Lord of Mysteries:The Good Witch

After making her decision, Angel felt her gloomy mood from the morning begin to lift. Even the unkempt worker on the public carriage seemed more tolerable, though she would have found him even more agreeable if he didn't charge a fare.

"Daffodil Street," she announced her destination, handing three copper pennies to the fare collector before finding a corner seat in the carriage.

She was riding a trackless public carriage pulled by two horses, which could seat about twenty people including those on the roof.

It was nearly noon, and while the flow of passengers wasn't as heavy as in the evening, Zotlan Street, being one of the busiest in Tingen, still had many people heading home for lunch. After Angel boarded, three more passengers entered the carriage, with latecomers having to sit on the roof. By the time the carriage slowly started moving, there were no empty seats inside.

The advantage of a full carriage was that it wouldn't stop for new passengers until someone got off. The worker had hung a red cloth by the door, indicating "exit only."

The downside was the crowded interior, with passengers pressed against each other, swaying with each turn. The sweltering summer heat added to the strange odor permeating the carriage.

The unpleasant conditions made Angel consider the feasibility of taking a hired carriage, but a quick calculation of the cost quickly dispelled that notion. A two-wheeled hired carriage cost four times as much per kilometer as the public carriage. Even just one round trip between Zotlan Street and Daffodil Street daily would cost over 10 soli per week. Although her weekly salary would increase to 6 pounds once she became an official Nighthawks, such transportation costs would still be too much to bear.

She decided to treat it like riding a bus, enduring the crowded conditions...

Angel shifted closer to the corner, nearer to the window for fresh air. She glanced at the seat opposite, where another passenger wore a resigned expression due to the cramped space. He had a likable round face and appeared to have just come of age. Noticing Angel's gaze, the round-faced boy looked up, offering a shy smile before being jostled by another passenger as the carriage turned a corner.

At least the low roof of the public carriage prevented the sale of standing tickets, or it would have been twice as crowded, Angel thought to herself.

The atmosphere in the carriage only eased when several passengers disembarked at Iron Cross Street. The round-faced young man also got off there. As Angel watched him leave, she felt a strange sense of familiarity.

Where had she seen him before? Angel tried to recall her recent experiences but couldn't place him.

She watched through the window as the round-faced man boarded another public carriage heading towards the dock area, then turned her attention away, no longer dwelling on it.

After a quick lunch at the Silver Crown Restaurant on Daffodil Street, Angel returned home. As she hung her coat on the rack by the door, she realized her underclothes were damp with sweat.

"I used to mock those Nighthawks gentlemen for prioritizing style over comfort, wearing formal attire in this heat..." Angel chuckled self-deprecatingly, "And now I'm doing the same..."

To conceal her face, altered by the "Witch" potion, and her figure that made even other women like Rozanne envious, Angel now went out wrapped in a coat, even wearing a hood in crowded places.

Although Tingen City was at a relatively high latitude, it was now July, and the afternoon sun could still be stifling. Angel's solution to this was simple—to go out as little as possible.

In the bathroom, she removed her clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket. She tied up her smooth golden hair and took a cold shower.

Having lived in this body for nearly two weeks, Angel was no longer as awkward as she had been at first, when she had to shower with her eyes closed, fumbling around. Looking at the perfect female form in the full-length mirror, her initial shyness had completely disappeared, making her marvel at the human capacity for adaptation.

However, she still couldn't indulge in her favorite leisure activity from her previous life—taking a bath. Standing for a ten-minute shower was one thing, but lying in a bathtub for half an hour was quite another.

Averting her gaze from below her neck, she dried herself with a towel and changed into a light, comfortable dress for indoor wear. She then went to her desk in the study.

Before starting the afternoon's Tarot gathering, Angel had an important task to complete—forging Roselle Emperor's diary.

"Forging" wasn't quite accurate, as the diary's content was genuine. She planned to "expand" a portion, turning three pages into four.

This wasn't about altering the diary's content—something impossible for someone who didn't understand Chinese at all.

The batch of diary entries she had seen at Old Neil's seemed to have been transcribed by different people. The font sizes of the three pages varied, with two pages having wider spacing and larger characters, while the third page had delicate handwriting with a much higher text density.

Of course, to the uninformed, these mysterious "Roselle symbols" might seem to convey specific meanings even in their different sizes, much like how in mysticism, a palm-sized holy symbol was believed to be more potent than one the size of a fingernail.

But knowing that this was simply a script from the transmigrator Roselle Emperor's homeland, Angel realized that the text size depended solely on the skill of the initial transcribers. The diary's owner certainly wouldn't have used different font sizes to record his thoughts.

