Elmer was still not feeling hungry despite having restricted his body from nutrition in the afternoon, and as well spending what little energy he had conserved during his supernatural endeavors. But regardless, he had Mary Thatcher serve him a simple dinner of a chunk of bread and hot milk; just something good enough to keep his body working.

Still, even as light as his meal was, he had a lingering feeling that he would not be able to finish it.

Elmer took a sip of milk from the porcelain cup it was swimming within, mixing its subtle and creamy sweet richness with that of the crusty feel of the bread in his mouth.

As he swallowed, he flipped to a new leaf of the Morning Crier newspaper before him on the dining table; one which had been flung onto his porch earlier during the day as per required of the subscription he’d made.

The Morning Crier only required three pence for its monthly subscription, unlike Ur’s Tribune and Ur’s Super Bugle which charged five and ten pence respectively. Then there was Fitzroy’s Daily Classic which was shipped all the way from the capital city, and cost a total of twenty pence for a monthly subscription.

Considering all these, Elmer had settled for the cheapest option; so he was not bothered that the delivery of his newspapers were subpar and somewhat barbaric when compared to the other papers who delivered directly to the subscribed home’s receptacle.

Well, he had never been the most interested in politics, or history, or news as a whole, and since the newspapers never carried Ascender news he felt no need to spend extravagantly on something he had not much interest in.

Maybe the supernatural had their own personal newspapers…? Hmm… I wonder if I can find a way to subscribe to one… Tch… Will probably make my current location known; not a risk I’m willing to take…

The reason he even subscribed in the first place was so that he could learn how to blend in with the norm of the society, which included reading the paper at meals. And he was trying his best. But, like now, he always ended up skimming.

Nothing ever caught his eyes in the newspaper he’d subscribed for. It was always the same regurgitated news about minor protests from newsie boys or unsatisfied workers that were easily squashed, and the situation of the sickness rates in the slums and how the government should respond in kind.

In all honesty, that was to be expected. The cheaper the newspaper, the less information it would have. And it was because of that realization that he’d made up his mind to advertise the reaper’s prayer he’d created in Ur’s Tribune instead. At least that one was in the middle. It was not too expensive, not the biggest, and definitely not the smallest either. A couple of job opportunities would arise from it; he had surety of that. And, as well, those high up in the supernatural would most likely never take notice of his exploits that way.

The route seemed completely safe.

As soon as he flipped to another page under the glow of the oil lamps hanging from the walls of his dining room, Elmer at that moment grew both tired of his dinner and his newspaper. He took off his glasses for a moment to pinch his eyes, then leaned backward onto the chair he was seated on and heaved out a heavy sigh.

“Trying to fit in with the city lifestyle is quite the work,” he said as he cleared up his eyes’ blur, directing his words at the blue-eyed young man seated across from him.

Pip gave him no reply but just kept on feeding himself in a slow manner with the mutton stew Mary had served him for dinner.

He was dressed in a similar way to Elmer. Both of them in home shirts and suspenders, and kept slightly warm by the fire crackling from the simple and small hearth in the living room.

Not feeling especially bothered that his attempt to start a conversation with his best friend had not been met with a response, Elmer just smacked his lips and tried once more.

This time he leaned forward with his palms clutching each other and placed beneath his chin, while his elbows rested on the edge of the table.

“Mind telling me how Mr. Willows is faring? And of course, Mrs. Ruth as well.”

The only reply Elmer’s question got was the sound of Pip’s spoon making contact with the rims of his soup bowl. He cleared his throat at that, took another sip of his warm milk and decided to try once again.

He chuckled first this time as an attempt to liven the mood. “Miss Sally must have pulled your ears when you were leaving, didn’t she? Did the same to me when I visited her at the bakery on my last day in Meadbray. I hope you told her not to cry. She’s quite soft, you know? I heard her—”

Pip slammed his palm on the table in a gentle manner, though just enough that it had put a stop to Elmer’s blabbering. His freckled face and crinkled slits for a gaze showed that he had no intention of engaging Elmer with his talks on the sad and joyful departures regarding relocating from the countryside to a city.

Understanding all that now, Elmer’s shoulders dropped and so did his brows.

“What’s your problem?” he asked, his tone low and without any more of the enthusiastic tinge it had had during his previous talks. “Mind enlightening me?”

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“That’s my line, you know?” Pip finally spoke, his voice just as low on vigor as Elmer’s.

Elmer scoffed, then shifted away from the table and placed his arms languidly on his chair’s rests. “I honestly do not see how that is supposed to be.”

Pip let go of the spoon in his hand, and in return shifted his bowl of mutton stew aside. It seemed he was done eating as well—or to be more precise, lost his appetite.

“Well, since you don’t, I think I’ll just go and have my sleep then.”

“Why are you acting like a child?” Elmer strained his voice with a gesture of frustration as Pip attempted to stand to his feet. “I’m just asking how your journey went, how your parents are, and how Miss Sally is, so what’s with the attitude?”

