Ashwell Underground Station
The station was packed with passengers; there was barely space to walk. People pushed past one another; some arriving, others desperate to depart. Located near the city's center, Ashwell was among the busiest stations.
A man in a long overcoat and a black top hat, carrying a small bag, stepped toward one of the many ticket counters lined neatly side by side.
"Single ticket to Droswick," he said.
The counter lady glanced up. His gray eyes were sharp yet distant. She answered his request with a detached efficiency. She tore a page from the register, then slid a rectangular slip across the counter, stamping it with a dull thud.
He filled out the form with his name and details, handing it back along with his identification. The woman studied the documents briefly.
"Elias Marrow." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she returned his papers and dipped her head in a small bow.
Elias removed his hat, revealing a head of gray hair. He pressed the hat to his chest and bowed lightly in return, then replaced it before stepping back.
From his back pocket, he drew his wallet. He tucked the ticket and identification neatly inside, layering them to overlap each other, and slid them into a compartment separate from the one that held his notes. A crease along the edge of one bill caught his eye. His lips tightened as he smoothed it carefully flat, then returned the note to its place.
With his wallet stowed, he collected his bag and moved on, merging into the restless crowd.
...
Private Airship
Pristine stood near the window, gazing down at the land far below as his private airship drifted through the sky.
As one of the richest men in the world, and the owner of several multinational companies, Joseph Pristine was always on the move, whether it was the banquet he had attended a few days ago or some other pressing affair.
He looked out at the city beneath him, the buildings appearing no larger than toys from such a height.
"So you're dead. No wonder you were so eager for me to attend the banquet. A final goodbye, huh?" he murmured quietly.
...
The next day, Caleric was awake early. He had not yet planned what he needed to do for the day. Having learned about the potential perpetrator of the murder, he felt rather relaxed. He couldn't directly pursue his revenge, for the private doctor of the Gnalets belonged to a very secretive and cautious organization.
The thoughts had kept him awake most of the night, and the little sleep he had gotten was disturbed by sun rays filtering through the small window, striking his face.
Unable to rest any longer, Caleric decided to be productive and go out on a job hunt. He had heard of this several times online. Though he had anticipated having to do the same in the future, that time had arrived surprisingly early.
He got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. As he went downstairs, his maid, sitting motionless on the couch, glanced at him. She quickly stood, bowed, and went ahead to prepare his breakfast.
After enjoying a leisurely bath, he returned to his room, dressed in his usual attire, and prepared to leave. He went downstairs, had his breakfast, asked the maid to inform Cally that he might be late, and left the house.
This time, he planned on walking down Upper Street. Last time, he had walked toward the city center, and the day before, though he had technically gone toward the countryside, he had avoided the main road.
He made his way to Upper Street and took a left turn, walking along the roadside. It was as crowded and lively as ever. Although Caleric didn't have a job in mind yet, he planned on exploring. If he couldn't secure a job that week, he would give in and ask Mariel to use her connections as a last resort.
After walking for a while he reached the end of the Upper Street. It terminated at the start of the Lower Street, which had a completely different atmosphere. It was dull and felt dead. There were people, but the feeling of joy that radiated from the Upper Street had vanished.
Caleric was making his way through the street, noting down buildings and shops. Just then a child came running toward him. Caleric, who could barely react, just stood there as the child bumped into him, quickly apologised, and as soon as he was about to run away, a man held his hand.
The child held a wallet in his hand. It was Caleric's wallet. In the brief moment of bumping into him, he had slipped his hand into Caleric's back pocket and taken it.
The man snatched the wallet from the child's hands. The boy ran away without stopping.
"There you go, beware of pickpockets in this area," the man said, handing the wallet back to Caleric.
All this while Caleric just stood there. His wallet had almost been stolen and he was unable to do anything about it.
"Thank you so much, good sir," Caleric said, but he felt a small thanks was not enough. He looked at the man; he was wearing rugged clothes, his hair was not groomed, and he looked a little hungry.
