Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

Under the bright lights of the steakhouse, the aroma of sizzling fat filled the air.

Lyndon looked up at Alastor, who was sitting across from him, leisurely eating his steak with no change in expression, as if what he had just said to Lyndon was as simple as asking the waiter to refill his glass.

Originally, Lyndon had no interest in debt collection, but when he heard that it was related to the bounty on his head, he immediately became interested.

"So, may I take this as your answer to the bounty?" Lyndon's voice deepened.

"Not entirely." Alastor tilted his head and thought for a moment. "This is just a preliminary result. You can go home and wait for me to find out the truth behind it all. However, I have no way of knowing if anything bad will happen to you in the meantime."

Alastor's tone was very soft, but the meaning behind it was extremely tough.

If you don't want to do it, then he'll drag it out for you. One day isn't enough, so he'll drag it out for two days, and if two days aren't enough, he'll drag it out for three days, and so on.

Whether you are killed by the assassins during this time is none of his business, and you should not expect any protection.

Lyndon couldn't help but use force with his hands, his fingernails scraping the tabletop with a sizzling sound.

This isn't negotiation, this is clearly coercion!

"Black Sail Society..." Lyndon took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to turn hostile. "If I remember correctly, it's a gang in the old city."

"You're right, the Black Sail Society is the most powerful gang on East Street in the old city."

Alastor smiled slightly, took a bite of the beef from his fork, swallowed it, and then picked up a napkin from the table to wipe his mouth, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

"Their boss is called Lucien Hadley, whom we all like to call the Executioner. Of course, this has nothing to do with him; it's one of his underlings, a guy named Arthur, who pawned a pocket watch with me and borrowed thirty gold pounds. With interest and after deducting the price of the pocket watch, he still owes me twelve gold pounds."

As he spoke, Alastor dipped his finger into the sauce on the plate and then drew a twelve on the table.

"Once we get this money back, we'll be even. I'll continue to buy your goods and support your hunting of Dream Moths."

"There's no danger. The only difficulty is that guy is a bit persistent, but I believe you can do it."

Alastor pointed the knife at Lyndon's chest, a trusting smile on his face.

Lyndon hesitated for a moment upon seeing this.

"I can do it, but you need to answer a few questions for me."

Suddenly, Lyndon grabbed Alastor's wrist and placed two fingers on it.

"I'll ask, you answer." Lyndon's expression was very serious. He had some knowledge of psychology in his previous life, and now that his senses had been enhanced, he was confident that he could confirm whether Alastor was lying.

Alastor remained calm, exuding confidence: "Please speak."

"My first question is, besides being a member of the Black Sails, does Arthur have any other identities?"

Alastor shook his head.

Lyndon frowned, sensing the changes in Alastor's pulse.

The pulse is steady and without fluctuations.

"My second question is, does Arthur have any special relationship with the higher-ups at Black Sails?"

Alastor shook his head again; his pulse remained steady and normal.

"The third question is, does Arthur himself possess any special qualities that set him apart from ordinary people?"

"Of course not, you're overthinking it. I swear on my reputation, that idiot isn't even a small fry."

Alastor laughed and withdrew his hand.

Lyndon's hand froze in mid-air, and he unconsciously grasped at the air.

Alastor's pulse was very steady, which was enough to prove that he was not lying to himself.

"Alright, in that case, I'll try to help you get this debt back."

Lyndon withdrew his hand, but his gaze toward Alastor remained sharp as a knife.

"However, I don't know him. Do you have a photo?"

Upon hearing this, Alastor snapped his fingers and pulled a brand-new photograph from his pocket.

This is a half-body photo of a handsome man.

The man was wearing a slightly flamboyant striped suit, and his bow tie was tied meticulously.

High cheekbones, slightly thin lips, and a small earring on her left earlobe.

Her hair was styled to be shiny and neatly combed back, close to her scalp.

The man in the photo stands tall and looks very energetic.

"This is Arthur?" Lyndon stared at the photo, memorizing Arthur's features. "He's quite handsome."

"Many people say that."

Alastor finished all the food on his plate and then let out a satisfied burp.

Pointing to the man in the photo, he said, "He liked to hang out at the Old Sailor's Bar, then pay to meet a woman on the third floor to talk about life. He frequented it a lot; you could try your luck there."

"Is he a pervert?"

Lyndon couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Because Arthur is indeed quite handsome, and he certainly seems like the kind of guy who could easily attract women.

"How could you not collect your debt from such a pretty boy?"

Lyndon pushed the photo back to Alastor and joked.

"You'll see when you meet this guy; he's incredibly shameless!"

