I made myself a simple breakfast—bread with butter.

  A few months ago, Viktor hadn't even had enough money for butter and had eaten plain bread instead. But because Viktor had taken on extra work for Edward, he had a little more money now.

  He felt a bit happy about it—at least he had butter this time.

  Even so, it wasn't particularly good. The bread and butter were both cheap and several days old, which made them taste unpleasant. Still, it was enough to strengthen myself.

  After finishing, I went outside.

  The neighborhood was poor, filled with street girls and homeless people. As I walked, I wondered how I should act to digest my potion. Should I steal something?

  But it was the middle of the day, and there wasn't much to steal in the East Borough. Besides, I would feel guilty stealing from people who were already struggling. Even those who had more than the rest didn't have much by comparison.

  If anything, the richest targets here would be the gangs. I wouldn't feel as guilty robbing them. Still, I'd need a mask so they wouldn't recognize me—especially since I didn't plan on killing anyone.

  Maybe I should leave the East Borough entirely. But I couldn't target a noble—that would attract official Beyonders. The middle class would be safer.

  After thinking it over, I decided to look for a target in Cherwood Borough, where the middle class lived.

  Luckily, the original Viktor had already asked his boss for the day off in advance, using the excuse of drinking a potion. That gave me time to search carefully instead of robbing just anyone. My target should either be someone I considered bad—or someone wealthy enough that losing some money wouldn't matter to them.

  Having made my decision, I found a public carriage and headed to Cherwood Borough. The trip cost me two soli—quite expensive for my budget.

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  When I arrived, I wasn't sure what to do. Should I just sit on a bench and wait?

  After some thought, I decided to go to a bar. Maybe I could find something useful there.

  After a short walk, I found a bar not too far away. It was called Tiger's Bar. Compared to the bars Viktor had seen in the East Borough, this one was quite clean.

  I went inside and sat at the counter. There were other tables I would have preferred, but I wanted to talk to the bartender and see if I could learn anything.

  The bartender was a middle-aged man with brown hair and brown eyes. His forearms were thick and muscular, making him look quite strong.

  "One Southville beer," I said.

  "Five pence."

  I paid, and soon the beer was placed in front of me. I took a sip—it wasn't too bad.

  "Has anything big happened recently?" I asked, hoping to start a conversation and get something useful out of it.

  "Hm. There was a big scandal," he said. "A con artist swindled a large amount of money from several people."

  "He's being searched for by the police now."

  "Is there a bounty for finding him?" I asked.

  "No, not officially. Are you a bounty hunter?"

  Should I say yes or no? If I said yes, I might get more information. At the very least, it would explain why I was asking so many questions.

  "Yeah," I said. "I work part-time as a bounty hunter. It's just a side job."

  "I see. From what I know, even though the police haven't put out a bounty, one of his victims did. A woman he swindled offered twenty-five pounds."

  That was a huge amount of money for me. Still, my goal right now wasn't earning money—it was digesting the potion. Robbing someone would be more suitable.

  "Did anything else happen?" I asked. "It doesn't need to involve a bounty. I'm just curious."

  "Well," he said, "a factory exploded a few weeks ago. Bless the Lord of Storms it started raining before nearby buildings were affected."

  "The workers were badly injured. No one has died yet, but one worker is still in a coma, and the others are still in the hospital, from what I've heard."

  "There's also a lot of resentment toward the factory owner. He hasn't paid compensation yet, and some of those workers won't be able to afford the hospital bills for much longer."

  "Could you tell me the factory owner's name?" I asked. "And a bit more about him?"

  "Louis Perry," the bartender replied. "Originally from Intis. He came to Backlund for a better life, or so I heard."

  I continued making small talk with him while slowly finishing my beer.

  "I'll be heading out now. Thanks for the stories."

  I paid an extra two pence for the good service. Even though I felt myself growing poorer by the minute, I hoped I would be able to get a good amount of money from Louis Perry.