Chapter 10: The Devil's Day

"It's not as though I'm asking for the guns for free," I said while looking at the pair. "Well, sir, that's not the case," the one on the right responded, forcing a smile.

"It's just that neither of us has enough authority."

"You can visit Lee'Zwr Street, head to Bernive store, and mention the old geezer sent you for a packet of red tea."

He appeared uneasy under my gaze, likely offering silent prayers to his deity, possibly the Holy Son. Though many in this kingdom revered Mother Nature and God Eternal, there were always exceptions.

The Bree family, a prominent refugee clan that settled here after the first wizarding war, worshipped the Holy Son. In the Indus Federation, this deity held significance parallel to what Mother Nature or God Eternal meant for the locals of this kingdom.

I locked eyes with him, causing a momentary tremor in his composure before he steadied himself. Trusting his words outright would be naive.

"Leading me into 'your' den, are you?" The phrase 'your den' was a popular slang, implying one's own territory where they held the upper hand. "All right, tell the person in charge that I'll be heading to your den by tomorrow noon," I stated, taking another puff from my cigarette before sipping my alcohol.

He seemed eager to interject, but before he could, I rose from my seat and exited the private room. His companion, visibly frustrated, clenched his fist and slammed it down.

"Damn it!"

...

The streets lay dim, and the night was young

In this tavern, where the songs are sung

Raise your voices high, let the chorus ring

In this pub, where the stories cling.

Stepping out of the private room, the song and lively chatter of the tavern immediately struck me.

"Raise your voices high, let the chorus ring In this pub, where the stories cling!"

The alcoholics chanted along, their voices accompanying a bar girl who had taken her place atop a table. The setup was unique, with no designated stage; instead, the musicians had claimed their spots. Some stood on tables, others settled on the ground, all immersed in the melody.

To one side, a man skillfully played the piano, while a few others showcased their talent on violins. Exiting the boisterous bar, I found myself on Night Square Street. This thoroughfare, along with Rose Street, Morning Sun Street, and Lotus Street, converged to form an intersection.

The night had draped the city in a thin veil of fog, giving the streets a cold, mysterious aura. The vibrant daytime hustle had receded, replaced by the eerie stillness of nighttime. Occasional footsteps echoed in the distance, and hushed conversations hinted at the presence of shadowy figures. One could only hope not to cross paths with a criminal on such a night.

I slowed my pace slightly. After walking for another minute, I took a left turn. But even after that, the feeling of being followed didn't fade. I quickly turned right and then another immediate right. Still, I couldn't shake off the sensation that someone was on my trail.

Throughout the day, my inquiries led me down various paths but yielded no definitive answers. However, some of the actions of my predecessor seemed out of place.

Piecing it together, I surmised that he might have been involved with the dark wizard association in some minor capacity. Another complication, just what I needed. This identity felt like a ticking time bomb.

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Given the circumstances, the one tailing me was likely either from the dark wizard association or the enforcers. Other possibilities existed, but they seemed remote.

Eventually, I stumbled upon a small square, reminiscent of the municipal square but more intimate. At its center stood a fountain, surrounded by dual-sided benches. I pulled a cigarette from my metal case, lit it, and headed towards a bench. The sensation of being observed intensified.

I took a seat and enjoyed a drag from my cigarette. Suddenly, I sensed someone sitting on the opposite side of the bench. What caught me off guard was the sudden silence that enveloped the area. The fountain, which had been gushing water moments ago, was now eerily quiet, although the water still flowed.

For nearly two minutes, an uneasy silence lingered between us. It was finally shattered by the voice of the stranger.

"Echo, I've completed the task you assigned." The voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, not distinctly male or female. It reminded me of the unfeeling, synthetic tone of an AI.

'Echo? Is he confusing me with someone else, or is "Echo" my codename within the organization?' I pondered, but my expressions remained unfazed.

"Echo, a reminder for you: attend tomorrow's meeting at 8:45 sharp in Barmnell Cathedral. The other masked ones will be there, but unfortunately, 'He' won't be attending."

"He?" I pondered, trying to decipher the significance of this name. It was evident that "He" held an elevated status.

"And the diary you requested is here," he mentioned. With his statement, the familiar sound of the water fountain rushed back to my ears, blending with his fading words.

"You do appear different today, just as you mentioned that day."

I exerted considerable effort to maintain a neutral facial expression. Stoically, I rose and moved to the other side of the bench, where I found a book. A plain, medium-sized notebook with a black cover lay there. I hastily grabbed the notebook and, without much thought, flipped it open. As I scanned the pages, my eyes widened in surprise. What was this?

...

Puff.

Lying on the bed in more relaxed attire, I thought about those Victorian-style clothes. They felt like I had been wearing a portable desert. My attention then shifted to the book cradled in my hands. It seemed to be a narrative, likely written by me, judging by the familiar handwriting.

The story took place in a city named Veronair. Merely glimpsing that name sent a chill down my spine. To the best of my knowledge, Veronair wasn't an actual city. Rather, it was from a popular legend called: The Lost City.

The tale spanned a mere 100 pages, with the subsequent 120 pages left blank. The narrative seemed rather dull, featuring several main characters with minor roles, like servants or maids, up until page 34.

What caught my attention was the uncanny resemblance of this city to Brassington. However, the inhabitants never referred to it as such. More intriguingly, there was no mention of the world beyond its walls. It was as if Veronair was the last city standing.

The names of the streets and districts were the same. The Dark Wizard Association also made an appearance in the story. At times, it felt as though certain elements were out of place or forcefully added, as if trying to communicate a hidden message.

"...Arthur quietly gathered the plates, his thoughts on the looming conflict between the First Order and the Secret Society on the 'Devil's Day,' which was on the second of every month. The Wizard Society's acceptance of new branches and leaders meant there were several factions.

Inside the Dark Wizard Association, a segment of the Wizard Society, discussions of creating a new branch were rampant. Yet, its members were distinctly divided: The First Order and The Secret Society.

To add intrigue, the leader of the Dark Wizard Association, Mr. Eyeless, proposed that they face off on the Devil's Day. It wouldn't be a simple duel; leaders were permitted to eliminate their adversaries on this day. They could employ any method, as long as they evaded the ever-watchful Enforcers..."

In this way, I came to understand the code names of the 'masked ones' in the First Order. These masked figures were pivotal players loyal to their leader, and their true identities were a mystery to the leader of the Secret Society. I assumed that I was of The First Order only the details about it was given yet.

My heart pounded faster, and anger surged within me. It became evident that this novel was coded with information. From the remarks of the individual who handed me this notebook, it appeared he suspected something might go awry with me. Moreover, it felt as though my predecessor also knew that something would be wrong with him today.

This was all so overwhelming and perplexing. I had envisioned a simple life as a magician, traveling the world, showcasing the magical tricks I had honed over the years. Delighting in various cuisines and immersing myself in diverse cultures was all I had desired. It probably wasn't even a day since I came to this world and yet I was already too deep into this shit. The threat of death felt ever-present. With those thoughts, my heavy eyelids closed.

This marked the end of the first day...

The silver moon shone brilliantly, casting its glow over the city. A thick fog enveloped the streets, adding an air of mystery to the night.