In the foggy morning, Klein was still not completely out of the crisis. He still needed to put on some disguise. He got up from the bed in advance. After washing his face, he put a human skin mask on his face that was convenient for him.
In the mirror, the young man with a bookish air and delicate skin suddenly turned into a mature man with a receding hairline, deep eyes, and dense wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He exuded a kind of confidence that makes people unconsciously
a feeling of.
After doing all this, he put on the only set of clothes he brought from the apartment. The double-breasted coat and black formal suit made him look more mature.
After arriving in Backlund, Klein had not had a good meal, so today he planned to take advantage of the calm morning to mingle with the crowd and take Ian to look for nearby delicacies.
There are definitely no similar restaurants in the East End. If you really want to eat some good food, I guess you have to go to the Jowood District and Hillston District to find it... With this idea in mind, Klein knocked on the door.
Under the wooden door of Ian's room.
As for why restaurants with a lot of Intis cuisine are not considered, it is because most of the restaurants with equity capital injection are opened in the West End and Queens, which are not within the scope of Klein's financial strength.
After Klein knocked on the door a few times, Ian, who seemed to be getting dressed, quietly opened the door with a surprised look on his face.
"Good morning, Mr. Moriarty."
"Good morning, Ian." Klein, who was wearing black-rimmed glasses, nodded, looked past the big boy in front of him, scanned the room, and said with a slight smile, "Would you like to have breakfast together?"
It seemed that it was very unusual for his new employer to wake up so early and be different from all the employers he had met before. He invited him to have breakfast. Ian failed to react quickly. After a moment or two, he hurriedly said:
"No problem, I was planning to go down there to find something to eat."
Seeing that the older boy was still a little wary and awkward, Klein's smile became brighter, he blinked kindly, turned sideways, and said in a mellow voice:
"Great, I still don't know much about Backlund. If you are willing to accompany me, I might be able to find delicious food more easily. This is a little hobby of mine."
Ian was a little surprised by Klein's half-truth and half-false words, but he still obeyed instinctively, nodded seriously, and after thinking for a while, he considered:
"I know a restaurant that Detective Zerrell often goes to. It specializes in Fusac cuisine."
Fusak dish...
Klein, who has an inexplicable obsession with food, was slightly startled, and then recalled what he had read in a magazine.
The Fusac Empire is most famous for the caviar and various seafood ingredients that are abundant in the coastal areas, because most of the areas are along the coast, and the number of other usable agricultural animals is not as good as that of the two major countries of Loen and Intis.
, it is difficult to support the huge population demand of the Fusac Empire, so the local residents are more willing to study how to make delicacies with easier-to-obtain seafood, and gradually develop a complete gourmet cuisine.
For example, the caviar from the Fusac Empire is very expensive due to the low production volume, but the taste is attractive enough. I only tasted it once at a party of the Tingen Nighthawks... Klein
Controlling his desire to lick his lips, he swallowed imperceptibly, and while moving, he asked Ian next to him:
“Where is that restaurant?”
Ian, who was also recalling the taste of the food, paused and then said quickly:
"On the other side of Backlund Bridge, on the edge of Joe Wood District."
"Okay." After learning the specific location, Klein nodded and took the initiative to walk towards the stairs. He turned his neck slightly and let Ian lead the way. He had already imagined the smell of the restaurant in his mind.
They first walked down from the third floor, passed through the dirty and dim lobby on the first floor, and turned directly into the dilapidated alleys common in the East District. They stayed away from the small brick-red building where they temporarily rented, and did not notice the thin figure not far away.
, a man with dark skin.
A minute after Klein and the others left, Meursault walked alone into the small brick-red building that the two of them had just walked out of.
Meursault, who had sharp eyes and deep-set sockets, looked at the dark and dirty hotel lobby in the small building. He glanced at the boss who was lying on the counter and strode over.
Dang Dang Dang!
His thick knuckles rapped on the front desk filled with wine glasses and magazines, rudely waking up the boss.
"Who..." The boss, who had developed the habit of not making a fuss even if he was offended in the East District, raised his head sleepily, and stared at the fierce and powerful Meursault with his confused eyes for a few seconds.
He immediately became energetic and stood up suddenly, trembling as he spoke, "What can I do for you?"
The "executor" of the Zigman Party took advantage of his height and looked down at the obedient hotel owner with a deep voice.
"Have a child with red eyes and a middle-aged man over 1.7 meters tall and wearing glasses checked out a room here recently?"
Since becoming the "executor", Meursault, who has worked hard to learn something more in line with the upper class and learned elegant rhetoric, tried his best to imitate Mr. Rosago, who is usually responsible for teaching knowledge in his extraordinary field, and tried his best to be kind.
