On Friday afternoon, Angel finished her dinner early and changed into light, practical clothing. She distributed her belongings methodically across various pockets—the mystical pocket watch, three Sleep Charms, several spare pistol magazines. Her gun and dagger, wand and magic mirror, all rested in their proper places.
"Looks like I'm heading to war..." she murmured.
Standing before the full-length mirror, Angel examined her fully armed reflection before draping a cloak over her shoulders. She retrieved the document folder containing the difference engine manuscript from her study and left the house.
Rather than hiring a carriage, she walked toward Dominic and Sonya's residence in the East Borough. Partly to digest her recent meal, but also to memorize the route in detail and familiarize herself with the surrounding environment.
The East Borough appeared slightly more "peaceful" during daylight hours. Street corner vagrants were driven into hidden alcoves by the occasional patrolling constables wielding their batons, and shopkeepers cleared away the reeking piles of garbage, lending the impoverished district a faint semblance of the kingdom's capital city status.
But come nightfall, the omnipresent wanderers would emerge from every crevice, searching for any place to rest, anything to eat, anything that could be traded for coin...
This was Beckhland's East Borough—with a population several times larger than Tingen City, yet resembling countless replicas of Tingen's Iron Cross Street district compressed into one sprawling area.
No, Iron Cross Street at least had order, still held some glimmer of hope... Angel thought of the young factory worker who lived there, Tromi. She should still be working as a maid in the Moretti household, learning to cook. She wondered how many dishes Tromi had mastered by now...
Walking through these streets steeped in despair, Angel felt her heart gradually numbing, until she spotted that oddly-shaped apartment building. She climbed the stairs to the third floor and arrived at Dominic's door.
Knock, knock—
Shortly after her knocking, Dominic's face appeared in the door crack—a face she'd always found somewhat punchable, but now seemed surprisingly animated.
"This early? Wait a moment, let me change."
The door closed again. About five minutes later, Dominic emerged wearing a cloak and locked the door behind him.
"Where's your Sonya? Isn't she coming?"
Angel asked curiously, remembering how just days ago he'd insisted he couldn't leave the powerless "Diviner" alone at home.
"Now I think being around you is more dangerous than staying in the East Borough. She's resting somewhere else," the Provocateur replied with his characteristic sneer.
Somewhere else? But you two were living together before...
Angel surmised that Dominic had secured a separate safe house in the past few days and stationed Sonya there, avoiding another awkward situation like the night they seized the manuscript—where fighting was impossible and fleeing was equally out of the question.
Perhaps she should also rent a place in an area like the East Borough, using it as a hideout when necessary, or as a visible residence to keep her 20-pound rental from being exposed...
Lost in thought, Angel watched Dominic produce two masks made from cardboard and coarse cloth from beneath his cloak, handing one to her.
"Take this. You'll need it later. It's Sonya's, so don't ruin it."
Angel accepted the mask. The cardboard had holes cut for the facial features, with an adorable cat face painted on the front. Two large ears were even cut out at the top, and cloth strips on each side could be tied behind the head to secure the mask.
This must have been designed by Sonya for herself.
Dominic held a clown mask painted in garish red and green, its features twisted and colors bizarre—clearly his own handiwork.
They're hiding their identities at the gathering? That makes sense. With thousands of pounds at stake in this transaction, being targeted would be extremely troublesome...
Angel speculated as she followed him downstairs, left the apartment, and boarded the steam subway heading northwest toward Queens.
Following the evening rush of workers leaving the subway station, they returned to ground level. The dilapidated streets had transformed into magnificent buildings styled in the Ruen fashion, interspersed with numerous large Gothic structures.
"I thought this kind of gathering would be held in some shadowy corner of the East Borough or the docks, or at least in a place like South of the Bridge with its dense population, easy to hide in. I never expected it to be in Queens."
Walking along the spacious streets, Angel felt conspicuous in her cloak under the occasional strange glances from passersby. She voiced her dissatisfaction to Dominic.
The latter paid no heed to others' stares, straightening his spine as he replied, "I didn't expect you to be so ignorant either. This is a high-end gathering, otherwise no one would be willing to pay 2000 pounds to buy such a complex mechanical design manuscript that likely won't be built into a real machine for decades."
The 2000 pounds is mine! Angel silently protested, clutching the document folder beneath her cloak.
They bypassed the bustling streets and entered a quiet residential area, arriving at a building indistinguishable from its neighbors. It featured an independent garden and fence, but no guards or servants.
At the building's side door, Dominic signaled Angel to stop, carefully donning his clown mask before knocking.
Three long knocks, then two short ones...
Angel noted the pattern while securing her cat mask.
The door opened from within. The two squeezed through the gap one after another, entering a spacious hall already scattered with numerous people. Some, like her, were concealed—wearing bizarre masks or hiding their faces beneath cloaks. Others showed their true faces, unconcerned with others' scrutiny.
"There are no assigned seats here. We can sit anywhere. Let's wait in the corner," Dominic whispered, leading Angel around occupied armchairs and sofas to find two empty seats in a corner of the room.
Only then did Angel have time to observe the gathering venue carefully.
The room held over thirty chairs, but only about twenty people, most with covered faces, wearing cloaks or oversized coats that made even their gender difficult to determine.
The chairs were loosely arranged around a single-seat sofa, where sat a black-robed man with most of his face hidden beneath a hood. He slowly shifted his gaze, observing each visitor like a nobleman looking down upon commoners he despised.
"That's the gathering's organizer, a powerful Beyonder," Dominic leaned forward after settling into his seat, whispering close to Angel. "I estimate he's at least Sequence 6, possibly Sequence 5. According to other attendees, there have been several instances where certain Beyonders at the gathering harbored ill intentions toward him. Some Sequence 7 Beyonders even tried to band together against him, but the result was always the same—no one ever saw them again."
"Sounds formidable. What pathway is he from?"
Angel also leaned low, lowering her voice.
"Heh, if I knew that, I'd probably already be rotting in some ditch like those brainless challengers," Dominic's old habits resurfaced as he sneered. "After we finish trading with him, you can go test his Beyonder abilities. Just don't mention you came with me when he's torturing and killing you."
Ignoring the barbed remark, Angel asked in surprise, "He's the one offering 2000 pounds for the manuscript?"
"Exactly. Originally it was 1000 pounds, but no one knew where the manuscript was, so the price gradually increased to the current 2000 pounds. If I wasn't desperate for money, I'd want to wait longer—maybe Mr. A would post an even higher bounty."
A... Mr. A?
Angel felt cold sweat instantly seep down her back. The black-robed man's occasional glances suddenly seemed laden with hidden meaning.