Chapter Four: Aha, Don’t Contact Me Anymore—I’m Afraid the Goddess Might Misunderstand

In this kind of era, making money is still pretty easy, Selrith thought as he walked, while gently tapping his right wrist. A translucent light screen appeared before his eyes, an ether editing technique from Punkland.

When he passed a kebab stall, he pointed a finger at the vendor's cash box. Currency data surfaced on the screen. With another light tap on the "print" command, stacks of pennies and shillings were printed into his hands, then casually stuffed into the obedient, reformed body of the barrel boy.

For this world, that technique was unquestionably a dimensional blow. And the locals had no countermeasure against it.

"Won't you throw the whole currency system out of balance if you keep doing that?"
"Not really," Selrith explained. "Unless I churn out tens of millions of pounds at once, this little bit of money won't make much of a ripple across all of Loen."

"Come to think of it, with so many Beyonders around, how does the monetary system stay balanced? Surely there are ways to handcraft gold pounds?"
"Because middle and lower sequences can't do it, and higher sequences don't need to. Besides, most banknotes created through extraordinary means can't exist for long. Take the historical projections summoned by Sequence One scholars, for instance. Money that can't enter the market obviously won't affect the economy, and that's fundamentally no different from simply stealing or robbing."

Then Selrith casually swiped his hand, and a set of clothes matching the surrounding style replaced his original outfit as if by magic.

He now wore a gray linen shirt under a black long coat, black wide-legged trousers, a beige deerstalker hat, off-white gloves, an emerald brooch pinned to his left lapel, and a black cane edged in silver in his right hand. The barrel boy sat on his shoulder as a decoration. Through the open coat, one could see an orange-red mask hanging at his waist.

Although it was only June, Tingen City lay in the north of the Kingdom of Loen, and the weather had already turned rather cool. There were many people on the streets wearing long coats, so Selrith's attire did not stand out much.

It was the outfit he had worn at the Society of Knowledge, recommended by a researcher there. Unexpectedly, it suited the present environment quite well.

He put away the ether editing interface and turned off his psychological invisibility. A graceful gentleman in the British style appeared silently among the crowd, drawing no one's attention at all.

If one were to name the thing mentioned most often in the original novel, apart from Mister Fool's divine kingdom restroom, it would probably be the gold pound.

On a whim, he wanted to see what magic this precious thing, forever remembered by Mister Fool, actually possessed.

"Today's a bit unlucky," Selrith muttered. He wanted to record the information of a few gold-pound banknotes so he could print them later. But along the way, not a single street vendor or passerby had used gold pounds to pay, which left him scratching his head.

Truth be told, the gold pound itself was not important. Yet for some reason, he just wanted to get a few copies. That inexplicable feeling made him rub his temples.

"Maybe it's because Klein's fondness for gold pounds in the original story affected me," Selrith thought.

Besides money, he also needed a place to stay. He remembered that in the original story, Klein had first lived on Iron Cross Street; perhaps he could go there and ask to stay the night...

Passing the horse-drawn public carriage stop, Selrith saw a man waiting for the bus. The man wore the plainest white robe, had a light blond beard covering half his face, and a row of cross pendants hung on his chest. He was a very ordinary priest, the sort one could see anywhere by the roadside.

Selrith's gaze brushed past the priest and fell on the carriage stop. Recalling the original description of the public carriage, he suddenly felt like giving it a try. The matter of borrowing a place at Klein's house was temporarily forgotten.

"Passengers boarding, please hurry and get on," the conductor on the public carriage said without even looking up as it arrived.

With the help of synesthetic tagging, Selrith easily understood the conductor's words.

"Hmm..." Selrith could not quite remember the place names from the original story.

He did not step forward. In truth, there was no need to experience such a thing; the immediate priority was finding a place to stay, Klein's house...

The priest walked slowly up and boarded, handing over five pennies and nodding to the conductor.

The priest's voice was gentle and warm. "Red Moonlight Street."

"Then I'll go to Red Moonlight Street as well." Now that he had a destination, Selrith no longer hesitated. He did not care where he was going; he simply wanted to experience the public carriage and see how it differed from a bus.

"Red Moonlight Street." He followed the priest onto the carriage.

The language Selrith spoke likewise became Loenese, familiar to the conductor, under the influence of synesthetic tagging. As an ordinary person, he did not realize anything was amiss.

