Walking down Zotland Street, feeling the warm, damp breeze lift his spirits, Klein suddenly remembered something important:
He only had 3 pennies left in his pocket, but the public carriage fare to Iron Cross Street would cost 4. Trying to pay with a 1-pound note would be like using a hundred-dollar bill to buy a cheap bottle of water—he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Maybe I could take the carriage for 3 pennies and walk the remaining distance?" Klein pondered, slowing his pace to consider other options.
"No, that won't work!" He quickly dismissed the idea.
Walking the rest of the way with 12 pounds—essentially a small fortune in his pocket—wasn't exactly safe. Besides, he hadn't brought his revolver today, assuming the Night Watchers might have confiscated it. If he ran into any danger related to Welch's death, he'd be defenseless!
"Could I go to a nearby bank to get change? No, that'd cost a 0.5% fee—too extravagant!" Klein shook his head in dismay, the very thought of losing money to a fee making him wince.
As one option after another was ruled out, Klein's eyes suddenly brightened when he spotted a hat and clothing shop nearby.
Of course! The most straightforward idea was to buy something inexpensive to break the note. A suit, shirt, vest, trousers, boots, and a cane were all on his budget anyway. Whether he bought them today or later didn't matter.
Still, clothes would need fitting, and Benson was better at negotiating prices. It could wait until he returned… But a cane?
Yes! There was an old saying: a cane is a gentleman's best defensive weapon. It could double as a half-decent crowbar. A true gentleman should wield a cane in one hand and a revolver in the other—it was the civilized way to fight!
Decision made, Klein turned and headed into "Virkell's Haberdashery."
The layout of the store reminded him of clothing shops from his previous life. To the left was a row of formal suits against the wall, shirts, trousers, vests, and ties neatly displayed in the center, and a collection of polished leather shoes and boots showcased in a glass cabinet on the right.
"Good day, sir. What can I help you find?" asked a male attendant in a white shirt and red vest, approaching him politely.
In the Kingdom of Loen, where gentlemen of status preferred the restrained elegance of white shirts, black vests, and dark suits, household staff, shop attendants, and other service workers were often required to wear brighter colors to distinguish their rank and profession.
In contrast, the ladies' dresses varied widely in color and were often adorned with luxurious decorations, while the maids' attire was limited to either black with white or white with black.
Considering the attendant's question, Klein thought for a moment before replying, "A cane, something a bit heavy and sturdy."
One that could crack someone's skull if necessary!
The attendant in the red vest gave Klein a discreet once-over, then led him deeper into the store, pointing to a row of canes in the corner. "This one here, with gold inlay, is made from ironwood. Very heavy, very solid—11 shillings and 7 pence. Would you like to give it a try?"
Eleven shillings and seven pence? Might as well rob people at that price! Just because it has a bit of gold? Klein was taken aback by the cost.
Maintaining a composed expression, he gave a slight nod. "All right."
The attendant carefully removed the ironwood cane and handed it to Klein with the kind of caution reserved for fragile goods.
The moment Klein grasped it, he felt the weight. He tried moving it around and quickly realized that wielding it with ease was out of the question.
"Too heavy," he said, shaking his head with a slight sense of relief.
At least he had a valid reason!
The attendant put the ironwood cane back in its place, then gestured to three others. "This one here is walnut, crafted by Tingen's renowned cane maker, Mr. Hess—10 shillings and 3 pence. This one is lignum vitae, inlaid with silver, as hard as steel—7 shillings and 6 pence. And this one is made from the heartwood of the white bory tree, also inlaid with silver, 7 shillings and 10 pence…"
Klein tried each cane in turn, finding them all suitably weighted. He then tapped each with his knuckles to gauge their hardness, finally settling on the least expensive option.
"This one made of lignum vitae, please," Klein said, pointing to the silver-inlaid head of the cane held by the attendant in the red vest.
"Certainly, sir. Please follow me to the counter for payment. Should this cane ever get scuffed or stained, feel free to bring it in; we'll handle it for you free of charge," the red-vested attendant said, guiding Klein toward the counter.
Taking the opportunity, Klein unfurled the four-pound notes he'd been clutching and picked the smaller of the two.
"Hello, that will be 7 shillings and 6 pence," the attendant behind the counter said with a polite smile.
Klein had hoped to maintain his composure as a gentleman, but as he extended the pound note, he couldn't resist asking, "Any chance for a discount?"
"Sir, each of these is handmade, and our costs are quite high," the red-vested attendant replied from the side. "Besides, the owner isn't here, and we're not authorized to adjust prices."
The cashier nodded in agreement, adding, "Apologies, sir."
"Very well," Klein said, handing over the bill as he accepted the black cane with the silver-inlaid head from the red-vested attendant.
As he waited for his change, Klein stepped back a bit and gave the "secondary weapon" a few test swings within a modest range.
*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*
The cane cut through the air with a weighty hum, creating a solid, satisfying sound that left Klein nodding approvingly.
But when he looked back toward the counter, expecting to see his change in bills and coins, he was surprised to see the red-vested attendant had retreated a few paces. The cashier behind the counter had edged back into the corner, pressing close to a wall where a double-barreled hunting rifle was mounted.
