Cathedral Railway Station

"That's the situation. Mr. Landau will step in and handle this big shot. As for you..." Veronica let out a pair of cold sneers and said in a snide, mocking tone, "I have no idea what deranged atrocities our boss has committed, but you had better get out of town and lie low for a while. Otherwise, you might go to sleep and never wake up again—and then when it's payday, there won't even be anyone left to collect their salary." *Was she exaggerating that much?* Wayne raised an eyebrow. He was merely wary of complications; he didn't want to provoke an influential figure with roots in both the underworld and the establishment, only to get dragged into the vicious cycle of beating up the underlings only for their masters to step in. If the other side truly dared to push all the way to his doorstep—not to brag, but with him... him... Not to brag, but Abin was extraordinarily fierce. Let them come at night if they had the guts! He'd bury every single one of them in the detective agency's backyard! "That big shot might show my father some courtesy, but that takes time. During that interval, you won't be safe." As if reading Wayne's thoughts, Veronica said bluntly, "Don't go looking down on ordinary people just because you've become a magician. No matter how fast you are, you can't outrun a bullet. If they set up a sniper in ambush, how will you handle it?" Wayne meekly nodded. Beyond seven paces, a gun was fast; within seven paces, a gun was fast and accurate. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to shoot, nor could he master pinpoint marksmanship in short order. Otherwise, holding two enchanted items would have given him something to rely on. "Besides, you're a magician, but who says the other side isn't?" Veronica said grimly. "As long as they're willing to spend the money, there are plenty of black magicians ready to work for them." There was truth in that, and Wayne fully agreed. Take the North District, where the gym was located: the density of the night mist there was noticeably lower than in the East District with its warehouses and docks, and the main thoroughfares were brilliantly lit, with hardly a trace of fog in sight. And the North District was merely a middle-class residential area. What must it be like in the Central District of Inner Londan, where the wealthy and powerful congregated? Wayne had witnessed it with his own eyes; he had been right there on the scene and understood it clearly. Reality proved that the power of money worked everywhere. The elites knew how to control magicians—or perhaps those elites were themselves magician families whose lineages had been passed down for generations! "If you're leaving town, you'd better go tonight," Veronica said with a sour face. "I'll take you to the railway station. Mr. Landau owns a secluded manor outside the city; I'll call ahead to arrange things, and you can stay there for the time being." An unspeakable grievance welled up in her heart. This was the very first time she was seeing off a man at the railway station, and that man had to be Wayne. It was terrible—and to think she had once harbored romantic daydreams about love! Under a setting sun, she would bid a tearful farewell to a faceless boyfriend; he would wave from the train, and she would run along the platform until they could no longer see each other. And when she recalled having changed Wayne's clothes earlier, her mood soured even further. How could her tainted self ever face sacred love in the future? What if her future husband held a grudge over this and their marriage fell apart? "Veronica, you're the best!" Deeply moved, Wayne reached out to scoop up her hands, ready to press them to his chest like cherished treasures. He caught nothing—she dodged. Gritting her teeth, Veronica glared at the culprit who had shattered her future marital bliss. "Pack your things, take a few changes of clothes, and come with me to the station right now." "Right now? What about my owl?" "Leave it at my place for now. I'll take care of it for a few days." Veronica refused to let Wayne take the owl onto the train. It was far too conspicuous; if it drew the attention of other magicians, his troubles would only multiply. Wayne nodded. While packing his clothes, he reached out to Abin through the Book of Greed. He told the dog he would be gone for a few days and ordered him to calm down lately—stop spending entire nights marking territory outside and shoulder some duty in guarding the house. *** Somewhere in Londan, in a graveyard far from the detective agency. A heavy mist hung so thick that one could not see their own outstretched fingers. Ghostly green will-o'-the-wisps drifted through the air, while the gnarled branches of the surrounding trees twisted and danced wildly in the cold light. Swathed in fog, the Spirit of Vengeance let out a roar, raising a lifeless wall of mist. A speck of soul light coalesced inside its maw, splitting into seven tiny motes of light. These motes were Abin's deceased pups. Even now, he could not let go, striving to use his own powers to summon his children back to his side. Nearby, a burly undead warhorse snorted, venting purple flames entwined with black smoke. Its mouth was full of crisscrossing, razor-sharp fangs. It possessed a spiritual body similar to Abin's, cold light cloaking its skeleton, outfitted with a saddle and reins, with a skeletal knight's broadsword slung across its back. This horse was a new friend Abin had made. As fellow magical beings, they got along quite well, and the undead warhorse was currently sharing its experience, teaching Abin how to better wield soul magic. Upon hearing Wayne's call, Abin froze, then turned to communicate silently with the warhorse. "Yulia, my master is calling for me. He wants me to go back and guard the house." "Must be nice... My master went missing..." "Let's call it a night. Once my master gets back home, I'll come find you again to practice magic." "What do you mean? Your master isn't home?" "Yeah." "Then wouldn't it be easier if we just went to your house to practice magic?" "Is that okay? You said you've been waiting here for your master's call." "It doesn't matter. Lately, I've been thinking about getting a new master anyway." "Do you want to consider my master?" "Whatever. Honestly, I'm not picky—as long as he can draw this sword..." *** Cathedral Railway Station. Wayne departed that very night. Veronica paid for the ticket, buying him a seat on a luxury train. Fuming, Veronica saw Wayne onto the carriage, and fuming, she turned to leave. A young girl's beautiful fantasies of romance, that treasured first farewell at a station, had been completely pulverized tonight. Not only had Wayne murdered her fantasies, but right before boarding, he had also borrowed two thousand shillings from her. This was no longer merely dancing on someone's grave—it was exhuming the corpse of her dead fantasies and publicly flogging it over and over again. "Damn bastard! You'd better drop dead out there and never come back!" Veronica kept her pretty face pulled tight. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, her thick resentment practically manifesting as black smoke visible from miles away. She had no idea that to onlookers, her deeply resentful appearance made her look exactly like a heartbroken young maiden who had been abandoned by her lover. A lady in a black bowler hat brushed past Veronica. The brim shadowed half of her face, making it impossible to tell her age, but she was undoubtedly stunning. Passersby could catch a glimpse of her fair, exquisite chin and the subtle upward curve of her crimson lips. She wore a tailored black women's suit paired with a long skirt and black high heels. An overcoat concealed the curves of her figure, leaving only a length of her calf exposed beneath the skirt. The slender contour of her leg was elegant and enchanting, and set against her black attire, her snow-white skin radiated a soft, luminous sheen. Blindingly fair! The lady paused to cast a glance at Veronica, then boarded the very carriage where Wayne was seated. "Edith, I have some business to attend to and need to change my itinerary on short notice. Cancel all my appointments for me." "I know. Let them wait!" Shortly after the train began to roll, a pure black owl beat its wings and soared out the carriage window, vanishing into the vast, boundless night in the blink of an eye.