Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Snapped.

The crisp sound of the gold pound striking the table seemed to silence the noisy Braveheart Bar.

20 pounds.

In the eastern part of Backlund, where people might break someone's nose for a few pennies' worth of liquor.

This money means six months of lavish living, and it means it can buy a human life.

Or... hire a sufficiently powerful extraordinary being.

The thugs who had been surrounding Hugh, with their menacing faces, swallowed hard.

Hugh Deercha, who was at the center of the storm, reacted more directly.

She glanced at the thick stack of banknotes on the table, which exuded the fresh scent of ink.

Then she looked at the young man in front of her, who was wearing a worn-out trench coat but was smiling like an aristocrat.

The brain shut down.

"This...sir?"

Hugh swallowed unconsciously, his voice dry from surprise:

"You mean...this is a commission?"

"Obviously."

Orion maintained the posture of holding the money in one hand, his slender fingers lightly tapping the table:

"Instead of wasting your fists on a bunch of trash fighting over a few sulphurs."

"Why not find a boss with better vision?"

After saying that, he didn't even glance at the thugs.

Just from the trench coat pocket—

Actually, it was from the pile of spare change that Klein had "scammed" from him—

He pulled out a silver coin worth 5 sols.

With a flick of the finger.

The silver coin traced an arc in the air and landed precisely in front of Caspas, the janitor behind the bar.

"Compensation for emotional distress for these individuals."

Orion spoke in a flat tone, as if he were shooing away a few flies:

"Get them out of here."

"Don't interrupt my business."

Kaspas pressed down on the silver coin, forcing an ugly smile onto his scarred face.

They can make money and don't cause trouble.

That's the rule in the East District.

He waved at the thugs, like shooing away stray dogs:

"Didn't you hear me? Get lost!"

Although the thugs were envious of the 20 pounds, under the combined intimidation of Caspas and the mysterious financier, they could only disperse, grumbling and cursing.

Crisis vanishes in the face of monetary power.

……

A few minutes later.

A booth in the corner of the bar.

Hugh sat somewhat awkwardly opposite Orian.

She pushed the 20 pounds back, her eyes filled with reluctance, but her actions were resolute:

"One should not accept rewards without merit."

"Who are you? What do you want me to do?"

"If it involves murder, arson, or betrayal... something that violates certain principles, I will not accept it."

Even though he was dirt poor, this descendant of a former judge family still clung to his pitiful bottom line.

Orion smiled.

Instead of taking the money back, he leaned forward and whispered the surname in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Relax, Miss Deercha."

boom!

Hugh's pupils instantly shrank to the size of pinpoints.

His body was taut like a bow, and his right hand instinctively reached for the three-edged dagger at his waist.

In the Eastern District, where she lived in hiding and evaded capture, this surname was her greatest taboo!

"take it easy."

Orion waved his hand, signaling her to calm down:

"I have no interest in your past, nor do I have any ill will toward your father who was sent to the gallows."

"I mention this simply to prove..."

He pointed to his eyes, his deep gaze revealing a serene composure that seemed to see through everything:

"I have enough 'intelligence' to verify your credibility."

"A promise from a former noblewoman is worth 20 pounds."

Hugh stared intently at Orian.

After a long while, her tense shoulders slowly relaxed.

The other party knew her background, but chose to give her the money directly.

This is itself a form of... well-intentioned suppression.

This made her feel inferior to this man.

"Speak."

Hugh took a deep breath and clutched the 20 pounds back in his hand as if it were a lifeline:

"What is the mission?"

"It's very simple."

Orion pulled a pre-written note from his pocket and pushed it over:

"Take me to that party."

"I want to buy two things."

"The stomach of a Soul Eater, and the blood of a deep-sea marlin."

Hugh glanced at the note and his brows furrowed instantly.

"The stomach of a Soul Eater... a deep-sea marlin..."

Although she couldn't recall the specific name of the formula.

But her years of experience in the black market of the East District told her...

This is definitely not a prescription for herbs written by an ordinary doctor.

These are extraordinary beings that live in the spirit world or the deep sea.

This is an extraordinary material.

Hugh suddenly looked up, and the gratitude in his big eyes vanished instantly.

Instead, there is a much stronger sense of vigilance:

"Are you...someone from that circle?"

A homeless man who can easily pull out 20 pounds and accurately purchase two main ingredients?

There is only one possibility—

Wild extraordinary beings.

No wonder...

"Just lead the way and provide protection?" Hugh confirmed.

"right."

Orion shrugged:

"As you can see, I am just a weak scholar."

In a place like the Eastern District, a certain amount of...military deterrence is needed.

Hugh looked at the guy in front of him who, despite saying he was "weak," had just knocked someone unconscious with money, and nodded with mixed feelings.

"make a deal."

