“Liant Town, have you heard of this city?” Samuel’s voice interrupted Falson, who was lost in thought.
He was walking ahead of Falson and turned his head halfway to ask him.
Falson thought for a mont, then shook his head.
“I haven’t heard of it,” he answered honestly.
“Is that so,” Samuel said, nodding indifferently.
Falson waited for a mont, but when he saw that Samuel had no intention of explaining further, his curiosity got the better of him.
“Have you heard of it, sir?” Falson asked curiously.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t either,” Samuel replied with a smile.
Falson didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply closed his mouth again.
“Looks like we can’t leave for now. Let’s find a place to stay first,” Samuel said to Falson.
“Are we staying at an inn? But it seems like they’re currently hunting for outsiders,” Falson voiced his doubt.
“That’s right, but not entirely accurate,” Samuel pointed out the error in Falson’s words. “The law prohibits entry and exit starting today. What the law is pursuing is also only outsiders from today onward.”
Samuel lifted his cane and pointed it vaguely forward.
“But there are always people who arrived in this city yesterday, the day before, or even a week ago.”
“Tourists, people visiting relatives, or even smugglers.”
“And those people are innocent. They won’t be put on trial.”
“That docunt was written ambiguously precisely to prevent outsiders from thinking they could legally stay,” Samuel said, shaking his head. “Isn’t soone wandering around in the middle of the night more suspicious?”
“I see.” Falson thought it over and felt it made so sense.
“So we’re tourists?” Falson asked.
“No,” Samuel continued smiling, but this ti it was a bit more genuine. “We’re smugglers.”
“Tourists need to stay in hotels, go sightseeing, leave a lot of traces. People visiting relatives need to have relatives within this city at least.”
“We have none of that. So we’re just smugglers who snuck in. We just finished selling our goods and were planning to leave today, only to find out we can’t.”
He flipped his left hand, and several gold bars appeared in his palm. “We don’t have cash because the transaction was done in gold. Banknotes are too easy to trace. Gold is much safer.”
He weighed the gold bars in his hand. “Now we need to exchange so for cash. We’ve got to eat and stay sowhere.”
“Alright, don’t make that face. Act normal. Being normal makes it less suspicious.” Samuel waved his hand casually.
“Th-That’s true too.” Falson forced out a slightly stiff smile.
They walked along the street and crossed two more intersections. Falson tried to relax his expression.
Soon, after a brief inquiry about directions, the two found a pawnshop and walked in. The display window was piled with old clocks, watches, and silverware, the glass coated in a thin layer of dust.
Inside was even darker than outside. A kerosene lamp hung above the counter, its chimney blackened with soot.
Behind the counter sat a thin old man, nding the chain of a pocket watch under the light. Hearing the bell ring, he lifted his eyelids and quickly swept his gaze over the two of them.
The old man’s stare made Falson a bit uncomfortable. He felt as if the other man was looking down on him with an oppressive air.
“Need to exchange so money.” Samuel didn’t waste words, placing a gold bar on the counter. The wooden surface let out a dull thud.
The old man put down his tweezers, picked up the gold bar, squinted at it under the light for a long mont, then pinched it with his fingernail before pulling out a small scale from a drawer.
Throughout the entire process, he didn’t say a word. Only the faint clinking sounds of tal and wood could be heard.
After weighing it, he opened another drawer, took out a few rolls of banknotes and a handful of coins, and slowly began counting. Halfway through, he stopped and looked up. “From out of town?”
“Arrived the day before yesterday,” Samuel answered calmly. “Did a little business. Was supposed to leave today, but the city gates are closed.”
As he spoke, Samuel leaned forward, a cheeky grin on his face. “Old man, are you going to turn us in?”
The old man stared at him and let out a “Hmph.”
“Are you questioning my professional ethics?”
“Got so backbone, old man.” Samuel nodded with a smile.
“Get out of here. Take the money and go.” The old man finished counting the money and placed it on the counter.
Finally, he pushed the pile to the edge of the counter. “Thirty percent cut.”
Ten minutes later, the two left the shop.
Back on the street, the sky was growing darker. A few street lamps flickered to life.
“Even though this city is pretty small, you have to admit, it’s got all the anities,” Samuel said, shaking the bag in his hand. “Of course, the price gouging is pretty severe too.”
Falson watched the money bag in Samuel’s hand with envy, greatly admiring his ability to conjure up gold bars at will.
“What’s the big deal? At our level, money is the most useless thing,” Samuel said, casually tossing a money bag into Falson’s arms.
“When I achieve financial freedom, I’ll say money is useless too,” Falson muttered.
“Alright, make good use of your talent,” Samuel encouraged. “Maybe one day you’ll evolve into a lucky cat.”
Following the directions the pawnshop owner had given them, they soon spotted the sign for the “Gray Dove Inn.”
This saved them from wasting too much ti finding a place to stay.
The innkeeper was a middle-aged woman. Just as Samuel had predicted, she only gave them a glance and said nothing.
But Falson was still a bit hesitant.
What if they got reported? Even if they had a solid excuse, the locals could just report them without suffering any consequences…
But at that mont, Samuel was already at the front desk, a gentle smile on his face. “Hello, there are two of us. We’d like two single rooms for a week.”
The innkeeper glanced at them, did so quick ntal math, and said, “Two yur and eleven ris.”
Ris?
The na of the currency caught Falson off guard for a mont, but Samuel paid the amount very readily.
The innkeeper took the money, then pulled out two heavy brass keys from under the counter. Each key had a small wooden tag with a room number hanging from its handle. “Second floor. Two adjacent rooms at the end of the left hallway.” Her words were brief, tinged with a thick local accent.
After saying thanks, the two stepped onto the wooden staircase leading to the second floor.
The stairs were old, creaking with every step. The second-floor hallway was even dimr, with only a small window at the end letting in a sliver of light. They found their rooms according to the instructions, and Samuel used his key to open one of the doors.
The room was small, with furnishings so simple they were almost spartan: an iron-frad bed with plain sheets, a wooden table with peeling paint, a chair, and a narrow wardrobe. The window faced the inn’s backyard, revealing a pile of clutter and a wall covered in mottled patches. But it was still relatively clean.
Samuel didn’t let Falson into his own room. Instead, he gestured for Falson to follow him into his.
Samuel sat on the bed, while Falson sat on the chair.
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