Chapter 5: A Chemist’s Contract

I gently placed my hand on my stomach, managing a strained smile.

"Upset stomach?"

"Yep."

"Try Klervine's chemist store. He's got good remedies."

"Thanks," I replied, extending my palm to him. The stall owner hesitated, puzzled, before realizing my intention.

With a sigh, he dug through his coat pockets, producing coins marked with numbers like 5, 3, or 10. After counting, he handed me 47 pence.

"Sorry, sir, that's all I've got," he grumbled, his face a mix of irritation and apology.

"It's fine. Just remember it for the next time I come by," I quipped inwardly.

You thought I'd say "keep the change"? Sure, money can't buy happiness, but it can buy food. It's even sweeter.

The only reason I let Mr. Tinker keep the change earlier was because I had a soft spot for his character in the novel.

Klervin chemist's store, eh?

Walking towards Klervin Chemist's store, I almost chuckled. In this world, science wasn't merely about mixing chemicals. Here, at such places, the chemists blended their knowledge with spells. While concocting medicines, they would intertwine magical charms with chemical reactions, producing unique and potent remedies. The fusion of magic and science in this realm was something truly fascinating.

Yet, it wasn't the fusion of magic and science that amused me; it was something deeper, more personal.

A smile crept onto my face as I proceeded in a straight line, soon reaching my destination: "Klervin Chemist Store." I approached the shop leisurely, making no effort to correct my posture. I learned from my previous mistake.

Reaching into my coat, I pulled out my cigar case, deftly flipped the lid open, and extracted a cigar. After securing the case back together and slipping it into my pocket, I placed the cigar between my lips. Next came a gold-colored lighter. A swift click, and the tip of the cigar was alight. I took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl in my mouth before exhaling. With a snap, I closed the lighter, but instead of returning it to my pocket, I slid it smoothly into the pocket.

Taking a few more drags from my cigar, I stepped into the chemist's store. Shelves were lined with neatly arranged chemicals, giving an organized and spacious look — just as one would expect from a reputable chemist's establishment.

Behind the counter stood a distinguished-looking Medgnese gentleman. Clad in a black coat, vest, white shirt, and trousers, he also sported a bow tie and a hat that rested perfectly on his head. His scholarly aura was unmistakable, likely the result of many years spent immersed in university studies.

"Quite a pleasant day, isn't it, Sir Klervin?" I remarked. Though I still felt a hint of stiffness in my body, I was slowly adapting to it.

"A pleasant day indeed. How can I assist you today? Perhaps some tablets for that back pain?" he inquired, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"You're observant."

"Anyone who has eyes will be able to make it out. So, would you like some tablets for that?"

"No, I'm actually here for some cartridges."

"Cartridges?" Confusion flitted across Klervin's face. Before he could inquire further, I laid two small pieces of paper on the counter, seemingly torn from an ordinary notebook.

Klervin's eyes sharpened as he took in the two small pieces of paper.

Without hesitation, he reached for an object that looked much like a telephone and brought it to his ear.

With swift movements, he pressed a sequence of buttons. After a brief pause, the device's lights illuminated.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"Sir, you've requested some tablets?"

"Affirmative," he confirmed.

He continued with a few more statements before ending the conversation with, "Praise the Mother."

With a stoic expression, Klervin gazed at me. But in the next moment, he swiftly drew out a pistol and a sheet of paper from a drawer, laying them side by side on the counter.

"Sign this contract," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. I placed my hands on the paper and began to peruse its contents.

I was well aware of the ramifications of such a pact. A soul contract.

The content of the contract was straightforward, devoid of any complicated or deceptive clauses.

It was an agreement that neither party would inflict intentional harm upon the other in any manner. After meticulously reading through the document three times, ensuring I grasped every detail, I set it back down. Then, I lifted my gaze to meet Klervin's, my eyes searching his for any hidden intentions.

"Do you think I would sign this?" I questioned, removing the last bit of the cigar from my lips and flicking it aside.

"If your life is your first love, then yes."

"Quite poetic, aren't you?" I remarked.

"Only when the situation demands," Klervin replied, his tone steady. Our eyes locked, creating a tense silence.

