Fat Boss's breathing grew clearly heavy, and his eyes, already small, now shone with a blatant desire, like a wolf spotting a lamb.
He feigned composure, rolling the cleansing soap between his fingers, then pressed his lips deliberately: "Not bad, but only passable. It's so ugly and doesn't smell good, it won't be easy to sell at a high price."
Arthur smirked to himself.
He knew all too well the behavior of this type of merchant: first, devalue the item until it seems worthless, then seize the opportunity to lower the price.If it had been Arthur, the boy who originally owned this body, he probably would have been intimidated by Fat Boss and sold the item for a few pennies.
But now, in his place, was a soul raised in the 21st century, shaped by the information age.
Arthur moved calmly, smiling as he reached out to take the soap from the counter. "Since you don't like it, boss, don't worry. I imagine the laundresses along the Thames and the dockworkers specialized in cleaning the ships' oil would be very interested in my 'cleansing soap'. Even if the price I sell to them is lower, it's a small profit with quick turnover."
After speaking, he even made a gesture as if to leave.
This tactic of "letting it go to take it" immediately struck Fat Boss's weak spot.
"Hey, wait!" The Fat Boss hurried out from behind the counter, grabbing Arthur's arm, his face painted with a fake smile. "Boy, don't be in such a hurry to leave! We can talk! I was only joking with you, this thing of yours, it's good! Absolutely good!"
When Arthur presented his three requests, Fat Boss initially thought he was crazy. But the ambition in his eyes made him hesitate.
Over the next few days, as Fat Boss scrambled to fulfill them, Arthur discovered something remarkable.The serum that had stabilized him in this body not only healed him but gradually strengthened him.By the third day, his abs were beginning to show, and his arms had a tone he had never had before.
He moved more nimbly, his mind sharper, as if a new energy coursed through him.
Arthur quickly adopted a new identity: Arthur Lionheart.
The surname wasn't chosen randomly. When the orphanage priest asked what name he wanted recorded, Arthur chose Lionheart for two reasons:
His biological father—as some corrupted documents found by Fat Boss revealed—was a fallen noble, a former knight known as "The Lion of Carlisle," who had died in a political brawl after being dishonored.
Arthur wanted a name that symbolized courage and rebirth, a surname no one could crush underfoot. A name that would be remembered.
"Arthur Lionheart, illegitimate son of a fallen noble, rescued from a shipwreck and registered by the church."It was a messy but plausible story.A useful story.
He also moved into a small attic on the edge of the slum. Although simple, it was finally his own space. Fat Boss sent someone daily with bread, milk, and a bit of salted meat, allowing him to say goodbye to hunger.
The information Fat Boss brought was priceless.
"…Princess Victoria of Kensington Palace, Her Royal Highness, will travel by carriage to Buckingham Palace two or three times a week to pay respects to His Majesty the King. The route usually passes along the south side of Hyde Park…"
When Arthur heard the name "Princess Victoria," his heart leapt.
This was the opportunity.The opportunity he had been waiting for.
The future Queen.The center of power.The key to his destiny.
Arthur spent a full week tracing the royal route, studying every guard, every street vendor, every intersection.
Then the day arrived.
The sky was clear, the breeze gentle.
Arthur wore his best clothes, old but spotless.He blended into the crowd like any ordinary Londoner.
The sound of hooves approached.
The royal carriage appeared.
His heart raced.
And just ahead, a cargo carriage skidded wildly as if out of control.
Exactly as he had predicted.
Exactly as he had planned.
It was the moment.
The moment Arthur Lionheart's destiny would intersect with that of the future Queen of the world.