The next day after getting up at noon, Kenley first went to "Barkley Men's Clothing Store" to collect another set of formal wear and hunting outfit, along with corresponding white shirts and hats. Under the owner's attentive recommendation, he "incidentally" bought a pair of good-looking leather boots to match his formal wear, spending another two gold pounds.
Now his wealth only had eleven gold pounds and a bit left.
The Church of the Evernight Goddess doesn't have subsequent "Thief" potion formulas, he still needs to search on his own, searching through every black market and underground trading venue, as well as earning enough gold pounds. Every place needs to spend money.
I'm just practicing the "Acting Method," the gold pounds earned are just incidental products of acting.
Kenley muttered a sentence, lying on the bed, thinking about what he should do.
Robbing banks is definitely unrealistic. Not to mention that every bank would hire some junior Extraordinaries as security personnel, and once this happens, it becomes a major case, maybe even notifying the captain. Should he let himself chase himself?
Stealing those poor civilians' already pitiful money bags?
No, no, no, they're already living very tiredly every day. He absolutely couldn't do things that violate conscience.
A thought appeared in Kenley's mind. The "Thief" potion in his body seemed to sense something, presenting details one by one in his brain. His brain became like a precise computer, coldly listing out each detail, every step's action forming a detailed list in his mind.
He seemed to have become a "professional" person.
In the afternoon, Kenley arrived at the office on time. He didn't go find Old Neil to get Hermes language materials, but instead looked at recent police reports at Rozanne's position. According to regulations, the police station would send all recent cases, regardless of size, to the three churches' Extraordinary squads as reference, hoping they could discover clues to important cases.
Rozanne was resting today, no one was in the office. Even so, Kenley quickly finished reading all the files, recording everything he needed in his mind, then returned to the squad office to continue studying yesterday's unfinished Hermes language.
A day's time quickly passed. In the evening, Kenley had a ten-penny dinner box meal, patiently waiting until crimson moonlight descended on Tingen City's night sky. He returned home to change into that hunting outfit and peaked cap already wrinkled by the mattress, looking just like a worker preparing for night shift.
All preparations were ready.
"Where to?" The ticket collector of the rail public carriage saw Kenley board, asking impatiently.
"Carrel Street."
"Out of district, six pence."
Kenley took out six one-penny coins and handed them to the ticket collector, walking all the way to the back window seat of the carriage, leaning against the window, eyes slightly closed, taking a nap during the ride home like a worker.
The rail carriage made ding-dong sounds on the road, crossing the entire Tingen City eastward, stopping at Carrel Street intersection.
This was the most chaotic area in all of Tingen City. The area had two shoe factories and one parts manufacturing factory. The three-shift work system made the bars here filled from morning to night with tired workers who wanted a drink after work. Each of their faces was filled with resigned expressions. Numb work, dragging tired bodies to sleep, continuing work the next day let them see life's endpoint at a glance.
Drinking a cup of three-penny watered-down beer daily, chatting with people nearby, then watching the strip dancers on stage was their most anticipated moment of the day.
"Hey, the last one, Carrel Street is here." The ticket collector impatiently shouted. Kenley muttered quietly, getting off the rail carriage, searching along the roadside, finding his target on a nearby sign.
"Midnight Bolt" bar.
This was the stronghold of one of Tingen City's largest gangs, the Gear Gang. Gang boss Biller Matt was a villain who ate people without spitting out bones. His specialty was using high-interest loans to control workers who had reached desperate situations, then selling the wives and daughters of those who couldn't repay to brothels in neighboring counties as dancers. But due to covert methods, so far the police haven't found direct evidence to arrest him. However, missing person reports on this street have stacked thickly in the police station's file room.
Kenley pulled open the bar's door. The thick smell of inferior tobacco plus cheap beer and workers' heavy sweat almost knocked him over. He endured this smell, squeezing through the crowded people directly to the seat at the bar's end near the washroom.
