David

David considered himself a clever man. After his parents' marriage, they moved from Dunland to Brugel to seek a better life. His father, originally an excellent metalworking apprentice, became a skilled steam engine engineer in Brugel, and his mother found success teaching the Dunland language in a local enclave.

In the age of grand sailing ships and steam technology, it was clear that the true money lay with the financiers on White Street in the capital—those portly gentlemen with top hats who could make or break markets in the trading halls. These figures became the envy of a young David. Although his father wanted him to pursue engineering, when it came time to enroll, David switched his major to finance.

Reality, however, dealt a harsh blow to David's aspirations. His classmates were all nobility or children of major financial powerhouses, and he felt like a piece of glass among diamonds. Fresh out of school and full of ambition, David sought out a position as a stock trader, but interviewers would change their tune upon learning of his family and ethnic background, abruptly ending interviews with promises of "we'll call you."

Believing himself a top student and a future elite, David faced half a year of unemployment post-graduation. Seeing this, his father used all his connections to secure David a job at the National Bank of Aegsburg. The dream of ruling the financial world gave way to daily drudgery at the teller counter, haggling over deposits and withdrawals with common folk. David resigned himself to a life of obscurity as a lowly bank clerk until the day two Dunland descendants and members of an underworld gang knocked on his apartment door.

The men said nothing, simply tossing an envelope to David.

"Take a look for yourself. You can either live a rich life and return home in glory, or continue to languish in this dingy, decrepit apartment," said one of the men, who appeared to be the leader.

Bewildered, David opened the envelope to find a stack of ten-pound notes. His work habit kicked in as he began to count the bills.

"Fifty sheets, all Harolds."

Harold I was the founding king of Brugel and adorned the country's largest denomination of currency. Each note was worth ten pounds. The envelope before David contained the equivalent of five years of his salary.

"This money isn't clean, is it..." David gulped, the large sum in front of him not clouding his judgment.

"Our business has some... funding issues. All you need to do is turn a blind eye when we come to you for loans. Don't worry, we're just swapping out our funds with your loans. We'll repay on time."

"Why me?"

"You're our kinsman. Who else could we trust if not you? It's a win-win-win. You make big transactions and get promotions, earn a commission, and help your own people."

David's internal struggle was brief, faced with the shattered remains of his dreams and the glaring Harolds. He agreed to arrange a loan of half a million pounds for Bice Import-Export Trading Company, which the gang faithfully repaid on time. Thanks to the impressive dealings, David was promoted to manager and received an annual bonus of five hundred pounds.

Not only did his life gain respectability, but he also found a girlfriend. However, troubles arose when superiors began questioning his loan activities and removed him from that department. His girlfriend, Loran, aware of his predicament, warned him that the underworld would not let him be if they knew he had outlived his usefulness—only the dead keep secrets well. If the bank discovered his role in money laundering, prison would be his next stop.

While David was frantically planning his escape to the northern colonies, Loran introduced him to the Wolff brothers. Though they didn't seem too sharp, Loran had devised a heist plan that involved the brothers and a scapegoat gambler.

David meticulously planned his escape route and identified valuable items in the bank vault. The heist on July 21st went smoothly, netting over ten thousand pounds in cash and more in jewelry. A scapegoat was successfully framed in his place. But the unexpected encounter with an infernal hound of the police, and a gunshot wound he sustained during the escape, shattered his dreams of a wealthy life on a northern farm.

The quartet fled to the outskirts and switched to a spare carriage, cautiously returning to Aegsburg city center to part ways. David sneaked back into Loran's apartment, occasionally climbing the church's bell tower to ensure no police or detectives were watching over Loran.

Four days had passed since the robbery, and the initial zeal of the Brugelian police was expected to wane. With no more patrolling officers in sight, David's only concern was the Wolff brothers; he feared their foolishness might link back to him.

Today, the streets seemed clear of suspicious individuals, calming David's nerves. He planned to leave Brugel by the end of the month, smuggled aboard a ship arranged by Loran, and reunite with her in the northern colonies a month later.

