Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Gordon had intended to help Vera socialize a bit.

At least take her to a lively environment so she can learn what small talk and casual conversation are...

But then he encountered Charlotte.

He slowly turned his head to the side.

Charlotte's smile was so perfect that Gordon thought he might be in trouble.

She placed her hand on Gao Deng's shoulder, very lightly, like a casual greeting between friends. But she showed no intention of pulling it back.

"Gordon, am I arriving at an inopportune time?" Charlotte smiled.

"No, it's a coincidence, it's wonderful, a long-awaited reunion," Gordon said quickly. "You've both met before. Miss Charlotte Monford, Miss Vera Cartrett."

"I still want to thank you for your contribution to the Montfort family home incident," Charlotte said politely.

"..." Vera thought for a moment, searching for the right words, "You're welcome."

Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat down next to Gordon, her movements natural, as if she were born to sit there.

Vera was on the other side of the table, holding the knife and fork in her backhand.

The two of them were looking at him at the same time, as if he were the main course of the evening.

"I've run into some trouble lately," Gordon changed the subject.

"Is there danger?" Charlotte asked curiously.

"Yes," Vera said. "It could be related to cult members, or it could be a follow-up to the ancestral home incident."

Charlotte looked Gordon over from head to toe, as if to make sure he wasn't missing a piece.

"So," Charlotte said, "I was the last to find out."

"I was going to tell you tomorrow," Gordon said.

"Ah, just like my father. Whenever a man is caught hiding something, his first words are always, 'Actually, I was just about to tell you, but...'" Charlotte said.

Oh no. Gordon's heart sank.

It seems everyone is using the same setup, leaving no room for future generations to follow.

"You should tell her," Vera said. "You can tell her she cares about you."

Charlotte turned her gaze away reservedly, paused for a moment, and then looked at Vera again.

This time, however, her eyes no longer held the aggressive edge they had at the beginning; instead, they held a genuine interest.

"Since it's to protect Gordon..." Charlotte rested her chin on her hand on the table, "that's barely acceptable. Just let me know next time."

"Does he owe you money?" Vera asked Charlotte.

"We're even," Gordon said.

"It's not about the money," Charlotte said.

"?" Vera pondered, but couldn't come up with an answer.

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Charlotte quickly assessed Vera.

"If you're going to come back to school in the future," Charlotte said, "you'll need an inconspicuous jacket."

Vera glanced at her hunter's outfit, which had protected her from claws, rain, and blood; each wound could be talked about for two days.

"Money should be used sparingly," Vera said.

"But if you want to protect your employer," Charlotte said, "you have to go in and out of the library and classrooms with him, and you have to keep a low profile and not let everyone be watching you."

"It's not just about clothes, it's also about etiquette," Vera said.

"Let's start with clothes tonight, let me do it." Charlotte smiled and extended her hand across the table, naturally placing it on Vera's hand. "Is there anything you need?"

"There need to be a lot of those pockets that aren't visible from the outside. The fabric needs to be durable. Overall, it needs to be functional and able to run," Vera said.

She glanced at Charlotte's black lace gloves; they were clearly impractical—how could she climb a tree wearing them?

"Let's go, Gordon," Charlotte whispered to Gordon. "If she's going to be a 'frequent' part of our social circle in the future, I can't let her look out of place."

"Our social circle?" Gordon repeated.

"You have a problem with that?" Charlotte crossed her arms.

"I'm learning how to avoid having any objections." Gordon glanced at the darkening sky outside. "Now?"

"All you need is connections, employees willing to work overtime, and some money," Charlotte said, leaving the table. "Or just money."

"Let's go." Vera immediately stood up.

Gordon followed behind, with Miss Charlotte, wearing lace gloves, on one side and Vera, who was used to wielding weapons, on the other. Both of them had entered his life without his consent.

He felt that Vera might not be the only one who needed socialization training.

……

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the market district, the financial and commercial heart of Lundnim, where Norwich Street is lined with tailors, jewelers, and upscale services.

Charlotte skillfully led Vera into a clothing store called "Pembroke House".

The dark green signboard gleamed, and the shop window displayed women's travel coats, widows' black dresses, governess suits, and peacock green shawls suitable for theater actresses.

Charlotte spoke a few words to the shop assistant, and then Vera was no longer someone who would be asked to leave, but became a "lady with travel needs and a preference for practical tailoring".

Vera clearly hadn't looked in the mirror properly in a long time.

She identified herself and then tried on different cloaks, coats, and tops.

