Elmer had found it a great deal hard convincing Lev into agreeing to sleep at the cemetery.

He knew he should have been a bit more subtle about putting into words such a thing, given that Lev had already been talking about being buried there the same as his parents and grandparents.

But he had not said it as a joke. And he would not have still been sitting in a carriage roughly an hour later, but instead be in the presence of Ms. Edna’s colleague, if only Lev had resigned himself to understanding a bit quicker that his rationale for uttering such a bizarre statement was so that he could feel a deeper connection to the curse once they were at the cemetery.

In truth, Elmer was not sure it would pan out in a good way, but he had no choice than to try something regardless. And while seated at the last end of the carriage, using whatever little silence came from having fewer passengers heading to the suburbs to think, he had not still seen his plan as anything but a satisfactory one.

He had put down everything he’d gathered from Lev’s explanation of his situation on the large trestle table in his mind, shuffling through and arranging them in the best suited manner to bring out the most ideal outcome possible he could think of.

The pretty-but-weary pawnbroker had insinuated that he’d never heard the cries of the curse when he was asleep during the day or awake at night, same as his parents. But whenever he’d tried to have a shut eye as soon as darkness fell, precisely around the ninth hour of night, the cries would whoosh into his ears quickly then and force him to stay awake, otherwise he’d find himself pale and deceased.

Elmer’s scheme to have Lev freed from his curse was to have him and the pawnbroker be at the cemetery on or before 9:00 P.M., and take a momentary tour around the beds of his dead grandparents to find the exact location where the curse had been implanted. But if they eventually failed to find clues of any sort, then that was where his idea of having Lev fall asleep would prop up, in hopes that the curse would materialize itself once that had happened.

It was a very plausible plan, only it had two cutbacks. One was the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to exorcise the curse before the emperor’s curfew fell upon them, and the other was more severe in the likelihood that the curse might not have been planted at that cemetery, and Lev would die as a result.

“Saintess Boulevard!” the coachman suddenly voiced, following the slow halt of the carriage as its pulling horse snorted, and snapped Elmer away from his thoughts with a pry of his eyes.

“Here,” Elmer quickly replied to the coachman before standing up and shuffling through what remained of the passengers in the carriage coach to drop his legs onto the paved cobblestone road.

After paying his dues, which was a whopping sum of twenty five pence, Elmer turned away from the carriage that had resumed its ride down the road which made up the Southern suburb, to face the large brick archway that was held firm before him in the air by two concrete pillars.

The suburb was full of such structures, each leading into different boulevards tagged with varying names.

He was about to make his way through the one that was engraved intricately with the words “Saintess Boulevard” when a guard shack to his left, which had been built beside one pair of the archway’s supporting pillars carved with the Crest of Time, opened up, and an elderly man with a little bit of vigor motioned for him to halt by waving the truncheon he was holding.

There was no avoiding it, Elmer knew. One look into the boulevard and putting before his vision the rows of elegant houses beautified by the greenery of their front gardens, gave him all the information he’d needed.

The ambience about the boulevard was of a quaint charm tacked on by a slower pace of life. There were very few people moving about, and they did so in such a leisurely manner that the world almost became so peaceful to Elmer.

Some were engaging in hushed, distinct conversations on their front porches, while others enjoyed the evening’s warmth of the setting sun by taking a stroll through the granite sett pavements weaved in herringbone patterns.

The atmosphere was refined and the air smelled expensive, and Elmer could see that the Southern suburb was a place for those who were of a greater societal class than he, and a little bit higher than Lev as well.

The people living here were probably in the higher range of the mid-societal class, so Elmer did not fault the elderly guard from halting the steps of someone like him.

If the residents saw him make his way into the boulevard without undergoing checks they would be furious. In truth they would still be vexed even after the checks. To them he would look like a miscreant, probably someone who wanted to steal from them. And even though he did not like such thoughts directed at him, he had grown to understand that that was the way society worked.

The man was just doing his job, Elmer decided not to make things hard for him.

He hurried to the elderly guard, who was standing before his shack looking all exhausted, and without his bowler hat covering up the receding hairline of the fading brown curly hair that made up his head.

“Good evening, sir.” Elmer bowed in greeting, his shirt now tucked well into his pants, and the button of his sleeves fastened properly—all he had done in the carriage on his way here.

“Good evening,” the elderly guard replied. He had a raspy and serious tone, although at the same time, calm.

Elmer looked up at him then. The man was compact, not much taller than him, but still quite intimidating for a guard.

“May I ask that you state your purpose, young sir?” the elderly guard said to Elmer, his raspy voice carrying a great deal of politesse as it poured out. The man looked like he would even do away with the truncheon he was holding if he was given a choice.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Elmer stood upright. “I am here to see someone, good sir.”

The guard sighed exasperatedly then mumbled, “They say that all the time.” Elmer’s eyebrows fell in response. “You’ll have to leave. I can’t let you in.”

Elmer’s breath hitched.

Can’t let me in…? Why can’t you let me in…? Isn’t it just to have your checks and be done with it…?

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow, sir.” Elmer had huffed softly before he spoke. “Aren’t you going to have me checked?” He outstretched his arms sideways, and the man shook his head slowly and tiredly.

