Chapter 7: 6. Identity Obtained
When the bells of Saint Selena Church struck midnight, Hagrid reappeared in "Wild Heart," holding a thin sheet of paper, which he handed over to Angel, who had already lost a total of 2 pounds on the "Dog Catch Rat" racetrack.
"This identity document should suffice for now against the Tingen police, but the Central Archive in Backlund doesn't have your file yet. It won't stand up to a letter inquiry. Once you commit any offense in Tingen, and the police telegraph Backlund to verify your identity, your cover will be blown. I suggest you wait about a week. Once the forged identity is archived, you can walk out the door with your head held high."
Angel nodded in understanding.
She carefully examined the identity document in her hands under the dim light of the bar.
Name: Angel Granger; Gender: Female; Date of Birth: June 28, 1331...
Indeed, also bearing the surname Granger, according to the false information she provided, she was a distant cousin of Cole Granger and Lily Granger from the remote West County, her parents having died in a border conflict between the Loen Kingdom and Intis.
She had also thought through her reason for coming from West County to Tingen: having lost her parents, Angel Granger decided to take all her savings and seek refuge with distant relatives living in Tingen, and Cole Granger welcomed her, allowing her to stay on Daffodil Street.
Angel's decision to link her new identity with the Granger family was well considered.
Firstly, it allowed her to legally reside in Cole Granger's home. The properties on Daffodil Street were not cheap; purchasing one would cost nearly a thousand gold pounds, and even renting could cost dozens of pounds a year. It would be a significant expense to find another place to live, whether renting or buying.
Secondly, having ties with locals made her identity more credible. Compared to a stranger with a blank resume, a "distant relative" of a local resident was more likely to be accepted by others.
Lastly, as a relative who had spent some time with Cole Granger, Angel also had the opportunity to expose his past crimes, allowing the victims to be avenged.
This was the last thing she could do as Cole Granger's "heir" – to atone.
…
After carefully storing away the identity document she had purchased for forty pounds, Angel Granger left the still-noisy "Wild Heart" bar.
Outside, the streets were no longer as crowded as before. Although Tingen City did not have a curfew, most of the residents under the Iron Cross Street were lower-class citizens who had to work a day to afford a day's meal. For them, staying up late was a bad habit.
Especially in an era when the cost of nighttime lighting was quite expensive.
Looking around, the bouncer who was guarding the door had already dozed off on an empty barrel, seemingly not noticing Angel's departure. However, the lookout in the window across the second floor was doing his duty diligently, keeping the window open for surveillance.
Angel tightened her hood and started back the way she came.
The gas lamps on the street had been turned off, and the residents on both sides had also turned off their lights and gone to rest. The quiet street was only illuminated by the red moon overhead, which appeared dim and obscure when clouds drifted by.
Even though there was no one around, Angel, who possessed night vision, still honestly played the part of an ordinary person without Beyonder abilities, slowly walking on the street under the moonlight, carefully avoiding puddles of dirty water and randomly thrown trash.
She hadn't gone far when her keen hearing detected someone following her from not too far behind.
This did not surprise her.
When she paid Hagrid the "certificate fee" at the bar, Angel noticed that many greedy eyes in the dark were focused on her. This was why she avoided using large bills when shopping before, but unfortunately, the reward of forty gold pounds would attract attention no matter what.
Moreover, even if she wasn't targeted by others, information peddlers like Hagrid might not let go of their prey so easily. Mr. "Hanged Man" had saved Hagrid's life, but his friends hadn't.
The footsteps behind her were unsteady and made no attempt to conceal themselves, likely belonging to an ordinary person, and one who had drunk quite a bit at that. But even if not a Beyonder person, a common thug with a firearm could still pose a threat to her, and Angel did not intend to take that risk.
Using her night vision to avoid obstacles on the road, she quickened her pace. As long as she left Lower Street and reached the crossroads of Iron Cross Street, she could easily shake off the follower using the intricate road network, without risking her life playing games with a greedy drunkard.
The follower's footsteps paused, then quickened, but the dim environment caused him much trouble. Sounds of trash being kicked and puddles being stepped in continuously came from behind Angel.
Just then, the "clip-clop" sound of horse hooves approached. Angel looked back to see a four-wheeled carriage coming, its hanging oil lamp illuminating the black body of the carriage, adorned with the "crossed swords and crown" emblem shining brightly, a common symbol of the police system throughout the Loen Kingdom. The coachman, wearing a top hat and dressed in a suit, calmly drove the carriage through the dirty and messy streets.
The follower had fallen quite a distance behind, and upon seeing the police emblem, he shivered and quickly squeezed into the gap between two apartment buildings on the street side.
"Unregistered" Angel instinctively wanted to duck her head to avoid detection, but then she thought that in this era, without high-tech facial recognition, even if she walked towards the police face to face, as long as she didn't commit a crime on the spot, she really had no reason to worry.
In fact, making a move to hide would more likely attract their suspicion.
