After finishing my newspaper subscription, I went to eat at a small restaurant I found on the way back from the Backlund Morning Post. When I asked the waiter for a recommendation, he said the chicken was very good. Since it's hard to go wrong with grilled chicken, I ordered it. It cost more than cooking for myself, but I think it's important to treat yourself every now and then.
After a nice meal, I went to my carriage driver and decided to visit Edward's house. I wanted to ask if he knew about any other gatherings in the city — I feel like I'm close to digesting my potion. Twenty minutes later, I arrived. Hopefully, I'm not annoying him too much. At least it's not too late — it's only noon, and the sun won't set for another half hour. Better now than knocking on his door at night.
I knocked once. It took a while for him to open; I even thought he might not be home. But after a few minutes, the door opened.
"What brings you here again?" he asked.
"I wanted to talk to you about something and get your advice."
"Fine, come in then."
Inside, I noticed a bunch of boxes again — though fewer than before.
"Do I need to deliver guns soon?" I asked.
"Maybe in one or two days, but not now at least. So, what advice do you need? That's why you came, right?"
"I wanted to ask if you know any other Beyonder gatherings you could take me to. The one I attend isn't very high-level, and I doubt a Wendigo Eye will show up anytime soon."
"A Wendigo Eye isn't exactly rare, but I get what you mean. I do have a gathering in mind. I'll ask when their next one will be and write you a letter with the details."
"Thanks a lot. Do you think there's a higher chance of finding the Wendigo Eye there?"
It was a stupid question, but I still wanted his opinion.
"The chance should be higher, but really, it's mostly luck. Still, having two gatherings to attend automatically doubles your odds."
"Thanks for your help. When you need to deliver those guns, I'll be there."
I left feeling pleased — the possibility of attending another Beyonder gathering gave me hope. Maybe soon I could get the Wendigo Eye. I should probably act more to help digest my potion. Who knows, maybe I'll get it sooner than expected.
Of course, I shouldn't hope too much. Even if I had more gatherings, the odds aren't great — Beyonder ingredients are always rare and valuable.
I spent the afternoon wandering around East Borough, scouting for my next victim. It was still noon, so I wasn't hunting yet — just checking the usual spots. Lately, I'd been attacking weaker thugs I could handle without much risk. Because of that, they'd stopped showing up, and other gangs avoided the area too. I'd have to go farther now to find easy targets.
As I walked, I thought about what to do tomorrow. Maybe I'd buy a curtain, then visit the shooting range for practice.
By the time the sun fully set, the streets were still crowded — people heading home from work or going out for late shifts. Some worked as security guards, though not many. Others were just out for dinner. I've made it a habit to eat at restaurants when I'm outside, even though I dislike the East Borough and especially its hygiene. I usually order something simple — something hard to mess up, like a sandwich.
I stopped at a small shop and bought one. The thought of getting sick crossed my mind, but I doubted it would happen. If restaurants here regularly made people ill, they'd lose all their customers. Besides, Viktor had lived his whole life in this borough — he'd eaten worse.
I found a bench and sat down to eat in peace. A stray cat wandered up, and I shared a bit of my sandwich. I've always liked animals. Sometimes I wonder how much the Sequence 8 potion will change me, and whether I should really rush the digestion process instead of enjoying the small bit of stability I have now.
After waiting long enough for the streets to quiet down, I decided to start hunting. Eventually, I spotted a group of four thugs. I could probably take them, but if they overwhelmed me, I'd lose. My wounds had healed well, and I could always use my knife or gun if needed — though killing wasn't something I wanted to do unless I had to. Even thugs have their stories. The old Viktor could've easily become one if he hadn't found work at the restaurant. He wouldn't have made a good one, though.
Walking the streets at night is always risky. Even though I'm careful and rarely seen, danger is never far. This time, when I turned onto another street, two men noticed me. They lingered near an alley. I thought about backing off but decided to wait — two of them might make good prey.
As they approached, I noticed something sticking out of one man's pocket — a gun. Easy to spot, since I always carry one myself.
"Hey, kid," he called. "How about handing over all your cash? No need to make this hard."
The real question was whether the gun was real. He looked young — maybe twenty, mid-twenties at most. Getting a gun isn't easy… though, come to think of it, at Bravehearts Bar you can buy one for a few pounds. Not cheap, but not hard either. Edward gets his guns from somewhere too.
Now the question was: how should I react? The smart move would be to hand over the money. I only had about four pounds on me. Even if he wasn't experienced, a gun can still kill with one lucky shot. Risking my life would be stupid. Then again, the criminal pathway thrives on doing what you want — acting according to your desires. Maybe I should stand my ground, even if it's foolish.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me? You deaf or something?" he barked.
"No," I replied. "I'm just thinking about how I should beat you up."
That got his attention. He pulled the gun out and waved it at me like an idiot.
"See this, kid? One pull and you're dead. Better apologize fast."
I decided to fight — not because it was right, but because my pride wouldn't let me back down.
I raised my hands as if surrendering. The unarmed thug approached to grab my wallet. As he reached for it, I lunged forward, headbutting the one with the gun. The second man swung at me, but I blocked with my arms. The gunman recovered quickly, so I dashed toward a cluster of trashcans for cover. He fired, barely missing me. I crouched low and drew my own weapon.
They fired first — I didn't need to hesitate anymore.
Peeking around the trashcans, I couldn't see the gunman, but the other one was rushing me. I fired twice — one bullet hit his stomach, the other went straight through his head. It felt strange — surreal — to see someone drop dead from my bullets. No guilt, just disbelief. But I had no time to think. More shots tore through the trashcans. A bit more luck on his side, and I'd already be dead.
This was getting too dangerous. Even in East Borough, gunfire draws police eventually. I needed to end it fast.
The gunman was shouting now — swearing, threatening, screaming about his dead friend. While he ranted, I stood up and aimed. One clean shot through his head ended it.
It wasn't difficult. In that moment, I realized something: for my desires, for my happiness, I would kill anyone. This wouldn't be the last person to die in despair because of me. Then I felt it — a click deep inside, and the unmistakable sensation of my potion being digested. It was a strange, almost euphoric feeling. I'd just killed two men when I could've simply given them four pounds, but somehow, the reward felt worth it.
Before leaving, I checked their bodies — partly to remember their faces. They were the first I'd killed alone, and the ones who helped me digest my potion. I took their wallets. Together, they had barely more than a pound and a soli.
I ran off quickly. A pound isn't much, but enough for food. I needed to get far from the scene and find a carriage driver.
When I finally did, I debated going to Edward's. He could block divinations, after all. But it was late, and I didn't want to wake him. It's unlikely anyone would investigate the deaths of two East Borough thugs with supernatural means anyway. So, I decided to just go home — I'd ask Edward about it tomorrow.