Alastor offered a reminder.

However, Lyndon disagreed.

"No matter how shameless he is, he'll still kill me! I have ten ways to deal with him! Ten!"

Before he could finish speaking, a rumbling sound suddenly came from Lyndon's stomach.

"Coo! Coo..."

Instantly, the restaurant fell into a deathly silence.

Lyndon felt a wave of embarrassment. He clutched his stomach, lowered his head, and remained silent.

Upon seeing this, Alastor clapped his hands.

"Waiter!"

At that moment, a person dressed as a waiter came out from the back of the restaurant.

"Sir, is there anything you need?"

Alastor waved his hand and said, "Give this gentleman another one, just like I ordered."

"Another one?"

"Another one, and another beer, I'll pay."

As he spoke, Alastor walked to the front desk and took out eight shillings from his wallet.

"Consider the extra as a tip."

After paying the bill, Alastor patted Lyndon on the shoulder.

"Eat slowly, no rush."

As Alastor walked out of the store, he suddenly looked back at the young people inside just as the door closed.

A sinister smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"So easy to fool."

After saying that, he put his hands behind his back, hummed a little tune, and disappeared into the thick night of the foggy city.

……

That's how the weather is in Chongqing; it might only take the time it takes to eat a meal before it starts raining.

Lyndon finished his steak and walked to the store entrance.

At that moment, a heavy rain began to fall, blocking Lyndon's way home.

Unfortunately, the store didn't have any rain gear.

The waiter cleared the plates and cutlery from the table and looked outside. "It's raining quite heavily. If you'd like, you can sleep on the floor in the back room."

"Is that okay?" Lyndon asked.

"Of course, since I can't leave either, we can stay in the same room."

Looking at the torrential rain outside the shop, Lyndon thought, "That's all we can do."

The room the waiter mentioned was actually a converted storeroom, containing a simple single bed.

The waiter laid a blanket on the floor; this was Lyndon's bed.

"I'll just have to make do for one night; it'll be dawn in a little over four hours."

The waiter lay on the bed, his face turned towards the wall, and spoke.

Lyndon looked at the thin blanket spread on the floor and lay down on it, using the ether bottle as a pillow under his head.

"I was wondering why they're still open so late?"

"Because it's Alastor who comes here. This restaurant belongs to him, and he always likes to come here for steak on Monday nights," the waiter said sullenly.

"So he also works in the restaurant business."

This was something Lyndon hadn't anticipated.

"No, the previous boss ran away. He paid to keep my job, so I and the other employees in this store all work for him."

"So, he's still a good person?"

The waiter fell silent.

After a long silence, he slowly said, "He is my benefactor..."

Silent all night.

As dawn broke, the rain finally stopped.

Lyndon was awakened by the clanging of coal trucks outside the window and the roar of steam towers in the distance.

The waiter on the bed had long since disappeared.

He rubbed his sore neck, picked up the ether bottle, and walked out of the room.

Lyndon arrived in the lobby, and the rest of the employees also arrived at the store one after another.

They are quietly cleaning and preparing for the opening of the store.

Lyndon found the waiter from last night.

"Friend, may I store this with you?"

The waiter glanced at the ether bottle in Lyndon's hand and casually said, "Just leave it in the room from last night, lock the door, and take the key with you."

Lyndon thanked him.

After placing the ether bottle, he put the key in his pocket and left the steakhouse.

Because it rained last night, the morning fog was thick and misty.

The air was slightly fresher, but it still smelled of coal.

Walking down the street, Lyndon asked several early risers for directions to the "Old Sailor's Bar".

Upon hearing this name, the passersby reacted remarkably in unison.

He first looked Linden up and down, then his eyes revealed an undisguised disdain and understanding.

The passersby didn't answer Lyndon; they spat on the ground and hurried away.

Left with no other option, Lyndon had to seek help from others.

But those who were asked either waved their hands and said they didn't know, or they got a good scolding from Lyndon.

Finally, Lyndon learned the exact location of the bar from an old man.

Number 91, East Street.

"Young man, take my advice and go to those kinds of places less often; it's bad for your health."

Lyndon smiled awkwardly upon hearing this.

I learned from the old man that the bar was run by the fraternity. During the day it was an ordinary bar, but at night it became a paradise of tenderness.

Because the Brotherhood wielded considerable power in the area and colluded with local officials, they became a major scourge on East Street, causing women to avoid passing through that street.

As for the Brotherhood, like the Black Sail Society, it was a notorious gang in the old city.

There are six gangs like this in the old city!

