Disguise

“Make the eyebrows a bit thinner, the nose a bit flatter, and the eyes a bit wider apart.”

Uh, this looks like someone with intellectual difficulties. Walker doesn't look like this, does he?

Start over, start over.

Using Karina's Exquisite Makeup for the first time, Lynch discovered that operating this thing was just like character customization in a video game. The problem was that his past creations in games had always been terrifying enough to serve as psychological weapons, no less horrific than the whispers from the Dreamlands. He hadn't expected that he would have to torture himself like this again in another world.

In the end, he spent half an hour in front of the mirror, causing Miss Valente, a perfectly gentle and elegant noble lady, to collapse onto the ground laughing several times. Even now, she was leaning against a lamppost, clutching her chest and panting continuously, her chest rising and falling dramatically.

Tsk. If you weren't carrying that broken fan of yours, you'd be in serious trouble, you know?

Their eyes met and quickly darted away. Perhaps the weather was a bit warm, as both of their faces were slightly flushed. Lynch hurriedly picked up the mirror. This time, under Miss Valente's guidance, he finally sculpted a human face, one that was seventy to eighty percent similar to Walker's.

Just then, the old steward Louis returned with the carriage. He had retrieved the Rangers' uniform from Lynch's apartment. Once Lynch put on the full uniform and donned his top hat, it became incredibly difficult to tell the difference in the dim light.

However, having grown accustomed to Master Christian's designer wear over the past few days, changing back into this standard-issue suit made him feel like it was wrinkled and ill-fitting all over.

Indeed, luxury and indulgence are the roots of all evil. They've corrupted me.

But then again, I have always possessed a self-sacrificing spirit. I am willing to bear the original sins of the world. Let these sinful trials come at me; I am fearless.

【Really?】

Be serious. We're preparing for battle.

“Ahem. Good evening, respected Miss Valente. Ranger Walker is at your service.”

Lynch tried to lower his voice to match his memory of Walker's tone. In truth, he wasn't entirely confident, but as he had said, who knew if it would work without trying? What if all those people were just blind?

Composing himself, Lynch bowed slightly to Miss Valente. The noble lady bit her lip and gave him a deep look. She pointed to the ground beneath her feet, indicating she would remain there to provide support. Then, she lifted her skirt slightly and curtsied, watching Lynch swing his cane as he turned and walked away.

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

It was close to midnight, and though the brightly lit docks were no longer as bustling as they were during the day, they were still busy. As the largest port in southern Lande, its daily throughput was astonishing. From time to time, ocean-going freighters, guided by the twin towers, steamed into the harbor trailing thick black smoke. This kept the air perpetually thick with the smell of coal smoke, but it also put smiles of harvest on the faces of the dockworkers and merchants.

In such an environment, a carriage parked on the docks would not attract any attention, and a gentleman in formal wear walking by was just as normal. Lynch avoided a few burly men sprinting with cargo on their shoulders and slowly approached the Rangers' carriage.

There was no sentry outside the carriage, not even a driver. Only a pack horse harnessed to the carriage was snorting, lazily watching the occasional dockworkers pass by.

It's fine. My disguise is perfect. They're all blind anyway; they won't notice.

Lynch repeatedly encouraged himself in his mind as he walked quickly to the carriage door and raised his hand to knock...

Before he could even touch the door, a voice suddenly came from inside, and the door began to swing open.

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, and his muscles tensed. Reflexively, he used Lurking to conceal his figure while leaping into the air, soundlessly rolling onto the roof of the carriage.

The next moment, the carriage door opened, and a man jumped down.

The Ranger, Walker.

“Huh? What was that?”

The moment Walker landed, he quickly scanned his surroundings. Finding no one, he shook his cane with a look of confusion.

“It felt like I saw something fly past. Have I had too much to drink as well?”

Only then did Lynch, lying on the roof, feel his heart pounding wildly. Cold sweat had already drenched his back.

Damn, that was close. Just one step away, and I would've been caught red-handed.

While Lynch's mind raced, Walker withdrew his searching gaze and stretched lazily. He then turned back to speak to the inside of the carriage:

“I'm going to the seaside to get some fresh air. Roben, keep watch. If you really need to throw up, do it under that tree over there, but don't wander too far from the carriage. You can't hold your liquor, kid. We only had a few sips to stay awake, and you can barely sit straight. You need to practice more in the future.”

“Yes, Commander.”

An incoherent response came from inside the carriage. Walker, clad in his Ranger uniform, curled his lip, shut the door, rolled his shoulders, and began walking toward the northern shore.

Whew, talk about luck. Damn it, why is this guy here? It's the middle of the night, and he's not sleeping. Does he think he's some government boss pulling a night shift?

Actually, he literally is a government boss.

No, I was stupid. For something this important, it would be stranger if he wasn't here. I should have anticipated this.

But what do I do now? Is my plan going to fail before it even starts?

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

He opened the carriage door and walked straight inside with an air of complete confidence.

The interior of the carriage was filled with the aroma of food. A large package of fish and chips lay open in the middle of the seats, alongside a half-empty bottle of tequila. This was a high-proof liquor, and seeing it made Lynch's mouth twitch.

On the other side sat a young Soul Severer, whose strength was at most rank one. He looked incredibly green, even younger than Lynch.

The young man, smelling strongly of alcohol, leaned dizzily against his seat and slurred, “Hello, Commander. You're back so soon?”

“That's why you need to practice more, kid. From now on, you drink at least one bottle a day. I'll check on your progress in two months.”

Even when facing a drunkard, Lynch still made an effort to recall Walker's choice of words and tone, speaking with absolute gravity:

“I was worried you'd throw up in the carriage. How would anyone sit in here later? How am I supposed to wait? Look at you, absolutely plastered. Get the hell home and go to sleep. Tomorrow, write me a self-reflection report, and it better be thorough.”

“Commander, no, there's no need. I'll be fine in a bit...”

“Cut the crap, that's an order. In your current state, you're just a liability. Besides, there won't be any danger later. Even if there were, do you really think you could handle it for me? Go, get home. Remember, this is an order. I don't want to repeat myself.”

“Yes, yes, sir.”

Hearing his commander's stern but caring scolding, the young Roben felt a warmth in his heart. He jumped up, gave a salute, hopped out of the carriage, and stumbled his way toward the exit of the docks.

The dockworkers had seen plenty of drunks, so no one paid any attention to this extra one. Seeing the kid actually leave, Lynch immediately high-fived himself. He quickly moved to where the young man had been sitting, adjusted the wrinkles on his uniform to match the kid's, grabbed the liquor bottle to splash a bit on himself, and then pulled out his mirror to begin sculpting his face again.

This time, of course, he was copying the young Roben.

A bit abstract. Whatever, close enough is fine. This thing is really a pain to use.

While complaining and adjusting his appearance, just as he managed a passing resemblance, the carriage door was suddenly flung open.

“C-Commander, is it really okay for me to go home early? I won't get in trouble...”

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

“Ah, so I'm still in the carriage. I really am dreaming. Looks like I really need to go back and get some sleep.”

Muttering to himself, the young man turned and walked away, wobbling until he completely vanished past the harbor exit.

Holy shit, that scared the life out of me. Drunkards are so annoying.

Lynch was utterly dumbfounded. He stared with his mouth wide open for a long time before finally snapping out of it. He quickly shut the carriage door, held up the mirror, and continued adjusting his appearance.

It's barely a fifty or sixty percent match, but it'll have to do. Drunkards look weird anyway.

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

Commander Walker of the Rangers stood at the entrance, his eyes scanning the carriage with a scrutinizing gaze.