Despite losing the jewelry, the ten thousand pounds in cash was enough for David, with his five-thousand-pound share, to purchase a mid-sized farm in the colonies. Comforted by this thought, David exited the church, planning to rest well after securing provisions to entertain the Wolff brothers later.

As he stepped out, he noticed a young boy selling newspapers at the entrance and, craving human interaction after days of hiding, approached him for a chat.

"Does anyone actually buy old newspapers, kid?"

The enthusiastic boy in front of him flipped through two stacks of newspapers, pointing to the comparatively recent ones.

"Look here, sir. These are from this week and last. The events are still fresh, and they can be read like the latest news. The original price of one or two pennies is now just two farthings. Isn't that a great deal?"

"What about that pile?" David pointed to the other stack, its papers yellowed with age.

"Those are old. You can use them to wrap food, or patch walls and windows. But someone with your fine attire surely wouldn't be using them for wallpaper."

"Smart kid," David admired the flattery. He tossed the boy a penny. "Give me five of the latest, would you? What's the biggest news lately?"

"Hold on while I get them for you. Isn't the biggest news the bank robbery? They say the robbers were ruthless, killing a bank employee and stealing tens of thousands of pounds," the newsboy said, handing over five papers.

"Tens of thousands? That much?"

"Yeah. I'd be happy with a few hundred pounds. Can't imagine how to spend tens of thousands."

"That's not for you to worry about." David felt relieved that the scapegoat plan hadn't been exposed yet. He returned to Loran's place with the papers, eager to dive into the news.

Most articles were routine except for the bank heist and updates about the western continent's nations conquering more colonial territories in the north or explorers finding new species in the south. Since the Great Expedition from Frontera was destroyed in the east years ago, there hadn't been much war news.

As he read through the mundane reports, rapid knocks at the front door startled David. His watch showed four o'clock—Loran wouldn't be off work until five. Who could it be at this hour? Fumbling in the drawer, David found the unused gun. He had never fired a shot in his life, but holding it felt reassuring.

"Who's there?" David's voice trembled slightly.

"It's us, the Wolff brothers."

Relieved, David opened the door to find the Wolff brothers of varying heights and builds.

"Why are you here today? Didn't we agree to meet at the end of the month?"

The brothers pushed inside, handing over a bag to David while the tallest one kept hold of another.

"Your share—exactly five thousand, five hundred pounds. Count it if you like. We're kinsmen; we wouldn't take the money and run."

David opened the bag to find the bills neatly sorted by denomination, ranging from ten pounds to the smallest shilling notes, roughly totaling between five and six thousand pounds.

After stashing the money in the bedroom, David returned to find the brothers helping themselves to tea.

"You aren't planning to escape with me to the northern colonies?"

"We never said anything about the colonies. We robbed the bank because we came into contact with a mysterious organization. If we contribute over a thousand pounds each, they promise to offer it to the gods in exchange for awakening us as transcendent beings," the eldest brother explained.

"Transcendents?" As a bank employee and fiancé to a church worker, David was aware of transcendents. But all the casual banter with the bank manager or Loran never suggested that offerings could trigger an awakening. Most transcendents were stimulated by life-threatening situations, and a lucky few awoke after a simple night's rest, colloquially known as "God-favored."

"Be careful not to be deceived," David warned out of kinship.

"How could we be? We each fired a shot at one of those red-clad transcendents, and the bullets only left red marks on their hands, without even breaking the skin," the eldest brother said confidently, his siblings nodding in agreement.

David didn't want any trouble before his escape, so he cautioned them, "I'm leaving Brugel at the end of this month. Keep a low profile in the next few days. No suspicious people followed you here, right?"

"We've been discreet, haha. You wouldn't believe it—we took refuge right across from the robbed bank. The police have been scouring Aegsburg, but no one thought to check the street opposite the bank. As for strange people, there was nobody but pedestrians and carriages by the church when we arrived."

Reassured, David decided to ask Loran to buy extra provisions to entertain the brothers. Yet a nagging sense of unease lingered in his mind, its cause eluding him for the moment.