Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

Lyndon woke up at noon because he was hungry.

He rolled out of bed and walked barefoot to the window.

I opened the window and looked down.

The streets were bustling with people, and vendors set up their stalls and enthusiastically called out their goods to passersby.

Women wearing headscarves surrounded the peddler's box, picking out pretty threads or ribbons.

The children, on the other hand, tugged at the adults' hands, insisting on buying a few candies to satisfy their cravings.

Three more burly men dressed as factory workers bought some ginger beer and sat on the steps next to the stall, clinking glasses and drinking heartily.

Upon seeing a vendor selling roasted potatoes, they quickly ordered a few potatoes, asking for extra butter.

Lyndon watched everything unfold, and his mouth watered at the aroma of the roasted potatoes.

My stomach also growled at that inopportune moment.

"I've decided, I'm going to eat you!"

Lyndon quickly changed his clothes, humming a little tune, went downstairs, and walked to the roasted potato stall.

The potatoes, freshly pulled from the charcoal fire, had charred and crispy skins.

The vendor skillfully cut the potato open with a wooden knife, then scooped out a piece of butter and placed it inside.

The cold butter melts instantly in the hot potatoes, slowly seeping into every crevice of the potatoes. With one bite, the flavor of the charcoal-grilled potatoes intertwines with the rich, creamy aroma of the butter.

Finally, it turned into a warm current in the mouth and flowed into Lyndon's stomach.

In the bustling corner of the old town, being able to eat this after waking up is already a rare treat.

"Look! It's an airship!"

Suddenly someone shouted something.

The once noisy city suddenly fell silent, and everyone looked up, staring blankly at the sky above.

A low, humming sound, like the breath of a wild beast, came from the mist, growing louder as it approached.

"It's the 'Albatross' from the Imperial Dawn Company!"

The enormous, streamlined steam airship finally appeared above the old town, like a mythical dragon looking down on everything on the ground.

The smooth hull was painted with the national emblem of the United Kingdom of the Three Islands and the logo of the Dawn Company.

"God bless the King! God bless the Kingdom!"

An old gentleman took off his top hat and pressed it to his chest, shouting excitedly.

"Look at that airship, how magnificent!"

"That's right! Did you hear? It was in yesterday's paper! Our industrial output has doubled again!"

Cheers erupted in the market. For the poor residents of the old town, seeing that steel behemoth soaring through the sky was something to be proud of and boast about.

Lyndon sat to the side, quietly finished his roasted potato, and then bought a ham sandwich.

He walked through the excited crowd to go to work and earn money.

……

Lyndon worked at a company called Vulture Recycling Company, located at 33 Spider's Foot Lane.

It's actually not very big; it only has two floors.

Apart from a group of corpse collectors, the only people left in the company were the boss and his beautiful secretary.

"Hey Lyndon, you're here!"

As soon as Lyndon arrived at the company, someone called out to him.

Old John leaned against the company door frame, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

His eyelids were dark and swollen, but his eyes shone with a light that was different from usual.

"You've been waiting for me?"

Lyndon patted old John on the shoulder and said with a smile.

"No, just a few minutes."

Old John's voice was muffled, and his gaze never left Lyndon's pocket the moment he saw him.

After what happened last night, Old John lost his mood to go to the tavern and didn't even sleep well.

He was afraid that Lyndon was lying to him, afraid that the fangs would be stolen by people on the black market, and even more afraid that the resale would be discovered by the sheriff and he would be thrown in jail.

So I arrived at the company early and stood downstairs waiting for Linden to come over.

Other colleagues in the company were wondering why Old John, who usually left early and arrived late, had come to work today.

"So where's the stuff?"

Old John looked around, pulled Lyndon aside, and asked in a low voice.

"Things? Oh! You mean the gun? Here you go, it's not lost."

Lyndon handed the revolver back to old John.

Old John's eyes widened, and he gritted his teeth, saying, "That's not what I have! It's money! It's the little green thing that can be exchanged for wine and women! Where's my money?!"

