Disguise

Make the eyebrows thinner, the nose flatter, and the eyes wider apart.

Ugh, that looks like someone with a cognitive impairment. Walker doesn't look like that.

Try again. Try again.

Using Karina's Exquisite Makeup for the first time, Lynch discovered that it felt like molding a face in a game. The problem was that the characters he used to create in games were always so hideous they could be used as mental weapons, no less terrifying than the whispers from the Dreamlands. He hadn't expected to subject himself to such self-torture again in this other world.

After spending half an hour molding his face in the mirror, he had made Miss Valente—a perfectly gentle and virtuous young noble lady—laugh until she collapsed on the ground several times. She was still leaning against a streetlamp, clutching her chest and gasping for air, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Tsk, if you weren't carrying that folding fan, you would be in danger, you know.

Their eyes met, then quickly darted away. Perhaps it was the heat of the night, but both of their faces were flushed. Lynch hurriedly held up the mirror, and this time, under Miss Valente's guidance, he finally managed to shape it into a human face that looked about seventy or eighty percent like Walker.

Just then, the old butler Louis returned with the carriage, having retrieved the Ranger uniform from the apartment for Lynch. Once the full uniform was on and the top hat was added, it was difficult to tell the real from the fake in the dim light.

It was just that after getting used to the bespoke garments of Master Christian over the past few days, this standard-issue suit felt wrinkled and uncomfortable everywhere.

Indeed, luxury and indulgence are the root of all evil. They have ruined me.

However, I have always been a person with a spirit of sacrifice. I am willing to bear the original sins of the world; let these trials of evil come at me. I fear nothing.

【Really?】

Be serious. We are preparing for battle.

"Ahem, good evening, respected Miss Valente. Ranger Walker is at your service."

He tried his best to make his voice deep, more like the Walker he remembered. Lynch didn't actually have much confidence, but as he said, who knows if it will work without trying? What if those people are all blind?

Steeling himself, Lynch bowed slightly to Miss Valente. The noble lady bit her lip and looked at him deeply. She pointed to the ground, signaling that she would stay right there to provide support, before lifting her skirt, curtsying slightly, and watching Lynch turn and leave while swinging his cane.

The sea breeze on the June night was still a bit chilly. Lynch tightened his coat and walked quickly toward the dock.

It was late, and while the brightly lit dock was no longer as bustling as it was during the day, it remained busy. As the largest port in southern Lande, its daily throughput was staggering. From time to time, ocean-going freighters, guided by the Twin Towers, would pull thick black smoke into the port, keeping the air filled with the smell of coal smoke and the faces of the workers and merchants on the dock radiant with the smiles of a good harvest.

In such an environment, a carriage parked on the dock would not attract attention, and a gentleman in formal attire walking over was equally normal. Lynch dodged a few burly men rushing by with cargo and slowly approached the Ranger carriage.

There was no one keeping watch outside the carriage, not even a driver. Only a pack horse was harnessed to the carriage, snorting and looking lazily at the dock workers passing by from time to time.

It's fine. I'm disguised very well. They are all blind; they won't be able to tell.

Lynch encouraged himself repeatedly in his heart, walked quickly to the carriage door, and raised his hand to knock...

Before he even touched the door, a voice suddenly came from inside, and the door began to move.

Holy shit, that voice...

The moment he heard the voice, Lynch's pupils contracted sharply. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his muscles tensed, and he reflexively used Concealment to hide his figure while leaping into the air, landing silently on the roof of the carriage.

The next moment, the carriage door opened, and someone jumped out.

Ranger, Walker.

"Hm? What was that?"

As soon as Walker landed, he looked left and right quickly. Finding no one around, he shook his cane with a puzzled expression:

"I thought I saw something fly past. Did I drink too much?"

Only then did Lynch, on the roof, feel his heart resume its frantic beating, cold sweat already soaking his back.

Damn it, that was close. Just one step away, and I almost got caught on the spot.

