Dressed in the attire of an average adventurer, Byron placed the armor gifted to him by Murphy into a bag hanging from his horse, while the long sword dangled from the other side. He took the reins in his own hands.

Everything was done to make Byron look more human-like.

Thus, Byron, an ordinary middle-aged adventurer, returned to Viscount Baker’s estate. Over the following dozen days, he did not choose to stop by the City of White Wolves but instead passed through other towns and villages. He spent a bit on inn expenses and arrived at the City of Gath in Count Reed's land, just like a normal human.

Mingling in the crowded throng of people, Byron underwent a simple search and was admitted through the city gate. The outer edge of the piled stone city wall still bore traces of weapon hacking, looking familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Byron tried to piece together the jigsaw puzzle-like fragments in his mind, but he always felt like something was missing. He could visualize his childhood study room where he learned to write and the training ground where he practiced diligently with a great sword in his youth, but failed to find a place he called home, until he came to the center of the City of Gath after walking through three streets.

The very heart of the City of Gath was an artificially planted grove, and Count Reed's castle lay right at the heart of the lush grove. Through the gaps in the green leaves, Byron caught sight of a grey castle, his sea of memories began to boil over instantly, and he found the place of the study room and the training ground in his memory – inside that castle right in front of him, never before had it been so close to him.

Byron, leaning against his skeletal horse, gazed at the grey castle from a distance. From morning to dusk, as the sky began to darken, Byron finally exhaled a long breath, something he, as a skeleton, hadn't done for a long time.

Taking out the family crest, he overlapped it with the identical pattern engraved on the castle gate, whispering, "Father, mother, it's been a long time, I'm back." At this moment, all memory shards were restored in Byron's brain, which enabled him to clearly see everything about himself. The memories from when Byron Reed was a human were fully recovered.

Having remembered everything, Byron, feeling he had no regrets, decided to set off for the Demon King’s court to report back the next day.

To avoid any unexpected incidents, Byron, who was still disguised as a human, found a small tavern to sort out his dinner problem.

When Brue, in place of Byron, tasted the beer that the bartender claimed to be the best black beer in Count Reed's land, a young man kicked open the half-open door of the pub and walked in, then proceeded to sit down next to Byron.

"Hey, old man..." The young man, noticing the long sword by Byron's waist mid-sentence, had to amend his address, "...erm, er, Sir, I mean, could you make some room? Thanks."

Byron spared a glance at the breezing young man and subtly shifted half a step away without a word.

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After downing the cheapest wine in one gulp, the young man stood up and cleared his throat. The pub fell into silence in response, and dozens of eyes turned to him.

"The Count said, 'He knows that you vulgar writers here are in the habit of gathering in this place, so he sent me to convey a message to you. Whoever can write a piece that can cheer the Count, will be rewarded with twenty gold coins, and this offer is open-end and limitless in quantity."

After saying this, the young man sat down next to Byron again. The pub, within seconds, thundered into livelier chatter.

"That's twenty gold coins, the count is..."

"If I had twenty gold coins right now, I'd go back to the country immediately. For the rest of my life..."

"Stop bullshitting, Dylan. You'll stay in the theatre for a week straight and then back here with us doing odd jobs."

"Haha, you sure he'd have the strength to carry heavy bags after staying a week?"

"..."

While Byron was eating bread next to the young man, a few people slipped next to him and quietly asked, "Sam, tell us something else, like what type of stuff does the count want to read?"

Ignoring these people, Sam coughed a few times in an exaggerated fashion.

"Barman, bring Sam a large black beer, it’s on me."

Two mouthfuls of black beer later, the young man grinned, "Eh, actually, the count's requirement isn’t that high, he just feels current works are all so monotonous, lacking in novelty, as long as you write something creative and interesting, I believe those twenty gold coins are sure to be yours.”

"I see. I understand now. The count wants to see something different from what he’s used to. Sam, you take your time drinking. We'll leave first." The man in the lead left a handful of copper coins on the counter and walked away together with the rest nodding and mumbling to each other.

Byron, who had just finished his last bite of bread, saw young Sam still sipping his beer, and began, "Young man, is the count you mentioned Count Reed?"

Intending to swear outright at such a stupid question, Sam glanced at the long sword around Byron's waist, hastily choked back his retort, and said, "Of course it’s Count Reed, are you from out of town, sir?"

"Yes, I came from the capital to visit relatives." Byron said with a hint of melancholy. To some extent, Byron didn't lie, he did come from the capital, except it was the Demon realm’s.

"Visit relatives? By the looks of it, you couldn't find them?" The young man, in a somewhat familiar manner, engaged in a conversation with Byron.

"Yes, I came back too late. They had passed away many years ago."

"Ah, don’t be upset, these kinds of things could happen to anyone, don't worry, they will be proud of you. The old count’s parents also kicked off quite young, isn’t he still doing alright now?"

"Could you tell me about the current Count? The last time I left, it wasn’t him as the count." The bartender, another beer, please."

Young Sam waved his hand, "Barman, make it black bread instead."

In a short while, Sam tucked the nicely-packed black bread into his overcoat, grinning and saying, "Thanks, sir, I've got tomorrow's breakfast now. There's nothing much to say about the count really, lost his parents at a young age, then became his lordship, doing whatever he pleased."

"The elders say as a young count, he was fond of wining and dining. He then began to hold nation-wide recruitment for cooks to prepare a variety of dishes for him."

"As he aged, he started to take a liking to women, and then began to look for all sorts of women."

"A few years ago, the old count gave up women and began to read those vulgar dramas and novels. Everyone’s whispering that the count has over-done it and has gone impotent before turning forty…"

"The count's a big shot and doesn't care about us peasants. His men only know to increase the taxes every year, while the count turns a deaf ear."

Perhaps due to the rise of alcohol, Sam spilled all sorts of tales about the count’s less presentable stories.

As he was leaving, Sam pulled Byron's sleeve and said, "If you have any news to pass on in the future, just come here and find me, and for twenty copper coins, I guarantee at least half of the people in these three blocks will know about it."