Chapter 4: An Attempt?

Following the fragments of memory in her mind, Angel arrived at the Silver Crown Restaurant at the other end of Daffodil Street.

From the exterior, it appeared to be a mid-range restaurant specializing in various cuisines. Diners could order à la carte or choose from well-balanced set menus. The restaurant's signature after-dinner liqueur attracted many repeat customers.

It was breakfast time, and despite the Silver Crown's relatively high prices compared to other restaurants on Daffodil Street, it was about 80% full. Angel had hoped to find a seat near the wall but ended up sitting in the middle of the restaurant.

This inevitably made her the center of attention. Both dining patrons and passing waiters frequently glanced at her, quickly averting their gaze as if afraid of being caught staring. Male customers with family members present were somewhat restrained, but the waiters behind her were practically shameless in their ogling.

"Maybe I should just go somewhere else..." Angel felt uncomfortable, not expecting to draw so much attention on her first outing. She regretted coming to this restaurant. Buying something from the street to eat back at her lodging might have been a better choice, but the aroma of food from the neighboring table made her hesitate.

As she pondered her dilemma, she noticed a table in the corner where diners had just finished their meal and were leaving. She quickly called over a waiter and expressed her desire to change tables.

With a forced sweet smile and a 5-pence tip, the waiter swiftly cleared the corner table, allowing her to escape the burning gazes of the other patrons.

Within 10 minutes of being seated, a plate of Fettuccine Alfredo with cream of mushroom soup and vegetable salad was served. Although Angel's memory contained no geographical information about "Fettuccine," the main course closely resembled meat sauce pasta, and the salty-sour sauce satisfied her taste buds.

After hastily enjoying her hearty breakfast, Angel declined the complimentary after-dinner drink and left the Silver Crown Restaurant.

Not counting the extra 5 pence for changing seats, this meal cost a full 2 soli. If she were to eat like this three times a day, her weekly expenses would exceed 2 pounds. Considering that the average worker in Tingen earned only about 1 pound per week, even Cole's "inheritance" wouldn't last long, especially since daily expenses weren't limited to just food.

Having just filled her stomach, Angel immediately regretted her extravagant behavior.

---

June in Tingen wasn't the hottest time of the year, but today the sun was particularly intense. Even the ethereal bell tolls from the distant cathedral couldn't dispel the heat generated by the sunlight.

Angel found a hooded cloak to cover her face, finally avoiding the embarrassment of constant stares, but at the cost of rapidly increasing temperature under the scorching sun. Even with her superhuman constitution, she could barely endure it.

"Forget it, I probably won't find anything today. If worst comes to worst, I'll go out again tonight. It's too difficult to find these gray industries during the day." Angel walked around several nearby streets, scouring Cole's memories, and visited a few shops secretly engaged in gray businesses. She couldn't find the fake ID channel she needed. Only one middleman said he could try to figure something out, but he asked for a fifty-pound deposit upfront and a one-month wait, which Angel promptly refused.

Persevering until the afternoon, Angel, who hadn't even eaten lunch, finally lost patience. Carrying various seasonings, bread, potatoes, and mutton she had purchased along the way, she returned to the back alley of Daffodil Street. The amount of garbage in the alley had noticeably increased since she left in the morning, mostly kitchen waste from various households. If no one cleaned it up, it would likely fill the entire back alley in a few days.

Carefully sidestepping the piles of garbage on the ground, she returned to her lodging through the back door. She hung the cloak that concealed her appearance by the door, categorized and stored the seasonings in freshly washed bottles and jars, marinated a small portion of the mutton to prevent spoilage in the hot weather, and threw the rest into the basement.

She then inspected the doors and windows of each room, finding that the paper slip she had placed in the door crack before leaving hadn't moved, which put her mind at ease.

After finishing everything and taking a shower, Angel lay on the sofa by the bay window in the living room, reminiscing about her delicious breakfast on an empty stomach.

"I haven't slept all night, and now I'm really getting sleepy. I might as well sleep until dinnertime and then have lunch and dinner together..." Basking in the sunlight from the window, Angel felt her eyelids growing heavier. Just as she was about to lose consciousness and embrace sleep, her spiritual perception suddenly issued a warning—danger in the study!