Lynch's mind was racing. Below, Walker had already withdrawn his gaze, stretched forcefully, and then turned to speak to the interior of the carriage:

"I'm going to the seaside to get some air. Roben, keep watch. If you really feel like throwing up, do it under that tree over there, but don't wander too far from the carriage. Your tolerance is poor, kid. You only had a few sips to stay awake, and you can't even sit straight anymore. You need to practice more in the future."

"Yes, sir."

A slurred, indistinct response came from the carriage. Walker, in his Ranger uniform, curled his lip, closed the carriage door, flexed his shoulders, and walked north toward the seaside.

Phew, that was lucky. Hell, why is this guy here? It's the middle of the night; do you think you're an agency leader working the night shift?

It seems he actually is an agency leader.

No, I was stupid. With such an important matter, it would be abnormal if he weren't here. I should have thought of that in advance.

The problem is, what do I do now? Is my plan going to fail before it even starts?

Lying on the roof of the carriage and rubbing his chin, Lynch's eyes suddenly darted around. After thinking seriously for a moment, he looked up to confirm that Walker had walked far away, then rolled over and jumped off the roof.

He pulled open the carriage door and walked in with a straight face.

The carriage was filled with the aroma of food. A large bag of fish and chips was spread out in the middle of the seats, with half a bottle of tequila nearby. It was high-proof liquor, which made Lynch's mouth twitch.

On the other side was a young Soul Severer, at most rank one, looking immature and even younger than Lynch.

The young man was reeking of alcohol, leaning drowsily against the chair, and said with slurred speech: "Good evening, sir. You're back so soon?"

"That's why I said you need to practice more, kid. From now on, drink at least one bottle every day. I'll check in two months."

Even when facing a drunk, Lynch tried hard to recall Walker's choice of words and tone, saying solemnly:

"I'm worried about you throwing up in the carriage. Can anyone even sit in here later? How am I supposed to wait? Look at how drunk you are now. Get your ass home and sleep. Write a self-reflection and hand it to me tomorrow. It better be thorough."

"Sir, no, there's no need, I'll be fine in a moment..."

"Cut the crap. That's an order. The way you are now, you're just a liability if you stay. Besides, there's no danger here for a while. Even if there were, do you think you could handle it for me? Go, get home. Remember, this is an order. I don't want to say it a second time."

"Yes, yes, yes."

Hearing the stern reprimand from his superior, the young Roben felt warm inside. He jumped up, saluted, and stumbled out of the carriage toward the exit of the dock.

He had seen plenty of drunks, and no one paid any attention to this extra one. Seeing the kid really leave, Lynch immediately slapped his left and right hands together in celebration, quickly moved to the young man's seat, adjusted his uniform wrinkles to match the young man's from memory, sprinkled a bit of the liquor on himself, and then pulled out the mirror to start molding his face again.

This time, of course, it was the young man, Roben.

It's a bit abstract. Whatever, it's good enough. This thing is really annoying to use.

While complaining, he adjusted his appearance. Just as he had made it look somewhat similar, the carriage door was suddenly pushed open violently.

"Si, sir, I, I really didn't ask to go home early..."

For a moment, inside and outside the carriage, two Robens stared at each other. The air seemed to suffocate.

"Ah, so I'm still in the carriage. I must be dreaming. Looks like I really need to go back and sleep for a while."

Muttering to himself, the young man turned and left, swaying until he disappeared completely outside the port.

Holy shit, you scared me to death. Drunks are so annoying.

Lynch was stunned, his mouth wide open for a long time before he realized what happened. He quickly closed the carriage door and held up the mirror to continue adjusting his appearance.

It's barely fifty or sixty percent similar. That'll do; isn't it normal for a drunk to look like anything?

Having barely finished the disguise, Lynch had just put away the mirror and slumped into the seat when the carriage door was pushed open again.

Ranger Captain Walker was standing at the door, scrutinizing the carriage.