……

On the way to the black market after leaving the bar.

The sky remained overcast, and a thin mist hung in the alleyways.

Xiu walked ahead, his short figure, only 1.5 meters tall, exuded an aura of someone 2.8 meters tall.

But Orian could tell she was distracted.

She is afraid.

Are you shaking?

Orion followed behind and asked casually.

Hugh paused for a moment.

She hesitated for a long time, perhaps because of the 20 pounds of "kindness" she had received.

Perhaps it was because of the mystery surrounding her background when the other party revealed it to her.

She suddenly stopped and turned around, her large eyes filled with unease.

"Sir employer...you seem to know a lot about the occult."

"I know a little."

"That……"

Hugh bit her lip, lowering her voice as if she were making an extremely dangerous decision:

"If a person... recites the name of an unknown being without knowing it."

"And, I sensed a gaze... coming from the endless heights."

"What does that mean?"

Orion raised an eyebrow.

really.

Just yesterday, Audrey not only paid Hugh and Fors.

He also slipped a note with the name "Fool" written on it inside.

These two unlucky kids must have read it aloud to test whether it was true or not, or simply out of curiosity.

Then it was marked by Klein's "automatic answering machine".

Looking at Hugh's expression that seemed to say, "Am I going to die?"

Orion almost burst out laughing.

But he held back.

In order to completely subdue the frightened little lion in front of him.

He needs to solidify this persona as an "expert in mysticism".

"That depends on who that being is."

Orion raised his head, looking at the gray sky, his tone becoming somewhat unsteady:

"If you were some evil god, you would be a pile of rotten flesh by now."

Hugh's face turned deathly pale instantly.

"but……"

Orion abruptly changed the subject, lowered his head, and gave her a meaningful look:

"What if that person exists, and is a 'trader' who keeps their promises?"

"If that's the case."

"Perhaps this is not a curse."

"But rather...opportunity."

opportunity?

Hugh was stunned.

That "fool who doesn't belong to this era"... is it an opportunity?

Although she didn't fully understand, Orion's confident tone inexplicably calmed her anxious heart.

This mysterious employer really does know a lot...

……

During their conversation, the two had already entered a darker alleyway filled with sewage.

This is the only way to reach that "underground market known only to acquaintances".

The transaction went more smoothly than expected.

That's the power of the gold pound.

Under the guidance of Hugh, a familiar face.

Add to that Orion's arrogant attitude of "Stop talking nonsense, I have money, 20% premium".

Even though these two materials are relatively rare, they were quickly gathered together by two different middlemen.

Looking at the two glass bottles in his hands, containing dark blue blood and grayish-white leather stomach sacs.

Orion's fingers trembled slightly.

Sequence 8, The Magician.

That's all.

It was faster and smoother than he had expected.

This is the efficiency of combining "money power" with "skilled workers".

"Let's go."

Orion carefully put away the materials without lingering.

"Mission accomplished. I'll treat you to a drink when we get back."

however.

Just as the two turned to leave, at the dark exit of the basement.

Hugh suddenly stopped.

Her eyes, which had been relaxed, suddenly narrowed, and her right hand flashed out a three-edged dagger from her waist.

His muscles tensed instantly, like a bristling cheetah.

"What's wrong?"

Orion asked a question he already knew the answer to.

In fact, his spiritual intuition had already been frantically alerting him.

It has a tail.

Hugh's voice was cold, carrying a murderous intent:

Three people.

No, five!

"They've been following us ever since we bought the second material."

Orion sighed.

This is the East District.

Showing off wealth will inevitably bring disaster.

The arrogant attitude of paying a premium for the acquisition just now clearly shows that it has attracted the attention of some ruthless individuals.

Zmange Party.

This group of scumbags specializes in double-crossing on the periphery of the black market.

At the alleyway ahead, there were several men wearing tattered jackets, holding iron bars and homemade pistols.

It slowly emerged from the shadows, blocking the way.

Behind them, the sound of leather boots treading on sewage could be heard.

We are surrounded.

"This is the 'big order' you were talking about?"

Xiu turned her head to the side. Although she was surrounded, there was no fear in her eyes, only an excitement of impending battle.

"If you die, I won't refund the 20 pounds."

Orion smiled.

He shrank back with remarkable ease.

That tall, slender figure, standing at 1.8 meters, somehow managed to project a "petite and delicate" image.

She confidently hid in the petite shadow of a mere 1.5 meters tall.

He had no masculine baggage whatsoever.

He even thoughtfully clenched his fists.

She gave Hugh a spirited, cheerleading gesture.

His eyes were clear, and his tone was as sincere as a devoted fan cheering for the champion from the sidelines.

"That's the division of labor, Miss Deercha."

"You're in charge of indiscriminate killing."

"And I'll be responsible for... screaming for you from behind."