Having concluded his and Mabel’s washing, Elmer returned with his sister to his room, both of them garbed in completely different attires from what they had wandered into the bathroom with.

Elmer had thrown Mabel’s lavender gown into the laundry basket in the bathroom—along with the towel he had used to clean his post workout sweat—and in return dressed her in a knee-length petticoat with soft embroidery patterns, and long white socks that went above her thighs.

As for him, he was wearing the essentials for his daytime wear since he was going to be heading out soon—a neatly ironed brown trouser of a somewhat baggy width, and a buttoned-up white shirt.

With the door shutting behind him, Elmer took Mabel toward the simple carved vanity table of mahogany—a white painted one—set directly perpendicular to the room’s window, and seated her upon the satinwood chair that was there.

He then took her long hair and flung it over the top rail of the chair while momentarily stabilizing her by her left shoulder. Stretching his right hand, he pulled open one of the drawers to the right and grabbed a boar bristle brush, and as well a red plastic container of pomade designed with the words “Beauty’s Touch Unisex Pomade”.

After placing the hair brush on Mabel’s lap, Elmer opened the pomade’s container and swiped a bit of the pomatum, putting it onto his left palm. Following that, he set down the container on the vanity table, along with its cover, before smearing Mabel’s dark hair with the cream and stroking it gently.

Since he had not grown up on the knowledge of women’s care, every action he was taking with Mabel’s hair was due to the advice he’d gotten from an actual lady. One who was the receptionist of the cosmetics store he’d visited during the early days of December to purchase skincare products.

She’d mentioned that if the lady was a young girl then they didn’t need much of the nourishment the pomade was meant to provide, as their hair were still naturally brightened.

But if it was felt necessary, then a little bit of pomade should be used to massage the scalp for five minutes before they had any form of rest; that was after it had been confirmed that the scalp and hair were free from dust.

The lady had also told him that hair would curl naturally if such hair moisturizers were applied every two or three days, because straight hairs would curl when subjected to damp weather. And since Elmer liked his sister’s hair straight, he’d settled on only once in two weeks to apply the cream.

Mabel was young, so him spreading out the hair care would do nothing to make a dent on her beauty. And even, she had not been using such products before since they had been living off of the income prevailing among peasants. He had only just thought of this as a responsibility of his to make his sister’s life a bit better. And in that regard he’d decided to spend whatever money he had without holding back.

Calculating how much he had made from having completed just four jobs, he was on an average of a hundred mints per employer.

That was an extremely nice sum, even though it paled in comparison to what actual bounty hunters made. But he believed that to be due to the sort that have been employing him.

His first job had been during the late days of November, and, as well, merely a coincidence. Before that he had been unable to come up with a way to receive requests, and he had also been known by not a single person.

So having stumbled upon a bleeding man at night in an alley on Low street—a street on the opposite side of High street, which he was a resident of—had been nothing short of fateful encounters.

Elmer had surveyed his surroundings carefully at the sight, taking note that they were truly empty due to an hour being left until the Emperor’s curfew. Then he’d tipped his flat cap to cover his face significantly, before rushing to the bleeding man.

He had done what little first aid he knew by using his handkerchief—made thick by a piece of clothing from the man—to put pressure on the stabbed side of his abdomen.

Though that had all just been a cover up.

He’d firstly diagnosed the wound to not be fatal, due to him noticing that the attacker’s knife had most likely been blunt, since it had barely penetrated the omentum and reached for the bowels. And after that he had used the essence of vitality to reduce the injury significantly, just enough so that the victim was not fully healed but at the same time still had his life saved.

He had made it that way in order to blur this particular part of himself from having any connections with the supernatural. Even though he had done well to hide his face with the darkness of night, he knew all too well that a slight slip up would bring the police to his doorstep.

And he did not want that.

The only being he wanted to engage was the Ascender seeking him out, and he wanted to be the one with the advantage when that happened.

Having completed his supernatural first aid, Elmer had told the man that he was going to get help. And then he had used his heightened speed, which had been raised extraordinarily to a greater degree after his ascent into the Echelon 9, to reach his home in something around thirty seconds—a place which had been no less than two hundred meters away.

After garbing himself in the absurd outfit of the rough pale smiling mask he had taken weeks to make himself for his vigilante exploits, and the ragged black collar-high trench coat he had purchased at the Black Market, Elmer had escaped through his window and rushed back to the bleeding man while bearing the alias: the reaper.

The speed of his resurfacing with a different persona had helped mask the reality to the attacked man that he was the same person as before.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

And Elmer was quite happy with that.

Acting as the reaper meant he had to do his jobs discreetly in order to make it impossible for the police to seek him out, since he knew that his first couple of jobs would most likely be handled by them. That was before the involvement of the supernatural was noticed, and his case was transferred to the bounty hunters—hopefully the one who was seeking his Elmer Hills’ persona.

Back in the alley, Elmer had used the gray essence of spirituality to mask his voice like he had practiced.

Thereafter, he questioned the bleeding man—who went by the name Kingsley Stone, and was panicking both because of his plight and the sort of figure before him—to find out whatever clue he could use to capture the one who had done the crime.

With a shivering voice, Kingsley had told him then that he had been robbed of his month’s pay, and stabbed while he’d tried to resist. Luckily, Kingsley had glimpsed the features of his assailant, and Elmer had taken that from him, along with the large button he had ripped off of the thief’s coat in his struggle.