Seeing Old John's impatient look, Lyndon chuckled and took a small cloth bag from his pocket, stuffing it into Old John's hand.

Old John weighed it in his hand, and a metallic clanging sound came from inside the cloth bag.

"Did it really sell?"

Old John was so excited he could hardly contain his smile.

Lyndon nodded and said, "Yes, it went quite smoothly. We sold it for three pounds and five shillings, which we split equally between the two of us, seventeen shillings and five pence each."

"Okay, okay!"

Old John was overjoyed. When he arrived at the company, he ran into his boss, who gave him a good scolding because of what happened last night.

He even had a week's salary docked, but now he can go out and have some fun again!

Old John rubbed the cloth bag in his left hand, then in his right, as if he were holding the most precious thing in the world.

Lyndon could only smile helplessly at this.

"I'm going in."

After Lyndon finished speaking, he was about to go inside.

Old John suddenly remembered something, and he stopped Lyndon once again.

"Wait a minute, kid. The boss wants to see you."

"Is the boss looking for me?"

Lyndon tilted his head and asked in confusion.

"Yes, the boss is looking for you. He's waiting for you upstairs."

"I see."

Lyndon tidied his hair and turned to walk upstairs.

The second floor was quiet, with only the creaking of the clockwork gears.

Lyndon walked to a dark oak door with a brass plaque nailed to it that read "Mr. Linus Hornby".

He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

A deep, resonant voice came from inside the door.

Lyndon pushed open the door and went inside.

The office was much more refined than the one downstairs, with a large desk occupying the center of the room.

There was a man and a woman inside the room.

The man was about fifty years old, with some gray in his temples. He sat upright in a leather chair, a cigar between his index and middle fingers.

The woman, dressed in a well-fitting suit, was focused on organizing the documents in her hands. She didn't react at all to Lyndon's arrival, as if she were just a piece of furniture in the room.

"Boss."

Lyndon bowed respectfully to Mr. Hornby.

"Lyndon, you've arrived." Hornby paused for a moment. "I heard John said you encountered ghouls."

"Yes, luckily, we all survived, but we wasted two bullets..."

Hornby waved his hand: "I understand. In the business of collecting corpses, it's inevitable to encounter such things."

He took a puff of his cigar, exhaled the smoke, and continued, "I'm talking to you mainly because I want to give you a task, one that's separate from you."

Lyndon's heart stirred slightly.

Corpse collectors take on jobs based on whatever comes their way; I've never seen a boss personally assign tasks.

Hornby frowned when he saw that Lyndon didn't react, but quickly relaxed.

"It's not a big deal, really. A gentleman in the new district has passed away, and we need someone to handle the body collection. However, given his status, I'd like to find someone with proper manners to avoid any trouble. After thinking it over, you're the only one I can think of. You've been to university and have met some high-society people, haven't you?"

Even so, Lyndon felt a vague unease in his heart.

Just as Lyndon was about to refuse, Hornby seemed to hear Lyndon's thoughts and raised his hand to signal Lyndon to be quiet.

"I know you may be confused by my decision, but I have to be responsible for the company's image. This is settled. I will give you an additional gold pound as a bonus after the task is completed."

One gold pound...

Lyndon considered for a moment: "Okay, boss."

Hornby nodded approvingly.

"I'll give you the address later, you can go out now."

Lyndon left the office, and the room fell into a brief silence.

The secretary, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up: "Sir, you didn't tell him that this mission is related to the alien species."

Hornby took a deep drag on his cigar, his face darkening instantly, and he scratched his head in frustration.

"Because I want him dead!"

Originally, Hornby had deliberately left the sewer task to Lyndon, and for this purpose, he even specially assigned an old fox to Lyndon—John.

They had hoped that in the face of death, old John would abandon Lyndon and escape on his own, but they actually survived!

"This time, let's see how you survive."

With that thought, Hornby stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray.

He stood up from the leather chair, pulled back the blinds, and looked outside with a sinister gaze.

"Blame it on your surname Copperfield, on being his son, and on joining my company."