This gave her room for "forgery."

She planned to retranscribe the three pages of Roselle's diary she remembered, rewriting the page with higher information density using the text size of the other two pages. This would allow her to squeeze out an additional page of content.

Mr. "Fool" had only specified that each person should submit two pages of the diary, without mentioning word count or line numbers. This gave Angel the confidence to proceed with her plan. After all, most of the diary entries circulating in the world were repeatedly transcribed and reprinted copies. The amount of content wasn't something the Tarot Club members searching for the diary could control, and the "Fool" wouldn't punish them for it.

Perhaps Hanged Man and Justice have even less content than I do, Angel thought, soothing her slightly aching conscience.

Picking up a pencil, she began recreating the square characters from her memory onto white paper. After adjusting the text size several times, she successfully transformed Old Neil's three pages of diary into four, although the last page only contained about three-quarters of content, it could still be considered a page.

If I weren't a beyonder with memory far surpassing ordinary people, I really couldn't remember so many unfamiliar characters...

Angel mused, looking at the crooked Chinese characters she had written.

Since she didn't recognize these characters, she had essentially "drawn" the four pages of content.

After rechecking to ensure there were no discrepancies with her memory, she finally put down the pencil with a sigh of relief.

This completed the task assigned by the "Fool," and even exceeded it—he had asked for two pages of diary, but she now had four!

Of course, Angel didn't plan to submit all of it at once. She decided to wait and see how the other two members had fared before deciding whether to submit part or all of it. After all, opportunities to find diary entries were rare, and it would be best to keep a page or two for the next knowledge exchange.

As the pocket watch hanging on the bookshelf struck three in the afternoon, familiar deep red light surged around Angel.

As the crimson faded and smoke rose, Angel instantly appeared in the Tarot Club's meeting place, just as she had in the previous two gatherings.

The relative positions of the participants remained unchanged. To her left was still Miss "Justice," opposite sat Mr. "Hanged Man," and at the head of the long table to her right, the initiator of the meeting, Mr. "Fool," was shrouded in even denser gray fog than before, making his figure almost indiscernible.

His power has increased again... or perhaps recovered? Angel speculated.

Unconsciously, she had begun to refer to the "Fool" with the title used for deities.

As usual, Justice was the first to greet everyone, including the Fool. Everyone politely returned the greeting, and in this friendly atmosphere, the third "Tarot Club" meeting began.

"Congratulations, Miss Justice, you have become a beyonder," the Fool first congratulated Justice. He seemed to have a way of discerning whether someone was a beyonder.

Angel turned to Justice on her left in surprise.

Didn't she just get the "Spectator" potion formula from Hanged Man last week? In just seven days, she had collected all the materials, successfully concocted the potion, and become a "Spectator"?

It's worth noting that the main ingredients for all potions are truly extraordinary materials. Not only are they expensive, but they also rarely appear in ordinary markets. Official churches might store some for their members' advancement, but if ordinary people obtained these materials, they would either use them quickly or sell them for pounds sterling. It was rare to keep such precious materials on hand.

Recalling how easily Justice had helped Hanged Man find the extraordinary material he needed—100 milliliters of "Ghost Shark blood"—Angel realized she had underestimated this unworldly young woman.

She resisted the urge to activate her Spirit Vision to observe Miss Justice.

Even outside this gray fog space, Spirit Vision could only detect the power overflowing from someone who had just consumed a potion. Moreover, casually activating Spirit Vision was a major taboo for beyonders, especially with a mysterious entity like the "Fool" present. One careless glance at something she shouldn't see could result in immediate loss of control.

"Thank you, Mr. Fool, and Mr. Hanged Man, the potion formula you provided was accurate," Justice replied.

"Faster than I expected," Hanged Man commented calmly. "As expected, ordinary materials are not a problem for you."

"I had a lot of help from friends," Miss Justice answered modestly.

Is this friend you're talking about called pounds sterling? Angel thought to herself.

"Empress, thank you also for your suggestion last week about establishing a civil service exam to select long-term civil servants. The method has gained approval from several members of parliament, although with the efficiency of the kingdom's government, these proposals may not become policy for another six months," Justice turned to Angel, nodding slightly as she spoke, her words filled with joy.

What? Approval from parliament members? Government policy? Weren't we just discussing politics last week? Wasn't that your university assignment? Angel's eyes widened, momentarily forgetting to respond.

At this moment, a light tapping sound came from the head of the long table. Everyone turned to look as Mr. "Fool" withdrew his right hand from the edge of the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen, have you found Roselle's diary?" he asked.