After channeling her spirituality and cleansing the safe house with black flames, Angel donned the "Ring of Madness" once more. She left the sparsely furnished studio apartment, taking a circuitous route from the dock district back to the Backlund Bridge area, finally returning to her residence on Red Rose Street.
Though she knew her gnawing hunger was merely a negative effect of the mystical item rather than genuine starvation, she still prepared herself a simple late-night meal upon arriving home, satisfying the appetite that had been building throughout the evening.
"I'll need to wear this ring more sparingly from now on. Short periods are manageable, but prolonged use might trigger not just the need for food, but other urges as well..."
Toying with the antiquely styled ring with its intricate patterns, Angel placed it carefully into a small iron box and stowed it away.
After all, this was a mystical item worth 2,000 pounds. She would need to rely on its psychological "unfamiliarity" effect when infiltrating the Witch set in the future.
Of course, she had no intention of returning to Mr. A's Beyonder gathering anytime soon. The role she'd been playing was that of a witch from Tingen who was attempting to escape the Witch set's clutches. To immediately return to a gathering where she'd exposed her identity right after being tailed by an unknown instigator from the cult would seem far too deliberate.
She should wait at least a week... Mr. A's gatherings occurred roughly every two or three days, and they'd been meeting even more frequently lately, so she could attend whenever convenient. For now, it would be better to craft more "Storm Gathering" charms—perhaps that golden-masked figure would continue purchasing them.
She planned to visit the "Brave Bar" on Iron Gate Street in the Bridge District tomorrow. There, one could purchase various firearms and ammunition without needing to present a gun permit. The bullets Angel had brought to Backlund remained unused, having all been converted into special ammunition for sale. Her supply desperately needed replenishing.
Moreover, according to Dominic, the person in charge there knew when another gathering would be held. For a small fee, he could provide an introduction.
The acting method for the Witch pathway also needed to move forward. Though her finances were currently tight—even if she fully digested the potion, she couldn't afford the Sequence 6 formula and materials—it was better to be prepared. Advancing one's strength always took priority.
She intended to search the newspapers for acting opportunities, or perhaps take a part-time position at a divination club, attempting to become a "witch" skilled in mirror divination.
Maybe I could even become a talented diviner...
Gazing at the citrine pendant on her wrist, Angel blinked rapidly before hastily pulling down her sleeve, concealing both the pendant and the light-reflecting "Hidden Holy Emblem."
Bypassing the boisterous boxing ring and dog-catching-rat competitions at the "Brave Bar," pushing through the crowd of sweat-soaked patrons, Angel arrived outside billiard room number three and gently pushed open the door.
"Is Caspars Canlinin here?" she asked in a lowered voice, like a spy making contact.
"I was introduced by the 'Old Man,'" she added, recalling the code phrase Dominic had mentioned.
The two men in the billiard room exchanged glances. The older of the pair nodded slightly. "Come in."
A massive scar crossed the right side of his face, passing through his eye and the corner of his mouth. He appeared to be around fifty, with graying hair.
The younger player set down his cue and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Caspars tossed his cue stick onto the table and limped over to the wall, settling onto a low stool. His eyes fixed on Angel as he asked, "What do you need?"
"Large-caliber pistol rounds. Fifty of them."
Angel produced a cartridge she'd been carrying and showed it to him, indicating the caliber she required.
"Two pounds total. Need a pistol to go with that?"
Caspars quoted his price.
Nearly double what weapon shops charge, but I didn't bring my firearms permit to Backlund, so I'll have to accept his markup...
Angel shook her head helplessly, pulling out two pound notes and handing them over. She quickly received a neat cardboard box of large-caliber bullets coated in protective grease.
"I heard you can bring people to a certain secret gathering?" she asked casually while inspecting the ammunition.
"Hmph. That place isn't easy to get into, especially for unfamiliar faces like yours."
Caspars studied Angel's forgettable features, pausing for a moment before continuing, "Tomorrow night at eight o'clock. If you truly want to attend that gathering, come here. The fee is also two pounds. Don't be late."
"Thank you. I'll be punctual."
Taking the bullets, Angel left the billiard room. Her gaze involuntarily drifted toward the dog-catching-rat competition. A new match had just begun, with spectators on both sides shouting encouragement to their chosen animals. She felt an itch to participate.
"No. This isn't my own desire—it's the side effect of the 'Ring of Madness'..."