"This..." The hotel owner's dark brown eyes rolled around, and he had a hard-to-speak look on his face, which read "embarrassment" written all over his face.
He glanced at Meursault, who had anger hidden in his eyes, swallowed, immediately gave up his idea, and said after careful consideration:
"There were indeed two similar guests recently, but they had just left."
"You know, there are often people like this in the East District. They may rent for only five days, but they will only stay for three days, and they don't even bring their luggage."
"Already gone?" Meursault didn't listen to the hotel owner's chatter behind him, his rough brows furrowed, his voice rose unconsciously, and he showed the same momentum he usually used to deal with those bastards in the gang.
"No, this, they just left. I remember they just came down from upstairs and then went out. You came here within two minutes. I don't know if you want to ask them?" The hotel owner was a little flustered and stubby.
His fingers kept stirring, and his oil-stained lips kept tugging, with a hasty expression.
Ha, sure enough, this guy wasn't asleep at all just now... Meursault looked at the ugly middle-aged man in front of him with the unique cleverness of East Enders, snorted, thought for a moment, and took something out of his pocket.
I took out a few gold coins and threw them casually on the front desk. Some were blocked by the gaps between magazines and newspapers, and some were thrown directly into the cup still holding the black tea.
He looked at the hotel owner who was showing surprise and seemed to have not yet reacted. He sneered disdainfully and said in a low voice:
"If those two people come back here again, you will send someone or come to me yourself. Does the Zigman Party know?"
"If you find a member of the Zigman Party, tell him that you have something important to talk to the 'executor', and the money will be more."
The Zigman Party... The boss who was reaching out to pick up the gold coins in the teacup shook his hands, and the finely crafted gold pound swayed and slipped from his stubby fingertips, splashing a pool of reddish-brown water.
"Yes, yes, I understand!"
The slovenly middle-aged man kept nodding his head, a fine line of cold sweat broke out on his plump cheeks, and the sweat beads kept falling down.
Meursault glanced at this spineless but very smart ordinary person for the last time, and his pride in belonging to the "extraordinary" became even higher.
This is the status that extraordinary power brings!
He knew very well that he was not chosen as the "Executioner" because he was good at fighting. It was only because of his status as a "hunter" that he was able to obtain his current status. It was Mr. Ambassador who gave him the opportunity.
This is also the reason why I am different from them... Meursault took one last glance and left this mediocre and run-down hotel in silence.
As for the subsequent work, that is not something I should be concerned about.
Just like Mr. Rosago's teachings, people at different levels do different things, and the first step should be left to those who grew up at the bottom.
............
In the depths of the foggy sea, layers of deep blue waves undulate like mountains. The rich fog is only adsorbed on the strangely raised fluid peaks, hiding the blue Avengers struggling in the huge waves in the deep gray.
"Captain, where are we going to move closer now? Didn't you say that the island is nearby?" The sailor wearing a cloth with patterns of waves and lightning struggled to hold on to the thick hemp rope, and the tight muscles on his arms
Quickly bursting into rage, the ability of the "Rageful People" squeezed his reason. Under the blessing of anger, strength after strength poured into his body, helping him not to be swept into the water by the waves.
Standing with only his feet on the deck, arms folded, and protected by an invisible wind barrier, Alger calmly felt the wind direction and ocean currents, and used the ability of the "Wind Blessed" in a less obvious way to help him stay steady.
Maintain a balance and not be as embarrassed as the other crew members.
"Soon, according to the clues I found while investigating Qilingos in Backlund, that island should be nearby."
"You should still remember the out-of-control pirate. This treasure map is hidden very deep. It shouldn't be fake."
As he said that, Alger glanced at the first mate who represented the crew questioning him. There was an unexplainable meaning in his dark blue eyes.
Because he is different from ordinary pirate captains, although he has extraordinary abilities that can be used to suppress the sailors' riots, since most of his crew members are members of the Church of Storms like himself, he cannot use ordinary methods to deal with it.
So before leaving Backlund, Alger deliberately used his achievements to redeem the characteristics of the out-of-control Extraordinary they killed, helping his first mate to be promoted to the Sequence 8 "Rageful People".
Sometimes, blocking their mouths with visible benefits is far more important than illusory beliefs... With the vision blessed by the "Wind Blessed One" ability, Alger could vaguely see the hazy island in the distance.
The corners of the stiff mouth finally showed a trace of curvature.
We are all marginalized members who have been exiled to the sea. Of course, only in this way can we have the opportunity to be more free...