“I’m sorry as well, young sir. But we do not do checks here any longer. It has been replaced by passes, which in return has led to the plummeting of the rate of theft that used to plague the suburb. All thanks to Lord Cleavenger…”

The man had not said it directly, but Elmer knew what he was getting at, and that made his breathing fasten a tad. He hated being lumped in with theft. He was not a—

His mind suddenly shifted toward the bag that had flown past his view on a past night in the alleyway opposite Atkinson’s train station, and the money that was inside, as well as how he had taken it for his own use.

Elmer clenched his chin.

Yes. He was a thief.

The elderly guard jerked a thumb toward what made up the boulevard that was past the large archway towering before them. “Unless you live here and you have an issued pass registered for you?”

He did not. Why hadn’t Ms. Edna mentioned the pass to him? For what reason would she push him to come to somewhere he couldn’t gain access to? And to top it all off, he had spent twenty five pence. That was not a small sum.

Elmer shook his head and the man dropped his thumb.

“Then I suggest you leave.”

That was out of the option. He had taken on a job and he needed the items required for that job to be a success. There was no way he was going to leave here without meeting with Ms. Edna’s colleague.

Maybe if he—No. He could not, could he? He should not just be mentioning that he was an Ascender to anybody. There had to be some other way to convince the guard to let him in.

Elmer dipped his hand into his bag and brought out the paper of address Ms. Edna had given him. “See.” He showed the elderly guard. “I truly am here to meet with someone. This is the address I was given.”

The elderly guard sighed. “Young sir, please leave, or I’ll have to take actions to ensure you do.”

Elmer grimaced. “Then maybe if you went with me to confirm? How’s that? You’ll see that I truly am here to meet with someone.”

The guard grunted, and even though his body still showed signs of hesitance to stress, his voice went a different route. “Leave, lad,” he said, his tone spiked a tad. “Please don’t let me repeat myself.”

Elmer fell silent.

Maybe he should try out the Black Market? But how sure was he that he would find what was needed there? He didn’t even know what exactly to seek. There was also the option of going back home and returning the next day, but spending twenty five pence each for that would hurt his soul.

But still, it was something he could have decided to do if only he did not need to have Lev’s job completed today at all cost. There was barely a week and half till his potion wore off, and he did not even want to think of the kind of things that would come after it did—the kind of Losts.

He did not have the time to waste. There was no time!

Elmer lowered his gaze briefly as a tightness plagued his chest, and he allowed his eyes to dart quickly between the black, well polished shoes of the guard before him and what made up Saintess Boulevard behind the large archway of brick, the paper of address between his palm, folding into a crumple.

“Lad…?” the elderly guard called out in something of a gentle murmur, his tone stretching out cautiously for the sort of choices he believed Elmer to be contemplating. “Don’t do it.”

Elmer returned his gaze to the man’s upturned brows, and narrowed them with a soft shake of his head.

I wouldn’t if you’d given me a better choice…

And with that Elmer suddenly dashed into the gate-less archway, registering himself now as a criminal in the eyes of the elderly guard.

Elmer shut his mind to the consequences that would come from the actions he had taken, and as well, closed his ears to the shouts of the guard and the gasps and murmurs of the inhabitants of the boulevard.

He took himself away from cobblestone grounds and went onto the pavement of granite-sett to his right to avoid putting himself into danger by coming into contact with the few private carriages and steam cars that were on the roadway.

There was no stopping now, and his legs helped with that.

He was moving fast, much faster than he’d ever done before that he now believed he would be a lot quicker than Patsy compared to the first time they’d had to battle with their legs. And through it all did his eyes pace between the wooden signage that made up the frontage of the buildings lining up the boulevard.

‘House 30’ was what he was searching for, and ‘House 30’ was what he now saw engraved distinguishably onto the signage standing before a brown steep-pitched roof cottage, decorated by beautifully trimmed flower gardens surrounding it.

Elmer took a second to huff out a breath as he put a hold to his run, before he rushed through the front path and made his way onto the porch of the house to drop a hastened knock.

The elderly guard was probably not going to have chased him this far, given how exhausted he had looked and of course how weak his legs would most likely be. But Elmer was taking no chances. He might be on his way, or he might have called for help. Either way, he needed Ms. Edna’s colleague’s help for more than one thing now.

“Who’s there?” a calm voice echoed from within the house a few moments later.

“Ms. Edna Smyth gave me your address,” Elmer quickly voiced in reply through pacing breaths, his hands firmly placed upon his knees as he was bent over.

Aside from the constant murmurs that still lingered in the air of Saintess Boulevard from his stunt, no other sound graced Elmer’s ears. And it was not until he took a moment to glance backward did the door of the house, whose porch he stood upon, suddenly pulled halfway open, revealing, but at the same time concealing, a man who looked to be in his late twenties.

The man had almond-shaped eyes of blue and shoulder-length black hair like that of a lady’s, only streaked here and there by varying strands of white.

He tilted his head when he saw Elmer, then gave a one-sided smile before saying, “What do you want?”

Elmer straightened up immediately. “I’m in trouble, good sir. I need your help.”