Pushing open the heavy wooden door and stepping out of the Hat Shop, Grill slightly turned his head to look at the Red Vest attendant hiding around the corner not far away.
The man was currently holding a double-barreled hunting rifle, aiming at Grill with a visibly tense expression.
His hands were sweating from nervousness and trembling nonstop, to the point where he could barely keep the gun steady.
Although his two requests for cooperation had just been rejected, seeing the scene before him, Grill couldn't help but let out a laugh.
It wasn't mockery.
He didn't have any reaction to the man pointing a gun at him.
Because in the Kingdom of Liastan, firearms were under a semi-restricted policy—people could carry guns as long as they had applied for a "Comprehensive Weapons Permit" or a "Hunting License."
As long as soone obtained the "Comprehensive Weapons Permit," aside from military-controlled weapons like repeating rifles, steam-pressure guns, and six-barreled machine guns, the holder could freely purchase and keep any type of civilian firearm. Getting a "Hunting License" was even easier—even farrs on the outskirts could obtain one, but such licenses only permitted the use of hunting rifles and had quantity restrictions.
Many people with a bit of assets would apply for one, just in case of ergencies.
Like now.
"You're pretty good." Grill grinned and gave a slight nod.
He wasn't being sarcastic—he genuinely ant it.
The people who had fled earlier hadn't run because of so so-called "presence"—it was real extraordinary ability.
Even though this was only his first Law Mark, its intensity wasn't particularly high, and he hadn't even put much effort into it.
Those with weak wills would instantly be overwheld by inner terror, as if staring into an abyss, leaving only the instinct to flee.
Even the rare ones with strong wills—being able to maintain rational thought was already quite impressive.
But ordinary people who could suppress their physiological fear after the power dissipated and co back to try to save soone? That was uncommon.
Even the average Law Seeker with one or two marks, after sensing his hostility, rarely mustered the will to oppose him.
It was actually kind of ridiculous—though he was the Chief of Branch Three of the Reins Public Security Bureau, his Law Marks were things like "Savage" or "Thug." Three out of four of his marks weren't exactly positive terms.
He withdrew his gaze, no longer looking at the attendant who was nervously about to pull the trigger. Turning sideways, he casually gestured with his chin toward Irina's blurry figure inside the shop.
"She doesn't need your protection," Grill said, glancing back. "But still... your sense of responsibility is pretty good. Keep it up. Don't lose it."
After saying a few words, he didn't linger. He took a step and casually walked off in so direction.
His steps were steady, his back completely exposed to the attendant's trembling gun.
The attendant stood frozen, sweat blurring his eyes, his vision a complete haze.
It wasn't until he watched that imposing figure unhurriedly blend into the shadows of an alley, until he completely disappeared, that his nerves, stretched to the breaking point, finally snapped loose.
Turning into a small alley, Grill pulled a flat silver flask from his coat pocket. He tilted his head back as he walked, pouring the last few drops of liquor from the flask into his mouth.
Back in the Hat Shop, Irina put away the pocket watch in her hand, gave a slight bow, and apologized to Falson with a regretful tone: "I'm terribly sorry, sir. The situation just now might have startled you."
"Having a guest experience such an unpleasant interruption is a failure on my part as an attendant."
Falson quickly shook his head. "I'm not that timid. Besides, this isn't your fault—please don't worry about it."
He didn't dare accept this maid's apology.
Though he hadn't initially realized she was a Law Seeker, now that he knew, he definitely had to show so respect.
He couldn't even beat an ordinary maid—fighting an extraordinary one would just be a joke.
But Irina only smiled, gracefully raising her right hand, which was clad in a white lace glove, and lightly brushed through the air. The circle that had been shielding her from Grill dissipated.
No sound. No flash of light. As if it had never existed.
Falson watched with curiosity, but he knew perfectly well that he shouldn't ask anything.
The two people earlier could negotiate terms because they were equals in strength. Even if one was stronger than the other, at least they posed a threat to each other.
But he was different.
If he started asking questions left and right, he might get kicked to death.
Hesitating for a mont, Falson finally voiced the doubt in his heart: "So... aren't you worried at all? His attitude just now... I an, what if he walks out, turns around, and rats you out?" He made a vague gesture, implying reporting.
"Even if he reports you to the Enforcent Team, it probably wouldn't do you much harm. But having your identity as an outsider exposed would definitely cause so inconvenience, right?"
Hearing this, Irina smiled and shook her head. "He's a Sheriff. Unless absolutely necessary, he most likely wouldn't actively harm a civilian."
"At least from what we've seen, the Sheriff isn't that kind of person."
"I see." Falson nodded in realization.
Looking at the woman before him in her slightly revealing maid outfit, he would never have guessed that she, too, was a Law Seeker.
It really was impossible to judge people by their looks.
He recalled what Samuel had told him—becoming a Law Seeker could improve one's appearance.
Actually, that made sense.
After all, the supernatural was about making people better, stronger, and closer to perfection.
He glanced at Irina's face, delicate as a work of art, then thought back to Grill's face—rough, but with a different kind of wild charm.
Then he recalled Samuel's face.
That face was even more refined. After all, Samuel had spent half an hour molding it himself—the quality was guaranteed.
Samuel at least had the "Toymaker" Law Mark; his craftsmanship was reliable, so there was no way he'd end up looking like a Cthulhu.
Soon, this beginner reached a conclusion:
In most cases, you could judge whether soone was a Law Seeker by their looks!
Looks equal combat power!
Yeah, barring special circumstances, a powerful Law Seeker would generally be better-looking than a weak one.
Excluding cases involving charm, hypnosis, or Law Marks specifically designed to enhance appearance, he thought his current guess should be accurate.
Falson had sohow intuitively learned to distinguish NPCs from important characters based on "model quality."
The more detailed the model, the more advanced the setup.
He could even vaguely grasp the difference between a four-star character and a five-star character.
He was practically a genius.
"It seems you've already understood one of this world's underlying principles."
The System's voice suddenly echoed in Falson's mind.
"That's right!"
"And that is—"
"Style points!"
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