Chapter 8: The Barber

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Chapter 8: The Barber

The young lady was delighted. She wore nothing more than a plain linen dress and had freckles across her face, yet when she lowered her head and smiled, the rose in her hair made her look radiant.

The barber personally saw her out, only to run into Charlie at the door.

“Dear customer, let me guess. You’re not here for a haircut. You’re here to put a little color back in those pale cheeks of yours, aren’t you?” The barber treated Charlie with the same gentlemanly courtesy he had shown the young lady.

Charlie drew his robe a little tighter around himself, as though he were feeling the cold. “I drank too much a few days ago, and I haven’t been sleeping well since. I’ve had headaches on and off.”

It wasn’t a lie. Charlie didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about saying it.

The barber gestured for Charlie to come inside and sit down. He examined him for a moment, asked a few routine questions, then went to wash his hands. Afterward, he pressed the back of his hand against Charlie’s forehead. “Something’s definitely not right. Your temperature is even lower than normal.”

Suddenly, he smiled again. “If you went to one of those local gurus, they’d probably tell you that you ran into the devil on a drunken night.”

Local gurus. Charlie heard those words again, and his thoughts stirred. He took the opportunity to bring up the middle-aged woman who had just been arrested. Sure enough, the barber knew her, but he became strangely guarded when she came up. “Her? It’s not as simple as her swindling a few people. You’d better be careful not to get involved with her.”

Charlie wanted to press him for more information, but by then the barber had already turned away. When Charlie caught sight of the barber’s reflection in the mirror, he suddenly swallowed the question that had been on the tip of his tongue.

He lowered his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

“What? Are you worried about her?” the barber asked, turning back.

“I want to become a mage.” Charlie’s voice was quiet but firm. Perhaps it was that determination that made the barber look at him with renewed curiosity. “Oh, I remember now. You’re Charlie from Gray Hat Street. You still haven’t given up on becoming a mage?”

Charlie looked up at him and answered without saying a word.

The barber folded his arms and shook his head with a smile. “Then you’ve got it wrong. The guru at the market can’t make you into a mage when magic itself has shut her out. Did you see her crystal ball? Unfortunately, that glowing ball is nothing more than a stage prop.”

As he spoke, the barber opened the drawer beneath the mirror and pulled out an astrolabe slightly larger than an adult’s palm. He muttered to himself as he examined it. “Alcohol was the trigger. The organs affected should be the liver and spleen… The liver corresponds to air, so things belonging to the liver are drawn toward it by Jupiter; the spleen corresponds to earth, so things belonging to the spleen are drawn toward it by Saturn…”

Charlie was fascinated by this strange method of diagnosis. At the same time, judging from the barber’s words about the liver corresponding to air and the spleen to earth, it seemed that the theory of the four elements described in The Magic Guide was common knowledge throughout this otherworldly continent.

Everything seems to be built around the number four. Then what is the fifth point of the pentagram?

As above, so below; as below, so above, to make one.

Is it that final “one”?

At last, the barber reached his conclusion. “The astrological indications show that you should come back at nine tonight. The positions of the stars will be just right for your condition at that hour. Until then, you can go home and get some proper rest, or you can take some tincture first.”

Charlie hesitated. “The tincture…”

The barber winked at him. “Don’t worry. I gathered the herbs and made it myself. I never get the timing wrong when it comes to harvesting them. It may not compare to those highly praised alchemical potions, but a little vial of pure medicinal liquid only costs you five lovely little round coins. Not expensive at all, right?”

Charlie nodded and, with the fussy, affected manner of Kong Yiji, carefully arranged five copper coins in front of him.

Five copper coins bought him a small glass bottle filled with clear, pale-green liquid.

The barber saw Charlie out and reminded him not to be late. Once that time passed, it would be too late for the treatment, and he’d have to wait another day. Charlie nodded, but on the way home, he kept wondering what kind of treatment the barber had in mind.

Wait.

Bloodletting!

