“Fencing stolen goods?!”
Mrs. Fenn exclaimed in shock.
As Siles had suspected, Mrs. Fenn had no idea that the Ernestine Tavern served this purpose. She probably thought it was just a gathering place for underground gangs.
After Siles explained, Mrs. Fenn suddenly understood. She muttered anxiously in a low voice, “No wonder… no wonder…”
“What is it?”
Mrs. Fenn fell silent for a moment, then said, “My little Anthony, he always… he always wanted to get involved in his father’s business. He felt we looked down on him, treated him like a child. He…”
Mrs. Fenn couldn’t continue.
Siles thought that perhaps both Mr. and Mrs. Fenn hadn’t taken Anthony’s ambitions seriously, thinking they were just childish fantasies.
As a result, Anthony somehow found out about Ernestine—probably from his gang friends, or perhaps Mr. Fenn had accidentally let it slip—and then, full of himself, he decided to get there ahead of his father.
The timing of his departure was likely because the July rainy season was about to end, and Mr. Fenn would be returning soon.
Siles didn’t know how to evaluate this behavior for a moment.
Mrs. Fenn was panicked by Anthony’s disappearance, even having to seek help from a tenant. Meanwhile, her son probably thought his actions proved his capability.
Siles couldn’t help but sigh.
He checked the time—7:30 PM—and said, “Mrs. Fenn, in that case, I’ll go now…”
“No, no.” Mrs. Fenn quickly shook her head. “Mr. Noel, you might not know this, but in the Old City, it’s best not to go out after eight o’clock at night. It’s too dangerous.”
Siles was slightly stunned. “But Anthony…”
“I can’t possibly let you risk danger because of my son.” Mrs. Fenn said stubbornly. This middle-aged woman, usually harsh and unforgiving, showed that attitude again, but this time it strangely made Siles feel somewhat helpless.
Siles didn’t insist. He just asked, “Why can’t you go out after eight at night?”
Mrs. Fenn’s lips trembled, and finally she said, “Because… there are rumors.”
Siles looked puzzled.
Mrs. Fenn said, “People say… after eight o’clock at night, they’ve seen some… mysterious shadows appearing out of nowhere… don’t know where they come from, don’t know where they disappear to…
“Just the other day, Mrs. Howie next door told me about this! You absolutely mustn’t go out. I don’t want to harm you because of little Anthony… my little Anthony…”
She returned to her room in a daze.
Siles went to the door and looked at the quiet street outside. Only then did he realize that the street was completely deserted. The drizzle and breeze stirred up the dust on the street, making it appear incredibly desolate and empty.
Shadows of unknown origin?
Siles couldn’t help but frown, thinking this might just be someone’s illusion that spread through word of mouth, eventually becoming like an urban legend.
He hadn’t expected Mrs. Fenn to believe this rumor so deeply. Perhaps living alone day after day, with her husband away and her son rebellious, and the tenants coming and going at odd hours, had affected this woman’s mental state to some degree.
Siles slowly exhaled.
He returned to his second-floor room, folded up the map of Lafami City, put it in a drawer, and continued his unfinished business from before leaving—lesson planning.
It was already Wednesday evening. Time was tight.
That night, the light in the easternmost room on the second floor of Milford Street stayed on until late into the night. In the silent, dark neighborhood, this single glowing lamp seemed to be the only thing creating some warmth in this drizzly night.
The Next Morning.
Days of rushing around made Siles wake up a bit late the next day. He came downstairs around eight o’clock, intending to tell Mrs. Fenn, but she had already prepared a hearty breakfast—white bread, fried eggs, hot milk, and fried fish pieces.
Siles felt he didn’t deserve this. After eating a little, he quickly left and set out for the Ernestine Tavern.
Milford Street in the morning seemed much livelier and more peaceful than the previous night. It was a rare day without rain, with even weak sunlight, which lightened Siles’s mood considerably.
Indeed, after the past few days of heavy rain, July’s rainy season was coming to an end.
The Ernestine Tavern was located in the northern part of West City. If you went a bit further west, you’d reach Lafami’s slum area.
Due to various reasons, the level of productivity development in this world was fairly average. Perhaps it was also related to that mysterious gray-black fog, which had interrupted the process of primitive capital accumulation.
In any case, as Siles left the Milford Street area and walked toward the more remote and dilapidated parts of the Old City, he only felt this area was more chaotic, with lower and more run-down buildings.
He walked for about half an hour at a brisk pace before finally seeing the Ernestine Tavern’s sign in the distance.
It truly was a somewhat distinctive building. The overall structure was tall and pointed, with black-brown walls. However, as he got closer, Siles realized the building was only two stories high, but had an unusually tall roof that stood there crooked like a witch’s hat.