"Would you accept a little treat?" Caleric asked the man.
The man didn't say anything; he simply nodded as he followed Caleric.
On his way, Caleric had noted a café close by, located right on the main road a short walk past the end of the Upper Street. The pair walked for a while before reaching the small café.
There weren't many people at the moment. Caleric took a corner table.
"Go ahead," he said, looking at the man who seemed as if he were dying of hunger.
The man hurriedly ordered a few things while Caleric simply sat there without saying anything.
"Will you not eat?" the man asked.
"I already did."
As the food arrived at their table and the man wasted no time digging in, Caleric asked,
"So, do you do this every time?"
"What?" The man had a mouthful of bread.
"Saving someone from getting pickpocketed in order to get a free meal," Caleric said with a blank expression.
The man was taken aback, but he tried to play it off as if he had no idea what Caleric was talking about.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"Maybe I am just being paranoid." Caleric mumbled as he glanced at the man, scanning him up and down.
"Your wife... she left you? Is that the reason you are on the streets?"
As the man heard Caleric, he was so shocked that he almost choked on the bread he was eating.
"How do you know that?" the man asked, surprised and startled.
"Who knows, perhaps the same way I knew that it was a little skit of yours to save me from the pickpocket boy?" Caleric said. Although his tone was teasing, his expression remained blank.
"What do you want?" The man was a little scared of Caleric.
"Nothing. I like observing. So tell me about your little skit, I am quite interested."
The man thought for a while, looking down at his plate. He didn't have any other choice, for he had been caught—and that too for the first time in a very long while.
"It is not something I do every time. It was more like I happened to spot the boy. I know that kid, he works for a racket of pickpockets. It was merely a coincidence, and I happened to use it to my advantage," he said.
"But how would you make sure that you were rewarded for your act of honesty? Not everyone would," Caleric asked.
"Sir, look at me. If their heart doesn't melt at the sight of this poor man, then they must not be human."
"Indeed, if it wasn't for your looks, I would not have considered treating you at all." Caleric was amused.
The man continued eating. He had not eaten well in several days, and he did not want such an opportunity to go to waste.
Caleric stood up, looked at the man who was staring back at him, and said, "Washroom."
As the man watched Caleric walk away from the table, he quickly noticed it. Caleric was going the opposite way of the washroom; he was instead making his way outside toward the door.
As the realization sank in, the man's life flashed in front of his eyes. He had ordered so much food that he could barely cover even a fraction of it. He hurriedly stood up and started walking to the door, but as he did, he was stopped by the café employees.
He had no money to pay. Caleric had left him. He was the one who had been scammed. He didn't understand why this was happening to him; all he had done was take a little advantage of a coincidence—in a way, he had stopped a pickpocketing attempt.
"Is this how you treat your children?" He looked up at the ceiling, remembering the name of the goddess. Just as a tear was about to roll down from his eye, a man walked into the café. The man had a face that could make people question whether he was a she. With long, beautiful hair, it was none other than Caleric.
"Surprise," Caleric said as he looked at the man. Then he glanced at the employees that had gathered around.
"Receipt," he asked the employee who was holding it in his hands.
3 Obel 6 Hira... I should not have come back, I am seriously considering running away now. Despite his thoughts, Caleric paid the full amount with four 1-Obel notes and took back the change of 4 Hira.
It was only when the amount was cleared that the man heaved a sigh of relief. He was now very cautious around this man with long hair, for he did not understand anything about him.
The pair walked out of the café. As the man quickly turned and started walking away, Caleric called out to him,
"Mister! How would you like to earn some extra money?"
As much as the man was scared of Caleric, he was also in desperate need of money. He turned slowly and helplessly, carrying an uncomfortable smile on his face as he looked at Caleric, who was also smiling. However, his smile wasn't pure—it was evil, as if he had ulterior motives.
"You should know these streets well, right? I want you to be my tour guide. I will pay you 1 Obel for it."