"I can leave now?"
"Mhm." The police officer at the door nodded expressionlessly, his tone devoid of any fluctuation. "You can leave once the formalities are complete."
Did the higher-ups finish their discussion, meaning they no longer need a small fry like me? Or is there another hidden reason—
Never mind. The "Premonition of Disaster" hasn't triggered, which means leaving here won't pose an immediate threat to my life.
He followed the police officer to complete some simple procedures, then went to the police station's accounting office and paid a few dozen pounds as bail.
"The investigation into this matter is not over, and you may be summoned again later." The police officer warned him routinely before he left.
Leaving the police station, the sky was already darkening. Feeling the bleak evening wind on the street, Lorne still found it hard to believe.
"Is this what they call the capriciousness of fate? A Winner just gets off scot-free like this—" Lorne sighed, preparing to head to the firearms factory first.
Many people had been worried about him these past few days: Old Kohler, Ted, and also Hugh and Sharon—He felt it was necessary to personally let them know he was safe.
But after walking a few steps down the street, his pace subconsciously slowed, eventually stopping him in place.
Never mind, I should wait a bit longer. What if this is a trap set by the official authorities? Going there now might implicate them.
Lorne decided to find a small hotel to stay in first. On the way, he stopped by a public mailbox to retrieve a letter.
There was one from the Captain, and one from Danitz—
"The Captain's letter has been sitting here for a long time. It seems it was sent around the time I was arrested. However, Danitz's letter is quite new—" Lorne glanced at the envelope, confirmed there were no signs of it being opened by others, and carefully tucked it into his clothes.
Inside the hotel room, he first cautiously set up a Wall of Spirituality, and only after confirming there were no "eyes" or "ears" in the room did he take off his shirt and relax. This revealed the several gruesome wounds on his ribs and back that were already beginning to scab and heal.
He took a deep breath.
"Hiss—Ah—"
A playing card stained with blood was slowly pulled out from deep within the wound.
"Hoo—Hoo—" Lorne gasped heavily, looking at the poker card in his hand, relieved. "Thank goodness, thank goodness this card is waterproof."
This card was the most valuable item he currently possessed. Fearing a search by the Punishers, he had no choice but to shove it into his wound. After all, both he and the card possessed Anti-Divination characteristics, so as long as the physical object wasn't found, the issue wouldn't be major.
"However, it seems that in the end, they didn't conduct a strict search, making my actions unnecessary and self-inflicted suffering." Lorne gave a self-mocking laugh, carefully wiped the bloodstains off the card, stored it safely, and then re-bandaged his wound.
After dealing with all this, he sat down at the slightly wobbly desk in the room and, using the dim light of the gas lamp, opened the two letters.
The first letter he opened was the reply from Edwina. The handwriting, as always, was delicate and neat, reflecting an intellectual and calm style.
Similar to Cattelya's, she briefly introduced information about the "Worm of Time." Edwina also had no clue about the "Full Moon Speech Disorder" matter but offered to help inquire about it. At the end of the letter, she also included methods for making new Talismans and some strange maritime anecdotes.
"The Captain's style is consistent as ever—"
Lorne put the letter down and opened the other one. The handwriting in this letter was noticeably much messier, far from the Captain's neatness.
"Shit—"
The very first word was distinctively Danitz. Lorne could almost imagine him swearing as he wrote the letter. He patiently continued reading.
"Brando! Do you know what we've encountered recently?! Vice Admiral of Disease, that madwoman, came looking for trouble again! And she's updated her fleet! We fought a battle with her on the edge of the Raging Sea! Shit! Where did she get so much money—"
The Captain didn't mention this in her letter. Did it happen after she wrote it? Or is she simply reporting good news and hiding bad news? But, the Vice Admiral of Disease updated her fleet? Could her money have come from me?
Hiss—Lorne drew a sharp breath, recalling the pile of materials he had possessed back then.
Tracy used that money to arm her fleet and then went to fight the Captain—How could such a melodramatic plot happen?!
"Still, the fact that Danitz can write a letter means the situation isn't that severe."
"Tracy really—if she can't find me, she targets people connected to me—" Lorne clenched his hand, a hint of coldness flashing in his eyes.
"Never mind. If I get the chance later, I'll deal with her myself at sea. At least in Backlund, I don't have to worry about running into her."
Sighing, Lorne continued reading.
But halfway through, his expression became somewhat distorted—He realized that the entire letter was saturated with the single word: "miserable."
"This guy—he definitely wants something." Lorne already had a premonition.
"Never mind, as long as it's not about money, everything is negotiable."
"I shared a few thousand pounds of bounty with him; he shouldn't be short on cash, right—"
Given their life-and-death friendship, if the other party truly encountered an insurmountable difficulty, he should help, both logically and emotionally. Moreover, he was now connected to Queen Mystic, giving him access to more channels and methods than before.