The Kingdom of Ruen maintained a semi-restricted policy on firearms. To own a gun, citizens needed either an "All-Category Firearms License" or a "Hunting License." However, neither license permitted ownership of fully automatic rifles, steam-powered pressure guns, or six-barreled machine guns, as these remained strictly under military control.
An "All-Category Firearms License" allowed for unrestricted purchase of civilian firearms but was challenging to obtain; even people with status, like merchants, might struggle with the stringent requirements. The "Hunting License," on the other hand, was comparatively easier to acquire, even accessible to rural farmers, though it limited holders to hunting rifles with restrictions on quantity. Many modestly wealthy individuals held such a license, as it provided a means of self-defense in emergencies, as seen now…
Klein glanced at the two wary shop attendants, his mouth twitching slightly as he let out a dry chuckle.
"Yes, this cane is perfect for swinging. I'm quite pleased with it."
Seeing that he posed no threat, the cashier behind the counter visibly relaxed, offering him the bills and coins with both hands.
Klein took them and glanced over the money—a couple of 5-soli notes, two 1-soli notes, a 5-pence coin, and a 1-pence coin. Satisfied, he gave an approving nod.
After a slight pause, he disregarded the attendants' wary glances and unfolded each of the four notes, holding them up to the light to examine the security patterns and watermarks.
Having assured himself of their authenticity, Klein stowed the money and coins away, adjusted his hat, and walked out of "Wilker's Clothier" with the dignity of a gentleman. He then took the luxury of riding a trackless public carriage, making one transfer and spending a total of 6 pence to reach his apartment.
After securing the door behind him, Klein counted out the remaining 11 pounds and 12 soli in his drawer three times to confirm, then took out the revolver with its bronze cylinder and wooden grip.
*Clink, clink, clink!*
Five brass-colored bullets clattered onto the desk as Klein carefully loaded each of the silver-etched "demon hunting bullets," marked with intricate designs and the dark emblem, into the revolver's chamber.
He left one slot empty to prevent accidental misfire, storing the remaining demon-hunting and standard bullets together in a small metal box.
*Click!*
Snapping the cylinder shut, Klein suddenly felt a renewed sense of security.
In high spirits, he slid the revolver into his underarm holster, securing it firmly, and began practicing his draw, repeating the motion over and over until his arms ached. He would pause to rest only to resume once again, continuing until dusk settled in and the hallway outside began to echo with the sounds of tenants returning.
Exhaling, Klein slipped the revolver back into the holster under his arm. Only then did he finally change out of his formal attire, donning his usual brownish-yellow coat and doing a few shoulder stretches to loosen up his arms.
*Tap, tap, tap*—footsteps approached, followed by the sound of a key entering the lock and turning.
Melissa entered, her sleek black hair gently framing her face. Her nose twitched almost imperceptibly as she glanced around the room, her gaze resting momentarily on the unlit stove. Her eyes dimmed slightly, as if a spark had flickered out.
"Melissa, I'll cook up the leftovers from last night. Benson might be back tomorrow," Melissa said, turning to look at her brother.
Klein leaned against the edge of the desk with his hands in his pockets, smiling, "No, we're going out to eat."
"Going out?" Melissa asked, taken aback.
"How about the 'Silver Crown Restaurant' on Daffodil Street? I've heard the food is great," Klein suggested.
"But… but…" Melissa was still processing the sudden change.
Klein chuckled, "To celebrate—I got a job."
"You found a job?" Melissa's voice rose in surprise. "But… but isn't the Tingen University interview tomorrow?"
"It's a different job," Klein replied, smiling as he took the stack of banknotes out of the drawer. "They even advanced me four weeks of pay."
Melissa's eyes went wide as she took in the sight of the pounds and soli. "By the Goddess… you… they… what kind of job did you get?"
Klein hesitated for a second, carefully choosing his words. "An antiquities company focused on finding, collecting, and preserving ancient items. They needed a professional advisor. It's a five-year contract, and I'll be earning three pounds a week."
"So… last night you were stressed about this decision?" Melissa asked after a brief silence.
Klein nodded, "Yes. Working at Tingen University would be more respectable, but I think I'll enjoy this job more."
"Actually… it sounds pretty good too," Melissa said, her expression softening with a faint, encouraging smile, though curiosity was still evident. "Why would they advance you an entire month's salary?"
"Because we need to move somewhere with more space, with our own bathroom," Klein said, his lips curling in a grin as he spread his hands.
He felt like he was delivering the perfect, flawless pitch, only a breath away from asking, "Surprised?"
Melissa paused, then suddenly spoke up in a fast, slightly flustered tone, "Klein, we're actually doing pretty well where we are. When I complain about not having our own bathroom, it's just a habit. Do you remember Jenny? Our old neighbor? Ever since her father got hurt and lost his job, they had to move to the lower streets. All five of them live in one room now—three on bunk beds, two on the floor. They're even thinking of renting out that last spot on the floor to make ends meet."
"Compared to them, we're really fortunate. Let's not waste your salary on moving… I mean, I really like Mrs. Sline's bakery."
Sister, this reaction wasn't in the script I had in mind… Klein stood there, momentarily speechless.