Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 510 - 346: Fate (Part 2)

Chapter 510: Chapter 346: Fate (Part 2)

The night passed without incident, and as the sun rose over the distant mountaintops, Malin’s suspended heart finally settled—just before dawn was the most dangerous time, but if there had been no movement after daylight, it would seem they had abandoned the assassination attempt.

This made Malin very curious—although Malin’s fearsome reputation had not spread far, it still wielded enough influence in the areas close to the North of the Sydney Union and Farol Principality.

So if they knew Malin was here, why did they still come knocking?

Did they think he wouldn’t protect Rewo?

Or did they think that threatening him with the lives of other girls would work?

Malin’s face was grim, either way, this was not a good sign.

It was necessary to make them understand that such actions would lead not just to death but to the ruination of their families as well.

Malin admitted that he had never been a good Samaritan; the condition for sparing someone’s life was that the other party had to learn to struggle and to survive. As for this situation, if he wouldn’t be available tomorrow, he had to scatter their ashes tonight.

He whistled at the newsboy running towards the carriage; the kid looked at Malin, noticed his height, and frowned.

But when Malin pulled out his wallet, the kid immediately ran over: "Young master, what can I do for you?"

Well, the body is still quite honest, isn’t it?

Malin smiled: "I’ll give you two hundred bucks to tell your friends to note down who died in the city today, including their identities and house numbers. We’ll meet here tomorrow morning."

Twenty ten-Mowish bills were astronomical to these street kids; he stared at Malin, wide-eyed: "Sir, we just need to do this to get the money?!"

"Yes, take it."

"No, sir, please give me... thirty, no, twenty will be enough. We have ten people; with two bucks each, we can work for you all day, and once we’re done, you can give us the money tomorrow, okay?"

The child looked at Malin full of anticipation, waiting for an answer.

"Okay." Malin took out forty bucks: "Four bucks per person, the extra is for your meal. Tomorrow morning, you and your friends come, and I’ll give each of you twenty more."

A smile finally appeared on the newsboy’s face: "Really! That’s great!" he excitedly raised his hand, which drew Malin’s attention to the red marks on his arm.

He noticed too and quickly brought his hand down, then grabbed the forty small change pieces from Malin’s hand—that had been his specific request.

Malin didn’t ask about the injury on the child’s hand, only glanced at the idle ruffians not far away.

The tragedies of this world are truly unoriginal.

Reflecting thus, Malin continued to wander the city with the girls—the assassins had attempted murder last night, and in Malin’s opinion, they didn’t want to make a big scene, so he took a gamble—if they really made a move, Malin would open the door, take the girls, and flee, choosing any spot outside the city. Once out, Faye would open another door and attach it to the exit, sending the followers straight into Subspace.

As for whether they wanted to float upwards or swim freely, that would vary from person to person.

Then, as imagined, no assassins showed up, nor did the expected death at any Church occur. Malin deliberately visited the Church district and noticed that none of the Apprentices appeared distressed—usually, no matter who died, there were Apprentices familiar with them showing a sad countenance.

Even if that person was completely inept at life, there should at least be an Apprentice who was overjoyed at their passing.

If a person truly had neither friends nor enemies... their death might be too demeaning.

Well, unable to find a target, Malin wasn’t feeling tense; after all, based on the strength the assassins had shown before, any further attempts would be like bringing their heads right to his doorstep.

If there were any of exceptional rank, Malin was not the sort to just stand there waiting for death; if really pressed, Malin would bring over the shadow of the World Tree.

Let’s see who’s got the tougher head.

Until night fell, Malin had not gathered any valuable information; he could only hope the newsboys would bring him some good news.

At the same time, he accepted another invitation from Mrs. Moriti.

This time it was a small family banquet, with not many guests invited, just Malin’s family, the local steward’s family, and Lady Moriti’s direct descendants.

The girl with the lip blister was also there; this time she did not choose to sit opposite Malin, but instead next to Faye. The girls quickly struck up a conversation, and she seemed to have forgotten the embarrassment of the previous night. Girls are always like this, easily finding joyful topics that Malin could never grasp, such as the opera of a certain troupe they were currently discussing.

This was a topic that Malin, being a straight man, could not comprehend at all.

Fortunately, he also had someone to talk to today. It appeared that the girl’s cousin was sitting next to him, and he along with his younger cousin engaged Malin in conversation about their happy times studying abroad in The Capital.

As for why they returned, it was straightforward—the elder brother had graduated, and the cousin, named Karl, had to return home to take over his family business as his father had died along with his elder brother and father during the recent rebellion in the North. Being the only male in the family, he had to come back.

However, he didn’t seem unhappy—come to think of it, it was expected. The death of his father in battle was sad indeed, but the passing of the brother who competed with him for the inheritance rights was like a weight lifted. The world was so wonderful, why would he need tears?

The three young men were now talking about a certain service industry in The Capital. They instinctively felt Malin should be familiar with it, which made Malin very uncomfortable—sorry, but I really don’t know much about that.

If they had asked Malin how to project the Flame Burst Spell into a crowd for maximum casualties, he could give different answers based on the temperature and wind direction, but when it came to the price and quality of girls, Malin could only respond with an awkward yet polite smile.

"I always thought the girls in the Grey Alley were better," stated the elder brother.

"Come off it, my brother. Grey Alley is in the lower Western District, where the powder on the girls’ faces clumps and falls off. I prefer the girls in the upper Western District, those with pointed ears, absolutely fantastic."

Although Malin didn’t understand, he knew who resided in the upper and lower Western District.

The upper Western District was home to the respectable commoners, typical of those who would consider a monthly salary of thirty coins a decline in living standards.

The lower Western District hosted the poorest of the poor, where earning ten coins a month was considered living the good life.

Malin said this, not to look up or down on anyone, but simply thought the brother’s life must be quite frugal and once again sighed at how embarrassing it was for a male to be unable to control his lower half.

But to tell the truth, that’s just men for you.

Due to safety concerns, Malin and the young ladies stayed overnight at the Moriti residence.

The next morning, Malin took the backup rations back to the station—after all, he still had intel to gather.

As the backup rations approached the station, they sounded an alarm. Malin didn’t mind; he jumped off the bear’s back and hurried onto the platform, only then noticing the crowd surrounding something.

Malin looked around but did not see the kid.

After a while longer, the child still hadn’t arrived. Malin glanced at his pocket watch, which read 7:20 a.m.

The police dispersing the crowd finally reached him, and Malin saw the boy, a newsboy lying on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring at Malin, his left arm severed and discarded to the side.

Malin walked over, pulled out his Church badge, and chased the patrolmen away, standing in front of the child.

From the time of death, the blood had already clotted completely, his face bearing a bluish-gray hue.

On the ground, there was a message written in blood.

Do not challenge us, foreigner.

Malin laughed, turned his head to the police bringing the body bag, and asked, "Which gang did this kid belong to?"

"Who are you?" the policeman scrutinized Malin.

Malin raised the badge in his hand, "Malin Gaiate. Perhaps you should ask your chief just who I am."

"Kids shouldn’t speak nonsense..." The policeman swallowed hard as he eyed the axe slicing towards his face.

Malin grew impatient, "I am an Assistant Priest in the Church’s red robes. Now you have two choices: tell me the answer, or keep quiet, and I will make you talk by my means."

Believe me, lost lamb, you won’t like the second method.