"Five pennies."

...

"It's too bumpy," Selrith frowned as he got off. The barrel boy kept making retching motions, though unfortunately nothing could come up.

Ignoring the barrel boy, he still wanted a gold pound. Perhaps it was the influence of the original novel: after all, Klein had been quite obsessed with them. He very much wanted to see what magic could make the protagonist care about them so much.

Turning a corner, he raised his head and was drawn to the white building before him. An idea rose in his heart: there must be gold pounds inside this place. Anyway, he was only going to copy them, not take them away; that didn't count as theft, and it should not cause any trouble.

"Don't be afraid, brothers, let's strike like kings!"

Saint Selena's Cathedral.

The cathedral had a distinctly Earth-like Gothic style, entirely black in tone. Its front facade was dominated by a tall, weathered bell tower, rising from the enormous central buttress between red-and-blue checkered windows and piercing into the clouds.

Selrith entered the cathedral and walked along the aisle toward the donation box in the center, placing a five-shilling note inside. As his fingers slipped into the box, he also recorded the information of the other banknotes within.

"The Goddess will protect you," the nun beside the donation box whispered a blessing. She was lovely of face, with no expression to speak of, her eyes dark and lacking vitality.

At last, he had it. A wave of satisfaction washed over him. He was in such a good mood that he could spare some time to attend a mass. Today happened to be Sunday; how lucky.

He looked at the gold pound that had suddenly appeared in his hand, at the stern, old-fashioned face of George III with his little mustache. Come to think of it, Klein, when he first crossed over, had also remarked that this portrait was rather "cute."

Perhaps later, when killing George III, Klein could point a gun at Him and say, "I loved you."

"For some reason, I feel much more relaxed after entering the church. Not bad at all; worthy of the Lord of Sleep and Silence," Selrith thought as he found a seat and listened contentedly to the bishop's deep and gentle sermon.

"They are naked, without clothes or food, unshielded in the cold.

"They are drenched by rain, and with nowhere to shelter, can only cling to the rock.

"They are mothers whose children have been taken from them, orphans who have lost all hope, the poor driven away from the right path."

"Night did not abandon them. It bestowed its favor upon them."

...

Looking at the emblem of the Night Goddess on the wall, Selrith's spirit gradually relaxed under the gentle sermon, yet his brow grew more tightly furrowed.

It was perfectly understandable to cross into a novel and want to seek out the protagonist. But to be so eager to find the protagonist, so eager to approach Klein, so eager to approach the heir of the Sefirah Castle, was clearly not normal.

"That damn..." he cut himself off hard. After all, he was in the Goddess's church.

The Lost Gobi.

"I owe someone a favor..." He wore a bitter expression as he traced the sign of the crimson moon four times over his chest. His face looked as though he had just finished a plate of shredded ginger-fried potatoes. "Praise the Goddess, praise Adam."

"Brothers, who understands this? I went out for a walk and got targeted by some overconfident girl. I'm shaking with anger and cold. When will we men finally rise? I almost got trapped by some off-putting woman. It's truly chilling. If I'd fallen for the trap, who knows what would have happened? Maybe I'd be dragged off to be played with day and night."

"The Mother Goddess of Depravity is born evil. One day, I will personally..." Selrith muttered under his breath.

The Path to Certain Death! The Path to Certain Death! Damn it, taste my blue-green entanglement!

As he listened to the sermon and felt his mood steadily calm, Selrith once again murmured his praise to the Goddess.

"You're still praising the Goddess? And you just changed your faith so casually? You are not loyal! The Inquisition!"

"Just kidding. We believers of Joy are famously the most loyal in the universe, after all. Are you steadfast in your faith in Aha?"

"Bold of you! What I believe in is the Spring-Brow Star God, Ideriha."

"Huh, I suddenly feel that the Night Goddess might actually be a disguise worn by the High-Top Star God Hakiwily. Does that make sense to you?"

"I am a fictional historian. This is historical fabrication."

"In any case, Aha, don't contact me anymore. I'm afraid the Goddess will misunderstand."

"There is a horned beast here, there is a horned beast here."

PS: Many people have said the later chapters are somewhat thin. That is indeed the case. After all, this is a behind-the-scenes story; once the protagonist is forced to appear in the early stage, his presence frequency naturally decreases.