The bartender expressionlessly sized up Kenley's attire, placing an eight-tenths full beer glass in front of him with a "thud," "Four pence."
"Damn, price increase again." Kenley frowned, carefully taking out four one-penny coins from his pocket, placing them one by one on the table, then counting again, reluctantly pushing them to the bartender with his palm.
Hmph, another poor bastard. Looking at him, he can't even afford a second glass.
The bartender swept the four coins into the bar with his right hand, turning to serve other customers.
Kenley picked up the glass and took a big gulp, turning sideways to pretend resting against the bar, using peripheral vision to slowly watch the surrounding workers chatting loudly, or cheering loudly for the crude dance moves of the dancer on the center stage, gulping beer into their mouths.
At the back table, a brown-skinned man sipped bottled beer in small sips, watching the dancer on center stage with casual eyes. He had a long scar under his left eye corner, like it was cut by a knife, exactly matching the police station's description of Biller.
Beside him stood a burly black man, wearing a short-sleeved leather jacket, his waist bulging, obviously carrying a pistol or dagger.
Patience, patience, Kenley, just wait a bit.
Kenley sipped the beer in small mouthfuls, pretending to enjoy the alcohol, his eyes also squinting.
Soon after, alcohol took effect. Biller Matt rubbed his stomach and stood up from his seat. The bodyguard beside him followed closely, swaying toward the nearby washroom.
The opportunity has come.
Kenley gulped down the last mouthful of beer, swaying as he stood up from his seat. His right foot landed, his left foot pretending to step into empty space on the floor, his whole body tilting left, exactly bumping into Biller's embrace. His left hand grabbed Biller's arm, the crossbow arrow coated with paralyzing agent on his wrist touched Biller's arm.
"Hey, drunk, be careful." Biller's bodyguard pushed Kenley's body away with both hands. The latter muttered something, swaying as he brushed against the crowd's shoulders and walked out of the room.
"Rude barbarian." Biller rubbed his arm, feeling somewhat dizzy.
This batch of newly arrived beer is really strong. Upper-class people's drinks are truly extraordinary.
"Guard outside." Biller instructed, pulling open the washroom door and walking in, locking the door tightly.
Head... so dizzy...
Kenley walked out of the bar, his eyes quickly returning to clarity. He circled from the narrow alley beside to the bar's back door, judging the direction, his feet slightly exerting force on the ground, his hands grabbing the iron sheet above for rain protection, slightly exerting force. Ten fingers easily pulled his body up, his feet making a light "thud" on the iron sheet, sideways pressing against the wall beside the window, his eyes checking the movement inside the window.
No one!
He took out his dagger, gently inserting it under the window, lightly picking up the latch. His left hand slightly supported the window, jumping into the bar's only second-floor room.
This should be Biller's office.
No footsteps outside. He quickly opened all drawers, searching for what he needed. In the first drawer on the right side, he found a black leather-covered notebook. Opening it, inside were short words and language recording Biller's human trafficking records.
"Lina Christine, Lemon City, fourteen gold pounds seven sule..."
"Gwyneth Gardner and Yassa Gardner, Stone City, twenty-two gold pounds thirteen sule..."
"Louise Waters, Stone City, fifteen gold pounds four sule..."
These human trafficking records were enough to convict Biller. His head was destined for the gallows, his body would hang at the city gate accepting people's spittle and rotten egg baptism.
Kenley stuffed the notebook into his chest, his mind stirring. In the bottom right drawer, there seemed to be something.
He opened the drawer, finding a metal small box inside. Opening it for a look, his eyes showed satisfied expression.
Panicked footsteps came from outside the door. It seemed they had discovered Biller sleeping in the washroom and were searching for him.
Kenley quickly closed the two drawers, his whole body quickly passing through the window again. His right hand held the window latch and gently lowered it. The latch made a "click" sound, sliding seamlessly into the latch seat.
"Bang." The office door was violently pushed open by Biller's bodyguard. The room was empty. He looked around, finally breathing a sigh of relief.
False alarm.