Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game

Chapter 83.1: Scary Lady

Sleepless town, Weisshem, the most dazzling pearl of the Rhine Kingdom's southern border… Well, this description only applied at night.

Once the Age of Discovery began, rubber, copper, and large amounts of metal ores from the Outer Continent entered Navalon. Electricity applications, which weren't popularized previously due to the lack of raw materials, gradually spread out starting from the Kenyan Empire. Steam power plants emerged like fresh shoots after the rain in various large cities across the continent.

However, several centuries had since passed, but electricity remained a luxury for most people on the continent of Navalon.

The reasons for this were simple. First, expensive electricity bills were beyond the means of ordinary households. Power plants often passed on the losses incurred during electricity transmission to end-users. Due to technological limitations in this world, electrical power transmission losses were generally over 50%, which was even more exaggerated than in modern-day India.

Secondly, because the cables used for the transmission of electricity had to be made of copper, nearly every nation, including the Kenyan Empire, suffered from severe cable theft problems.

Power plants, usually run by private entities, often refused to transmit electricity or lay cables in areas with poor security, which meant that only heavily guarded, exclusive places—in other words, the so-called wealthy and noble areas—could enjoy illumination when night fell.

Weisshem was neither a wealthy nor a noble district, but it had the financial means to pay for electricity bills and the capability to protect the town's electrical cables. Every night, this brilliantly lit town became the most resplendent gem within a ten-mile radius—the electric lights and colorful neon signboards illuminating the street of adult-oriented businesses were even more concentrated than Indahl's wealthiest district.

Every night, patrons seeking various forms of entertainment flocked from all directions to this town, generously emptying their purses filled with silver and copper coins. The money forked out by such patrons to satiate their own primal desires not only established a red-light district that devoured countless young men and women, teenagers, and even children, but it also provided for more than half of the town's residents.

Kardo Gauld, 45, Weisshem native, militia captain with connections to the sheriff. He had a wife and two children, and owned a two-story house he bought with savings scraped over the years, which also supported his parents and in-laws.

If people were to judge him how he was portrayed, they would consider Mr. Gauld a respected and responsible family man. Every night, he diligently patrolled and kept watch over the town, safeguarding both Weisshem and the townspeople's property from harm, allowing them to sleep peacefully.

However, the actuality was that Mr. Gauld's militia squad's night patrols only covered the red-light district that paid for electricity. Ordinary residential areas where electrical cables couldn't be laid were excluded.

The targets of the militia weren't petty burglars or ruffians that harassed passersby, but rather cable thieves, drunkards causing trouble on the popular streets, and those who dine-and-dashed.

After all… the main source of income for Weisshem's militias didn't come from the ordinary townsfolk but from the wealthy owners of entertainment establishments, such as clubs and bars, which were essentially disguised brothels.

Of course, every once in a while, Mr. Gauld's militia squad would make some unintentional mistakes. For example, the previous night, during a patrol, their squad suddenly experienced a collective bout of food poisoning, forcing them to rush to a squad member's house to use the bathroom. It was only after they had all queued up and relieved themselves of their respective loads that they discovered that the Golden Coast had suffered a surprise attack.

It was a tragedy. Among the Golden Coast's guards (enforcers), 18 were killed, and another 12 were seriously hurt. On top of that, nearly 90% of the establishment's well-trained attendants had escaped. Even the owner himself might have been in a grave had he not been busy entertaining a group of distinguished and formidable guests.

Such an extremely bad turn of events naturally had severe repercussions, and someone had to take responsibility. Thus, Mr. Gauld had no choice but to reluctantly dismiss the two members who had gotten the night snack for the team. He also ordered the closure of the roadside stall the food was gotten from as well as expelled the owner of that stall from Weisshem.

Weisshem was a vibrant town, and such a magical town wouldn't be affected that much just by a couple of dreadful incidents. After a day, the Golden Coast club had already changed ownership, undergone a thorough cleaning, and reopened for business.

Mr. Gauld let his team on their usual patrols, and when passing by this upscale establishment that had been "reborn from the ashes," there were no longer any signs of a chaotic mess; instead, they saw flower baskets at the entrance, elegantly dressed hostesses, and a constant stream of patrons both entering and leaving.

Of course, the signboard had been changed. It was no longer the Golden Coast but the Gold Coast.

Gauld stood at the entrance for a moment, then beckoned to a child selling snacks from a basket along the street. He tossed two copper coins over, received a packet of peanuts wrapped in newspaper from the child, then made a gesture to his squad members. "Wait for me up ahead."

An older squad member exchanged a knowing glance with Gauld and led the other members away.

