Secret World of Occultists-Chapter 38: Grumpy Landlady

Somewhere along the northwestern shore of Albion, a small wooden boat drifted upon the fog-laden waters of the North Sea.

A teenager with freckles on his face, no older than fifteen, rowed with desperation as if his life depended on it. Several hours had passed since he set off, yet his arms showed no signs of stopping.

He had a head full of dirty blond hair, and his blue eyes showed signs of melancholy and... horror. His appearance was haggard, to say the least, and it was unknown when he ate last.

Tears rolled down his sunken cheeks as he recalled the terror he and his family faced before he set sail. His parents sacrificed themselves so that he could have the faintest chance of survival.

That is why he did not stop rowing. Without food and water, all he had was hope and a fire burning in his heart that he wouldn't let his parents' sacrifice go to waste.

He silently sobbed, afraid to let out even a whisper despite there being no one around him.

Dad... Mum... forgive me! Forgive me!

The scenes of what had happened to his parents before his very eyes repeated in his mind. His body shuddered recalling what they had to go through.

His heart was gripped by primal fear when the faces of those monsters appeared in his mind.

He bit his lower lip so hard that it started to bleed, and he started rowing faster and faster.

Anything! He would do anything to get as far away from that place! He would never let his parents' sacrifice be in vain.

Jimmy, you must survive! No matter the cost!

He recalled his parents' final words, his heart twisting in sorrow.

Faster! Even faster! He rowed as fast as his body would allow and soon vanished into the fog.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the sea, several pairs of eerie eyes watched the boat as it swiftly drifted southward.

These creatures of the deep stared at the boat for a long time, seemingly deciding whether to make the effort to pursue it.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the glowing pairs of eyes slowly sank into the unknown, vanishing into the deeper parts of the sea.

The escape of a single prey was of little consequence.

Or so they believed...

...

Thursday, July 17th, 1030.

It had been three days since Abel had officially been sworn in as an agent of the Ministry, and two days since he had started studying the occult under Honoria Whitmore's tutelage.

He walked along the sidewalk, heading towards Highfield Street. He had just finished his occult study session and had the rest of the day off.

This week he would only be studying the occult arts under Madam Whitmore. His physical training would begin next week after the spirit energy inside his body had settled down.

Since he was practically free this week and had nothing to do except for attending occult classes, he decided to move out of his house on Millbrook Street. It was about time.

It was a good thing that his brother, Thomas, didn't live in Newport with him. Or else Abel would have a lot of explaining to do.

At the moment, he was on his way to Everton, a growing suburban district northeast of Newport's bustling center.

It was a mix of respectable lower-middle-class homes and some working-class housing with hills that provided cleaner air than the crowded streets near the docks—where he was currently living.

He had planned to ask Henry to help him find somewhere suitable to live, but the previous day he had just so happened to see an advert in the Newport Herald.

The flat was just the type he was looking for and was also within his budget. Moreover, this building was just outside the city center, within a thirty minute walking distance to 47 Water Street where the Kensington & Blythe Commercial Trust was located.

After walking for about twenty minutes, he arrived at his destination.

It was a three-story townhouse—ground floor plus three upper floors—with a red brick facade. The ground floor was occupied by a grocery store, which Abel thought was very convenient.

Hmm, this building doesn't look so bad, he thought with a smile.

If he was being honest, it was far better than his terraced building on Millbrook Street. However, subconsciously, he was still comparing it to the buildings of the 21st century.

He made his way towards the single entrance of the building that led to a narrow hallway and staircase. Climbing to the first floor, he knocked on the door of flat 1A.

This belonged to the landlady, who was also the owner of the building. She was the one to place the advert in the newspaper.

Abel straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. Then, he put on a polite smile just before the door opened.

An old lady with a grumpy face opened the door, gazing at him like he owed her a lot of money. A bulldog also stuck his head out, gazing at him in contempt.

Abel's smile threatened to break. "Mrs. Carter?"

"What do you want?" The woman asked flatly.

The youth showed the rolled up newspaper in his hand and said, "Madam, I saw your advert in the paper about a flat up for rent."

"Hmph!" The landlady snorted, looking Abel up and down. Seeing his second-hand clothes, she indifferently said, "The ad clearly stated the flat was available for a quiet and respectable tenant. You are not it."

With that said, she shut the door, leaving Abel standing in the hallway with a flabbergasted look on his face.

What... What the fuck?!

He knocked again, this time with a vein throbbing on the side of his forehead.

"What?" The landlady, visibly frustrated, opened the door again.

"Woof!" The dog bared its fangs, also visibly frustrated.

Abel forced a smile, "Madam, I have money, and I work at a respectable financial institution. I also graduated from the University of Newport with a degree in Bachelors of Arts."

The landlady looked him up and down again, her brows creasing together. "I don't like liars, young man!"

Another vein throbbed at the side of Abel's forehead. "Madam, I have proof."

He then retrieved his employer record—the fabricated one, of course—from the Trust and showed it to the grumpy old woman.

The landlady accepted the document with deep suspicion in her eyes. But a few moments later, when she finished reading it, the suspicion in her eyes was replaced by shock.

"You mean to tell me you actually work at this Trust?" She exclaimed. Then she looked at Abel's coat and trousers with barely concealed disdain and added, "Then why in heaven's name are you dressed like that?"

Abel's forced smile threatened to fall apart. "...I am working on it."

"Hmph!" The old landlady harrumphed as she deeply looked at the blue-eyed youth. Finally, she stated her requirements. "Weekly rent's 40 shillings. I expect a month's advance—8 sterling."

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She folded her arms, adding, "And there's key money—2 sterlings. That makes 10 sterling upfront. So tell me, young man... can you even afford it?"

"Woof!" The dog raised its chin in contempt, thinking Abel could not afford it.

Key money was a one-time payment that most landlords charged their tenants. However, it was usually a small amount.

"2 sterling?!" Abel blurted out. "That's daylight robbery."

"Hmph!" The landlady harrumphed again. "The flat is fully furnished. There are six outhouses, one for each flat, lined in the backyard and are regularly cleaned every single day. And who do you think pays for that? Me."

She paused, harrumphing once again, "Hmph! 10 sterling upfront! Take it or leave it!"

"But—"

"No buts," the landlady interrupted him. "Take it or leave it!"

"Woof! Woof!"

"Okay, how about this, yeah?" Abel proposed. "I pay you one month's rent in advance, and ten shillings for the key money—"

"Hmph!" The landlady closed the door.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Abel hurriedly placed his foot between the door and the frame. "Fine, 1 sterling! That's all I can afford for the key money!

"Please, madam, I'm willing to give you 9 sterling up front right now. I swear I don't have any more than that at the moment! Take it or leave it!"