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墨書 Inktalez
Having finished the book, Newton did not intend to go to sleep. He planned to take a stroll outside. Although it would be somewhat troublesome without Norman to guide him, he had realized from the recent events that Norman was actually of little use. The backstage area was not large, and Norman could at most be considered a narrative NPC who understood the plot here. However, when it came to providing protection, this fellow was certainly not up to the task.
But before venturing out, Newton had to solve one problem: the issue of his cane. It was quite troublesome; missing limbs meant he needed a cane to walk properly. Otherwise, could he hop on one leg? Newton doubted he could manage even a few hundred meters that way. Fortunately, while Norman's place was messy and chaotic, there were enough scraps around for Newton to cobble together a makeshift cane. Perhaps he could even attach some additional items to it. However, there were definitely some things he couldn't install here; who knew if Norman was watching him? After all, something called a "thing" would only work best when others were unaware of it.
In any case, Newton still sent Norman away. After all, if he wanted to make a cane, he couldn't afford any disturbances. As someone who was drunk and needed rest, Norman found it quite immoral to disturb someone else's sleep. He handed Newton a key and pointed him toward a location so that Newton could go on his own.
Newton shrugged; being able to access a workshop so easily was indeed fortunate. However, he had forgotten that hopping on one leg would tire him out quickly—he was already exhausted.
"Huff... huff..."
Newton sat by the roadside, panting heavily. Earlier, someone had asked if he needed help, but he had declined because he believed his physical strength would suffice. Well, fighting and working were not the same as hopping on one leg; now Newton deeply understood this distinction. He had already taken four or five breaks along the way but still hadn't reached the workshop that Norman had mentioned.
"Excuse me, do you need help?"
Newton immediately felt as if he hadn't completely abandoned himself. He looked up to see a pretty face—though in this environment, anyone who looked somewhat clean seemed attractive; at least that's how Newton felt. The person wore what could hardly be called clothing; it looked more like a rag draped over them, threatening to fall off with any sudden movement.
"Um, I have no money."
Actually, this was the real reason Newton didn't want anyone's help. There was no kindness here; if you wanted something, you had to offer an equivalent reward in return.
"No, no! That outfit you're wearing is just fine."
Newton paused for a moment. A few people had tried to rob him earlier, so he had fought back. But no matter how hard he tried to protect himself, his clothes had inevitably been torn in several places. In such attire... well, Newton quickly realized where he was—this was the sewer.
"Alright."
With that, Newton took off his clothes and headed toward the location Norman had indicated. Once he arrived, he let out a sigh of relief and vowed to make more canes in the future; otherwise, days like this would be far too troublesome. Using the key to unlock the door, Newton discovered that this place was just an ordinary workshop—not a location for making potions or anything important. It made sense that such a casually given space wouldn't be significant.
However, what surprised Newton was that the person who had offered him help showed no intention of leaving; instead, they walked in and promptly removed their own clothes as well.
In an instant, Newton's eyes widened, not because of the other person's physique, but due to the rashes and warts covering her body. He frowned slightly, dismissing her concerns and instructed her to close the door.
"Sir, I just need a little food..."
The woman spoke cautiously, but Newton raised his hand to interrupt her. He began searching around the room and soon emerged with several herbs.
Approaching the workbench, Newton swept aside the clutter and arranged the flasks and alcohol lamp he needed. With a flick of his fingers, he created a spark to ignite the alcohol lamp and started preparing the medicinal ingredients.
The woman stood silently to the side. Having been in this line of work for a long time, she knew that some people had rather peculiar methods, and she was well-prepared for such encounters.
"Drink this."
Newton tossed her a vial of potion, which she obediently consumed. He then threw another vial her way.
"Apply this to your skin; I'm sure you know where it should go."
She followed his instructions and waited for his next command.
"Alright, put your clothes back on. From now on, come to me for medicine. Also, you should stop working for a while if you don't want to pass this illness on to your child..."
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her.
The woman was taken aback and suddenly realized what kind of situation she had stumbled into. However, instead of feeling grateful, she managed a bitter smile.
"It's not that simple, sir."
Seemingly sensing Newton's goodwill, she relaxed considerably.
"People like us, if we don't do this kind of work, we really have no right to survive. I don't care, but what about your child? You know, I can't even dare to hold her in my arms."
Newton fell silent. There must be many people like this here, but what could he do?
"Yeah, what can we do? At least, if we meet, isn't it reasonable to lend a hand?"
Newton spoke as if to himself, then looked at the woman.
"I can't guarantee what I can give you, but at least I can help you avoid this dangerous work. Although what I'm doing might be even more dangerous..."
Newton forced a bitter smile.
"Buy medicine or help me out. Are you in?"
The woman paused for a moment and then looked at Newton warily.
"Thank you for your kindness, but I'd rather pass."
She declined Newton's offer. It made sense; such a good deal that seemed to fall from the sky would likely make anyone wonder if there was a trap involved. So Newton didn't mind. After sending her away, he began crafting a new cane for himself.
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