Gauld munched on peanuts as he entered the Golden Coast… no, the Gold Coast starting today. The bouncers in the hall took notice of Gauld's militia uniform and greeted him with wide, yellow-toothed grins and respectfully ushered him to the manager's office.

The manager, a bald middle-aged man roughly around Gauld's age, exchanged some pleasantries with the militia captain before smiling and retrieving a small fist-sized package, wrapped in paper, from his drawer. "Same as before, Captain Gauld."

"Happy to be of service, sir." Gauld accepted the package, and a slight smile finally graced his face.

The bald manager smiled once more and produced a smaller package. "This is your share, Mr. Gauld. My boss wanted me to convey his regards."

Gauld's smile grew wider.

This new boss was undoubtedly much more generous and considerate than the previous one.

The previous proprietor, an old man who previously worked as a steward on plantations in the south, having come to Weisshem to run a brothel with a lifetime of savings and connections from his previous life, was the most miserly and stingy wealthy individual Gauld had ever encountered. Not only did he consistently delay payments, but he also complained that people like Gauld, who protected the electrical circuits, were making too much.

Gauld knew that both the mayor and the sheriff were highly dissatisfied with that old man. Otherwise, the attendants available here wouldn't be so similar to those previously from "Golden Coast." During the short trip to the manager's office, Gauld had already seen several familiar faces.

Of course, Gauld didn't care about all that. Even if he were a Weisshem man, born and bred, and had served as a militia captain for over a decade, running a lucrative business like a brothel that raked in money from all directions wasn't something he was capable of doing.

For one, without a couple of respectable noblemen behind him, it wouldn't be impossible to gain the power plant's confidence and secure electricity transmission, let alone be able to overlook the illicit source of whores that pleasured customers.

Feeling the thick purse in his pocket, Captain Gauld left the establishment with satisfaction and went looking for his squad.

When he returned to the street, Gauld, who had been responsible for local security for many years, suddenly sensed something amiss.

It was currently nine at night, Weisshem's liveliest period where young men and women lined the entrance of every establishment, along with well-built bouncers. Adolescents would run through the streets peddling various snacks, sidewalk vendors offered drinks, hostesses leaned against bar windows to attract customers, while streetwalkers lurked in alleys, plying their trade. The entire street would be bustling with people trying to create all kinds of excitement to attract revelers.

However, at this moment, something was off on this street. All these sounds had vanished. Even the voices of the pleasure-seekers who didn't care about anything and reveled with abandon had disappeared.

Captain Gauld scanned his surroundings questioningly and realized that everyone on the street was staring blankly in the same direction.

Whether it was attendants, enforcers, peddlers, hostesses, or guests that came to revel, everyone wore remarkably similar looks on their faces. A mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief, as if they had just caught a glimpse of something indescribable and otherworldly.

With a frown, Captain Gauld set off in the direction where all these people were weirdly staring at.

Passing through the bustling yet eerily silent throng, Gauld was… dumbfounded.

It wasn't just him. The members of his militia squad, who had arrived earlier and were seated at an al fresco tavern, had expressions that mirrored Gauld's.

A tall figure, dressed in a resplendent ball gown, and most probably a lady, was… strolling in the center of the street.

The gown's lavishness rivaled that of the noblewomen featured in the colorful illustrations of magazines. To Gauld, a small-town militia captain with a fair eye for detail and a taste for worldly matters, this attire wouldn't be out of place even at the grandest royal ball.

However, parading in such an attire through the red-light district, amid the animated revelry of pleasure-seekers, was, by all means, incongruous. It even ventured into the realms of the bizarre.

What added to this peculiar spectacle was that the lady's tall, imposing stature wouldn't be out of place in a troop of rugged mercenaries…

Even revelers intoxicated by alcohol dared not obstruct her path. Wherever this lady trod, the crowd instinctively and willingly parted to make way.

More peculiar still, she wasn't just walking; she was surveying her surroundings as she moved. Whenever her gaze turned toward a particular direction, individuals in that vicinity, especially those easily frightened, visibly trembled.

As Captain Gauld navigated through the transfixed crowd, he caught sight of this elegantly dressed lady just as she happened to glance in the direction of the roadside tavern where his militia squad sat conspicuously in their uniforms.

Gauld only caught a glimpse of her side profile, and he instinctively shrunk back. His men, who were unfortunate to catch a full frontal view, either clamped hands over their mouths or swiftly averted their eyes as they paled.

This well-dressed lady, who seemingly came from a distinguished background, gazed curiously at the militia squad for an extended moment before turning away and continuing her leisurely amble.