Molede walked into the kitchen, where Feierlide was putting the sun-dried noodles into the boiling water.
"Are you really just having a stomach ache?"
Feierlide turned around, looking at Molede with a skeptical gaze.
"Really, Feierlide, you know what the food is like on the airship, I'm not very used to it."
Molede picked up the aluminum kettle from the cabinet, poured himself a cup of hot water, and placed it on the dining table.
"The flight you were on didn't cross meal times, right? They shouldn't have provided meals."
Feierlide immediately caught the loophole in Molede's words.
"Snacks, it was the snacks that I wasn't used to."
"Oh, do you need me to brew some Far Eastern herbal medicine for you?"
"No, no need, I'll just drink some hot water."
Molede blew on the water in his cup and took a few sips.
"I'll go to the Farilele Grand Library to check in, so I won't be back for dinner."
"Is it going to take that long?"
Feierlide pulled out a wristwatch hidden in her sleeve.
"It's only three forty-eight now, checking in should only take about an hour."
She took out the watch solely for Molede to see.
"Just in case, if something delays me, then I can't guarantee the time, right?"
After finishing, Molede washed his cup in the sink and placed it in the drying area.
"Anyway, don't wait for me to come back for dinner, if I finish early, I'll just hang around near the library."
"Alright, then do you have enough money on you?"
"Let me check."
Saying so, Molede pulled out his wallet, which contained several silver paper bills with the portrait of the current Queen Louisana III and a few coins bearing the profile of the kingdom's founder, Frankis II.
"I have a few Ludes and Ders, should be enough."
Feierlide nodded.
A few minutes later, white strands of noodles began to churn in the pot.
"The noodles are ready."
As Feierlide spoke, she used long chopsticks to lift the noodles, then placed them in a bowl with prepared sauce, and sprinkled some green onions on top.
"Eat quickly and then you can go, remember to come back early tonight."
"Got it."
Saying so, Molede began to eat the noodles.
Indeed, home-cooked meals are the best. Those strawberry sauce mixed noodles were simply unimaginable by any sane person.
A few minutes later, Molede cleaned the bowl, which only had sauce left, and put it back in the cabinet, then went to the living room.
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He took out a brown leather briefcase from his backpack and opened it.
Under Feierlide's gaze, he confirmed that it contained a recommendation letter from his mentor, personal files, identity documents, and a job application form.
Molede re-fastened the briefcase, went to the door, put on his coat, shoes, and hat.
"I'm off."
"Be safe."
"Got it."
Molede closed the door and headed towards the tram station at the corner of Klaulisk Street.
He bought a supplement of the Windsor River newspaper from a newsboy to pass the time.
As for the main newspaper, it was already monopolized by large distribution companies, and these scattered newsboys in the corners of Bedland District could only have the Windsor River newspaper supplement at most.
Of course, Molede was only interested in the supplement.
Turning to the local oddities column, a bold headline caught his eye.
"Philmede Sanatorium closes down? Shocking secrets revealed!"
Molede continued to read.
Even though he knew the newspaper would never report the truth, he was still shocked by the sensational stories it concocted.
Secret salons for forbidden love, high society ladies and their secret lovers' rendezvous points, persecuted young men and women—had it been a high-class club, Molede could understand their fabrications, but Philmede was a sanatorium! A sanatorium, damn it!
Somewhat frustrated, he closed the newspaper and hailed a steam taxi at the corner.
"Good day, sir, where would you like to go?"
"Horton Church United Hospital."
"Alright."
The taxi driver nodded, then started the steam taxi towards the hospital.
The Church United Hospital, managed by three major churches from the west of the Kaland continent, boasted millennia-old traditions and top-notch medical technology.
Molede looked out the window, feeling bored due to the irritations in his mind, so he took out the Windsor River newspaper supplement to continue reading.
The supplement, unlike the main newspaper, was filled with gossip, scandals, and serialized novels, offering a different flavor.
A few minutes later, the car jolted suddenly, interrupting his reading.
A glance out of the corner of his eye made Molede feel something was amiss. The steam car was not heading towards the hospital but had arrived in the Walker district.
The sight of one small factory after another, the ground covered in sewage, and the workers hurrying about told him this was not an illusion or some construction site.
"Sir, this doesn't seem to be the way to Horton Church United Hospital, does it?" Molede asked, while subtly touching the revolver inside his coat.
The driver remained silent, adding a layer of tension inside the car.
Seeing the driver's reaction, Molede hesitated. The revolver was meant for his protection, and though he had fired live rounds a few times, he had to admit he felt a bit panicked holding the gun.
The car passed through the Walker district, heading towards the warehouse area of the port district.
"Please stop the car." After a moment of internal struggle, Molede finally drew the revolver from his coat and pressed it against the back of the driver's head. "Otherwise, I can't guarantee this gun won't go off."
