I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

McCree needs this young enforcer.

The scene in the stairwell had left a deep impression on him.

A college student who can take down three strong men in ten seconds is an extremely rare and talented individual in the detective industry.

Ivan took the business card, pinching the brown cardboard between his fingertips, feeling its thickness and texture.

"What about your wages?"

McCree's smile grew even more gentle.

"Come to my office when you have time to discuss this in detail."

As he spoke, he stood up and gave Ivan a slight bow.

"Then I'll take my leave!"

After saying that, the chief detective of McCrae Detective Agency rushed out of the living room, and the sound of him frantically helping his colleague could be heard from the stairs.

Ivan stood there, looking down at the brown business card in his hand.

The business card features gold-embossed calligraphy that reads "McRay Detective Agency" and its address, with a magnifying glass image of an open eye drawn in the lower right corner.

He touched his chin.

"Detective's Assistant".

He weighed the weight of those four words in his mind.

They can legally obtain information, access cases from all levels of society, and freely enter and exit various places without arousing suspicion.

For an extraordinary newcomer who wants to gain a foothold in the undercurrents of this city.

"It seems like a pretty convenient part-time job."

After McCree left, nothing much happened afterward.

Evan spent seventeen cents on dinner at Lucky Bee.

Roasted pork liver, stewed cabbage with potatoes, plus a large piece of rye bread—the portions were generous, but the oil was so heavy it made your throat feel greasy.

After checking the house to make sure there were no more "guests," he changed into his father's work clothes and headed straight for the dock.

It's still piecework.

It starts at 7:00 and ends at 11:00.

Eighty cents in my pocket.

When he finished work, Evan held the few sweaty coins in his palm, walked up to foreman Parker, and lowered his voice.

"Uncle Parker, I saw Carey at the clinic the other day. He went to try the drug."

Parker paused for a moment as he was putting tobacco into his mouth through his pipe.

"Why."

He sighed, a sigh as heavy as if a stone were pressing down on him.

"Who knew he'd get that disease? He just married a beautiful wife, and now his life is probably ruined."

He muttered to himself, but his tone paused subtly on the words "beautiful wife," with a strange undertone in the last syllable that Evan couldn't quite pinpoint.

"What a beautiful woman..."

Parker said nothing more, turned and walked into the warehouse, the red glow of his pipe flickering in the night.

Ivan stood there, staring at Parker's back for a few seconds.

"A beautiful woman. Syphilis."

If it were Ivan a few days ago, those two words wouldn't have made him think much of it.

Syphilis was not a rare disease in Guding Street; one could contract it by marrying a prostitute or by visiting other men's wives.

But everything he's seen these past few days has made it impossible for him to view anything around him in a "normal" way.

"Make a note of it, it might come in handy."

He opened a separate drawer in his mind, stuffed in the clues of "Carey—beautiful wife—syphilis—Parker's reaction," and locked it away.

When I got to my doorstep, exhaustion began to wash over me.

He instinctively reached into his jacket pocket, intending to pour out two phenobarbital pills to help him sleep, only to find the bottle was empty.

He sighed and took out the bottle of mercury pills again.

Two pills remain.

I might as well swallow them all.

You reversed the side effects of the mercury pills.

Your oral cavity has been strengthened, and your physical constitution has been permanently increased by 0.001.

"Um?"

Ivan frowned.

Under normal circumstances, the reversal of mercury pills should alleviate gastrointestinal ulcers and brain nerve damage.

The digestive tract ulcers have already cleared up, so it's understandable that there was no effect.

But the brain nerve damage was still 13%, and there was no response at all.

"Has drug resistance developed?"

He thought about it for a moment, but didn't take it too seriously.

"I'm not planning to take it anymore anyway. I'll try a new drug later."

Mercury pills cost three cents each, which isn't cheap, but the attribute boosts are really limited.

Since the rash has completely subsided, there's no need to keep spending money on it.

He threw the empty bottle into the trash can, finished washing up, and climbed onto the metal bunk bed.

A healthy body leads to healthy sleep.

Less than five minutes after his head hit the pillow, he lost consciousness.

"Did you know? In the extraordinary world, there are no books."

Deep in his dream, Evan felt as if something new had been forcibly inserted into his mind.

That was some kind of whisper.

It wasn't heard with the ears, but rather it sounded directly inside the skull.

"Young witcher, let me pave the way for your future."

An aged and weary voice rang out once more.

Ivan looked up in the void of the dream and saw a bright campfire.

The flames leaped, their orange-red light illuminating the small space around them.

He instinctively walked over and sat down on a rock by the campfire.

A variety of smells wafted towards us.

The stench of rotting animal hides, the rusty smell of old bloodstains, the burnt aroma of hay mixed with pine resin, and a certain indescribable musty smell, similar to damp leather.

He looked around.

Including myself, there were seven people sitting around the campfire.