Regardless, at least Lyndon knew the location of the Old Sailor's Tavern.

Following the old man's directions, Lyndon quickly found his target on a relatively wide but old-fashioned street in East Street.

It was a four-story brick building, with a storefront much larger than the other shops.

Upstairs, there was an elaborately made signboard with a picture of an old sailor grinning and smoking a pipe.

At this moment, the bar doors were tightly closed, and the area outside was deserted.

Lyndon stood below a newsstand across the street, his gaze sweeping over every detail of the bar.

"You've come too early. They only open in the afternoon; it gets lively in the evening."

Suddenly, the newsstand owner looked at the morning paper in his hand and said...

Lyndon quickly explained that he didn't intend to do that kind of thing.

Upon hearing this, the newsstand owner scoffed, "Many people come here saying they don't want to work, they just want to drink, but after a few drinks, they find themselves with a beautiful woman in their arms."

Lyndon wanted to say a few more words in his defense, but then he heard the newsstand owner say, "Besides, look at how you're dressed. They don't just let just anyone in."

"At the very least, you need to dress like a human being and have enough money in your pocket!"

"Hey! Want to go in and see some women? They're hiring waiters over there, you can do that."

Upon hearing this, Linden seemed to have his meridians opened up, and a flash of inspiration struck him, giving him an idea.

Lyndon straightened his old coat, walked to the bar entrance, and knocked hard on the heavy oak door a few times.

"Hello! Is anyone there? Hello?"

Seeing that no one answered, Lyndon knocked a few more times.

Suddenly, a series of dragging footsteps came from inside the door, then the door was pulled open a crack, and an old man with gray hair, wearing a greasy apron and sleepy eyes poked his head out, looking impatient: "Who is it? You haven't opened the door yet!"

At this moment, Lyndon gave a timid smile and bowed slightly: "Hello, sir. I... I saw a sign at the door saying 'Waitress Wanted'..."

"Only women!"

The old man roared angrily and was about to slam the door shut.

Lyndon quickly stepped forward and braced the door with his toes.

He hurriedly said, "I come from the countryside in the south. I just want to find some work, uh... any kind of work is fine! Just give me some wages so I can have money to eat."

Lyndon adopted a very humble posture, his voice trembling slightly, and coupled with his pale face, he truly brought to life the image of a desperate country youth.

But the old man refused to let him in no matter what.

The two started arguing right in front of the shop.

"Bob? What are you doing? Making such a racket!"

With a series of heavy footsteps, a plump woman suddenly appeared behind the old man.

She was wrapped in a gaudy, oversized silk nightgown, her greasy brown curly hair piled haphazardly on her head.

Her face was as big as a plate, but her eyes were so small they were almost invisible.

"Ms. Violet, it's like this, this damn poor boy says he wants to apply for a job as a bartender, isn't that ridiculous?"

"Applying for a waiter/waitress position?"

The fat woman pushed aside the old man blocking the door and stared at Linden with wide eyes.

At first, she was disgusted by the strange smell on Lyndon, but when she saw Lyndon's face, the fat that was squeezed together instantly stretched out like a flower.

She smiled and asked Lyndon in a coquettish voice, "Oh my! What a handsome young man! What's your name?"

"Lin...Lin En, madam." Lyndon made up a pseudonym on the spot.

How old are you?

"Twenty-five, ma'am."

Where do you live?

"I have no home," Lyndon said, squeezing out a few tears. "I came here from Willowlake Village in Mallowtown, Meadowshire. I have no job, I'm hungry, please, ma'am, I can endure hardship, please take me in!"

Linden's eyes were filled with tears, and his words were earnest.

The plump woman witnessed this scene and quickly took Lyndon's hand, saying with heartache, "Look at this poor child! He's so fragile!"

"I've made up my mind, you're staying!"

"Wait a minute, Ms. Violet! This..."

The old man wanted to say something more, but the fat woman shut him down with a look.

Lyndon was secretly delighted, but his face remained etched with humble gratitude: "Thank you! Thank you, ma'am!"

"Oh, it's alright! I have the kindest heart!"

The fat woman laughed, her swollen fingers reaching up and down at Lin Deng.

Lyndon forced a smile, suppressing his nausea.

"Alright." The fat woman patted Lyndon's backside. "Old Bob, take him to the back to wash his face and find him a clean waiter's uniform to change into. He'll be paid daily, five shillings a day, plus dinner. There's only one rule: talk less, do more, especially at night, and try to fulfill the customers' requests. Understand?"

"Understood!"

And so, with the fat woman's support, Lyndon entered the Old Sailor's Bar.