But before Elmer went on with the job, he had made sure Kingsley had agreed to spreading his existence in his workplace, highlighting, and even enhancing, the help he was to offer.

Obviously, Kingsley had agreed, and that had marked Elmer’s first job as the reaper—one he had done for free in the place of recognition.

He had used divination to ascertain the location of the thief, and when he’d confronted them he’d found out that they were a fellow worker of Kingsley, but most of all, that they were an unlicensed Ascender.

That had made it a lot harder to complete even though his creation of his newest occupation had been due to a thought concerning people of such a vocation.

Still, he had done what he’d had to do. And despite having put a leash on the usage of his abilities—which had brought about a long slash on his mask’s right eye—the fight between them both had resulted in the death of the assailant. One who had been a divorced man in his mid-thirties that was seeking to send a little bit of money to his daughter for the festivities.

It was also at the sight of the blood of the man, whose head had exploded, that Elmer had calmed himself with his hearing ability, and came up with an idea to set a trap for the bounty hunter who he believed was after him.

He had used the red, dense liquid mixed with bone marrow and brain juice to write a message on the wall of the home of the murdered thief.

A message that went: “Death Comes Knocking Only Once…”

And that he kept doing with the other jobs he’d received afterwards.

The second and third had come during the early weeks of December, both having involved a thief same as the first, and which he had received a pay of a hundred mints each for; while the fourth he’d charged at two hundred and fifty mints for having gone down a route vastly different from his other jobs, and a lot more difficult.

Elmer guessed it to be about a couple more jobs in the twenties range before he was already well in the average earnings limit to move into the lower rank of the middle class. But doing that meant he’d have to leave the Red-Brick district and join his peers in the boroughs designated to them.

That was not feasible—at least for him.

His current job as the reaper meant he needed to be based somewhere with little to no security so he would have the leeway to exit and enter as he pleased. That was not something possible if he moved up into the middle class, where the place of their homes had extremely tightened securities.

Of course, for Mabel, and his maid, Mary, that would look to be the best due to the protection they would have from meager criminals. But what greater protection was for them than an Echelon 9 Ascender who was even further known as the reaper?

He was good enough to take on measly thieves and the sorts.

Yes. He was fine as he was.

“Still, my method of receiving jobs is ineffective,” Elmer mumbled as he picked up the boar bristle brush he had left on Mabel’s laps and brushed her hair with it. “I’m pretty sure I’ve lost a lot of potential employers because of that. I know I too would lose interest in paying money for something if I had to leave my comfort zone and head to a dust pit in the Backwaters to hide my request behind a bush.” He exhaled then allowed himself a chance to gaze upon the desk before his curtain-covered investigation wall. “That’s why I have to come up with a method today.”

There’s no time to be dallying about…

The rest of his words remained in his head, but they still sounded clearly as though he was speaking them out.

The more jobs I get, the more of my clue I can leave for whichever Ascender is pursuing me… And the quicker they decipher it, the quicker I can ascend… Hmm… I wonder if I chose a too-hard clue to use… No… I’m sure an Ascender higher than the Echelon 9 can decipher such a clue… Even I was able to complete two jobs on my own… Then there’s—

His thoughts halted, and instantly faded into oblivion. He could not bring himself to think about them—the unforgettable people he’d murdered.

At that moment the rhythmic tapping of a knuckle upon his door poured into his ears, causing him to shift his attention from his right to his left.

“Madame Mabel’s soup is ready, Master Floyd. And so is your toasted bread and bacon.” The voice of the soft-spoken Mary Thatcher poured into the room.

“I see. You can eat your share first,” Elmer responded to her. “I’ll be a moment late.”

Silence permeated the air for a few seconds. “Eat… my… share… first…?” Mary was obviously left confused. This was the first time Elmer had been busy after meal was ready, and as so the first time he had told her to go ahead and eat before him. He understood her reaction perfectly.

“Yes. Eat… your… share… first…” Elmer mimicked Mary’s mode of speech as he pulled open another drawer and brought out a ceramic hair receiver.

“Ah! Thank you, Master Floyd. I’ll get to doing that now.”

Yes, Mary… Yes, you should…

Elmer smiled as he dropped Mabel’s hair which had stuck to the brush into the hair receiver, closed its lid, and returned it to the drawer he had brought it out from.

All the while Mary had been having her customary waiting—though now she’d finally left.

The next care Elmer did for Mabel involved rubbing her hands with vaseline lotion to keep out the cold, and her face with powder. After which he picked her up and returned her to her side of the bed, the one directly beneath the window sill.

He also did a little bit of care for himself, using the hair pomade and a comb to style his hair into a side parting—his new favorite after he’d come across a refined gentleman while he’d been at the market once. And in all honesty, it made him look extremely handsome, so much that he relished his view in the circular mirror of the vanity table whenever he prepared during the day.

After completing his savoring of his facial features, Elmer covered the pomade’s plastic and sent it back into its designated drawer, along with his comb and Mabel’s brush. Then he took to his cupboard, brought forth a brown daytime vest and a striped tie of the same color, and added them to his outfit. All that was left were his black shoes, black leather gloves, and brown workman’s coat for when he was ready to take his leave—oh, and his ankle socks.