Siles’s timing was perfect. The tavern opened for business at nine o’clock, and it was just past nine now.
Siles entered the tavern.
The interior wasn’t as gloomy as he’d imagined. The brown wooden floor looked very solid, tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, and the wooden window frames appeared quite warm in the weak sunlight.
Inside were a bar counter and some separate seating areas. Overall, it didn’t feel cramped—just like an ordinary restaurant, and nothing like a gathering place for gang members.
Siles chose a seat by the window.
A waiter walked over with a menu, and when Siles casually looked at the approaching man, he immediately froze. The man froze too.
It was one of the people from the Historical Society study group!
That middle-aged man in shabby clothes who always looked anxious. Siles remembered his name was Eric Collens.
Now, wearing a rather ordinary shirt and trousers, he stared at Siles in shock. Gradually, a hint of panic and unease appeared in his eyes.
Siles said, “I need to explain, Mr. Collens. Meeting you here is just a coincidence.”
Eric Collens nervously looked around, then walked over to Siles and sat down awkwardly. “Just call me Eric,” he said.
Siles nodded. “Siles.”
Eric said somewhat embarrassedly, “I work here. The pay isn’t high, but it includes three meals. Sometimes I can even bring some food home. My daughter quite likes the food here.”
Siles slowly nodded, not pursuing the subject further—he could, of course, see that Eric Collens’s family circumstances probably weren’t good.
However, it was precisely because of this that becoming a Revelator was an avenue to success he couldn’t give up.
Siles couldn’t help but feel suddenly enlightened.
After a moment of silence, he mentioned his reason for coming: “I’m here looking for someone. Perhaps you’ve seen him.” Eric listened attentively, so Siles continued, “His name is Anthony Fenn, a boy of sixteen or seventeen, with freckles on his face, and a rather… proud personality.”
Eric thought for a moment, then said, “I remember him, though I don’t know his name. He’s been coming here every morning recently, eating a brunch, then playing with his companions until nightfall before leaving.”
Hearing Eric say Anthony was fine, Siles breathed a slight sigh of relief. He didn’t want his investigation to end with a young person’s corpse—though Lafami City shouldn’t be that dangerous, right? Siles thought with some uncertainty.
“Thank you,” Siles said. “I’ll wait here for him to appear.”
Eric nodded, hesitated, then asked somewhat tentatively, “Would you like to eat something, or… drink something?”
Siles said, “Do you have any drinks? Non-alcoholic ones.”
“A glass of juice?”
Siles nodded, paid, and gave two Earl coins as a tip. Eric looked somewhat ashamed, but Siles said, “Don’t feel so troubled. It’s restaurant custom.”
Looking at Siles’s consistently calm and steady face, Eric Collens felt the self-abasement and shame in his heart fade.
In fact, during the past two introductory courses, Eric had always been even more silent than Siles. He had almost no presence, especially compared to those young people who clearly came from wealthy families.
He was cautious and timid, degrading himself into the mud.
This chance encounter with Siles instead made Eric Collens feel an indescribable sense of kinship.
About half an hour later, Eric took the initiative to come to Siles and remind him, “The person you’re looking for has appeared.”
Siles nodded, his gaze already having spotted Anthony Fenn’s presence.
By now, there were several people in the tavern. Anthony Fenn appeared with some other boys around his age. They called out to friends, chattering noisily, sat in a row at the bar, but only ordered three plates of fried rice that five or six of them shared.
Siles noticed their clothes were all somewhat dirty and worn, their shoes covered in mud spots. They were like a small group, warming and trusting each other, but also utterly fragile with no ability to protect themselves.
A group of runaway children?
After thinking for a moment, Siles said to Eric, “Give them three more plates of fried rice, plus three vegetable salads, one sausage, and one drink per person. My treat.”
Eric looked somewhat surprised.
Siles didn’t explain further. Finding this child would bring him considerable income; consider this caring for the vulnerable.
Soon, the group of children started making noise. Before long, Anthony cast his gaze toward Siles. They seemed starved, wolfing down the food Siles had treated them to.
When Anthony Fenn came to Siles, he still had rice grains at the corner of his mouth.
“I recognize you,” he said. “Did my mother send you?”
His tone wasn’t polite.
Siles raised his head, his dark eyes quietly observing this young boy. After a moment, he said, “Rice grain.”
Anthony froze, then frantically wiped away the rice grain at the corner of his mouth.
“Are your companions also wandering with you?” Siles asked directly, not waiting for Anthony to speak.
Anthony’s face flushed red as he loudly retorted, “This isn’t wandering!”
Siles’s fingers tapped on the table. “Three Duke coins.”
“What?”
Siles said concisely, “The money I spent treating you all to a meal.”
Anthony Fenn, who had barely one Duke coin to his name in total, immediately turned livid.