Pip raised an eyebrow and decided to retain his seat after a couple seconds of staring down the young man older than him by a single year.

Then with an exhale, relaxing the furrows of his brows, he said, “It seems there’s been some sort of misconception here, Floyd.” Elmer’s eyes twitched at the sort of way Pip had emphasized his fake name. He had known a while back what the exact reason for Pip’s tantrums were, but now it was solidified. “I’m not the one with an attitude, you know? I asked a question, I didn’t get an answer, so why should I engage yours?”

Elmer jerked his head backward and spun it around on his neck in exasperation. That action he had taken for two reasons. One was because Pip’s stubbornness was slightly infuriating, and the second was because those final words from his best friend reminded him of a certain person he’d termed a good actress a while back.

But he quickly pushed the latter thought aside, took in a deep breath, and heaved out a calming exhale. Then he returned his gaze sharply back to his friend.

“What don’t you understand? I told you already. It’s a long—”

“Story?” Pip sliced through Elmer’s words, completing it for him without being given permission. He scoffed next and shook his head. “I told you already as well.” Pip stretched out his arms. “We have the time.”

Yes, we do… But I am not speaking on my exploits in the supernatural, Pip… I can’t have you learning of what I did…

Elmer remained silent, allowing his brown and exhausted narrow eyes and Pip’s beautiful blue eyes to clash in a battle of unfaltering stares for a moment. Then, as if succumbing and accepting his loss, he smacked his lips.

“Fine,” he said soon after he’d rubbed his cheeks with his palm, going against the thoughts he’d just had. “I’ll tell you about what I went through.”

Pip Willows beamed at the arrival of those words, then he clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers in the usual energetic expression he always had at Meadbray, causing the stiff air in the dining room to lessen in intensity.

“Now that’s my boy!” he cooed.

“But…” Elmer quipped in with a single word that carried a great enough strength which caused Pip’s excitement to dwindle out quickly.

“But what, you donkey?” the young man of seventeen with blonde hair queried in slight annoyance.

Elmer smiled and raised a finger. “I’ll only tell you a little. You do not plan to become what I am so I see no use in lecturing you about every single thing related to such a world.” He dropped his finger and relaxed onto the frame of his chair.

“Hmmm…” Pip imitated Elmer’s seating posture. “And what made you come to that conclusion?”

“Because you’re here to better your life and make enough money to take care of your family. It won’t give you that.”

It will actually; more than you can imagine… But I won’t have you step your foot into such a world… Not on my watch…

Hearing Elmer’s claim, Pip flayed every scenery of the house he could currently see before looking back at his friend.

“You can’t be serious,” he said in a flat tone. “You have all these from that and you still say such? Or is there something else you’re doing?” Pip wore a scrutinizing gaze, but Elmer did not crumble under it.

He had an idea—an answer; one he had conjured up a few hours back. It was just as bad as the supernatural, but he believed it to still pale in comparison to what the otherworldly entailed. He was not hoping Pip would tread down on either path, but if it came down to it, he knew the one he would prefer his best friend leaned toward.

“Yes. I am doing something different,” Elmer lied.

“What is—”

All of a sudden, the door bell rang, and Elmer felt his spiritual senses tingle as he turned sharply toward the direction of his home’s entrance.

His heartbeat hastened, and he wasted no time scooping his pocket watch out of his pocket, and clicking it open to view the time.

Twenty six minutes past seven… Why would someone be at my door by this time…? And I was expecting no visitors; not like I have any…

His face squeezed as his breath abruptly turned heavy. He completely forgot about his friend who was opposite him on the dining table.

“What’s the problem?” Pip asked suddenly, snapping Elmer from his paranoid thoughts and causing his tightened expression to loosen. “You’re not going to answer the door?”

“I’ll get to doing that now!” A muffled, soft voice swept through the air from behind Elmer, overwriting whatever reply he had prepared to give Pip. And with those words had emerged Mary Thatcher in her maid’s apron from the kitchen, her cheeks swollen from the mutton stew she had been eating, and her lips smeared by its liquid.

She was about to rush out of the dining hall and hurry to the front door when Elmer threw out his hand over the top rail of his chair and stopped her movement.

“No,” he voiced. “I’ll answer it myself. Go back and finish your meal.”

Leaving the befuddled Mary and Pip where they were, Elmer took to his feet and carefully approached the door of his home.

He activated his spiritual eyesight and wrapped his hand with the essence of red, his mind of the one to set his fists ablaze as a form of effective attack in case anything unforeseen happened. His revolver was in his room, along with a few items he had purchased in the Black Market earlier during the day; there was no time to go back and grab any of them.

A deep inhale, exhale, then he took the brown flat cap on the coat stand to the corner of the door and covered the indiscernible white on his hair with it. After which he reached for the doorknob with his left hand, turned it and pulled it open.