Was he looking for me?
But Edward didn't respond immediately.
The chubby apothecary seized the opportunity and sneered, "Black Snake, give it up already. No one's going to buy those dangerous little trinkets of yours with all those nasty side effects."
Black Snake chuckled and said, "Since that friend showed interest, it means the Taunting Doll is useful to him. As Emperor Roselle once said, 'What suits you is the best.'"
After a pause, he raised his voice again. "Friend, are you here? Only 3,000 pounds—just 3,000, and it's yours."
After waiting for half a minute, Black Snake sighed and shook his head. "Ah, forget it. I'll just keep it for myself."
Finally, Edward spoke up. "2,000 pounds."
Black Snake's eyes lit up, but he still grumbled, "2,000? Are you kidding me? This thing can even affect a Sequence 5 Beyonder!"
It can affect a Sequence 5 Beyonder, and he's only offering 2,000 pounds?
A few newcomers who hadn't attended the last gathering immediately perked up. "What is it exactly? Tell us more."
"Haha, looks like a few of our friends are interested. Maybe I can get a good price for this tonight," Black Snake said gleefully, then quickly explained the effects of the Taunting Doll.
The chubby apothecary was quick to undercut him. "Listen up, everyone—it affects everyone, including the user!"
…So if I throw this doll out, I'll be affected by its taunts too?
A few interested people immediately fell silent.
"…One day, that mouth of yours is going to get you into real trouble," Black Snake snapped, glaring daggers at the apothecary. If they weren't at the Eye of Wisdom gathering, he might've taken a swing at him.
"Ahem, I was just giving a friendly reminder."
The chubby apothecary seemed a bit flustered under the glare.
"2,200 pounds. Final offer," Edward said at just the right moment.
"Damn it. Fine! It's yours!"
Grumbling the whole time, Black Snake reluctantly completed the transaction with Edward under the supervision of the Eye of Wisdom.
The Taunting Doll looked like a palm-sized, red-haired, ugly wooden doll. It was much tougher than ordinary wood but still couldn't withstand more than a few blows from a Beyonder or a firearm—clearly a consumable item, perhaps even a one-time-use thing.
That was probably one of the reasons others had hesitated to buy it.
But Edward didn't see that as a fatal flaw. With Transfiguration, he could work around its limitations.
Having obtained the item he wanted, Edward was in a much better mood. "Anyone still interested in the mystical storage items I sold last time?"
That immediately jogged everyone's memory. Of course they were interested in items that could store tens of thousands of pounds without adding any weight—but they were just too expensive!
The Eye of Wisdom, the old detective, clearly seemed tempted. He fiddled with the ring on his finger for a while, then shook his head with a sigh. It wasn't that he didn't want to buy it—he just didn't have that much cash on hand. He did have some sealed artifacts, but they were too useful to part with.
Better to wait.
"Fair enough."
Edward noted the reactions and didn't press further.
Next, the hooded woman brought out two mystical weapons and quickly sold them, followed by a few minor trades of materials. Edward got lucky and managed to collect all the ingredients needed for the Assassin formula in one go.
By 9:30 PM, the gathering ended and everyone began to leave.
The Eye of Wisdom took a long drag from his pipe but ultimately didn't call out to Edward.
———
[No. 5 Tulip Street]
Lilith lay on the bed, yawning, occasionally glancing at the door. Where was that big cat? Why wasn't he home yet?
Suddenly, a small object flew through the door and landed on the floor.
A second later: "Hee hee hee hee hee!"
A sharp, cackling laugh came from the thing. Lilith jumped in fright and instinctively tried to hide, but in the blink of an eye, she found herself charging straight toward it—completely out of her own control.
"Meowww!!! ^í>﹏<ì^!"
Just as her head was about to smash into the thing, a warm hand scooped her up and pulled her into a familiar embrace.
"Meow?"
Edward bent down and picked up the Taunting Doll, a satisfied smile on his face. "Using 'Unfettered' the moment I throw the doll really does negate its taunt effect. Heh, this thing was definitely worth it!"
"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Lilith!"
Lilith tilted her little head in confusion, then realized Edward had just pranked her. She let out an indignant meow and chomped down on his hand.
"Ow! You really bit me? Let go!"
"Grrr! ╰(艹皿艹)!!"
———
[Next morning, 10:30 AM, Tingen City]
Mr. Tony, the baker, placed freshly baked bread into the display case. Then he carried a tray of buttered white breadsticks to the doorway and began calling out loudly, "Hey there! Freshly baked buttered white bread! Taste before you buy, taste before you buy!"
"Freshly baked buttered white bread! Taste before you buy!"
His cries immediately drew the attention of nearby passersby. A few shabbily dressed children were the first to approach.
Mr. Tony's expression darkened, and he waved them off. "Go on, keep walking! Don't block my business!"
These street kids couldn't even afford the cheapest black bread—giving them white bread would be a waste better served to dogs.
The disappointed kids backed off. Just then, sheets of paper printed with Loen letters fluttered down from the sky, spiraling through the air before drifting to the ground. They seemed to appear from nowhere, immediately capturing the children's attention.
They eagerly jumped to grab the floating pages, but upon realizing it was just ordinary paper, they quickly lost interest.
A boy in a black trench coat and hat walked over and handed a handful of coins to the lead child. "Distribute these flyers to as many nearby homes as you can. That's your payment."
