Chapter 6: Wild Heart Bar
When Angel woke up, he found that the sun had already set outside the window. The setting sun slanted down, covering the entire bedroom in golden color.
After the "Tarot Meeting" ended, Angel felt that it was not yet dinner time and decided to take a nap. She tidied up Lily Granger's room a little, and after removing the dust cover, she found the bed underneath was unexpectedly clean, so she treated it as her own bedroom and fell asleep.
She looked up at the wall clock and saw that the short hand had passed five in the afternoon.
Despite the tempting thought in his mind, "I want to sleep more," Angel went to the kitchen and made his first proper meal in this world using marinated lamb, cut and washed potatoes and onions.
"Isn't this even simpler than breakfast?" Looking at the stewed lamb with potatoes and the sliced white bread in front of her, she couldn't help but recall the sour and salty and delicious Feneport noodles and the creamy mushroom soup in the Silver Crown Restaurant, and lamented that it is easy to go from frugality to luxury, but difficult to go from luxury to frugality.
The money needs to be saved for buying a fake identity and dealing with other possible needs. I have no income at the moment and am living off my savings, so I try to save as much as I can.
After figuring this out, Angel took a bite of the white bread, then picked up the soup spoon, and regardless of the fact that the soup had not yet cooled down, he scooped up a spoonful of mutton soup, blew on it symbolically, and then opened his mouth to drink it.
Too much salt... or maybe the mutton was marinated for too long, the mutton soup had a salty taste mixed with the fishy smell of mutton, but Angel, who hadn't eaten lunch, still drank the boiling hot soup in big gulps, and even the unfermented bread became delicious.
It’s true that when people are hungry, everything tastes delicious.
Angel finished the mutton soup and bread in no time. The strong feeling of fullness made her squint her eyes in satisfaction. If she didn't have to go out at night, she would even want to go back to the comfortable bedroom and lie down again.
"Alas, even if I changed the world and my identity, I will still be destined to work hard..." Angel sighed secretly and began to prepare for the action in the evening.
She first went to Cole Granger's bedroom on the second floor and found a set of clothes that were easy to move in. Although the size was a bit large, it was still much better than a skirt.
Then he went back to the study, took out the revolver, ejected all the bullets, disassembled the gun into parts, and began maintenance before use.
The tools came from Cole Granger's collection, which he had purchased on the clerk's recommendation when he bought the pistol. It was a complete collection, but he had never used it.
"Sure enough, the rifling is worn..." Angel curled her lips after carefully inspecting the revolver's condition. The barrel was made of poor quality, the bullet was too hard, and lack of maintenance was the inevitable result. This kind of damage significantly impacted shooting accuracy, and the tools on hand couldn't repair it. She could only clean the gunpowder residue from the chamber, cylinder, and hammer, lubricate the receiver, and polish the wooden grip, trying to restore the weapon to its best condition.
The bullets wrapped in oil paper and neatly placed in the box are 0.45 inches. The huge recoil will cause the accuracy of continuous firing to drop sharply, but for a pistol that is essentially a "close combat weapon", greater lethality and stopping power are its unique advantages.
After selecting twenty bullets and checking them one by one, Angel loaded the revolver with bullets and put the rest into the speed loader, in groups of five.
Next comes the real melee weapon, the dagger that Cole Grant prefers to use as an "assassin".
It was a short steel dagger with grooves for bleeding on both sides, a glare-reducing coating on the surface, and a leather scabbard. As a former Templar, Angel wasn't very proficient with the dagger. She simply swung it a few times, memorizing its weight and length, before sheathing it and strapping it to her left thigh.
Putting on a cloak to hide his face and the weapons on his body, Angel counted out fifty pounds from the desk drawer where he kept his money. After thinking for a while, he added another twenty pounds to prepare for emergencies.
After fully armed, Angel stood quietly in the living room until the clock hands reached nine o'clock. Then she opened the back door, faced the red moon, and stepped into the brightly lit streets of Tingen City.
