Just as he stepped onto the deck, before he could enter the cabin, Klein caught a glimpse of a figure weaving through the crowd and heading toward him out of the corner of his eye.
He appeared unconcerned on the surface, but internally alert, he turned his head to look. He found it was a man in his early thirties wearing a half-top hat and a long trench coat of the same color.
The man had a face weathered by wind and frost—rugged but very masculine. His light blue eyes held no trace of a smile, as if they harbored many untold stories.
A bit familiar... Right, that guy I ran into at the ticketing company yesterday. He seemed like an adventurer too... Out in January on the sea, and he's wearing a trench coat. Pretty tough... Klein casually raised his cane, pointed it diagonally downward, and said, smiling,
"Good morning. We meet again."
He spoke as if greeting an old friend.
The rugged man didn't seem surprised. He stopped and nodded slightly with restraint. "Creaves, former adventurer.
"Buddy, are you a fellow?"
"I thought you knew that yesterday, Gehrman Sparrow." Klein replied with a smile.
He didn't pass his cane to his left hand, as he didn't intend to shake hands with him.
"I could tell." Creaves was silent for a few seconds. "Adventuring isn't a pleasant career. I've switched fields and become a bodyguard. This time, I'm accompanying my employer's family to the capital of the
He half-turned his body and pointed to another spot on the deck.
Klein followed his gaze and saw nearly a dozen people gathered together. The leader was a middle-aged gentleman who was getting plump, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. A gold watch chain and a jeweled lapel pin could be seen on his double-breasted frock coat.
Beside him was a lady in a wide-brimmed hat. Her face was completely hidden by a hanging deep blue fine veil, and her figure was still rather well-maintained.
In front of them stood two children, one small and one large. The smaller one was a boy under ten, dressed in a child's tailcoat suit. The older one was a lively girl of fifteen or sixteen. Her features weren't exceptionally outstanding, but her brown eyes were quite nimble. Light freckles and a loosely ruffled skirt added a touch of playfulness to her.
Around them were three people carrying luggage and various items—one man and two women, all dressed as servants. One of the maids had reddish-brown skin, a clear marker of someone from the Southern Continent.
Protecting these seven were a man and a woman, dressed simply and sharply, all in white shirts, light sweaters, black coats, dark pants, and sturdy leather boots.
These two bodyguards made no effort to conceal the bulges of the gun holsters at their waists. They scrutinized the passersby without any relaxation, their gazes sharp and their demeanor steady.
"Three servants and three bodyguards?" Klein asked casually.
This setup was pretty luxurious, it meant the employer was rich... he instinctively judged.
"Yeah." Creaves nodded.
He didn't say much more, quickly turned, and walked back to the employer's family.
... Klein stood there dumbfounded, wondering what it meant for the guy to come over specifically and say hello.
Recalling the novels, movies, and TV shows from his past life, he gradually understood Creaves' unspoken meaning.
He's wary of me, or rather, someone who claims to be an adventurer and doesn't look easy to mess with. So he introduced himself in advance, clearly stating his identity and what he was going to do, telling me not to get any ideas about his employer. Simply put, you do your thing, I'll do mine, mutual non-aggression... Is this the tacit understanding between seasoned adventurers or veteran bounty hunters? Interesting... Klein chuckled softly. He picked up his suitcase, took his black cane, entered the cabin, and found his room based on his ticket.
With a creak, he pushed open the wooden door and walked in.
The room wasn't spacious, barely fitting a bed, a table, and a wardrobe, not even a chair.
Its greatest advantage was having a window. The sunlight from the harbor streamed in, scattering pure golden spots on the table and the edge of the bed.
"The sailor earlier said the washroom and bathroom are shared, roughly one per eight rooms. If you're really in a rush, wooden chamber pots can be provided, but you have to pay a cleaning fee, 3 pence each time... I have to be grateful that the White Agate has been remodeled, fitted with a lot of metal pipes, and has a boiler burning to supply hot water, providing a relatively convenient lifestyle. Otherwise, the journey wouldn't be a pleasant experience..." Klein silently voiced a few observations.
He quickly took out the necessary items and placed them on the table for easy daily use.
After tidying up, he sat on the edge of the low bed, listening to the long, drawn-out wail of the steam horn, feeling the power of steam and machinery contained within.
The ship began to sail. Klein looked at the seascape outside the window for a while, then gradually withdrew his thoughts and began considering the most important next matter—the issue of how to act as a "Faceless."
When facing the
'You can pretend to be anyone, but you can only be yourself.' This was the maxim Marionettist
After a while, he gradually had a line of thought:
Is this related to one's own Spirit, referring to the truest inner self?
Even when on Earth,
Hmm... When I become someone else's appearance and take over their identity, to avoid being discovered, I too have to put on the disguise of interpersonal relationships, effectively wearing different personality masks.
When all the personality masks are removed, without any remnants left, what kind of 'self' will the 'Faceless' ultimately see?
Is this the deeper meaning of 'self' in that rule?
When I face my inner thoughts, overcome my fears, and don't challenge the impossible just because of social reasons, am I truly being myself?