Charlotte became more and more interested as she watched, while Gordon sat in the cushioned chair, lost in thought.

After selecting their outfits and entering the deeper area, Charlotte led Vera into the fitting room.

The rustling of fabric, the clicking of buttons, the shop assistant's suggestions, Vera's mutterings, and Charlotte's "Oh my god, why don't you have this..." rose and fell behind the curtain.

After a while, Charlotte finally brought Vera out.

"How is it?" Charlotte asked Gordon.

Gordon paused for a moment.

Now, Vera is completely transformed from head to toe.

She wore a black coat, its cut somewhere between riding attire and an officer's casual uniform, over which was a dark burgundy vest worn over a close-fitting white shirt. She wore trousers and gleaming black boots, the boot shafts still concealing a knife.

Even the black piercing blade had an extra temporary leather scabbard, with fine silver thread embroidered along the edges, and the old hilt protruding from the new leather.

This outfit didn't transform her into some kind of aristocratic lady; the knife was still a knife, but it was no longer the kind of weapon picked up from the street. She could go to and from school, and ride in the first-class carriages of trains, and no one would object.

Then Gordon discovered that, even more deadly was...

Her previous dress had the collar pulled up so high that it covered the tip of her nose, so Gordon could only see her beautiful eyes.

With this new outfit, Vera no longer covered the lower half of her face with a high collar.

Now that he saw her face in its entirety, she was even more beautiful than he had imagined. Her features were so well-proportioned and defined, her nose clean and sharp, her lips pale and tightly closed. Her eyes, placed on that face, suddenly seemed strikingly natural.

Vera herself was clearly uncomfortable; clean, well-fitting, warm, without bloodstains, and probably free.

"How much?" she asked instinctively.

"It's a gift," Charlotte said sweetly.

Vera clearly didn't believe in freebies. She looked at Gordon. Gordon gave her a wink, trying to convey: It's okay, take it for now.

Vera might not understand it.

Charlotte squinted and turned to Gordon.

"Is she pretty?" she asked softly.

Gordon immediately switched to survival mode.

"This clothing is very practical," Gordon said seriously.

"I asked—is it pretty?" Charlotte said.

"It looks good," Gordon said quickly, "because you picked it."

"That's good," Charlotte said. "Do you know why I specifically chose that for her?"

"What's wrong?"

"That way, every time you see her, you'll think of me," Charlotte said.

Gordon opened his mouth, but all his words were cut off before they could reach his tongue. His sophistry, flattery, and attempts to change the subject all lost their power.

Charlotte discovered that for the first time, she had rendered Gordon speechless.

In other words, Charlotte won.

"Hmm~ I'm going back now. I can't be home too late." She turned her back, lifted her skirt, and left with great enthusiasm, as excited as if she had won a duel that no one had witnessed.

Vera didn't fully understand the intricacies of the conversation.

She simply checked the cuffs carefully, transferred the syringes, supplies, and dagger from the old clothes to the new ones, and then left the old clothes, full of stories, at the shop, to be picked up later.

"Where to next?" she asked.

"...Go find someone who wants to kill me." Gordon took out the Living Water Compass from his pocket. "It's been trembling ever since I left school."

Gordon, holding the living water compass, navigated through the night in Lundnium, guided by its directions.

In its unstable state, it spins in circles like a drunkard, its needle sometimes pointing at the drain and sometimes at the closed seafood shop.

"There are more fish cultists at night," Vera said warily. "Someone's watching us."

"Then I'll go to a place that fish are most afraid of. Do you think it will protect us?" Gordon looked at a Fish & Beverage chain store.

Fish Brothers, everyone in Lundnim knows this brand.

The sign features two anthropomorphic fish, arm in arm, one wearing a top hat and the other holding a fork.

"I don't know," Vera said, "but I feel like it will be a good meal."

The aroma of fried fish wafted out as soon as the door opened. Just as the two entered, a man wearing a hat followed them in.

The walls are covered with all sorts of posters: the Fish-Fried Brothers riding a steamship through the waves, the Fish-Fried Brothers winning a horse race, the Fish-Fried Brothers handing out fries to children, the Fish-Fried Brothers being inspected by the Emperor...

Each poster has a quote from GG below it:

"No one knows fish better than us."

The restaurant was almost full. Deep in the kitchen, the oil simmered, coating the fish in a crispy, golden patina.

Waiters were bustling about, and he glanced at them knowingly, noting the college students and young noblewomen, as if they were recharging before doing their business.