Eight o'clock in the morning. No. 79 Wisteria Street.
Inside the second-floor bedroom, Byrne woke from his slumber and slowly opened his eyes. Compared to the previous meeting, he had gained quite a bit this time. Not only had he learned about Young Byrne's encounter with the Live-Action Video Camera, but he had also drawn inspiration from Inception Byrne's sharing.
Byrne got out of bed and grabbed his toiletries, heading for the washroom. Just then, a knock came at the door.
"Byrne, are you still in there?"
Hearing Old Anton's voice, Byrne opened the door. "Morning, Mr. Anton."
Seeing Byrne open the door himself, Old Anton scanned him from head to toe. Seeing that nothing was amiss, the weight on his heart finally lifted.
"It's good you're alright. I woke up early and saw your door closed with no sound coming from inside. I started to wonder, fearing that..."
He swallowed the rest of the sentence—"fearing you'd vanished just like Tim"—thinking it was too unlucky to say out loud.
Byrne saw through the old man's concern and reassured him, "I know. You knocked because you were worried I didn't follow the rules. Rest assured, I didn't step foot outside last night. I slept right through until dawn."
Byrne told this lie without blinking or flushing. In the Bureau's handbook, necessary deception was a basic operative skill. Dealing with an ordinary old man required very little of his psychological fortitude.
Old Anton smiled and patted Byrne on the shoulder. "You're a reliable young man. It just so happens I've boiled some nutrient paste, tossed a synthetic vegetable salad, and fried some Grox meat slices. I figured since you just moved in, you wouldn't have breakfast ready, so I came to call you."
Byrne's heart stirred, and he followed along. "Thanks. I really didn't prepare anything."
Once Byrne finished washing up, he went down to the living room. The food was already set out on the dining table. Old Anton motioned for Byrne to sit while he took the opposite seat, picking up a fork to slowly cut a slice of meat.
"I'm just a lonely old man. My meals are usually simple, but knowing you were moving in, I prepared a bit extra. This Grox meat was just bought; it's very fresh. Try it."
Byrne picked up his fork and poked a piece of Grox meat into his mouth. The moment his teeth sank in, tender juices exploded in his mouth with a hint of charred aroma—completely different from the dry, stringy texture of meat found in the Underhive.
In the Underhive, the only meat Byrne could get was either canned or rock-hard "meat bricks." This was the first time since transmigrating to the Warhammer world that he had eaten fresh meat.
The Spire truly is better.
Byrne finished a slice in a few bites and took a mouthful of the synthetic salad. Although synthetic ingredients couldn't match the texture of natural vegetables, Old Anton's light seasoning gave it a sweet and sour tang that perfectly cut through the greasiness of the meat.
Seeing Byrne's ravenous appetite, Old Anton laughed. "Looking at the way you eat, life in the Underhive must not have been easy."
Byrne's movements paused momentarily. He didn't deny it, simply responding, "It was alright. As long as I could fill my stomach."
He didn't want to reveal too much about his past to avoid unnecessary questioning. Hearing this, Old Anton put down his fork and remarked mockingly:
"Heh, I visited the Underhive a few times when I was young. It's a mess down there. The patrols only do superficial work..."
Byrne nodded silently, swallowing his salad. He knew exactly what Old Anton meant; the chaos of the Underhive was ingrained in its very marrow, and the patrols always turned a blind eye to real atrocities. However, Byrne didn't engage in the conversation, focusing on his food and nodding occasionally. He knew that once an old person started talking, they could go on for a long time. It was better to be a good listener than to talk back.
As Byrne was finishing, Old Anton stopped talking and chuckled. "Sigh, when one gets old, one talks too much. Byrne, don't mind me."
Byrne set down his fork, took a large gulp of nutrient paste from his bowl, and shook his head. "I don't mind. Hearing about the past helps me understand the history of Blackstone City."
This was half-truth. While he was humoring the old man, he also wanted to dig for more information about Tim. Unfortunately, despite all his talking, Old Anton hadn't mentioned Tim once.
The wrinkles on Old Anton's face smoothed out slightly. He was about to tip his bowl to drink the last of the paste when he seemed to remember something. He asked casually, "By the way, Byrne, you didn't touch those two cardboard boxes I left in the bedroom, did you?"
The boxes?
Byrne's movement of setting down his bowl hitched for a fraction of a second before returning to normal. He asked back:
"You mean the two stacked boxes in the corner? I saw them when I moved in last night, but I didn't touch them."
Old Anton nodded and finished his paste in one gulp. "Good. Those are Tim's things. His family is coming to collect them today."
Tim's family?
Byrne's heart gave a sudden jolt. During their previous conversations, he had subtly asked about Tim. Back then, Anton only said Tim was a quiet freight driver; he had never mentioned family. More importantly, Tim had been missing for over three months—for his family to suddenly show up now was highly irregular.
Byrne suppressed his suspicion and feigned curiosity. "Haha, so Tim had family? When we talked before, you only mentioned his colleagues coming by. I thought he was an orphan."
Old Anton wiped his mouth with a napkin and shook his head. "I was surprised too. I didn't expect his family to find me after all this time. Perhaps it's a distant relative who couldn't be reached right away. It's a good thing I kept his things; it would be awkward if I'd thrown them out."
Distant relative?
Byrne chuckled and commented, "That's a bit of a weak excuse. How distant could they be to take this long? What, are they relatives from another planet?"
Old Anton shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe the journey was long, or they couldn't be contacted."
After breakfast, Old Anton stood to clear the table. Byrne wiped his mouth and stood up as well. "Let me help you."
Old Anton waved him off. "No need, no need. You have work. Go on and attend to your business."
Byrne didn't insist. He turned and returned to his second-floor bedroom. The moment the door closed, the smile vanished from his face. He turned his gaze toward the two stacked boxes in the corner.
Heh, distant relative?
Old Anton... he is lying.