shop selling dried and fresh herbs. The sign above the door read, "Herbal Remedies and Spices."
Stepping inside, Kevin was greeted by the scent of various herbs. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars and containers labeled with names he recognized and some he didn't.
"Welcome! How can I help you today?" a middle-aged woman behind the counter asked with a friendly smile.
"Do you have garlic and bay leaves?" Kevin asked, glancing around the shop.
"Yes, we do. How much do you need?" she replied, moving towards a shelf with jars of dried herbs.
"I'll take a small bag of each," Kevin said, watching as she measured out the herbs.
As she wrapped the herbs in paper and tied them with string, Kevin continued to browse the shop, picking up a few other spices he thought might be useful.
"That'll be 5 pence," the woman said, handing him the wrapped herbs.
Kevin paid and left the shop, feeling more prepared for the ritual. He still needed to buy matches and a few other items, but he felt he was making progress.
As he continued down the street, Kevin's thoughts returned to the ritual. He knew he had to follow the steps carefully, but he also wondered if there was more to it than just the materials and instructions.