Bang!

The tense silence was shattered by the abrupt opening of the door. A woman, clutching a child of around four years to her chest, hurriedly approached Klervin.

"Sir, my son has a high fever!" Her voice quivered with urgency. I glanced towards the table, noting the revolver had vanished.

Klervin quickly assessed the child's condition before handing the lady three distinct bottles of syrup.

"How... Much?" she stammered.

"Don't fret about it."

"But..."

"I always keep tabs," he reassured.

"Thank you." Tears glistened in her eyes as she took the medicine, swiftly making her exit. The room returned to its weighted silence. My eyes settled on the table, noting the revolver that had discreetly made its way back. I was about to break the palpable silence when Klervin preempted me.

"Life has its way of testing us, doesn't it? Introducing pain, hardships, and moments that threaten to shatter our minds," he began, a sudden shift from the tense atmosphere we were in.

"That lady, Mrs. Lena... she had a pretty straightforward life. Born into a middle-class setting, married at twenty to a decent man. They saved together, worked hard, and by twenty-two, she had a son. A perfect trio," he detailed, almost as if narrating a story he was intimately familiar with.

I couldn't help but wonder silently 'Is he stalking her?'

"But joy is often temporary. At twenty-four, her husband contracted a grave illness. Their hard-earned savings got drained in a desperate attempt to save him. Almost simultaneously, tragedy struck her parents, and her in-laws vanished without a trace. If not for her son, she might have been lost to despair.

Now she barely makes a living by making matchboxes or tailoring clothes. She had to move away to a small single-room apartment with a public bathroom for its tenants. If this continued, then within a year, she might have to move to the lower-class district, possibly act as a street girl.

It's so cruel. As one's life starts to become stable and happy, overnight the storm of misery passes by, it's as if this cycle is inevitable. If that's true, does that mean life's worthless?"

'I suspect that you're an undercover poet and philosophist,' I lampooned inwardly. It was weird, a bit too weird, and out of character for him.

"My impression that you were a man of few words just took a leap off the fifth floor." I scoffed, but Klervin's gaze immediately returned to its former intensity.

"Let's not drift away from the topic." Suddenly, Klervin said, pointing towards the soul contract.

'???'

'Does he have a split personality?' I mused to myself.

"Fine." I let out a resigned sigh. I placed my finger between my canines and bit down hard.

I nearly yelped in pain as a drop of blood oozed from my finger, which I hastily spread over the spot marked "Sign."

Klervin took the contract from me, bit his own finger, and dabbed his blood next to the spot where I had left mine.

As he forged the contract, a wave of fatigue washed over me. My vision began to blur slightly. The contract had drained some of my spiritual energy, which would take time to regenerate. With that, our agreement was cemented.

"Here." Klervin handed me a book, no different in appearance from an ordinary notebook.

Beside it lay another metal case. 'How many of these cases am I going to end up with?' I pondered with a touch of irony.

"This is your basic magical guide tailored for combat. That'll be 20 pounds." Hearing this, I retrieved my wallet, pulling out two silver notes of 5 pounds each, three 2-pound notes, a 3-pound note, and a single 1-pound note.

"Here are your twelve cartridges. They'll be 60 pounds."

"A steep price," I remarked, but without hesitation, I handed over the 60 pounds from my wallet. What was once a bulky wallet now felt considerably lighter.

"Ensure you use a specialized revolver with the necessary runes for these bullets."

"Rest assured," I responded, slightly shifting my coat to reveal a glimpse of my revolver. "This is a custom piece from the IRA."

With that, I collected the metal case and the book. Slipping the case into the same pocket as my cigar case, it became noticeably bulgier.

"Additionally, have any tablets for indigestion or potential food poisoning?"

"Yes," he responded. After rummaging for a few minutes, he laid a tablet container on the counter.

"This is a high-quality blend of chemicals, with a spell enchantment that lasts approximately six days. That'll be 2 shillings."

"Why not just add it to the tab?"

"I don't do tabs," he said sternly.

"Ah, the joys of gender bias," I said dramatically handing over the two shillings. What a rip-off!