Chapter 23: Sidearm

Chapter 23: Sidearm

Walking down Zortland Street, feeling the warm, humid breeze, a high-spirited Klein suddenly thought of something

He only had 3 pence in change left. Taking an omnibus back to Hillston Street would cost 4 pence, and asking for change for a 1-pound banknote would be like trying to use a 100-yuan bill to buy a cheap bottle of mineral water before his transmigration—it wasn't that there were no other ways, he just couldn't bring himself to swallow that loss of face.

"Use 3 pence to travel 3 kilometers and walk the rest of the way?" Klein put one hand in his pocket and slowed his pace, pondering other options.

"No!" He quickly rejected the first idea.

Walking the remaining distance would take quite a while, and being in possession of a "massive sum" of 12 pounds made it far too unsafe!

Furthermore, because he had been worried about the revolver being confiscated by a "Nighthawk," he had intentionally not carried it with him today. If he encountered any danger triggered by Welch's death, he would be completely defenseless!

"Find a bank nearby to exchange for change? No, no way, a 0.5% transaction fee is too extravagant!" Klein shook his head silently; just thinking about the potential fee made his heart ache!

As options were eliminated one by one, Klein's eyes suddenly lit up as he spotted a clothing and hat shop!

Right, wouldn't the most logical approach be to buy something reasonably priced to get change?

Formal wear, shirts, vests, trousers, leather boots, and walking sticks were all within his budget; he would have to buy them sooner or later!

*Hmm, trying on clothes is a hassle, and Benson knows more about them and is better at haggling than I am. I can wait until he returns to consider it...*

*Then, how about a walking stick?*

*Not bad! As the proverb goes, a walking stick is a gentleman's best defensive weapon. It can serve as half a crowbar; holding a gun in one hand and a cane in the other is the true way of a civilized man to fight!*

Amidst his swirling thoughts, Klein made up his mind. He turned halfway and stepped into "Wilker's Clothing and Hat Shop."

The layout of the shop was very similar to the clothing stores he knew before his transmigration. Along the left wall was a row of formal wear; the center held shirts, trousers, vests, and ties; and on the right, pairs of leather shoes and boots were displayed in glass cabinets.

"Sir, how may I help you?" A male shop assistant wearing a white shirt and a red vest approached, asking politely.

In the Kingdom of Loen, because gentlemen with status, power, and wealth preferred wearing white shirts with black vests, black trousers, and black formal wear—a rather monotonous color scheme—the servant, shop assistant, and waiter classes were required to wear bright or colorful clothing to distinguish master from servant or high from low.

In contrast, ladies and misses wore dresses of various hues and ornate decorations, while maidservants were limited to black and white or white and black.

Facing the assistant's question, Klein thought for a moment and said

"A walking stick. Something heavy and hard."

The kind that could crack someone's skull!

The red-vested assistant gave Klein a discreet look and led him into the shop, pointing to a row of walking sticks in the corner

"The one inlaid with gold is made of ironwood. It is very heavy and very hard, costing 11 shillings and 7 pence. Would you like to try it?"

11 shillings and 7 pence? Why not just rob me? Is being inlaid with a bit of gold that big a deal? Klein was startled by the price.

On the surface, he remained composed, nodding slightly.

"Alright."

The red-vested assistant took down the ironwood walking stick and handed it to Klein with great care, looking as if he were afraid Klein might break the merchandise.

As soon as Klein took the stick, he felt its weight. He tried moving it and realized he wouldn't be able to swing it smoothly.

"Too heavy." Klein shook his head and let out a sigh of relief.

This wasn't an excuse!

The red-vested assistant put the ironwood stick back and pointed to three others

"This one is walnut, made by Mr. Hess, the most famous walking stick craftsman in Tingen, for 10 shillings and 3 pence... This one is ebony, silver-inlaid, as hard as steel, for 7 shillings and 6 pence... And this one is made from the heartwood of a white bori tree, also silver-inlaid, for 7 shillings and 10 pence..."

Klein took and tested them one by one, finding the weights to be quite suitable. Next, he tapped them with his fingers to gauge the hardness of each. Finally, he chose the cheapest one.

"I'll take this ebony one," Klein said, pointing to the silver-inlaid head of the stick in the assistant's hand.

"Very well, sir. Please follow me over there to pay. If this walking stick ever suffers wear or stains in the future, you can bring it to us for treatment, free of charge." The red-vested assistant led Klein toward the counter.

Taking this opportunity, Klein spread out the four pound banknotes he held in his palm and took out one of the two smaller ones.

"Hello, 7 shillings and 6 pence." The clerk behind the counter bowed with a smile.

Klein had intended to maintain his gentlemanly dignity, but as his left hand reached out with the 1-pound banknote, he couldn't help but speak

"Can it be a bit cheaper?"

"Sir, these are all handmade; our costs are very high," the red-vested assistant answered from the side. "And the shop owner is not in; we aren't authorized to lower the price for him."

The clerk behind the counter chimed in

"My apologies, sir."

"Alright then." Klein handed over the banknote and took the black walking stick with the silver-inlaid head from the red-vested assistant.

While waiting for his change, he stepped back a few paces to create distance and performed a small-scale test of his "sidearm's" swinging effect.

*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*

The sound of the wind was heavy, with a textured quality as it cut through the air. Klein nodded in satisfaction.

