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...
It was a risk, hiring guns always was, but better to have one on his side than against him. For now, he stripped off his blood spattered shirt and collapsed onto the mattress, the events of the day finally catching up to him. The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the ceiling, the shadows dancing on the ceiling.
The next day, Caleb woke up to the soft golden glow of morning light peeking through the curtains, but more noticeably, his system interface was already floating in front of his eyes. He blinked twice, then chuckled to himself.
"Persistent little thing, huh?"
He remembered hearing the sharp ping last night, a loud enough tone to cut through his adrenaline as he marched the wounded O'Driscolls to the sheriff. He had dismissed it at the time, more focused on control and reputation than system alerts. Apparently, ignoring it didn't erase the notification, because now it stared right at him.
Caleb sat up, the bed creaking beneath him as he brought the glowing interface closer. Despite the uncanny nature of the system window appearing out of thin air, it had become a comforting sort of companion, a tool that kept him sharp and gave him an edge in this world.
Still, even if the system didn't have consciousness, it certainly had a stubborn way of reminding him not to overlook it.
"What've you got for me now?" he muttered.
Three new updates flashed.
[Skill Level Up]
Hand to Hand Combat → Level 2
Knife → Level 2
[New Skill Acquired]
Acting (Level 1 – Elementary)
"Huh," Caleb murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "Acting, huh?"
The combat skills leveling up made perfect sense. Last night, he'd relied heavily on muscle memory and instinct, using every bit of training he'd picked up since arriving in this world, his punches were sharper, his grip on the knife more decisive. But the Acting skill? That was unexpected.
He focused on the skill's description.
Acting (Level 1 – Elementary)
A skill reflecting one's ability to feign emotion, deceive through mannerism, or portray an image contrary to truth. Developed through constant performance under pressure and emotional control.
Caleb leaned back against the headboard with a thoughtful smile. It made sense. Since his transmigration into this world, he'd been living behind masks, feigning innocence, hiding knowledge, smoothing over everything he could with calculated calm.
But last night might have been the tipping point, him acting like a passive, helpless man while planning the precise moment to strike.
"Guess you can lie to the world long enough, it becomes an innate skill," he murmured.
With a renewed sense of progress, he swung his legs over the bed and stood. His blood spattered shirt from last night was still tossed on the chair.
He peeled it off and dropped it into the corner to be sent for laundry. He pulled out a clean shirt from his chest, buttoned it briskly, then shrugged on his coat. His boots clacked softly against the wooden floor as he moved to his hat resting on the night table.
Hat on, coat neat, and pockets checked, he opened the door to his room and headed downstairs. The lobby was still quiet, the early morning sun not yet waking most of Valentine's citizens. As he stepped onto the porch, he retrieved his pocket watch from his vest and clicked it open.
07:42 AM.
"Right on time," he said with a smirk, flipping it shut.
He walked briskly toward the food stall. The town was slowly rousing to life. Chickens clucked in the distance, a wagon trundled by, and two cowhands argued over breakfast options near the saloon.
Beside the Valentine stable was the food stall, and in front of the stall, stood Jasper, Mickey, and Simon. All three looked up as Caleb approached.
"Boss!" Jasper called.
"Morning, Caleb!" Simon waved with both hands.
"Morning friend, I mean boss," Mickey said with a grin, still adjusting his sling.
Caleb returned their smiles with a warm nod. "Morning, gentlemen."
Jasper stepped forward, eyes narrowing slightly with concern. "You alright? Heard from some of the townsfolk this morning that you marched three men, limping and bloody, into the sheriff's office last night. Said you had a gun on 'em the whole way."
Caleb chuckled, glancing down at the wooden boards beneath his feet. "That part's true. They tried to rob me last night, lured me into the alley between the general store and its neighbor. Thought I'd be easy pickings with that poker win floating around town."
Mickey let out a low whistle. "Damn, boss."
"Fortunately for me," Caleb continued, "I'd already deposited my winnings at the bank. They didn't know about that of course and would be very unhappy knowing that, but... they made a poor choice by deciding to rob me."
He mimed a quick jab with his fist, then flicked his wrist like slashing with a knife.
"I waited for my moment, knocked 'em around a bit, and used one of their own knives to make sure they stayed down. Wounded all three in the thighs, clean but painful. Then I marched them to the sheriff's myself."
Simon looked half awed. "You're something else, Caleb."
"You handled it like a real man, Caleb," Jasper added, impressed.
Caleb waved a hand, shrugging modestly. "Right place, right skills."
Then he reached into his satchel and pulled out 60 dollars, and handed it over to Jasper.
"Alright, here's today's supply money. Same thing to buy as yesterday, but bigger. I want 80 servings today. Head to Old Bob and get the bad cuts. Then swing by Mr. Worth's general store, he should have stock ready since we finalized our partnership. Grab 80 bread rolls, one cloth of salt, and three sacks of potatoes."
Jasper nodded, mentally taking notes.
"Oh, and don't forget Doc Calloway," Caleb added. "Pick up our order of thyme and ask for more, enough to cover all 80 servings of patties."
Jasper gave a thumbs up, then turned to Simon. "I'll need help carrying all that."
"Of course," Simon said quickly.