Angel sprang up from the sofa like a coiled spring, grabbed the revolver from the table, and burst into the study, throwing the door open.

On the desk, the brass badge was emitting a dangerous signal.

Instinct told Angel that she should stay away from this badge and leave the study, but there was also an impulse in her heart, hinting at the badge's uniqueness.

Gripping the gun tightly in one hand, with the muzzle aimed at the brass badge, she raised her other hand and reached for the badge.

The moment her fingertips touched the badge, like the moonlight that had shone down the night before, the badge burst forth with deep red waves, engulfing the entire study.

At the same time, in a luxurious villa in the Queen's District of Backlund, and aboard a three-masted sailing ship in the stormy Sonia Sea, the same deep red light illuminated two other individuals.

---

The deep red light came and went quickly. Angel soon regained her vision, but her right hand felt lighter—the tightly gripped revolver had vanished. She felt a cold sweat break out on her back and instinctively took a few steps back, observing her unfamiliar surroundings.

In the gray-white fog, besides herself, there were three others. Not far to her right was a tall girl with long hair, swaying her head as she observed her surroundings. Directly opposite, a bit farther away, was a man with messy short hair and an average build. Angel could feel his gaze upon her. They were hidden in the gray fog, their forms hazy and faces blurred, barely discernible except for their body outlines and hairstyles.

Apart from these two, there was also a mysterious figure shrouded in dense fog at a greater distance. His silhouette was distinctly different from the other two, like a phantom, flickering unstably in the fog.

Quickly assessing the current situation, Angel moved closer to the girl's position, forming a relatively compact triangle with the short-haired man. Then, facing the mysterious figure, she asked politely yet cautiously:

"May I ask who you are?"

At the same time, the other two also spoke up.

"Sir, where is this place?"

"What do you want to do?"

The mysterious figure chuckled softly and replied in a low voice: "A simple attempt." The ethereal answer came from the gray fog, his tone as casual as if chatting with friends, calm and refined.

A simple attempt? Hearing this answer that sounded like a joke, Angel felt no urge to laugh at all, only a chill throughout her body. This mysterious figure had, merely because he wanted to make an attempt, used unknown and inconceivable means to snatch her from Daffodil Street in Tingen at noon and bring her to this gray fog.

He had even done the same to two other people simultaneously!

The other two victims were clearly shocked by such a response as well. After a long silence, the girl asked hesitantly, "Sir, is the attempt over? Can you let us go back now?"

"Of course, if you formally request it, I can send you back right now," the mysterious figure replied with a light laugh, sounding like a professor answering a student's question, without a hint of malice.

Thank you, I'd like to leave now, please—Angel only dared to think such words in her heart. Faced with this mysterious figure of unknown power, she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

Moreover, after receiving the promise that she could leave at any time, she became somewhat curious about the origin of this gray fog.

The long-haired girl seemed to have a lively personality. After receiving the assurance of safety, she immediately showed a side completely opposite to her previous caution: "This is truly a marvelous experience... Um, I've always been looking forward to such supernatural miracles... I mean, sir, how can I become a Beyonder?"

Beyonder was this world's term for individuals with extraordinary abilities. It seemed the girl was not yet a Beyonder, but what about that tall, taciturn man? Was he an ordinary person or a Beyonder like herself?

As Angel pondered silently, the gray fog around them churned and surged, and towering stone pillars appeared, covered by a dome above. Like the court of giants, a magnificent and spectacular building instantly surrounded them.

A bronze long table also appeared beneath the dome. The mysterious figure appeared in the high-backed chair at the head of the table, with ten identical chairs extending on either side of him to the foot of the table. Including the empty seat opposite him, there were twenty-two seats in total.

Angel's vision blurred, and she seemed to instantly teleport to one of the high-backed chairs, right next to the mysterious figure at the head of the table. The short-haired man opposite her had also "taken his seat" simultaneously. She turned her head slightly to the left and, sure enough, the overly curious girl was seated on her left side.

The mysterious figure was stroking the edge of the long table, seemingly indicating that all these changes were according to his will. The short-haired man appeared determined to remain silent to the end; he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest—but this defensive posture inadvertently revealed his inner unease. The girl was still looking around, observing the others at the long table.