He turned his gaze back forward, prepared to see the banknotes and coins, only to find in astonishment that the red-vested assistant had retreated far away, and the clerk behind the counter had shrunk into a corner, pressed tightly against a double-barreled shotgun hanging on the wall.

The Kingdom of Loen implemented a semi-regulated policy on firearms. To carry a gun, one needed to apply for an "All-Purpose Weapon License" or a "Hunting License." However, regardless of the type, one could not possess military-grade items such as repeating rifles, steam high-pressure guns, or six-barreled machine guns.

An "All-Purpose Weapon License" allowed one to freely purchase and keep any type of civilian firearm, but obtaining one was extremely difficult; even merchants with some status might fail the vetting process. A "Hunting License" was relatively easier to obtain—even a farmer in the outskirts could get one—but such a license was limited to shotguns and had quantity restrictions. Many people with modest assets would apply for one for self-defense in emergencies, such as now...

...Klein looked at the two wary shop assistants, his mouth twitched slightly, and he gave a dry, forced laugh

"Not bad. This walking stick is very suitable for swinging. I am very satisfied."

Seeing that he had no intention of attacking, the clerk behind the counter relaxed and handed over the banknotes and copper coins with both hands.

Klein took them and glanced down. Seeing two 5-shilling notes, two 1-shilling notes, one 5-pence coin, and one 1-penny coin, he nodded inwardly.

After a two-second pause, ignoring the clerk's gaze, he spread the four banknotes out one by one against the light to confirm the anti-counterfeiting patterns and watermarks were correct.

Only after completing this did Klein put the money and coins away. Holding his walking stick and adjusting his top hat, he walked out of "Wilker's Clothing and Hat Shop" like a gentleman. He luxuriously took a nearby omnibus, and after one transfer and a total cost of 6 pence, he successfully returned to his apartment.

After locking the door, he counted the 11 pounds and 12 shillings three times before placing them in his desk drawer. Then, he pulled out the copper-colored revolver with the wooden grip.

*Clink! Clink! Clink!*

Five brass bullets fell onto the desk one after another. Klein inserted the silver "Demon Hunter Bullets," which bore complex patterns and dark holy symbols, into the cylinder one by one.

Similarly, he only loaded five, leaving empty slots to prevent accidental discharge. The rest were stored in a small iron box along with the five normal bullets he had taken out earlier.

*Click!*

As the cylinder snapped shut, Klein felt a significant surge of security.

With great enthusiasm, he placed the revolver into his underarm holster and fastened it securely. He then practiced the motion of unholstering and drawing the gun repeatedly. When his arms grew sore, he would rest for a while before continuing, until the sky began to darken and the sound of tenants walking in the hallway appeared.

*Phew!* Klein exhaled a breath of stale air and placed the revolver back into his holster.

Only then did he change out of his formal wear and vest, put on his daily brownish-yellow coat, and begin some arm-relaxing exercises.

*Tap, tap, tap.* Footsteps approached, a key entered the lock, and the sound of turning followed.

Melissa, with her smooth black hair, pushed the door open. Her nose twitched imperceptibly. Her gaze swept over the unlit stove, and the light in her eyes suddenly dimmed slightly.

"Klein, I'll cook the leftovers from last night together. Maybe Benson will be back tomorrow." Melissa turned to look at her brother.

Klein stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning his thigh against the edge of the desk, and smiled

"No, let's go out to eat."

"Go out to eat?" Melissa asked in astonishment.

"How about the 'Silver Crown Restaurant' on Narcissus Street? I heard the food is excellent." Klein suggested.

"But, but..." Melissa still couldn't grasp the situation.

Klein smiled and said

"To celebrate that I found a job."

"You found a job?" Melissa's voice inadvertently grew louder. "But, but isn't the interview for Tingen University tomorrow?"

"Another job." Klein smiled as he pulled the stack of banknotes from the drawer. "They even gave me a four-week advance on my salary."

Melissa stared at the pound and shilling notes, her eyes wide

"Oh, Goddess... What... what kind of job did you, they, you, find?"

*This...* Klein's expression froze for a moment. He weighed his words and said

"A security company whose mission is the searching, collecting, and protection of antiquities. They need professional consultants. A five-year contract, 3 pounds a week."

"...You were worrying about this last night?" Melissa said after a moment of silence.

Klein took the opportunity to nod

"Yes. Being a faculty member at Tingen University would be more dignified, but I like this job better."

"...Actually, it sounds quite good." Melissa gave an encouraging smile and asked with a mix of confusion and curiosity, "How could they advance you a full four weeks of salary?"

"Because we need to move. We need more rooms, and we need our own washroom." Klein's lips curled upward as he spread his hands.

He felt his smile was impeccable, lacking only the question, "Surprised?"

Melissa froze, then suddenly spoke very quickly, sounding somewhat flustered

"Klein, our living situation is actually quite decent. My occasional complaints about not having a washroom are just a habit. Do you remember Jenny? The one who used to live next door? Ever since her father was injured and lost his job, they had to move to the lower street. A family of five can only live in one room—three sleep on bunk beds, and two sleep on the floor. They were even thinking of renting out the remaining floor space to someone else..."

"Compared to her family, we are very well off and lucky. Don't waste your salary on this. Besides, I really like Mrs. Slane's bakery."

*Sister, your reaction is not at all what I expected from the script...* Klein listened, his face completely blank.

(End of Chapter)