Thinking this, she lifted her head again, sidestepped, and moved towards the edge of the street with small steps, making way for the carriage in the middle of the road, while using her "assassin" agile body to dodge the mud splashed up by the wheels.
Just as an ordinary passerby should do when encountering a speeding carriage.
Sure enough, the police carriage passed by her without stopping.
In the moment it passed by, she saw through the window two people sitting opposite each other: one dressed in black with a high hat, a police badge on his shoulder, light brown short hair, grey eyes looking straight ahead, speaking seriously, and the other much younger, with black hair, brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt, his expression indifferent.
"This can't be some official's second generation secretly using the public carriage at night," Angel muttered to herself.
Before she could think further, the four-wheeled carriage quickly disappeared into the distance, and the slight brightness from the lantern hanging on the carriage faded, plunging the street back into the dim moonlight.
The footsteps behind her started again; unexpectedly, the follower had not given up. Taking advantage of the moment Angel was distracted, he quickened his pace and closed in again.
A strong smell of cheap alcohol drifted over, and the footsteps stopped a meter away, followed by the sound of clothing rubbing.
Angel knew the conflict was inevitable, so she decisively turned around, using her vision in the dark to quickly assess the situation.
The follower was a middle-aged man wearing coarse trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, his unkempt beard and hair clumped together indicating his poor economic situation, likely having lost his job recently and resorting to cheap alcohol in bars to escape reality.
Seeing him reaching into his trouser pocket for something, Angel took a step forward and kicked his left knee with her right foot, causing the man, whose balance was impaired by excessive alcohol intake, to feel a sharp pain in his knee and kneel on the filthy street.
Only then did he pull out a peculiarly shaped small pistol from his pants. Angel didn't wait for him to aim the gun but grabbed the hammer with her hand, twisted the pistol away in his cry of pain, and took his weapon.
"Ah... my finger, my finger..." The man, not caring about the pistol taken from him, knelt on the ground, covering his right hand with his left, his index finger joint hyperextended, obviously dislocated.
"It's just a sprain. Go see a doctor. You should be grateful it's only a finger that got hurt." Having subdued the follower with two moves, Angel held the confiscated pistol and said calmly. This small revolver, likely intended for women, could only hold four rounds and had a smaller caliber than standard pistols. Lack of maintenance had caused the grease in the mechanism to clump, making the gun spotty and worn. Angel even doubted whether the primer in the bullets was damp, rendering them likely unable to fire.
Pointing the gun at the man, Angel asked, "Now, answer my question. Where did you find the gun?"
"Outside the city... at the dock outside the city. I found it at the dock. I used to help people unload there, maybe someone left it there. It had only three bullets, and I never dared to use it, always hid it under my bed. Now I've lost my job, and I'm out of money, so... I'm sorry, I won't dare again, please don't kill me!"
The man, with the gun pointed at him, was terrified and didn't dare to hide anything, spilling everything about the gun's origin to Angel.
"Did someone put you up to this?"
"What? No, no! I just saw you handing out money generously to that Hagrid guy, and I thought I could make some money off it. It's all that rye beer's fault!"
The man raised his head in panic, only to see the dark muzzle of the gun still aimed at him. He quickly lowered his head again, vehemently denying any accusations.
Seeing the follower in such a panic after being disarmed, Angel believed that he might have indeed been motivated by greed, deciding to follow her impulsively under the influence of alcohol, rather than being a pawn sent by Hagrid or someone else to probe.
Of course, it was also possible that the adversary was more deeply hidden, to the extent that even this expendable piece was unaware of it.
Angel glanced towards the direction of the "Wild Heart" bar, noticing no one else around.
"That's it, you're lucky today. I don't feel like killing anyone. Find something legitimate to do from now on. I'm confiscating this gun." No longer paying attention to the man kneeling and begging for mercy, Angel took a few steps back with the pistol in hand. Seeing that the man still dared not raise his head, she then turned and quickly left the scene.
The streets of Tingen City were deserted after midnight, as if the bustle of the early night was an illusion. On her way home, Angel didn't idle; she dismantled the pistol, throwing the magazine and gun body into different sewer drains, and scattered a few bullets into a garbage pile at the street corner.
She had no intention of keeping this ladies' pistol for her own use. Not to mention the difficulty of purchasing specially made small-caliber bullets, the lack of maintenance on its appearance alone had dissuaded her interest in using it.
Upon reaching Daffodil Street, Angel entered through the main door this time, inserting the key to unlock it, and catching the slip of paper that slid through the door gap. She didn't relax just yet, but instead used her night vision to carefully inspect the living room environment, comparing it with her memory before leaving, before finally entering her home.
After locking the door and hanging her cloak aside, her tense body finally relaxed completely. From this moment on, she truly felt that she had established a foothold in this world.
Having obtained her own identification was just the first step. Next, how to use this identity to settle down in Tingen and concoct a suitable reason for her stay at the Coles' was already outlined in her mind, but forming a detailed plan required addressing many gaps.
Changing into loose and comfortable clothes, Angel entered the study again, filled her pen with ink, and spread out her notebook. It would be another sleepless night.
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