Angel recalled the memory fragments about potions in her mind and carefully chose her words to answer the girl's question:

"To become a Beyonder, the only way is through potions. You can join various orthodox churches and obtain potions through legal means, or purchase formulas through unofficial channels and prepare them yourself."

"That's right. Judging by your accent, you're from Loen, aren't you?" the short-haired man chimed in. "You can join the Church of the Goddess, the Church of the Lord of Storms, or the Church of Steam and Machinery. In the Nighthawks, the Mandated Punishers, or the Machinery Hivemind, Beyonders are constantly fighting against the dangers growing in the darkness. They welcome those who can contribute."

Thanks to her gradually recovering memories, Angel was not unfamiliar with these churches he mentioned, but she didn't know much about organizations like the Nighthawks or the Mandated Punishers.

Perhaps they were combat organizations of Beyonders belonging to the churches—like the Knights Templar.

"Sir, I know everything you've said, and even more. For example, I know about the Nighthawks, the Mandated Punishers, and the Machinery Hivemind, but I don't want to lose my freedom," the girl replied.

Her answer was surprising. Perhaps she wasn't as naive and ignorant as she had initially appeared. At least she had quite a bit of knowledge about the extraordinary world she was interested in.

"There's no such thing as becoming a Beyonder without paying a price. You either join a church and accept regulation, seek help from families with ancient legacies, or as the lady said, purchase formulas with money and prepare the potions yourself, taking on the risks," the short-haired man said.

"However, potions made from incorrect formulas are no different from poison."

The girl looked excitedly at him when she heard that money could solve the problem, but then lowered her head in disappointment upon hearing the last part. After a long silence, she asked, "Isn't there any other way?"

Angel guessed that the girl might come from a wealthy family. Solving problems with money didn't seem to be a big deal for her, but she clearly didn't want to join a church and be subject to official regulation, nor did she want to risk her life trying unreliable potion formulas.

"There are other ways," Angel felt it was her turn to speak up. The short-haired man had deliberately emphasized the difficulty of obtaining potions, obviously setting up some kind of groundwork. Since Angel had caught on to this, she didn't mind taking advantage of it. She looked towards the mysterious figure at the head of the table, and seeing that he remained silent, not intervening in their conversation, she answered in a measured tone:

"I have a Sequence 9 potion formula in my possession..."

"Really? Which one is it?" the girl asked eagerly.

Angel was satisfied with the girl's reaction and continued:

"This formula is called 'Assassin.' Those who consume the potion can gain enhanced vision and night vision like an owl, excel in combat and evasion, make their bodies as light as a feather for short periods, and concentrate all their strength into a single strike, easily killing their target—just as the name suggests."

"It sounds like a potion focused on combat abilities..." the girl murmured, seemingly not very satisfied with the potion's effects, her tone tinged with disappointment.

"Yes, it not only focuses on combat, but its advancement even requires killing others."

Angel nodded, acknowledging the drawbacks of the "Assassin" potion. The other party was clearly a wealthy young lady, inexperienced in the ways of the world yet yearning for the extraordinary realm, but only wanting to experience mysterious powers rather than using them as a means to enhance combat abilities.

Sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, the girl spoke again: "Are there other types? I've heard that some Beyonders can predict the future or know the past..."

"I'm sorry, I don't know the names or formulas for these potions, but perhaps I could collect information for you, provided you pay a certain fee," Angel replied.

"I'd be more than willing to pay," the girl immediately answered.

"Very well. If I can find potion formulas for exchange, I hope you can provide a legal 'identity' valid in the Loen Kingdom, whether you solve it through money or connections, and have it delivered to Tingen City, um, to my friend there. Plus an additional hundred pounds."

This was a reasonable price. In Cole's memories, Madam Sharon had once mentioned that the "Assassin" potion formula alone could sell for over two hundred pounds on the open market. Other potion formulas would likely have similar value.

"A legal identity..." the girl pondered for a moment, understanding Angel's request. "I see. I'll find a way to arrange it. I hope you can find suitable potions or related leads as soon as possible..."

As the two were reaching a preliminary agreement, the short-haired man, who had been observing coldly, spoke up:

"I also have two Sequence 9 potion formulas..."