Warning herself in a low voice, she fled through the bar's main entrance, returning to the fog-shrouded street.
In the evening's cold wind, she gradually suppressed the gambling urge welling up within her.
Another contributing factor was that she truly didn't have much money left...
After giving Dominic 600 pounds, Angel had less than 130 pounds remaining. Though she'd earned back 150 pounds from selling twenty "Storm Gathering" charms, the past few days had seen her purchase numerous materials and furnishings to make her cozy home more comfortable, plus rent for the East End safe house. Her savings now barely reached 200 pounds—money flowing out like water.
"Once I finish making and selling this batch of bullets, I should earn a decent profit..."
Clutching the heavy ammunition in her pocket, she entered the nearest subway station and purchased a second-class ticket.
Ever since being tailed by that Witch set instigator, she'd made it routine to visit the East End safe house before going home, using the black flames to "disinfect" before returning to Red Rose Street—even now, while still in the Bridge District, less than two blocks from Red Rose Street on Iron Gate Street.
The steam subway departed the station trailing smoke no less impressive than its surface counterparts. Angel withdrew her gaze from the window and looked down at the Backlund Post in her hands.
This was a newspaper popular throughout Backlund, featuring advertisements primarily for the local city—convenient for finding nearby acting opportunities rather than seeing ads for Enmat Port, Conston, or even the Intis Republic.
Accompanied by the clacking of wheels over rail joints, Angel's eyes rapidly scanned the small advertisements tucked between articles.
"Missing cat... any detective could handle that. Though speaking of cats, maybe I should get one? That would make me seem more like an evil 'witch'... Missing person notice? It's not about that woman from Tingen, is it?"
Angel examined the details carefully, discovering it was just an ordinary missing person case, and lost interest.
But the next advertisement caught her attention.
"Sherlock Moriarty, private detective skilled in handling various matters. Reasonable rates, strict confidentiality. Residing at 15 Minsk Street, Jowood District..."
Just seeing the detective's name made Angel laugh aloud.
Though Loenese and English differed in alphabet composition and grammar, this detective's name happened to share the same pronunciation as a certain world-famous detective.
Angel hadn't read the entire novel series in detail, but she certainly recognized those thunderously famous names.
At least his surname wasn't Holmes. Otherwise, during this alternate world's industrial revolution period, in a city resembling Victorian-era London, for someone sharing the exact name of that renowned consulting detective to appear—and to also work as a detective—would be a coincidence of destiny itself.
But Moriarty...
Could it really be such a coincidence?
Angel suddenly felt curious about meeting this detective.
Folding down the corner of the page to mark it, she committed this information to memory. If she ever passed through the Jowood District, perhaps she'd have an opportunity to seek out this combination of super detective and super criminal.
Flipping through several more pages of advertisements, Angel found no opportunities that would allow reasonable use of her mirror divination while also serving as proper "Witch" acting.
However, seeing Detective Sherlock's advertisement stirred some thoughts. She could try posting her own advertisement, creating the image of a mysterious witch and accepting commissions for suitable acting opportunities.
But that might expose her actual address. Would she need to rent yet another place?
After weighing the options repeatedly, Angel abandoned the idea.
"Unless I find part-time work at a divination club—then I could advertise through that venue. Otherwise, placing ads might do more harm than good..."
The subway gradually slowed to a stop. Angel folded her newspaper and headed for the doors.
Rhosid Archipelago, Oravi Port, captain's cabin of the ghost ship "Blue Avenger."
Alger Wilson hadn't accompanied his crew ashore to the nearby "Red Theater" to release their pent-up energy. Instead, he waited in his small private space.
"Bishop, a telegram reply has arrived from the 'River and Sea Church' in Tingen. It was forwarded through Pritz Harbor and reached us here."
A sailor—also a believer of the Lord of Storms—knocked on the door before entering. He held an envelope bearing a lead seal.
"Good. No information leaked?"
Alger raised his lowered head, looking toward his trusted confidant among the crew.
"Lord Saines personally sent the telegram from Pritz Harbor. I received and transcribed it myself in the communications room. No one else was involved."
He handed the envelope to Alger, then left the captain's cabin, closing the door behind him.
The "Hanged Man" Alger looked at the envelope, his heartbeat quickening unexpectedly.
Miss "Queen's" secrets were contained within this envelope.