…
Instead of taking the ubiquitous hired carriages or the cheaper and more crowded rail-based public carriages, Angel walked along Daffodil Street to the adjacent Iron Cross Street.
Iron Cross Street, as its name suggests, is not just one street, but consists of two vertically intersecting streets, divided into Upper Street, Lower Street, Left Street and Right Street. Daffodil Street and Iron Cross Left Street intersect, and Angel's destination, the "Wild Heart" bar, is located on Iron Cross Lower Street.
Angel walked slowly across the town square at the intersection of the streets, avoiding the circus clowns handing out flyers, and followed the Iron Cross Left Street that could accommodate six carriages at the same time, and finally arrived at the Iron Cross Lower Street.
There is indeed a reason to divide the Iron Cross Street into "up, down, left and right". The Lower Street is obviously much more dilapidated than the Left Street we just passed. Not only is the street narrower due to the large number of vendors occupying the road, the paving stones are also uneven due to long-term lack of maintenance. Even the clothing and spirit of the pedestrians are obviously different from those on the Left Street, not to mention compared with Narcissus Street.
Almost all the apartment buildings along the street are three or four stories high, without independent balconies. Clothes are hung messily outside the windows, sewage is flowing at the door, and miscellaneous items are thrown around. As a main street, it is even dirtier than the back alleys of Narcissus Street.
Walking here, Angel even had the illusion that garbage would be thrown down on his head at any time.
Iron Cross Street at night was no longer as bustling as it was during the day, but many vendors were still trying to drum up a last bit of business, and the pedestrian flow was no less frequent than elsewhere. Angel clutched his pockets tightly, wary of possible pickpockets among the crowd, and walked past the clamoring mobile vendors, sniffing the air mingled with fragrance and stench, struggling through the stagnant water and garbage.
After going through so much hardship, she arrived in front of the somewhat exaggerated roaring wolf head logo of "Wild Heart" and greedily took a breath of the alcohol-rich air. She felt like she was reborn.
In the memory inherited by Angel, Cole had been to the "Wild Heart" bar several times, sometimes to meet with the mission client, and sometimes to get information. In his mind, this place was a gathering place for information and a paradise for drunkards, but it was not a dangerous place.
But in Angel's eyes, the danger hidden in "Wild Heart" is far more than it seems.
She just walked around the outer wall of the bar and attracted the attention of the burly man standing guard at the door. The shirtless, muscular doorman stared at the "hooded man of unknown origin" and seemed ready to call for support at any time.
The window on the second floor of the apartment across the street was always open, but there was no light inside. Angel could feel a vague gaze sweeping across her from inside the window. It must be the bar's secret sentry.
There was a carriage parked next to the back door of the bar. The driver was dozing in the driver's seat and the horses were bridled. As long as the owner got in, the carriage would set off immediately.
This could be the car of some powerful person parked at the back door for privacy, or it could be the way an important person in the bar escaped from the scene. Angel believed it was the latter.
The street in front of the bar had more water than anywhere else. Upon closer inspection, it was discovered that several drainage outlets near the bar had lost their function. If the municipal workers had not been lazy and caused the drainage outlets to be blocked, this section of the street-facing sewer should have been used for other purposes.
Back at the door of the bar, Angel had a deeper understanding of this unremarkable bar. She hesitated whether to take the risk for an identity card, but finally decided to trust the "Hanged Man" of the Tarot Society.
"If I've been tricked, I hope Mr. Fool can punish him."
After secretly complaining, Angel strode into the bar.
It was nearly late, but the bar was still crowded with customers. Most were nearby residents, enjoying a drink after work, or idle, unemployed workers, numb with alcohol. In dark corners, furtive conversations were brewing new plots. In the center of the room, a group of excited drinkers gathered, sometimes shouting and sometimes looking down in regret. A game of "dog and rat" was playing out in two cages half-sunken into the ground. The gamblers stared intently at the dogs they had bet on, wishing they could become the dogs themselves, crawl into the cages, and unleash their might.
