The alchemist recommended by Witch Audrey to Ronan appeared to be in his forties or fifties.
His body was frail, dressed in a crumpled gentleman's suit, with sparse hair and aged skin. His lower eyelids drooped to high cheekbones, and his glasses were half-broken, giving him a pitiful appearance.
This Old Jack, who should have been teaching and nurturing minds on a podium, was curled up in the corner by the gambling table, his mouth swollen and still bearing traces of blood.
Undoubtedly, he had just endured a beating from life.
"Old Jack..."
A scar-faced man grinned menacingly, clenching his fist, and said, "You are a regular here, so we should give you some face, but you shouldn't have broken our Copper Anchor's rules."
He raised two thick fingers: "Now I give you two choices, either you cut off a hand yourself, or we'll help you cut it off. Choose."