"Mr. Molede, please calm down. Even though you are a noble heir, you are not yet the Count of Morton. It is illegal to possess a controlled firearm in Kavrant. So, please, for your father's sake, calm down."
Molede remained silent and did not lower his gun.
After a standoff, the steam car stopped a few minutes later.
A man in a black coat and wearing a black hat opened the car door and sat next to Molede.
"Mr. Fraliskar, please put down your revolver. We mean you no harm," said the man in black, showing a police badge.
Molede temporarily set aside his inner turmoil and examined the badge's lower right corner, where he found a small silver sword emblem. This emblem, uniquely marking every official police officer's badge in the Kingdom of Esflore, was made with a special ancient alchemy technique, creating an unreplicable texture.
Molede had learned about this texture from Feierlide and, after comparison, confirmed that the man was indeed a real police officer.
Or rather, the badge he presented belonged to an active royal officer.
Yet, Molede still did not lower his revolver, even as his hand began to ache and tremble slightly.
"We are plainclothes police. Mr. Fraliskar, you must understand why we are looking for you."
"Hah, who knows if you're corrupt police bought off with money?"
"It seems you know more than we expected," the man in black said, pulling out a piece of paper.
"Northern vegetable market, 4:17 PM."
He read from the paper.
"4:50 PM, Klaulisk Street tram interchange."
The man in black glanced at Molede, whose eyes wavered.
"4:55 PM, second-floor study room..."
"That's enough, I'll put it down," Molede said, lowering his revolver.
"Rest assured, we won't make any move against that lady. It's just to prevent you, Mr. Fraliskar, from getting too excited and accidentally firing the gun, causing, you know, unnecessary accidents," the man in black explained, patting the driver's seat back.
The steam car resumed its journey.
"This... the sanatorium matter?"
"Yes, Mr. Molede, the Philmede Sanatorium."
The man in black nodded.
"Do you want to talk now, or should we discuss it later when we arrive?"
"Let's talk later," Molede said, turning to look out the window.
The steam car gradually entered the deserted warehouse area of the port.
"Didn't expect there to be a police station here?" Molede said to the man in black.
"I suppose you are not just police, are you?"
"You are very calm, Mr. Fraliskar. In fact, you should have guessed who we are."
"The Independent Treaty Defense Bureau of the Kingdom of Esflore."
Molede blurted out the words.
"Yes, the Defense Bureau," the man in black confirmed.
"So, the sanatorium matter is related to you?"
"That, we cannot disclose."
As soon as he finished speaking, the steam car slowly stopped in front of a warehouse.
"Please get out of the car, Mr. Fraliskar."
The man in black was the first to get out of the car.
Molede followed them into the warehouse.
"Are you from the customs division?"
"Not exactly, we're just temporarily using this place as our operation headquarters," the man in black replied.
The majority of the warehouse, like others in the port, was filled with wooden crates and parts for port cranes.
Only the rear part was different, featuring an underground entrance.
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ChatGPT
Molede hesitated at the sight of the underground entrance.
"Mr. Fraliskar?"
"Do you really need to take me to an underground secret base for interrogation?" Molede said, not bothering to hide his revolver.
"Mr. Fraliskar, this is quite unnecessary. Do you still not trust us at this point?"
"From start to finish, it's all been your word. Even if you show a real police badge, how does that give me any reason to trust you?"
With that, Molede quickly turned and struck the quietly approaching driver on the forehead with the butt of his gun.
"Ah, why not keep up the act?"
After quickly dealing with the driver, Molede immediately aimed his gun at the man in black, who was also pointing a gun at Molede.
"Mr. Fraliskar, please put down your weapon."
"Hah, keep dreaming!"
"Sir, you must understand, I could exchange my life for yours if it comes to that."
A moment of vulnerability appeared in Molede's mental defenses; after all, he was just a seventeen-year-old youth, not as unflappable in the face of danger as he had imagined.
Seizing the moment, the man in black fired, hitting Molede in the right arm. The intense pain caused Molede's muscles to contract instantly, and his hand loosened, dropping the revolver to the ground.
"Please don't move, Mr. Fraliskar."
The man in black approached Molede quickly, gun still in hand.
The knocked-out driver, rubbing his swollen forehead, got up from the ground.
"Tie him up," the man in black ordered the revived driver.
The driver nodded, glared resentfully at Molede, then grabbed a thick hemp rope from nearby.
He twisted Molede's hands behind his back, tying them tightly with the rope, and then maliciously pressed on the wound where Molede had been shot.
Blood spurted out, taking with it much of his body heat, and waves of agonizing pain made his consciousness ebb and flow as if being battered by ceaseless waves.
"Let's go. If you want to torture him, we can do it later."
The man in black spoke, then headed underground. The driver punched Molede, knocking him unconscious, and then dragged him to follow the man in black down below.