He lowered his voice again.
“And another thing,” Simon said, casting a glance at Ryan. “Keep your mouth shut, do your work, and whatever you do, don't mess with those old files.”
Ryan's heart stirred slightly, but he didn't let it show on his face, merely nodding in response.
The sunlight streamed through the window, and the warmth of the tavern made him feel a bit drowsy. All around him were the conversations of ordinary people.
No Glory.
No whispers.
None of those bizarre things.
At this moment, Ryan suddenly felt a rare sense of relaxation.
Time passed quickly in the White Oak.
By the time the second round of drinks was served, the sky outside had already darkened.
Gas lamps lit up one by one along the street, casting a warm yellow glow through the glass windows and into the tavern.
Saturday night was clearly the busiest time of the week here.
The crowd grew larger and larger.
The seats near the bar were already fully packed.
Some wore the dark coats of factory supervisors, others were bookkeepers, and two men who looked distinctly like small-time merchants were sipping their drinks while flipping through the evening paper.
The air was thick with the scent of beer, tobacco, and stew.
Compared to the filthy, chaotic pubs in the East End, this place could already be considered “respectable.”
Simon was clearly very familiar with places like this.
He chatted and greeted people at nearby tables while drinking, and occasionally a waiter would come over to ask if they wanted another round.
Ryan leaned back against his chair, quietly observing his surroundings.
He wasn't actually used to such a lively environment.
Especially after his recent contact with the extraordinary, his senses had begun to grow sharper.
When there were too many people, he would subconsciously pay attention to everyone's movements and voices, and could even faintly perceive certain shifts in emotion.
For instance, right now.
He could sense that the merchants at the corner table were on the verge of a falling out, and the drunkard by the window was about to start making a scene.
It was a strange feeling.
It wasn't like actually “hearing” them.
It was more like a vague intuition.
Just then, a sudden burst of applause erupted from the other side of the tavern.
“It's starting!”
“Hurry up, hurry up!”
Someone let out a whistle.
Ryan looked up.
The small stage at the far end of the tavern lit up.
So there was a performance tonight.
This was quite common in this era. Fairly decent taverns would often hire traveling artists, magicians, or singing girls on weekends to attract customers and encourage them to buy more drinks.
Soon, a violinist in a red vest took the stage, followed by an old man playing the accordion.
The two began to play a typical Victorian tavern tune. The rhythm was lively, and many patrons immediately began tapping their tables to the beat.
Simon leaned back in his chair and smiled. “We're in luck. There's actually a show tonight.”
Before long, a man in a top hat took the stage to perform magic tricks.
Cards, coins, and the classic trick of pulling a dove from a hat.
The crowd below cheered and heckled, and some even started placing bets on what his next move would be.
The atmosphere in the tavern grew warmer and livelier, and even the owner stood behind the bar with a chuckle, enjoying the spectacle.
At first, Ryan only watched casually.
But then, a woman stepped onto the small stage.
She wore a deep-red gown with a brooch pinned to her chest, holding a goblet in her hand. She looked like a resident singer.
As soon as she took the stage, the tavern grew noticeably quieter.
Then, she began to sing.
Her voice wasn't exceptionally beautiful, but it was very soft.
Ryan had been listening casually, but for some reason, the moment the woman raised her glass, he felt a sharp, sudden sting in his eyes.
In the next second, the world seemed to sway gently.
The lights in the tavern suddenly grew hazy, and the silhouettes of the crowd began to blur.
And the goblet in the woman's hand—
—slowly began to glow.
It wasn't a physical light.
But a translucent, amber glow.
The light was very soft, even carrying a certain relaxing sensation.
Like warm wine.
Like a feast.
Like intoxication.
Like “satisfaction.”
Ryan's breath hitched slightly.
At the same time, in his vision, faint, flowing colors seemed to appear throughout the tavern.
The glasses raised by the patrons, the ale on the tables, the drunkenness in the air, and even the emotions of the laughing crowd all flowed slowly like some kind of liquid.
They were converging toward the woman on the stage.
No.
More accurately—
They were responding to her.
A word suddenly surfaced in Ryan's mind.
“Grail.”
The moment this thought appeared, the amber glow in his eyes suddenly brightened.
The woman on the stage paused slightly in her movements. As if sensing something, she subconsciously glanced in Ryan's direction.
At the same time, Ryan suddenly felt the surrounding air grow thick and viscous.
Faint whispers began to echo in his ears.
It sounded like many people chuckling over their wine glasses, and like the sound of liquid sliding down a throat.
His pupils contracted slightly as he instinctively continued to focus his attention.
In the next second, someone gave him a hard kick under the table.
Ryan snapped back to his senses.
Simon was sitting across from him, still wearing his usual casual smile, but his eyes had completely changed.
He didn't speak, but merely made a very subtle gesture.
He placed a finger to his lips.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he raised his glass again.
Ryan's heart sank instantly.
He immediately realized that he had likely lost control just now, so he quickly lowered his head and forced his gaze away.
Only then did the stinging sensation in his eyes begin to fade.
The woman on the stage resumed her singing.
The clamor of the tavern returned to normal.
But a cold sweat had already broken out across Ryan's back.
The performances on the stage lasted for a long time.
Afterward, others went up to sing, and a drunken fat man was egged on to perform a comical tap dance, drawing roars of laughter from the entire tavern.
The atmosphere grew hotter and hotter.
The clinking of glasses, laughter, and the sound of the piano blended together, wrapping the entire White Oak in a warm, drunken haze.
But Ryan could no longer relax as he had before.
His mind was entirely consumed by the scene from earlier.
That amber glow.
The “Grail.”
And Simon's warning gesture.
He lowered his head and took a sip of his drink.
The cold liquid slid down his throat, finally clearing his head a little.
Meanwhile, Simon acted as though nothing had happened, continuing to chat with the people next to him and even tapping his hands on the table to the music.
Just then, a burst of applause erupted in the tavern.
The woman in the deep-red gown had finished her last song.
She lifted her skirt slightly and curtsied to the surrounding patrons.
Many whistled, and others banged on the tables, cheering:
“Another one!”
“Winona! You're in great form tonight!”
The woman merely smiled, then slowly stepped down from the side of the stage.
Ryan assumed she would head backstage.
But in the next second, he suddenly realized—
—she was walking right toward them.
And her target was unmistakable.
The surrounding tables clearly noticed this as well.
Someone immediately laughed.
“Ooh—”
“The new kid's in luck.”
“Hahaha.”
Simon raised an eyebrow, silently picking up his glass and leaning back slightly.
But Ryan's muscles tensed in an instant.
Because as the woman drew closer, the world in his eyes began to shift slightly once more.
The silver brooch on her chest flowed with an extremely faint amber color under the lights.
Like a cup filled to the brim with liquid.
And it was even clearer than before.
Rate on N.U.
