Mystery: I can change things in books

Chapter 15 Delivery
As for why Samantha said being Extraordinary was a curse for her, Chris didn't hear the answer until she got out of the car.

Samantha said she remembered a clue about a woman with a portrait in Vinia, so she got off the train early at Vinia Station.

At a quarter past four, outside the steam train station in Tingen

Chris ran quickly and boarded a rail-based public carriage that was just about to leave. This type of rail-based carriage has a fixed route and is not as flexible as a taxi and cannot stop at any time.

"Go to the Tequila Bar in the University District." Chris handed the cashier 4 pence.

"Three pennies is enough. Get off in three stops, but you have to walk a little further." The fair-faced young man handed back 3 penny to him.

The tram that departed from the steam train station first passed through the university district near the suburbs before heading into the city.

As evening approached, there were already some scattered customers in the pub, most of them students.

The Tequila Bar has only four permanent employees, and the others are hourly employees hired by Baggio who only come to work during peak customer periods.

"Chris, you bought new clothes." Jason smiled, pointing to the empty table: "Let's have dinner first, there are going to be more customers."

If you don't have dinner in advance, there will be too many guests in an hour or two and you won't have time to eat.

Dinner is delivered from the small restaurant across the street. It is delivered at regular intervals every morning, noon and evening, and the meal fee is settled every Monday.Dinner was simple: two slices of oiled bread, fried beans with onions, a small dish of bacon and a glass of ale.

Although it is simple, there is no repetition in these two days, and it is free of charge. How can there be such good conditions elsewhere...

Chris thought as he put the onions and bacon into the bread and took a big bite.

The slight spiciness of onions and the meaty aroma of bacon stimulated Chris's taste buds. He took another sip of malt wine. The aroma of malt penetrated his nose. The three flavors were mixed together, and a simple dinner was like enjoying it.

After dinner, he wiped his mouth with a tissue and asked Jason where he could find Damir Red Clay.

After listening to Chris's question, Jason frowned slightly and said:

"I don't know which path of potion formula material this is, but you must be careful about extraordinary things and never have anything to do with the secret organization. By the way, which path of Damir Red Clay is the potion formula material? "

"It's a peep..."

Jason glanced at him and said: "You have made the most basic and extraordinary mistake: don't tell others your way."

"..."

Chris touched his nose and laughed twice, wishing he could dig a hole in the ground and crawl down.

Jason looked at Chris, who looked constipated, and explained to him:
"Damir red soil is a specialty of Damir Island. There is an extinct volcano there, and the red soil is produced in the cave at the foot of the mountain."

"What red soil? Damir red soil? In addition to red soil on Damir Island, cured meat is also a specialty there!"

Boss Baggio came down from upstairs and joined the conversation at some point. He said:

"Authentic Damir cured meat has obvious three layers of red, white and black. It is thin but not fat but not greasy. If it is paired with Damir black tea soaked in red soil, tsk tsk..."

Baggio looked intoxicated, swallowed, and continued:

"I heard that eating Damir black tea with cured meat will feel like walking in a fairyland... Mother Goddess, I really want to experience it once!"

He patted Chris on the shoulder:

"Great Emperor Russell said that we should be giants in actions rather than words.

It just so happens that the last batch of May goods will be delivered to the pub tomorrow afternoon. You can also go and help. I remember there is an import and export businessman who just came back from Bansi Port. Maybe he has red soil and cured meat. "Okay, I have to go do something." "Baggio straightened his collar, opened the door and left the tavern.

Port of Bansi…

Chris suddenly felt a little funny. These place names were so familiar to him that he knew exactly what happened there afterwards, but he couldn't do anything now. Even if he said it, others wouldn't believe it and would only think that he had something. Mental illness.

This is the same as those questions on the Internet: "You know a disaster is going to happen tomorrow, how do you remind others?" You know the answer but you can't write down the process of solving the problem.

But if I become stronger in the future, I should have a chance...

Chris thought to himself and took away the dishes on the table. After that, he helped Jason with chores throughout the night, returned to the room and fell asleep.

……

Early in the morning, Chris looked up at his watch. The agreed time was three o'clock in the afternoon. Now he was going to go downstairs to help Jason clean the pub.

The job that Baggio arranged for Chris was very easy: set off with the cargo carriage, and upon arrival at the destination, simply check the goods and the corresponding payment.

"I will advance this week's salary to you later, a total of 1 pound. By the way, the salary is paid once a week and is settled on the weekend." Jason said to him.

After a midday nap, it was three o'clock in the afternoon. As soon as Chris went out, he saw a cargo carriage hurriedly approaching from a distance.

The coachman had a reddish complexion and an unkempt beard. At first glance, he looked like a slovenly middle-aged man.

Helping the coachman carry the drinks to the car, Chris also got in and sat next to the coachman.

"drive!"

The coachman flicked the reins, and the two thin red-haired horses ran forward.

He freed one hand to hold the cigarette tucked behind his ear and put it in his mouth. Then he took out a box of matches from his arms and scratched one with his fingers.

He lit the cigarette, took a deep breath, and threw the match on the roadside.Smoke rings slowly came out of his mouth, and he said in Runeese with a strong accent: "I've never seen you before."

"I'm new here, my name is Chris Doty." Chris answered.

"No wonder," the coachman held his cigarette in his mouth, "I only have one customer this afternoon, an import and export businessman named Uldi Blanche, hum, just a nouveau riche. By the way, my name is Erdogan."

"You know him?" Chris asked.

"He is an immigrant like me. He just came a few years earlier than me. If I had come earlier, I could have become a businessman like him." Erdogan sighed, regret written on his face.

"Why do you all come to Loen?"

"Of course it's to make money. I'll save some more money and go to Backlund. I heard that life there is very colorful."

Erdogan showed a yearning expression:
"Backlund, the capital of all cities, a place of hope full of opportunities, a big city with a population of more than 500 million...that guy Urdi has made a lot of money through import and export trade!"

The two chatted to pass the time on the road. Chris persuaded Erdogan not to go to Backlund this year, but was severely scolded by the other party.

"What do you know, young man? You'd better make money and find a wife later!"

The carriage went all the way north and finally reached its destination: No. 3 Wendel Street, North District

(End of this chapter)