NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 272: Working Hands
Perhaps because the previous night's blizzard had been so fierce, the next morning's sun was exceptionally bright.
The streets were already bustling with activity, people chatting and laughing, enjoying the rare, warm sunlight.
No one noticed that beneath their feet, in a cold, damp culvert, Ren slept soundly.
As time passed, the sounds of conversation, car horns, and shopkeepers' calls gradually reached Ren's ears, washing over him like a rising tide. His eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.
"Kiana…?" The first thing Ren did upon waking was look for the girl, but beside him was only cold, empty air.
He paused, the memories of before he lost consciousness flooding back, his mind settling on the last figure he had seen.
"Did she save me?" He murmured, rubbing his temples, dispelling the lingering dizziness as he took in his surroundings.
It was dark, but the vibrations from above suggested he was in a culvert beneath a bridge. He looked towards the exit, the bright light indicating it was probably around ten in the morning.
The situation seemed safe for now, easing Ren's worries slightly.
Figures, gunshots, flames.
The memories of last night's attack returned. Ren recalled his brief exchange with Istvan, his brow furrowing.
Last night's attack wasn't a coincidence. He hadn't interacted with anyone in this world besides Istvan. But initially, Ren hadn't sensed any hostility from him. Judging by Istvan's actions last night, he didn't seem like someone capable of such calculated cruelty.
Besides the possibility of a split personality, he must have been influenced by something.
This illusion was built upon the Herrscher of Reason core. The only thing capable of influencing these NPCs was the 300,000 wills within. Ren wasn't sure what role he was playing in this world, but it seemed he had been assigned a dangerous identity.
Only then could the core justifiably target him.
As for his specific role, based on Istvan's words, he was likely a survivor of a family feud or a discarded scapegoat. Regardless, he was being hunted.
If not for Kiana, he would have frozen to death in the snow, ending this trial prematurely.
Ren exhaled slowly, a complex expression on his face.
The coat draped over him was warm. He touched the thick fabric, but it paled in comparison to the warmth he had felt while unconscious.
He remembered being carried a long distance after collapsing. He couldn't recall how long, but in the biting wind, his blood had practically frozen. Just as his consciousness was about to slip away, a warm ember had approached him.
Drawn to the warmth, he had instinctively moved closer, the ice in his heart slowly melting, his lost soul finding solace.
A campfire? Ren looked around the culvert but found no trace of a fire.
He instinctively sniffed the air, the faint, sweet scent of the girl clinging to his clothes. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened.
"..."
This is just an illusion. Why am I having such a realistic dream? The scent gradually dissipated in the wind, leaving Ren with a strange sense of loss.
After a few minutes of composing himself, Ren finally snapped out of his daze. He rubbed his numb limbs, slowly getting to his feet.
His wounds seemed to have been carefully treated, some of the scrapes already fading. Had some kind of special medicine been used?
Thanks to a full night's rest, he could move without much difficulty. Ren stepped out of the cold, damp culvert, the bright sunlight making him squint. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was in an unfamiliar part of the city.
Perhaps because it was closer to the city center, this area was much more prosperous. Primitive cars and bicycles passed by, and the streets were crowded with pedestrians. Housewives chatted amongst themselves at the stalls and markets.
However, this wasn't good news for Ren. More people meant a higher risk of exposure. If they were targeting him, they would undoubtedly have people watching.
As he was considering this, Ren sensed a gaze upon him. He turned but saw only a sea of faces.
Sensing danger, he didn't linger. Pulling up his collar to cover most of his face, he pretended to walk back towards the culvert, then slipped into the crowd, merging with the flow of pedestrians.
Sure enough, moments later, several men in black robes arrived at the culvert. Ren, hidden in the shadows, watched as they retrieved his bloodstained clothes.
It seems things are more complicated than I anticipated. Ren frowned.
Kiana wasn't with him. If he left now, and she returned, she would walk right into their ambush. He had to find her before they discovered him.
Realizing this, Ren stole a handkerchief from a woman's pocket, covering his face, and left the area.
After escaping immediate danger, Ren began searching for Kiana in the vast crowd. However, a city with a population of 300,000 wasn't small; finding someone was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
Fortunately, Ren knew Kiana well. Given her personality, she wouldn't resort to theft. She would likely be looking for temporary work to earn some money.
He looked at a nearby bulletin board covered with job postings, a group of young people discussing the available opportunities.
Ren joined the crowd, quickly scanning the postings, trying to deduce where Kiana might have gone.
Eliminating the skilled labor positions, he quickly narrowed down the possibilities. Pushing his way through the crowd, he stopped at a bakery, finding a familiar job posting.
However, given Kiana's culinary skills, she wouldn't be suited for a baker's position. He walked around the back of the shop and, in the back kitchen, spotted the familiar white-haired girl.
She was carrying three sacks of flour, struggling to stack them in the storage room, her face covered in white powder.
But she didn't seem to mind, carrying stacks of flour taller than herself back and forth, much to the astonishment of the other workers.