The woman finally stopped by the table, looking down at Ryan.
She was very close, and a faint fragrance drifted from her.
It wasn't cheap perfume, but more like a scent of wine mixed with floral notes.
“It's my first time seeing you,” she said softly. “Are you new?”
Someone nearby immediately began banging on the table.
“Haha! Speak up!”
“Don't play dead!”
“Hahaha—”
Ryan forced himself to remain calm.
“Yes, it's my first time here.”
The woman nodded gently, then naturally sat in the empty seat next to him.
The moment she sat down, Ryan could feel the “drunkenness” in the surrounding air grow slightly thicker.
Simon suddenly chimed in with a laugh, “Winona, don't scare the newcomer.”
“Do I look like I eat people?” The woman smiled, then reached over and picked up an empty goblet. “Buy me a drink?”
The surrounding crowd immediately began to jeer.
“Buy her one, Ryan!”
“What are you hesitating for?”
“Hahaha—”
Ryan fell silent for two seconds before nodding to the waiter.
“Another drink, please.”
“Right away, sir.”
The woman tilted her head to look at him.
Under the lights, her eyes had a strange, moist quality, unlike ordinary drunkenness.
She gently swirled her goblet.
“You're quite nice,” she said.
As she spoke, her finger slowly traced the rim of the glass, and a faint ring of amber light rippled out with the movement.
Ryan could even feel his mind being gently tugged by something.
Very gently.
Like someone whispering in his ear:
Relax a little.
Drink a little more.
Stay here.
Don't think.
The sensation sent a slight chill down his spine.
Because this was no longer ordinary charm; it was a certain aspect.
Just then, Simon suddenly smiled and pushed a plate of fried potatoes over.
The movement was very casual.
But his leg kicked Ryan hard under the table.
Ryan snapped out of it instantly.
Simon still had a smile on his face, even chatting with the people next to him, but Ryan knew he was warning him.
Don't keep looking.
So Ryan immediately lowered his head, picked up his glass, and forced himself to look away.
Sure enough, that strange tugging sensation gradually weakened.
Winona watched him quietly for two seconds, then suddenly smiled.
“You're very interesting.”
After she said this, the atmosphere slowly returned to normal.
Winona didn't lean in too close anymore. She just casually chatted about ordinary topics, like whether the archive was tiring, how the East End was getting colder lately, and how the tavern had recently switched to a new wine merchant.
She always spoke with a faint, elusive smile, making it hard to tell whether she was truly being casual or doing it on purpose.
Ryan remained restrained throughout. He didn't seem too cold, but he didn't delve into deep conversation either, mostly just listening quietly.
The performances in the tavern lasted until past nine in the evening.
Later on, a few drunken couples even started dancing.
An old-fashioned phonograph played a somewhat scratchy dance tune.
Gas lamps illuminated the entire hall in a warm yellow glow.
Simon and the others had also had quite a bit to drink.
Someone had already started slurring their words while boasting, and two clerks were arguing over which auditor was the most annoying.
Winona was later called away by another table.
Before leaving, she raised her glass slightly toward Ryan.
“See you next time.”
Ryan merely nodded, saying nothing more.
For some reason, he felt that the woman's final look was a bit strange.
Like she was confirming something.
After another while, Simon finally stood up.
“Alright. It's about time to wrap things up,” he said, walking over to the counter to pay the bill.
A place like the White Oak wasn't cheap.
With so many people tonight, plus the drinks and food, it had clearly cost quite a bit.
However, Simon didn't show any sign of distress over the money, even sharing a laugh and a few words with the owner.
It was obvious that he was doing quite well among the formal clerks.
Economically, at least, he was much better off than those in the basement.
By the time everyone left the tavern, night had completely fallen outside.
The streets of the East End were cast in a dim yellow by the gas lamps, and the air carried the damp, cold fog of late autumn.
The group split up one by one at the intersection.
Some headed back to the docks.
Others walked toward Apartment Street.
Before leaving, Simon patted Ryan on the shoulder.
“Don't lock yourself in your room every day. Coming out for a drink once in a while keeps you from going mad.”
He smiled after saying this, then turned and left.
Soon, Ryan was the only one left on the street.
Much of his drunkenness was blown away by the cold wind.
He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked slowly toward his lodging.
The street was already much quieter.
There was only the occasional sound of a passing carriage and the faint, distant shouting of a drunkard.
The gas lamps appeared blurry and dim in the fog.
Ryan was just walking back normally, but before long, he suddenly frowned slightly.
A very strange feeling.
Like someone was watching him from behind.
It wasn't the sound of footsteps.
But rather... a feeling of being watched.
Ever since coming into contact with The Glory, his intuition had grown increasingly sharp.
Especially in the past few days, this feeling had saved him more than once.
Ryan didn't stop. He continued walking forward at a normal pace, only slowly scanning his surroundings with his peripheral vision.
There was no one on the street.
Behind him, there was only a drunken vagrant leaning against a corner.
Further away, a carriage passed by.
Other than that, there was nothing.
Yet that feeling persisted, growing more and more distinct.
Ryan's heart slowly sank.
Instead of returning to his apartment immediately, he suddenly turned at the next intersection into another street, then looped around twice, intentionally cutting through several complex alleys.
If someone were just passing by, it would be impossible for them to keep up with such a route.
Yet that faint, elusive sense of being watched still didn't disappear.
Ryan's gaze began to turn cold, bit by bit.
Finally, he suddenly turned into a secluded, narrow alley.
This place was far from the main street. There were no gas lamps nearby, only a faint, blurry light in the distance.
The alley was piled with wooden crates and trash, so quiet that only the sound of dripping water could be heard.
Ryan slowly stopped his pace, then turned around.
There was nothing in the darkness.
But a few seconds later, a very soft sound of footsteps suddenly came from the entrance of the alley.
There was more than one set of footsteps, and they were messy, like drunkards intentionally keeping their steps quiet as they walked.
Ryan stood in the middle of the alley, motionless.
A few seconds later, three figures slowly emerged from the shadows at the alley's entrance.
The one in front was a tall, sturdy man wearing old work clothes. His face was a bit flushed, clearly having had quite a lot to drink.
The two behind him were one tall and thin, and one short and stout.
All of them were patrons he had seen in the White Oak.
Ryan recognized them.
Just moments ago, they had been sitting on the other side, joining in on the jeering.
After the sturdy man stopped, he stared at Ryan for a few seconds, then grinned.
“You sure can run.”
His voice carried a distinct reek of alcohol.
Ryan didn't reply, only quietly observing them.
In the next second, he suddenly noticed—
Around the necks of those three, a very faint amber color was subtly floating, like wine.
Their eyes, in particular, were already somewhat abnormal.
Their pupils were dilated.
Yet their emotions were exceptionally excited.
As if being continuously driven by something.
Ryan's heart instantly sank.
Grail.
It was that feeling again.
That woman named Winona had left something on them.
Or rather...
She had simply given them a “push.”
Rate on N.U.