The other five people sat there silently, like statues forgotten by time.

Their attire was all different.

The person on the far left is wearing chainmail in the style of a medieval knight, with a faded family crest engraved on his breastplate.

The man next to him was wearing a Nordic-style wolfskin cloak, with a string of animal teeth hanging from his waist.

Beyond that was a figure wearing a bird-beak mask, reminiscent of a 17th-century plague doctor.

The other characters' attire remained consistent with the Industrial Age, featuring leather jackets, brass buttons, and flintlock holsters.

Their forms also vary.

There was a huge man, like a crouching mountain of flesh, with a complete bear skin draped over his broad shoulders.

Some people are thin and silent, with long, thin fingers, each joint protruding half an inch more than the average person.

There was another person with a deformed appearance, leaning on a cane with a wolf's head carved at the top, half of his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, only revealing a patch of skin with an unusual texture.

But they all have one thing in common.

A pair of golden pupils.

The pupil is a vertical slit, and the iris is burning amber gold.

Sharp, resolute, and one that Evan knew all too well.

Hill's pupils.

The Witcher's Eyes.

"Young hunter, what do you want to know?"

The aged voice rang out again.

Ivan turned his head.

A slightly overweight middle-aged man sat to his right.

He wore a wide-brimmed tricorn hat, covered the lower half of his face with a black face mask, and wore an old-fashioned black trench coat.

Compared to his other companions, who were like statues, this person was unbelievably vibrant.

He sat cross-legged, a silver longsword lying across his knees, and held a soft cloth in his hand, wiping the blade one stroke at a time.

The firelight flowed across the blade, reflecting the warm light in his golden vertical pupils.

Ivan immediately understood.

These are fragments of memory transmitted during the digestion of the Witcher's extraordinary abilities.

Those "ancestors" sitting around the campfire are merely symbolic representations.

The one who actually spoke to him was this middle-aged witcher, who was also Hill's mentor.

"You just said that there are no books in the extraordinary world," Evan said.

"What does that mean?"

The Witcher paused for a moment as he wiped his sword.

"The so-called extraordinary is essentially mysterious and impossible."

"How can something so mysterious and impossible be written down in books like ordinary knowledge?"

Ivan thought for a moment.

"How is that knowledge passed down?"

The Witcher smiled, his smile hidden behind a black mask, only the fine lines at the corners of his eyes curving slightly.

He pointed the tip of his sword at the leaping fire at his feet.

"There are now five symbols of the extraordinary, each encompassing three professions."

"All knowledge is passed down from generation to generation through extraordinary characteristics."

"That's why it was able to hide so well during the industrial age."

"There are no records, no evidence; it only flows through oral tradition, inheritance, and mystery."

He paused for a moment, lowering his voice by half an octave.

"That's why the succession of a faction is so important."

"The accumulated heritage of an unbroken tradition is beyond the imagination of outsiders."

Ivan remained silent for a few seconds.

This was the first time he had heard such a counterintuitive yet irrefutable description of an extraordinary system.

"Wouldn't that mean the extraordinary system can't be expanded? After all, there are only so many extraordinary characteristics that can be passed down."

The Witcher shook his head.

"Extraordinary traits can be artificially crafted into potions by hunting extraordinary creatures, which can then be used to open up new branches of the lineage."

"This involves the professional system of the extraordinary world."

His voice became slow and heavy.

"Human instincts contain only spirituality, but no inherent characteristics."

"All the extraordinary characteristics that humans possess today originated from demons that appeared in the world at some unknown time."

He paused for a moment, then slowly drew a line on the ground with the tip of his sword.

"It is precisely because humans used their spirituality to accept the characteristics of monsters that their animalistic nature took root."

His golden vertical pupils stared directly at Evan.

"You must remember this. Never forget your own identity as a human being."

"Otherwise, you're not far from completely losing control and turning into a beast."

A chill ran down Evan's back.

He quickly memorized those words.

What are some common professions? What are their signature skills?

The Witcher nodded, seemingly pleased with his thirst for knowledge.

"The five extraordinary symbols are: the sun, the moon, the tree of life, the Holy Grail, and gold."

"They represent the five most steadfast, broadest, and most inclusive paths."

"The moon governs three professions: psychics who excel at spirits, vampires who excel at blood, and night owls who excel at darkness."

"The sun also has three: a knight skilled in physical combat, a prophet skilled in divination, and a demon skilled in fire."

"The Tree of Life still has three types: the snake people who study rebirth, the benevolent people who are good at fusion, and the tree spirits who are good at perception."

"There are three types of the Holy Grail: the monk who studies desire, the fanatic who craves the power of thought, and the poet who is obsessed with sound."

"Finally, there is gold, which has emerged in the last century due to industrial development, and it encompasses three professions."

Evan added a comment.

"Financiers, judges, factory owners."