Chapter 156 - Maybe

Knock Knock.

Someone was at the door. "Ah, crack my cogs," he murmured, eyeing the mess on the table. I haven't even replied to my correspondent yet. Given that their responses seemed so…human, it'd be rude to leave them hanging.

"A minute, please," he shouted for his visitor at the door and rushed over to the table, penning a quick reply to the last note he'd received, 'My apologies for the delay. But no, I don't wish to summon anyone right now. Thanks for your help. I shall get back to you regarding this later.'

He had a lot more thinking to do before committing to anything.

He leaned over and opened the window with one hand and extended it out, disintegrating the papers that had learned far too much one by one, their white ash scattering in the wind.

Soon, his mind jolted, and the pen moved, 'Mmm, I await your instructions. Farewell, kind dreamer.'

Vern was stumped by the opposite party's simple yet…kind mannerisms. It felt…mechanical? No, maybe that wasn't the right word. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

He didn't have the mind to overthink their words, but they assigned a very specific role to Vern and themselves in this conversation.

Roles that had more depth to them than should have existed, given he was just some random bum who started giving them orders out of the blue yesterday.

Knock Knock "Master Vern, this is Beaumont. I have some important mail for you."

Damn. He'd let himself get lost in the thoughts once again. Shaking his head, he eyed his room one more time, and when he didn't find anything suspicious or culpable, he jogged towards the door and opened it.

Kacha.

Beaumont stood in front of him, wearing his perfectly tailored suit. One hand behind his back, he bowed and spoke, "Good morning, Master Vern."

Vern didn't let the butler one-up him in terms of gentlemanly etiquette and bowed back, "Good morning, Beaumont. How can I help you?"

Somewhat of a bitter smile peeked through the butler's otherwise stiff face marred with laugh lines, and he said, "My apologies for disturbing you so early in the morning, but I have some urgent letters for you. A policeman came looking for you a few days ago. Frustrated by your absence, he insisted I deliver this to you at the earliest."

Vern wondered, Policeman, huh? Is it that guy? The one who gave me the weapon permit?

Beaumont opened the binder in his other hand and pulled out a couple of envelopes. Vern received them all and quickly checked the names of their senders. There were three.

One was from Oberon Derleth. Ah, yes. It's him. It even had the police's seal on it, as well as their menacing brown parchment. Second was from…Von Industries. Not Miss Cera, huh? Then, the final one was from…Hotel Inkwell?

Vern isolated the last envelope and looked up at Beaumont, puzzled.

A business-like expression covered the butler's face as he answered, "This is from Lord Kai, the hotel's owner. In my weekly report, when I mentioned that one of our guests—a fundamentalist had failed to check in for a while, and…uh…'

Beaumont grew hesitant, and Vern waited patiently for the man to find his words. Soon, he coughed lightly, "Ahem," and continued, "I…also had to report that you hadn't paid the suite's rent for over a week."

Ahh…Vern closed his eyes and facepalmed, disappointed. Disappointed in himself.

What if they'd thrown out my luggage? Sold it? If nothing else, just the loss of the original Convergence Note would have been a disastrous one. All for…what? He didn't even have much use for all the money sitting in his wallet. At least not right now.

Before Beaumont could even finish his explanation, Vern shook his head and interjected with an apologetic tone, "That was negligence on my part, Beaumont. Can you tell me how much I owe you?" He returned inside the room and made for his coat, leaving the letters on the display rack.

He pulled out his wallet and asked, "Actually, I'd like to pay in advance for the whole month. How much would the total be?"

However, when he turned back around, Beaumont shook his head with a light smile. "You don't have to pay anything, Master Vern. Lord Kai has agreed to disregard your past dues and is willing to offer you a great discount in the future. Assuming you don't find his proposed arrangement disagreeable."

Vern stopped, "Arrangement?"

Beaumont nodded, gesturing towards the letter.

Vern squinted and grabbed the pocket knife from his desk. Holding the wax-sealed envelope with some noble family's insignia on it, he expertly sliced away the seal and pulled out the contents.

Beaumont stood there patiently, waiting for Vern to finish reading the letter inside.

Vern quickly skimmed through it. It wasn't a fully personalized letter but more of a template commission advertisement with a couple of extra lines tacked onto its end.

It was quite a normal job. The employer—Kai Egrass, wanted someone to help set up…mechanical traps and security measures for his basement. Apparently, they were having a hard time finding matter experts.