Bloodletting was practiced in both Eastern and Western medicine. Charlie remembered seeing the elderly people in his village pricking the blood vessels in their legs with needles and letting out blood as a treatment when he was a child.

Western medicine does this too? So the astrolabe is being used to determine which stars correspond to the organs inside the human body, then calculate the right time for treatment based on their relationship?

According to the original owner’s memories, he had witnessed bloodletting many times, and it seemed to work most of the time. He had undergone it himself as well, although it had left him weak enough to spend several days in bed.

He had eventually recovered, but how exactly it had worked, who knew?

Charlie couldn’t help looking up at the sky, his jade-green eyes seeming even more melancholy.

Ah, another world.

Ah, Totolando.

Clearly, becoming an alchemist capable of brewing his own potions was becoming an urgent matter.

At that thought, Charlie paused and gave a helpless laugh. He seemed to have had the same thought a few days ago: becoming a mage was an urgent matter.

In short, everything was urgent.

Back at Pinecone Tower, Charlie took a small sip to see what it tasted like, then set most of it aside. For one thing, he wasn’t yet capable of analyzing its ingredients, so he decided to keep it for later. For another, he wasn’t actually sick in the first place.

If you’re not sick but still rush to get yourself cut open, now that’s what I’d call being sick.

Question: Was he actually sick or not?

Ben was once again assembling his skeleton when Charlie returned. “What were you drinking just now?”

“Poison,” Charlie answered.

“Are you going to die again?”

That again was a little hurtful. Fortunately, Charlie could take it. “Not close enough to death, but not far from it either. Lost with nowhere to go, yet somehow still managing to cling to life.”

“Your words are so profound. I don’t understand them.”

“Anything you can’t understand is nonsense.”

Ben was even more confused. “You’re talking nonsense?”

Charlie gave a cold smile, producing a suitably cold sort of humor. “Because I’m still a good-for-nothing.”

Meanwhile, as dusk fell, a stack of manuscripts landed on a desk in the knight order’s office.

“Captain, all the information on everyone who had dealings with that guru is here. Oh, and that kid in the strange tower on Gray Hat Street bought a book from her. The people we sent to investigate said he went to a barber’s shop a street away after we left. That explains it. He looked so pale and pitiful. Turns out he was sick.”

The round-faced knight collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted. Even with his armor digging into him, he refused to move another inch. The Black-Armored Knight standing at the desk looked up from the documents and uttered a curt, icy command. “Keep investigating.”

The round-faced knight let out a groan.

“George, I have a feeling that something very important was stolen this time.”

George froze for a moment. He knew his captain would never joke about something like this, so he immediately sat up again. “Wasn’t it said that the warehouse was robbed and only some valuables were taken?”

The Black-Armored Knight fixed him with his hawk-like eyes, as though he were already locking onto the thief behind it all. “If they were merely ordinary valuables, why would the administrative officer of the city lord’s residence personally intervene, only to be evasive whenever questioned? And there’s more…”

George raised his voice. “What else?”

The Black-Armored Knight said, “The ship that ran into trouble at sea was headed for the port closest to Magipo. There’s a good chance its cargo was bound for Magipo. After the incident, a fight suddenly broke out among believers in the city. Do you remember where our investigation eventually led us?”

George thought for a moment, then suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. “Gray Hat Street?”

The Black-Armored Knight said, “There were also traces of residual magic on the street.”

George immediately grew alert. “You suspect the Magic Council made a move behind the scenes?”

The Black-Armored Knight didn’t answer directly. Instead, he pulled one sheet from the stack and tapped it with a bent finger. George immediately hurried over and glanced at it. “This is… a new student at the magic academy? Tch, this could be troublesome. The magic academy is notoriously protective of its own, and even when something happens, they insist on handling it internally. Investigating one of their students won’t be easy.”

“If there were no difficulties, it wouldn’t be a major case.” A sharp glint flashed in the Black-Armored Knight’s eyes. “Go to the administrative officer immediately. Have him issue an order authorizing us to enter the academy.”

George drew himself upright and slammed his fist against his breastplate in salute. “Yes, Captain Salomon!”