With their task set, the two of them set off, leaving Caleb and Mickey to prep the stall.
Caleb pulled the key from his coat pocket and unlocked the door to the roofless stall. Together, he and Mickey started pulling out the five tables and 20 chairs, setting them up beside the stall just like yesterday. Mickey, despite having only one good hand, made himself useful by directing spacing and holding chairs steady while Caleb placed them.
As they worked, a few early passersby offered friendly waves, and Caleb responded with a courteous nod.
"You're gettin' good at that," Caleb remarked as they arranged the last table.
Mickey grinned. "Ain't much I can't do one handed if I put my mind to it."
With the seating arranged and the front counter cleaned, Caleb stepped behind the serving area. He wiped his hands on a cloth and exhaled.
The rhythm of the business was settling in, one day at a time. Yet, the weight of the O'Driscolls' retaliation still gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.
Mickey could see that Caleb was distracted. The furrow in his brow, the slight tension in his shoulders, something was clearly gnawing at him.
"Somethin' wrong, boss?" Mickey asked, his voice low but sincere.
Caleb blinked and glanced over at him, then shook his head with a small smile. "We'll talk about it once Jasper and Simon get back with the supplies. No sense in worrying about it now."
Mickey nodded, not pressing further. He trusted Caleb enough to know he'd share when the time was right. For now, there was work to do.
Together, they turned their attention to the bowls and plates stacked in the back of the stall. They'd used simple wooden sets to serve yesterday's customers, and though most were already wiped clean, Caleb insisted on checking every single one for leftover stains.
If they found any, they cleaned them up using the fresh water from the well at the side of the stables and gave them a fresh rinse.
Even with his arm in a sling, Mickey moved with surprising dexterity. He filled a bucket with water from the well using his good hand, balancing it against his hip with practiced ease as he returned to the washing area.
"Your one arm has more strength than most people with two arms Mickey," Caleb said, tossing Mickey a towel.
"Thanks, boss," Mickey replied with a grin.
They were halfway through drying the cleaned bowls when the sound of a cart approaching caught their ears. Jasper and Simon returned, both of them sweating lightly from the effort, but each carrying sacks filled with things exactly as Caleb had ordered.
"Got everything you asked for," Jasper said, setting down a crate filled with bread rolls. "Old Bob threw in a few extra cuts for free. Said it was nice that he could get rid of the bad cuts, as not many people buy them anyway', much better than throwing it away."
"Mr. Worth had your stuff packed up too," Simon added, placing the sacks of potatoes and a cloth wrapped bundle of salt nearby. "Doc Calloway gave us plenty of thyme, more than we needed actually."
"Perfect," Caleb said with a satisfied nod. "Let's get started."
From a chest beneath the stall, Caleb pulled out his meat cleaver and a freshly sharpened kitchen knife. He grabbed the cuts of meat and laid them out on a broad wooden board.
"Jasper," he called, "watch closely. You'll be doing this when I'm away."
Jasper nodded and stood beside him attentively. Caleb began by trimming the sinew and fat, then ran the cleaver through the meat with swift, even strokes. He ground it by hand until it formed a fine, pliable mass. He added salt and thyme, mixing with his hands until the aroma of spiced meat began to fill the stall.
"Consistency's key," Caleb explained, showing Jasper how to press the patties evenly. "They cook better when they're uniform."
Beside them, Simon on the other hand moved to one of the cauldrons for the potatoes. Caleb had already decided on the process which he had told Simon, that is clean, peel, slice, soak, then fry.
Caleb joined him and Jasper in cleaning and peeling all three sacks of potatoes. Working quickly, they cut them into thin strips. Caleb made sure they weren't too thick or too thin, just enough to get that golden crisp.
They dumped the sliced strips into the saltwater cauldron. "Soaking them in salted water draws out the starch," Caleb noted. "Helps 'em crisp better."
As that work progressed, Mickey turned his attention to the bread rolls. With only one hand, he still managed to slice through all 80 rolls cleanly, cutting each one into even halves. Once done, he returned them into their cloth sack, ready for service.
The team was moving in sync now.
Caleb looked at the stall, tables ready, food prepped, and crew alert. Yet something tugged at him.
He cleared his throat and called their attention. "Before we open, there's one thing I need to bring up."
The three men turned toward him. "Last night, the three men that I took down were actually part of the O'Driscolls gang, which they themselves told me while trying to rob me. And they knew I was working here, luckily, they thought I was just a hired hand. But next time, we might not be so lucky."
Mickey's grin faded, and Jasper's jaw clenched. Simon looked uncomfortable.
"I could keep an eye on you all while I'm here," Caleb continued, "but we need someone dedicated to watching our backs. Someone who can keep an eye on the stall when I'm not around, maybe even pitch in with serving when needed. A guard, in a sense, but one that knows how to blend in."
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1) → (Lvl 2)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 3)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1) → (Lvl 2)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 2)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv 2)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 2)
- Teaching (Lvl 1)
- Germanic Language Proficiency (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 5x5x5)
- Acting (Lvl 1) → New!
Money: 651 dollars and 25 cents
Inventory: 2,395 dollars, 2 gold nuggets, 5 gold bars, 4 silver rings, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
Bank: -