Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

Waaaaah—

The long, drawn-out sound of the steam whistle drifted across the calm river surface.

The huge propellers of the steamships churned up the canal water, creating waves that looked like white flowers.

Lyndon sat alone on the deck at the bow of the boat, gazing into the distance at the wide expanse of the river.

He let the damp wind blow through his messy curls.

A few drops of water had already accumulated on the ends of her hair.

Tom is at the helm in the cockpit, while Giselle and her father are in the cabin, lamenting their separation.

When father and daughter reunite, they must have so much to say to each other.

Lyndon wanted to say a few words to Alastor, but he couldn't find him on the ship. Helpless, he could only go to the bow of the ship to get some fresh air.

Water droplets slid down Lyndon's cheeks, leaving them wet.

Lyndon raised his hand to wipe the water from his face, and the damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

"The moonlight tonight isn't suitable for enjoying alone!"

Suddenly, Alastor's voice came from behind Lyndon.

Lyndon turned his head and saw Alastor walking up to the bow of the ship with a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other, smiling. He then sat down next to Lyndon.

"But if you can have a drink with friends, then the moonlight tonight will be quite interesting."

Alastor, talking to himself, unscrewed the bottle and poured a glass for Lyndon and himself.

The amber-colored wine shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

"Glenvita, a single malt whisky, is not easy to find."

Alastor tapped the bottle with his fingers, producing a crisp tapping sound.

He took off his monocle and raised his glass.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers."

Lyndon clinked glasses with Alastor.

The liquor flowed down his throat and into his stomach, and Lyndon felt a fragrance of honey and grass lingering on his lips and teeth.

Lyndon has a low alcohol tolerance and rarely drinks, so he only took a sip of his drink, and the glass appeared almost untouched.

Alastor, however, was used to drinking it and downed the whiskey in his glass in one gulp.

"How lucky it is to be able to share a good drink with friends while traveling!"

Alastor noticed the remaining wine in Lyndon's glass, but he didn't say anything, only smiled slightly.

At that moment, Lyndon remembered the ether bottle he had left in the steakhouse.

"Oh my god, I forgot about the ether bottle. The alien's organs are still inside."

Lyndon rubbed his head, blaming himself for his poor memory.

But Alastor didn't seem to care.

He poured himself another glass of wine and then said, "You don't need to worry about that, it's safe."

"What do you mean?" Lyndon looked at Alastor with a puzzled expression.

Alastor gave Lyndon a sly smile.

He leaned close to Lyndon's ear, as if to share some important secret.

"Actually, the ether bottle was already in my possession, and I've already sold it recently."

Lyndon was stunned by what he heard. He looked at Alastor in disbelief, his eyes seeming to say: No? You moved so fast? I haven't checked on you for a few days, and you've already sold them all?

Alastor seemed to understand Lyndon's thoughts; he propped himself up on the deck with his elbows and lay down on his side.

He swirled the wine in his glass and explained to Lyndon, "You can't blame me for this. It's your fault for storing things in my shop and handing them over to my employees."

"That's like throwing a rib to a dog and expecting it not to bite it. How is that possible?"

"So you're saying you're a dog?"

Lyndon seized on the flaw in Alastor's words and asked a question in return.

Alastor choked for a moment, then immediately realized what was happening.

"You really have a sharp tongue!"

Alastor pointed at Lyndon and laughed and cursed.

"So where's my money?"

Lyndon took a sip of his drink and watched Alastor quietly as Alastor slowly lowered his head.

But that's just how it is.

The ether bottle and the alien organs inside it both belong to Lyndon.

He was only temporarily stored with Alastor.

Therefore, in principle, Alaska should have informed Lyndon before selling the xenotransplanted organ.

But he sold it without permission.

Then Lyndon would have the right to ask him for his share.

"Hmm... Mr. Lyndon, I've found such a large ship for you and entertained your friends; all of this costs money..."

"Yes, I know. These can all be deducted from my money, but the problem is, where is my money?"

Lyndon smiled and beckoned to Alastor.

Alastor regretted letting it slip.

He should have said he didn't know, and then when they came back, he should have said that the ether bottle was missing.

"You're not trying to renege on your debt, are you?"

Lyndon's smile deepened.

As he spoke, he weighed the wine glass in his hand and leaned towards Alastor.

"Hehehe, of course not! We're friends!"

Alastor nervously took out his wallet and pulled out a stack of checks.

He pulled one check out of the stack.

Alastor showed the check to Lyndon.

"I bought a total of 1,700 gold pounds."

"If the two of you split it, it'll be 850 gold pounds. After adding all the miscellaneous fees, your share will be about 760 gold pounds. Once we get to Wiltling, I'll find a bank to exchange it for you."

"No need for that trouble."

As Lyndon spoke, he suddenly reached out his hand.

He saw that there was a five-hundred-pound check in Alastor's hand.

"Just give me this one."

"No, no!" Alastor frantically grabbed Lyndon's wrist, unwilling to give him the money. "You don't need to be in such a hurry. I'll give you the money. Besides, this amount isn't enough!"

"It's nothing! I've troubled you so much, consider the rest as compensation!"

At that moment, all the muscles in Lyndon's face were straining.

In the end, he still managed to snatch the five hundred gold pound check from Alastor.

"My money!"

Alastor lay on the deck, looking at the checks that were slipping away from him with a pained expression.

Lyndon glanced at the crumpled check in his hand, then contentedly put it back in his pocket.

He raised his glass and clinked it against Alastor's.

"Mr. Alastor, I look forward to our next collaboration."

This time, Lyndon drank the wine in his glass in one gulp.

When the alcohol took effect, Lyndon's ear tips turned a little red.

"At the dock, Rodney and the other two seemed to treat you with a lot of respect."

Alastor lay on the deck, still reeling from the devastating news of losing five hundred pounds.

He said sullenly, "I used to have some prestige in various gangs."

"How many?" Lyndon asked, propping his head up with his hand.

Alastor thought for a moment: "If I wanted, I could approach any gang leader, big or small."

"If you're so capable, why did you choose to open a pawnshop?"

"Because I'm tired of it."

Alastor dismissed this with disdain.

He looked at the night sky; there was only a crescent moon tonight.

"Just know that the so-called gangsters are all glamorous on the surface. Not to mention the open and covert struggles between the various gangs, if the magistrates of the council suddenly decide to act on a whim, no matter how powerful you are, you can be gone in an instant."

"Especially considering this, I'd rather start a business, save up some money, and live a comfortable life later than die a gruesome death!"

Alastor nudged Lyndon on the shoulder.

"Isn't Cyril the best example?"

Lyndon remained silent.

He looked towards the horizon, with only the mournful sound of the ship's horn and the splashing of the bow echoing in his ears.