Vern wasn't one either, but there was no need for him to be because the listed devices were pretty simple to work with. He'd heard about at least a couple of them and knew the rest. Simple tripwires and sirens; nothing too complicated. Which made him lose interest in it all.

He didn't really need money right now. His expenses were next to nothing now that he didn't even get to pay Ari's tuition.

Hahh. I don't think it's worth my time.

Surely, they can find another person for this job. He eyed Beaumont from the corner of his eyes. The man had an expectant look on his face. Ughh. Did he oversell me in front of his boss or something?

That would suck.

Vern began to look for good excuses to refuse this proposal while not coming off as ungrateful. After all, the staff had gone above and beyond by not touching his personal property when they had all the right to do so. And he didn't want to repay them by being a sardine about it.

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However, that's when he reached the final few lines of the letter written in ink rather than typed letters like the rest of the commission and noticed something interesting. It read, 'I will be happy to disregard all the dues and discount your stay just for that. However, if you have the skills to create a truly door-free sanctuary in my basement, you can ask for anything in the Egrass family's power.

A door-free sanctuary? Why? What's wrong with doors?

It piqued his curiosity. So he stopped looking for excuses to avoid this job and asked, "Can you tell me more about this arrangement? What is this…door-free sanctuary all about?"

Beaumont seemed unsure for a second, but then he seemed to come to a conclusion and answered, "Umm, from my understanding of things, Lord Kai has grown a little…paranoid. I don't know all the details, but he seems to have a very vivid fear of doors. It could be…related."

Vern raised his eyebrows. Could it have something to do with pollution? Or maybe these are the side effects of some vision?

Did that mean this Kai person was an observer?

Hmm, maybe not. Anyway, it might be worth looking into.

Vern decided to first ask De Flanc or Irene about his schedule before committing to anything else.

Done reading the whole thing, he folded it back and shoved it into the envelope before replying to Beaumont, "I can't guarantee anything, but I shouldn't have much trouble finishing up the first part of the job. For the second part, I'll need to meet the employer and figure out the details.. However, I'll need to make some inquiries before I can give you a date."

Beaumont nodded after a bit and bowed, "I shall relay your decision to Lord Kai. If you'd like to know anything else about Master or this job, don't hesitate to ask me."

Vern chuckled, "I'll take you up on that offer, then. Please fill me in when I'm having breakfast."

Beaumont suddenly became alert as if reminded of his duties. He turned around, "Ah, see you later then, Master Vern. I need to check if things are going well down in the kitchen."

Vern smiled and closed the door, only to hear another reminder from Beaumont, "Please don't forget about the letter from the policeman. It's…hard for us to handle someone of their station."

Hahh, he sighed. It seemed Beaumont had lost faith in his memory. Shaking his head, he replied, "Will do."

And he indeed did just that. He brought both the unopened envelopes and his new notepad to the bed and fell into the den of pillows before finessing the wax seals on the police letter.

For the one from Von Industries, he tore the envelope from its right edge. Apparently, they were the only ones who knew to use the latest methods of letter-sealing in all of Elmhurst. It was from someone named Alistair.

Not Cera, sadly. He hadn't talked to her in such a long while.

However, at that moment, his perception, which he'd recently begun to passively observe his room with, shifted abruptly.

He became tense, and his head snapped towards the anomaly that…flew into his room from the window.

All his senses heightened at that moment, and his eyes blazed with a white ring as they honed in on the culprit, ready to end it in the blink of an eye.

However, when his mind fully registered what entered the room, he was dumbstruck.

A paper plane, folded with great finesse, glided into the room in a gentle arc and slowly began to crash in circles atop his desk. Vern continued to watch the spectacle with vigilance.

The moment it hit the wooden desk, Whoosh, it unfurled, all its neat folds giving way to remarkable flatness, all the creases and folds gone like the wind—displaying an array of some words.

Vern didn't make a move toward this unexpected delivery and continued to monitor it with his perception for a while.

When nothing happened for a few minutes, he got up, grabbed the vapor blaster from the rack—duality was farther—and inched closer to his desk.

Gun cocked and aimed at the paper, he slowly reached a point where his eyes could comprehend the words on the unfurled thing.

'Important information for: Vern.

Today's task: Whispering Repository—second shift.