"Really?"
The poor kid's voice trembled with excitement, but his eyes still brimmed with disbelief.
"The money's already in your hands—why would I lie? Go on."
Watching the group of children eagerly begin distributing flyers titled "My Cleric Friend: Ince Zangwill and His Feathered Quill", Edward stepped into a deserted alley, cast a Disguise Spell on himself, and soared back into the sky on his broomstick.
In no time, he had scattered all three thousand flyers across the most crowded areas of Tingen—especially near the churches of the major denominations.
———
"Pffft!—"
As Klein finished reading the flyer Rozanne had brought back, the coffee he had just sipped spewed from his mouth.
His mind raced with confusion, but what dominated was shock and sudden clarity. It all connected now.
Finally, it all connected.
Every strange encounter, every eerie coincidence, every odd inconsistency—it all pointed to a sealed artifact capable of turning stories into reality, with near-divine power akin to words shaping the world.
Terrifying.
Rozanne gave a long-suffering sigh. "Klein, is my coffee really that bad?"
"No, no," Klein quickly apologized, pointing at the flyer. "It's just…what's written here is too shocking."
"That Ince Zangwill guy?" Roshan frowned, worry etched all over her face. "I don't know who made this, or what they're after, but…if it's all true, then the world of Beyonders is far scarier than I imagined."
"Yeah…"
Klein got up to clean the table and floor, then casually asked, "Did you see Edward this morning?"
"Yeah, but he's been coming and going all day. Not sure what he's up to."
"Then it's probably him."
Klein glanced at the flyer again, focusing on the description of the quill. He rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought.
Every word, once written, is known.
The more people know—and the more detailed their knowledge—the more likely they'll be written into the story.
But what if an entire city knows?
Edward wasn't just flipping the board—he was overturning the whole damn table.
Too reckless. Too risky. Too unstable.
Of the three thousand flyers scattered, how many people would actually read them? How many would believe them? How many would pass them on? How far would the discussion spread? Edward couldn't possibly know.
Only when the printing press at the Tingen City Honest Paper was repaired—that would mark the true beginning of universal awareness. As for whether Ince Zangwill would again sabotage the machine or interfere through some other means, Edward wasn't worried.
The quill may be able to turn fiction into fact, but stories still had to follow some logic. Saying the printing press broke down due to age was reasonable. But once it's repaired, what plausible excuse could there be to stop it from printing again?
Once? Sure.
Twice? Maybe.
Three times? Four?
A hundred?
The more illogical the storyline, the harder it was to realize. The more spiritual energy it consumed. And the higher the risk of the quill backfiring and killing its wielder.
Ince Zangwill, a third-rate author, was already struggling to keep up with the makeshift "Tingen Team" storyline. Now that Edward had stirred the pot, Zangwill might just collapse his own plot.
Let's see how you keep scheming in the shadows now.
———
Somewhere in a hidden room…
A quill pen scratched furiously across the pages of a notebook:
"Due to a breakdown at The Tingen City Honest Paper's printing press, Edward's plan to publish his message in the paper failed.
But it seems he hasn't given up. What will this boy, who harbors so many secrets, do next?"
—
"Edward printed a batch of flyers in Backlund and scattered them from the sky.
Ten…twenty…a hundred…three hundred…five hundred…
More and more people learned the truth about 0-08.
More and more people were pulled into the story."
—
"Edward plans to… "
—
Tom, who lives at No. 12 Tulip Street, woke up at 9 a.m. as usual but had diarrhea at 8 a.m...wait, what? That makes no sense. Ew. Gross."
—
"Everyone says the Desi Meat Pie shop across near the Town Square has the best flavor. That's because the owner, Peter, secretly adds a 'special' ingredient to his pies…"
—
"After learning his wife was cheating with the neighbor, Cruz flew into a rage, grabbed a knife, and charged in—only to freeze at the sight.
He hesitated. He trembled.
Watching his wife with another man…turned him on."
—
"Theresa…Edwin…Hussein…Clorinde…Barbara…Rosa…Klein…Barbatos…"
Suddenly, the quill seemed to go haywire, madly scribbling down name after name—each with its own bizarre little narrative.
A pale hand clutched the quill in a vice grip, furiously scratching out the chaos. The knuckles jutted out like bones as he rewrote, word by word:
"Lanevus didn't die. He was about to…have an affair with the widow next door on the balcony, using his favorite position, from be—"
Scratch it out.
"Dunn's corruption worsened. He lost all sense of judgment, and so he…did a backflip to celebrate confessing to his girlfriend, then ate a bowl of cream soup from the neighbor's house…"
Scratch it out.
"Edward is doomed to die…but even in death, love endures.
Like Emperor Roselle's take on Romeo and Juliet—love that transcends the grave!
Oh, such tragic romance—"
Scratch it out.
The hand holding the quill began to tremble.
He wanted to keep writing.
But he couldn't.
Not a single word.
"DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN ITTTTT!!!!"
Ince Zangwill went berserk. He grabbed the notebook from the desk and ripped it to shreds—again and again—tearing it apart as if that could vent the fury boiling inside him.
And the quill, now tossed to the side, began moving on its own again.
Wobbling slowly across the tabletop, it wrote:
Ince Zangwill is panicking.
He's panicking.
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.