"Damn it... damn it!"
"Three years... three years after another three years. I've been undercover in the Church of Hope for so long, and the mission actually failed..."
"I didn't dare take a single step forward for over ten years just for fear of being discovered. To hell with this!"
"I'm not playing along with the grudges between you nobles and the Church anymore..."
On a small path between the fields, a man walked while tearing something off his face.
He raised his hand to construct a tiny flame, burning the bits he had torn from his face into nothingness.
Once he had completely cleared the fragments from his face, a face appeared with uneven patches of color where certain pieces of flesh had been removed, looking as if it had been partitioned.
He was Andaman.
Andaman had already searched through the ridges of the fields yesterday before the Church began its search.
But in that wheat field, aside from that crazy woman, there was no trace of Saint Syl at all. It was as if she had evaporated into thin air.
To evade the Church's search, he had wandered the fields outside all night, during which he stole a set of farmer's clothing.
Of course, to prevent the farmer from calling the police and causing trouble, he had performed some "simple processing."
His own clothes had long since been cleaned away using magic.
Under his makeup skills that were akin to a disguise technique, Andaman's face had completely transformed into that of another person—a sun-darkened farmer.
His destination was Suramar, arguably the largest trading city in the world and the capital of the Great Saya Empire.
It possessed the world's largest urban population, the most workshops, the highest flow of people, and the extremely high crime rate that came with such a massive population.
Such a place was the right fit for him, not some Church bound by rigid dogmas. Andaman had suppressed himself for far too long.
Thinking of this, the corners of Andaman's mouth curled into an arc.
That bunch of nobles whose brains were fed to pigs and the Church restricted by rules and regulations would never find him.
In a few years... after a few more years, he would collect some more items for his collection... Andaman patted the pocket of his somewhat old, short-cropped jacket. After feeling the two round objects inside, his heart finally settled.
Who would have thought a farmer's daughter could have such a beautiful pair of eyes? At this moment, the farmhouse Andaman had just visited was already engulfed in a towering blaze.
No matter how the police searched, they would never know that the criminal who wiped out a whole family, dismembered the corpses, and set the fire to destroy the evidence did it all just for a set of clean clothes.
This kind of random crime with an unclear motive was the hardest to investigate.
As Andaman continued forward, gradually, more manors and ranches appeared before him.
And in the distance, the cluster of buildings shrouded in a grey haze, along with the scattered horse-drawn carriages he could see, made his eyes light up.
"Woo—chugga-chugga-chugga—" The roar of a steam train signaled that Andaman had finally arrived.
Suramar.
Aside from a few Patrol Officers armed with guns patrolling the outskirts, there were some vagrants and poor children wandering the perimeter. The dust kicked up on the roads and the smoke emitted from the factories left the entire city permeated in a light smog.
Andaman did not linger. Appearing very familiar with the place, he headed directly down one of the roads after entering the city.
However, upon reaching an intersection, Andaman wasn't sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw a green figure.
When he looked closer, he realized it was just a tall woman with green hair performing magic tricks for a group of children under a streetlamp.
Though he couldn't see her face clearly, the woman laughed along with the children's laughter at the tricks, appearing even happier than the kids.
"Freak," Andaman muttered quietly without looking further, continuing toward Ivisa South District.
Ordinary people rarely entered this district, or at least, no one decently dressed did.
Because Ivisa South District was the famous slum of Suramar, where poverty and chaos were the defining words.
Patrol Officers were reluctant to be assigned to patrol that area because being sent there meant overtime—something was bound to happen every single day.
Fortunately, prices there were also the cheapest, which meant that no matter how chaotic Ivisa South District was, desperate people still flooded into it.
Andaman first bought some food at a bakery and then began looking for a hotel.
Although the hotels in Ivisa South District were worn-down and filthy, they were cheap. Andaman, who hadn't brought much money out, couldn't afford a better place.
In Suramar, he would once again, step by step, vent all the suppression of the past.
After spending the afternoon, Andaman found a suitable hotel. The hotel even provided dinner, which satisfied him.
Moreover, staying for one night only cost three shillings (1 currency = 20 shillings, 1 shilling = 12 pence), and it included meals. Andaman felt nowhere could be better than this.
It was just a bit dilapidated, and the receptionist was a fat, ugly old man.
Having found a place to stay, Andaman's mind and body relaxed. It happened to be dinner time at the hotel, and the guests had all arrived at the dining room to enjoy their meal.
Unlike high-end hotels where dinner could be like a banquet for socializing, the dining room of this run-down hotel was instead quite quiet. There were no noisy sounds; everyone seemed busy with their own affairs, and no joy could be seen on anyone's face.
Just as Andaman was about to enjoy the bowl of burnt bean soup in front of him, something seemed to crawl past his feet. Startled, he jerked his leg up and bumped directly into the wooden table, causing some soup to splash out.
"Oh, damn it, there are actually rats in this restaurant." Andaman grumbled as he pulled the small round table back, watching with some lingering fear as the rat squeaked miserably and ran outside across the wooden floor.
To be honest, rats were the creatures he detested most—cowardly, filthy, and carriers of the dreaded plague.
Just as he prepared to use his spoon to drink the remaining half-bowl of soup with a hint of anger, a seemingly familiar figure appeared in the corner of his eye.
Slightly curly green hair combed back, and strange makeup that had been reapplied at some unknown time—it was that woman, now elegantly enjoying her less-than-tasty dinner.
Yet the people around her acted as if they couldn't see this strange woman at all.
Andaman's heart surged violently. His intuition told him that if he continued to stay here, something bad would happen.
At that moment, not even caring to finish his meal, he stood up and walked straight out of the hotel.
But as Andaman passed the woman's seat, he heard her talking to herself.
"Rats... rats, is it... heehee..."
The gloomy weather outside and the quiet, oppressive atmosphere of the restaurant formed an eerie vibe that made cold sweat pour from Andaman's forehead.
"Something's not right..." Andaman muttered to himself as he quickened his pace.
Just as he was about to leave the restaurant, he couldn't resist glancing back. The seat where the woman had been sitting was already empty, leaving only the soup bowl and cutlery... the knife was gone.