Today's news: There's a sale at Selena's Emporium! Come check out our new armor and weapons!

Upcoming events: Confidentiality ritual for newcomers.

(Are you short on contribution points to apply for this ritual? Contact us today to purchase exclusive tips and tricks on how to contribute to the Vigil! Fifty percent discount for new customers!)

~Thank you for flying with Selena Aviation Services. Tips appreciated (can be left inside this paper once you're done reading. Make sure to fold it back and give it a good head start towards the west).'

Vern's eyes twitched with every word that he read. Something inside him urged him to aim that gun at his head and pull the trigger.

After a bit, he relaxed his grip on the gun and massaged his forehead. He remembered hearing something about this from Ambrose a while ago. There was someone in Vigil who had a fleet of paper avians, which they used for scouting purposes.

He didn't know they had…expanded their business.

Still, what the hell kind of mission briefing was this? The sender literally used five words to provide relevant information, while the rest was just…advertisements. They didn't even elaborate on the timing of this 'second shift.'

Not sure whether to laugh or cry at his own paranoia and this whole ordeal, he decided to take it all in stride and pulled out a crown from his wallet. Placing it in the middle of the paper, he folded it back as a crude plane.

He had no clue how this light paper plane would ensure the bill didn't fly out of it, but that wasn't his concern. It is surely the aviation agency's fault if they lost the goods in transportation.

Huffing, he leaned out of the window and gave it a good swing, and to his surprise, the little thing floated higher and higher instead of falling to its demise as gravity should have forced it to.

The absurdity of this whole charade wasn't lost to him, but he had too much on his mind.

His search for observation records that might suit him.

His image as Axiom and how to best make use of his current advantages and turn it into an even bigger one.

Then, there were the echoes of the past, which he'd barely scratched the surface of.

To top it all off, he had three different requests from influential parties that asked him to make use of his fundamentalist skills.

Now, he even had to rush to Vigil for this 'second shift,' which started at a lady-knows-what time.

To his chagrin, suddenly, a raving echoed in his mind. He grew alert, only to get annoyed in the next instant. It was some fop asking 'Lord Axiom' to bless him to win over his beloved in a battle of the century—whatever that meant.

Is this what gods have to deal with everyday? he couldn't help but sigh.

.

.

.

"One step at a time," he reasoned and pumped himself, "I got this!"

Taking deep breaths, he checked if the bathroom had water—it did. So, he picked out his outfit. It was going to be a long day. He could already feel it.

Hrrrr

Right that instant, his mind buzzed—someone was sending him a note.

"What's wrong with the world today?" he groaned. That's five different ways that people have tried to communicate with me within a few minutes.

First Beaumont physically, then three people with letters, then Selena with her ~aviation agency~, then the fop's prayer, and finally this—a note. Was he always such a busybody? The resolve he'd just made came crumbling down, and he felt like snuggling back into the blanket he'd left too early because of last night's jump scare.

After glaring at everything for a few seconds, he sighed and walked over to his notepad. Without any more drama, he let the notion in his head guide his hand. The words read, "Hello, Vern."

He squinted. This was a familiar first message. Suspiciously familiar.

She's trying to get back at me, huh? The last time he'd initiated the conversation, he hadn't known to sign off on his first message. Now, she was intentionally skipping it. To mess with him.

Bring it on. He accepted the challenge. Given this is how she started, she was surely in a good mood. To recreate the events from the last time, he decided to ignore her—for now.

He went and took a bath, donned his outfit for the day, actually combed his hair to feel fresher, and filled his pockets with all his gear before finally strapping Duality to his back.

Before he knew it, the clock tower outside chimed eight times. "Great!" he exclaimed. It's been more than thirty minutes since her first note.

He took this chance to eye his room one final time. The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The familiar scent of his belongings mixed with the fresh, cool air, creating a sense of comfort and nostalgia.

Finding nothing amiss, he grabbed the final item—the notepad.

He opened it in his right palm while the other held the pen. His lips curled into a cheeky grin, and he imagined Esther's trace before his pen flowed and mimicked her response from that day, saying, 'Who is it?'

He didn't hold his breath for her reply and locked the door behind him with a chuckle.

Stepping out beneath the vast transparent canopy of the hotel, he couldn't help but look up at the barely visible gash in the sky.

He raised his hand to block out the sun and smiled, thinking, Maybe, just maybe, I'm not as insignificant as I thought.