After night fell, Charlie headed out once more.

The night air in Magipo carried a distinct chill. Looking up, Charlie could see the towering, spired clock tower. On the outer wall beneath the white sacred bell was an enormous magic clock. Powered by gemstones infused with magic elements and built upon a magic array, it was said to be a sacred creation that could withstand wind and rain and keep running for ten thousand years without stopping.

The area around the sacred bell was brightly lit. But even the holy city of magic had places beyond the reach of magic light, such as Gray Hat Street on the outskirts.

Charlie carried a lantern as he walked past the light spilling from one home after another. Every now and then, he passed a house or two without glass windows. Faint light seeped through the gaps in the old wooden shutters, where women worked on piecework to earn money while chatting with the men of their households.

Perhaps because he had been meditating so frequently these past few days, Charlie’s five senses had sharpened considerably. He could even make out snippets of the conversations inside.

The knight order’s arrest at the market near Gray Hat Street that day was major news for the neighborhood. Of the households that still had their lights on, three out of every five were talking about it.

With the lights flickering around him, Charlie strolled along at an unhurried pace, catching bits and pieces of conversation as he went. He finally reached the barber’s shop at eight fifty-six. Strangely, there were no lights on.

Where had he gone?

Charlie looked to his left. Several mercenaries were walking past in the distance with their arms slung over one another’s shoulders. They had probably just come from the Oak Tavern. Their slurred voices were unmistakable.

To his right, at the far end of the long street, half a carriage came into view. A lantern hung at the front, its light illuminating the black horse. The driver sat with his arms folded, leaning against the front of the carriage as though dozing while waiting for someone.

Charlie looked away and closed his eyes. In an instant, he slipped into meditation and carefully sensed the magic elements around him. Nothing unusual.

“Knock, knock.” Charlie stepped forward and knocked on the door.

There was no response.

Strange.

Something was wrong.

Charlie remembered what the barber had said about the guru at the market. “Her? It’s not as simple as swindling a few people.” What did he know? And why had he failed to keep their appointment?

Could the reason he had missed their appointment be connected to this?

Charlie turned back toward the sacred bell. The enormous clock had already reached nine-oh-one. Their appointed time had passed, yet the barber’s shop seemed to have fallen into eternal silence.

Suddenly, a loud “Caw!” broke the silence of the night.

Charlie’s heart tightened. He followed the sound and saw a black bird take flight. A black feather drifted down as its dark silhouette swept across the moon and vanished down another street in the blink of an eye.

He looked to either side again. The drunkards had disappeared from view, and the carriage was gone too.

But had he heard a carriage leaving just now? When had it gone? Had the person it was waiting for arrived?

Charlie tightened his grip on the lantern and knocked on the door again. There was still no response.

He waited several more minutes, then checked the time again. It was now nine eleven, and the barber still hadn’t appeared. Charlie raised his lantern and peered inside through the window.

The mirror was broken.

Cracks radiated outward from the center of the mirror, but none of the pieces had fallen. In the dim moonlight and lantern glow, every shattered fragment reflected the same thing.

Charlie remembered that there was a wall clock on the wall directly opposite the mirror.

When Charlie had entered the barber’s shop that afternoon, he had glanced at it. The wall clock had read ten thirty in the morning and had been working normally. Now, however, the wall clock reflected in the mirror read eight forty-seven at night.

The wall clock had stopped.

Exactly nine minutes before Charlie arrived.

Beyond that, the room was too dark for Charlie to tell whether anything else had changed. If his senses hadn’t sharpened, he probably wouldn’t even have been able to make out what was reflected in the mirror.

Charlie took a deep breath. Without looking any longer, he turned and walked away, pretending he had grown impatient with waiting. He didn’t head toward where the carriage had been. It wasn’t on his way, and going that direction would have looked suspicious.

As he walked, his pace gradually quickened. Just as the barber had said, perhaps one could encounter the devil on a drunken night. And Charlie seemed to have stumbled into some serious trouble.

Ahead, the Oak Tavern came into view.

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