However, the next line shattered his illusion.
"Since you're in Backlund, you must know about that damned stock market crash, right?"
What? The stock market!
A deeply ominous premonition suddenly arose in Lorne's heart. Filled with anxiety, he continued reading.
"Damn it!"
"I lost all my money! Lend me four thousand pounds for an emergency!"
"You're asking me for money when I'm this short on cash?!"
"Didn't I give you eight thousand pounds back then?!"
Rage surged in Lorne's heart, and he cursed the sender a few times across the letter, but after a moment, he let out a helpless sigh.
"He probably used a lot of the money for advancement, which is why he doesn't have much cash left—Mhm, understandable, understandable. Sequence advancement is indeed the top priority."
"With eight thousand pounds, he should have advanced to Sequence 6 at least."
"Speaking of money, the Captain just went through a major battle. Ship repairs, ammunition resupply, casualty compensation—she must be short on cash too—"
"Hmm—" Lorne rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. After thinking it over, he came up with an idea.
He picked up paper and pen and began writing a reply.
In the letter, Lorne stated that he had also encountered trouble recently and was very tight on cash, but he had a profitable business opportunity he could introduce to Danitz. He currently possessed a batch of extremely high-quality firearms that Danitz could sell, and they could split the profits afterward.
Backlund has been unstable recently, and this turmoil will soon spread to the colonies overseas, leading to deteriorating public security. Demand for firearms from various factions is bound to increase significantly. This is definitely a highly profitable deal.
For the firearms factory, materials were actually easier to handle. Many material processing factories had gone bankrupt and were selling off various raw materials at low prices to minimize losses. Although the original procurement channels were cut off, they could still be found if one was willing to search.
The only trouble was the sales channels. As long as the Captain could help absorb some of the firearms, even a small portion, it would help Lorne's factory maintain basic operation until he could figure out how to raise the remaining hundred thousand pounds needed to acquire the complete industrial chain.
After thinking about it, he picked up his pen again and wrote a letter to Edwina, explaining the situation in detail. He knew that Danitz alone definitely couldn't handle this; the Captain's help was necessary.
In the letter to the Captain, Lorne first expressed his gratitude and greetings, then subtly proposed a cooperation intent for firearm sales. He stated that, to show sincerity and thank the Captain for her continued care and guidance, he was willing to include something she would definitely find interesting as a "gift."
The potion formula for "Cataclysmic Interrer."
The Captain is backed by the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, and she herself is on the neighboring Reader Pathway. Both officially and personally, she would certainly value this business deal.
"The Captain has helped me so much; giving her something in return is only right—"
After cautiously waiting and observing for two days in the hotel, Lorne felt that things outside really seemed to have calmed down.
the official authorities really seemed intent on minimizing the impact of the Capin case, adopting a strategy of downplaying major issues and resolving minor ones. As long as he, the "survivor," didn't speak carelessly, there shouldn't be any further trouble.
He first mailed the replies to the Captain and Danitz, then hailed a taxi carriage and headed to East Borough.
As soon as he got off the carriage and stepped onto the familiar yet always slightly chaotic streets of East Borough, Lorne inexplicably felt that something was wrong.
—
Although the "Calamity Sense" hadn't reacted, he still had a strange feeling.
"It seems like—something very troublesome is about to happen—"
Harboring a trace of unease, he walked toward the firearms factory.
"Wait—there are too many people!" Still over a hundred meters from the factory, he saw a dense crowd gathered around the factory entrance, and the noisy commotion could be faintly heard even from a distance.
Old Kohler was anxiously standing at the entrance, trying to disperse the crowd, but his frail figure and aged voice seemed so powerless against the tide of people.
"Click!"
The sound of a shutter clicking suddenly rang out, and Lorne subconsciously raised his hand to shield his face.
"James Scott is here!" Someone with sharp eyes shouted loudly in the crowd.
What was going on? Before Lorne could figure out the situation, he saw the crowd gathered at the entrance suddenly erupt in noise, turning their eyes toward him in unison.
Looking at the various cameras, resembling long and short cannons, and the notebooks and pens they held—Lorne raised an eyebrow.
This was a group of—reporters?
"Wait, what do they want to do?"
Watching those people surge toward him like hungry tigers pouncing on prey, dazzling flashlights, shutter clicks, and noisy questions drifted into his ears on the wind.
"Mr. Scott! Are you the hero who infiltrated Capin's villa alone and rescued several kidnapped girls?"
"Mr. Scott, could you talk about your experience and your emotional journey at the time?"
"What are your thoughts on the police initially detaining you as a suspect?"
"We heard that the factory you operate is also facing difficulties during this financial crisis. Is this related to your heroic act of righteousness?"
Huh? What is this situation—A bead of cold sweat slid down Lorne's forehead.
It seems like—he's run into some enormous trouble again.