Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 11 No. 6, Narcissus Street

On the main street of Zotland Street.

Philip was preparing to take a public carriage or a taxi back to the hotel to take a bath when he suddenly remembered the rental information in the morning newspaper: Mr. Colmar at 13 Zotland Street.

The other party has a townhouse that needs to be rented out. For him, who is about to receive a weekly salary of £3, a little extravagance is not a big deal. After all, having experienced the brief but profound baptism of Backlund, he is no longer picky about material conditions.

However, Philip glanced at his clothes, shook his head and chuckled, "If I went out wearing this, I might be mistaken for a homeless person and kicked out."

He temporarily abandoned the idea, followed his memory of the map to find the nearest station, and boarded the tram that soon arrived there.

There's a station right here, so he doesn't have to spend extravagantly on a random, trackless carriage, which would also save him from his wasteful habits. The tracked public carriage is like a combination of a bus and a taxi on Earth, costing 1 pence per kilometer, but within the city limits it's capped at 4 pence, and the fare won't increase.

After boarding the carriage and as the doors closed, Philip, who had initially appeared relaxed, began to look away. He rested his chin on his hand, gazing blankly out the window, silently muttering to himself:

"Fine, that's the only way."

As bad luck may be, there will always be a way to regain freedom. In any case, there is no longer any danger of being killed, so we can develop slowly. This small city with a population of only a few hundred thousand is unlikely to have any major problems later on.

He was certain that even if there were evil forces in this desolate place, the number of extraordinary individuals would not exceed double digits, and the vast majority would probably be Sequence 9, with virtually no possibility of any mid-sequence individuals appearing.

As for cultists holding rituals and plotting the descent of some evil god? Ha, the world doesn't develop like a certain novel or Western fantasy story. Reality is different from fantasy; there must always be logic.

On the already somewhat dimly lit street, a handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes walked into "Wilker's Clothing Store." A salesperson in a white shirt and red vest approached and politely inquired, "Sir, what would you like to buy?"

"Uh..." Philip couldn't help but raise his hand, thinking carefully for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts, but in the end he just laughed and said:

"Everything a gentleman should have, thank you."

"Okay," the sales clerk nodded, then asked, "Would you like to look at formal wear, shirts, top hats, or something else first?"

Aside from the white shirt, everything else is black, Philip thought to himself. After hearing the shop assistant's question, he pondered for a moment and slowly said, "Then let's start with formal attire."

"Okay." The shop assistant pointed to the row of formal wear at the far end, led him there, and began to explain carefully, "Sir, this is... The vest and trousers that come with it are by a famous designer from Tingen. The total price is £7.15 sulph. As for this one..."

After hearing just a dozen or so words, Philip unconsciously pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing something was wrong deep down, as if his money was trying to break free and escape uncontrollably.

Consumerism, no, perhaps it's the norm here. He listened silently on the surface, occasionally nodding slightly in response, but his mind was entirely focused on the price, intending to choose the cheaper one he heard of.

Although he felt that most of the clothes here looked pretty much the same on him, he ended up choosing the cheapest ones for a complete formal suit. He was a little embarrassed to say this, as he had never dared to haggle over a small amount when buying things in his previous life.

Shortly after, Philip emerged from the fitting room. Upon hearing the shop assistant's quote of 8 pounds 10 sous, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He walked to the mirror, admired his transformed appearance, and his mood improved somewhat.

After receiving his change of 1 pound 10 soules, and exchanging the two 10-pound notes for smaller change, he carefully checked the change before taking the newly purchased silver-inlaid white botrytine cane and leaving the clothing store. He then began counting the house numbers to find the residence of Mr. Colmar.

As for the clothes he had changed out of, Philip originally planned to find a place to throw them away, but considering the dramatic events of the past few days, and to prevent anyone from picking them up and using their aura to divine his information, he temporarily left them with Blackthorn Security Company and handed them over to Rosanne to handle.

Lost in thought, he rang the doorbell for 13 Zotland Street. A maid in a black and white dress quickly opened the door, glancing at Philip out of the corner of her eye. "Hello, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, I saw Mr. Wood's rental listing in the newspaper. Oh, that was the newspaper from the day before yesterday. Hopefully, I've come at the right time."

"Of course, you've come at the perfect time."

Before the maid could answer, voices came from inside the house. The master of the house, Colmar Wood, looked to be in his thirties, with a somewhat rigid and serious expression. However, upon seeing Philip, who was also dressed in formal attire, his expression softened, and he extended his hand, saying, "Nice to meet you. My name is Colmar Wood."

"If you were my next tenant, I would feel much more at ease than with most other people in Tingen. You're looking to rent the property at 6 Narcissus Street, right?"

"Lawrence Slytherin," Philip replied, shaking hands with the man. "I have indeed been considering renting, but I'd like to take a look first."

"Hmm, a very reasonable request." Colmar nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "In fact, I was originally planning to head over there now to check on my house and reflect on what problems I had that led to no one contacting me for the past two days."

"You don't need to worry about that anymore."

Philip smiled back and responded humorously, while politely stepping aside to make room for Colmar before following him into a taxi.

Upon arriving at Daffodil Street, Mr. Wood led him to a house with a key, and inside. Philip's eyes were immediately drawn to the neat furniture and ambiance: "Mr. Wood, this..."

"As you can see, most of the furniture here has been refurbished," Colmar said, spreading his arms with a hint of pride. "And every weekend, I have my maid, Morika, come here to clean, and of course, the same goes for the rest of the year. I guarantee there won't be a better deal on any house on the entire Narcissus Street."

No wonder it's a townhouse, but Philip thought to himself, feeling a little tempted. After all, the cleaning service on weekends would save him the cost of a grocery maid. "It's very nice. I think I don't need to look anymore."

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

He tentatively brought up the price, and to his surprise, the other party was exceptionally accommodating. The rent was 15 soles and 4 pence, plus 8 pence for furniture, which came to 16 soles per week. However, in return, he would have to pay six months' rent upfront.

The two parties then signed a two-year contract. Philip counted out £23 in cash from his newly bought wallet and handed it to Colmar, which impressed Colmar. Colmar was extremely satisfied and took out the standard contract he always carried with him, and they each signed their names.

Seeing his name, "Lawrence Slytherin," written on the contract, Philip suddenly felt awkward, but since he had already taken it, he could only suppress it and watch Mr. Wood leave.

"Things went surprisingly smoothly."

Philip sat on the sofa, holding a bunch of brass keys in his hand, and couldn't help but feel emotional. After all, he had even prepared a reason for coming to Tingen in such a hurry that he hadn't taken his identification documents.

That's true. Rather, these are all superficial. Being able to afford a suit and have enough cash to prove yourself is perhaps the most important thing. He seemed to understand something, stood up and began to look around the room to avoid letting his thoughts wander further on this issue and needlessly affect his mood.

The complex includes a living room that doubles as a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, a basement, two guest rooms, four bedrooms on the second floor, a small balcony, and three bathrooms across the two floors.

I'm pretty sure this is a waste, even more wasteful than four bedrooms. Philip's eyelids twitched, resisting the urge to cover his face, and he went straight into the only bedroom with a bookshelf.

He glanced at the half-full bookshelf, browsed through it carefully, and found that there were no books that were useful to him. He simply took off his clothes, lay down on the cool and comfortable bed, and drifted off to sleep.

(End of this chapter)