The bartender who was wiping wooden wine glasses behind the bar had already set his eyes on Angel who came in. She was wearing a cloak and was out of place in the environment. Even for a conspirator in the corner, it was basic etiquette to expose her face and hands.
Angel's eyes swept across the chaotic and noisy bar, and finally turned to the bartender. She walked around the dog cage and came to the front of the bar.
"What would you like to drink? Rye beer 1 penny, Southwell beer 4 pence, and the newly arrived butter beer 7 pence, ice cold!" The bartender saw the approaching person and skillfully promoted it.
"The 'Captain' introduced me here. He said you can help people get identity documents." Angel didn't order any drinks and stated his purpose directly.
The bartender paused while wiping his glass. He looked up at the clock hanging high up, its outer glass now shattered. It showed five minutes until ten in the evening. "It's not time yet. You're early."
"I can wait."
The bartender put down his glass and rag and said, "Alright, I'll call you when the time comes. What do you want?"
"Then have a cup of 'half and half' with more sugar." Angel then remembered that the "Hanged Man" had also given him a code word.
The bartender nodded after receiving the secret signal, turned around to mix the wine, and soon a "half and half" mixture of beer and wine was brought to the bar.
"Didn't we exchange secret signals? You guys actually serve the drinks?" Angel frowned and looked at the bartender.
"It's a good way to make some money, this cup costs one soli."
Angel counted out 12 pence and threw them on the bar, then took his glass and found an empty table to sit down.
She thought the bartender would come to call her at ten o'clock, but she didn't expect to sit there until ten-fifteen without any news.
Seeing that the bartender was chatting with other guests, she finally couldn't help it. When she was about to get up and ask, the bartender pointed to where she was. The "guest" turned around, and Angel realized that this was the person she was looking for.
"New here?" The man, wearing a black windbreaker, couldn't tell his figure. His messy black hair was covered in grease, and his face looked like it hadn't been washed in two weeks. He sat down across from Angel with a huge wooden cup in his hand. Without waiting for her to answer, he continued, "I'm Hagrid. Everyone knows I'm always late, usually around 10:30. Only newbies like you come early."
Angel ignored the other party's implicitly sarcastic self-introduction and directly stated his request: "I need an ID. I will provide all the information. I need a verifiable document."
Hagrid took a long gulp of beer and uttered a satisfied "Ha!" before answering, "Forty pounds. Pick it up in a week."
"That's not what the Captain said. Thirty pounds." Angel didn't feel bad about the extra ten pounds, but based on experience, such concessions would only make the other party more unscrupulous.
"Hmph, tell that 'Captain' guy to stop using the price from a few years ago to trick a rookie like you into taking advantage of me, even if you saved my life." Hagrid was furious when he heard Angel's offer. "Every time the kingdom's political parties change, we have to bribe Backlund's people all over again. These parasites are asking for more and more. How much do you think we can make? Besides, Tingen has been in turmoil lately. Many students have disappeared from the university. I heard that several committed suicide yesterday. The police are checking for outsiders everywhere. You don't want to be arrested as an illegal immigrant, do you?"
"Thirty pounds."
"You can't do business like this... Thirty-five pounds, that's the lowest price, and I'll have it done for you in three days." Hagrid made a concession.
"I can give you forty pounds, but I want it tonight." Seeing that the other party had given in, Angel changed his demands and handed over a diary paper filled with words. "The identity information I require is on it. You can make up the rest of the blanks as you like, but don't be too outrageous."
Hagrid was obviously surprised by the extra five pounds that he had "lost and found". He subconsciously took the paper in front of him, thought for a moment, and nodded. "Okay, I'll help you cut in line. You wait here for two hours and have a drink." He pointed to the untouched glass in front of Angel, "or go watch the dog catch the rat."
Angel shook his head. "I'll just wait here."
Although she had no aversion to alcohol, consuming alcohol was not a good choice in a place where a fight might be necessary at any time.
She had no interest in boring gambling like "dog catching rat".
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