The three of them divided the pork chop equally.
Mel Carlo stuffed the pork chop into his mouth.
It should have been a grilled pork chop, but it seemed to be soaked in a lot of sauce and broth.
The mixed flavors of various spices blended together.
The taste was decent, though slightly strange.
But with an empty stomach, any meat was a blessing.
“Are you full? If not, I’ll take you with me, but you can’t tell anyone else.”
The little fatty stood in front of Mel Carlo, grinning happily.
“Now?”
Mel Carlo hesitated a little.
Still, for this little fatty to eat so well, he must have some secrets of his own.
“Yeah, right now. Usually, it’s not easy for us to go out at night.”
The little fatty walked barefoot towards the distant street.
The city’s dining industry wasn’t centralized.
Anywhere people lived, there were usually restaurants.
Though he wasn’t sure what was going on, his stomach wasn’t completely full.
If he could eat a little more, it would be nice.
The risk of buying food with stolen money was too high.
Exchanging silver coins for copper coins once or twice might be okay, but do it too many times and it would be easily noticed.
Finally, they stopped in front of a restaurant.
It wasn’t too high-end, and the little fatty led them towards a small alley behind the restaurant.
“This is it. Keep your voice down.”
The little fatty stepped forward, reaching into a slop bucket to rummage around.
Next to it was a massive container of kitchen waste.
Mel Carlo felt a sourness in his throat, almost wanting to vomit up what he’d just eaten.
He wanted to punch the little fatty, but the other was being kind.
For beggars like them, not to mention leftover slop, even wilted vegetable leaves fallen on the ground could be picked up to eat.
A Kai and Lily, on the other hand, didn’t seem nauseated at all.
They just saw more food and eagerly joined in the search.
“Is there always this much here every day?”
Mel Carlo asked from the side.
“Yeah, every day. But before sunrise, it’s all taken away, so usually you can’t get any. Now that we can leave before dark, there’s a lot to eat.”
Mel Carlo still felt a bit uneasy.
He’d only transmigrated for three days, and now he was eating slop? Were there any transmigrators worse off than this?
Still, if you washed it, it could be eaten.
Maybe he’d have to rely on this to survive for a while.
Mel Carlo started rummaging through the kitchen waste as well.
There were always some leftovers to be found.
Even though they were cold now, they tasted better than black bread.
The four little ones didn’t dare to return, instead finding a hidden spot to sleep for the night.
—
The next day, the four of them were woken up by the scar-faced man.
“Uncle Anke, is something wrong?”
“Mel Carlo, right? Come here, I have something to ask you.”
Anke’s eyes were fixed on Mel Carlo, his hand resting on the Short Sword at his waist, full of vigilance.
That attitude made Mel Carlo nervous too.
If this guy really saw him stealing and decided to cover it up, he was probably here to kill him now.
Only the dead can keep secrets forever.
His mind raced, but Mel Carlo still followed.
If soldiers come, use soldiers; if water comes, use earth to block it.
If he really planned to kill him, he could use the wallet to neutralize the danger.
He could claim he’d already traded with a Merchant, and if he didn’t leave the city safely, the Merchant would take the wallet and the information about Anke ordering the theft to the Duke’s mansion.
There couldn’t be any mistakes in the upcoming conversation.
Otherwise, he’d be in real danger.
Mel Carlo took a deep breath.
However, the scar-faced man in front of him seemed even more nervous than he was.
“Have you ever seen a Goddess?”
“What?”
Mel Carlo was taken aback.
Such a random question.
What Goddess?
“Have you ever heard the voice of a God?”
“Why are you asking this? Do I seem strange to you in some way?”
Mel Carlo was puzzled inside but still felt something was very wrong.
This was a fantasy world much like a game; maybe there were similarities, but God was usually the final boss in later stages.
Was he really such a thing? He had a system, though half-broken, and didn’t even know why he’d appeared in another world.
Pure luck.
A lot went through Mel Carlo’s mind at once.
“Let me ask you one last thing. But please, promise not to kill me in the future, okay?”
“Mm.”
Mel Carlo nodded.
“Are you an Apostle?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Apostle—what kind of thing is that?”
Mel Carlo didn’t answer clearly, nor did he directly deny it.
He’d never heard of Apostles, at least not in the game.
But in other games or stories from his previous life, there were descriptions of Apostles—usually powerful beings chosen by God.
“Thank you.”
Anke was dissatisfied with Mel’s answer, his suspicion only deepening.
Although Apostles only existed in legendary tales, he had truly witnessed one.
When he was a child, a dying boy became an Apostle, and with overwhelming power destroyed the entire village in an instant.
The scar on his face wasn’t from a blade, but from the other boy’s finger.
That terrifying power was unforgettable.
Before becoming an Apostle, the boy was just an ordinary orphan bullied in the village, but suddenly he erupted, killing everyone except Anke.
Afterwards, the boy disappeared.
One thing was certain—the boy who became an Apostle did not die but was hiding somewhere in the world.
That same feeling, he sensed in Mel Carlo—the sudden change.
At first, he might have thought it was memory loss or possession by a demon.
But now, this child seemed even scarier than he imagined.
In just a short time, the gang leader had been sentenced to death, and he was sure it was the child before him who stole the Miss of the Duke’s House’s wallet.
But he wouldn’t reveal it, nor could he.
“Uncle Anke, are you suspecting me of being an Apostle? Can you tell me what kind of being an Apostle is?”
“An Apostle is an agent chosen by God to act in the mortal world, blessed by God with terrifying power.”
Seeing the other’s seriousness, Mel Carlo asked,
“Have you seen one with your own eyes?”
“When I was young, yes. The scar on my face was left then. In an instant, the whole village disappeared before my eyes. The other just traced my face with a finger, and this scar was left.”
“He didn’t kill you?”
“I know you might not believe me. No one has for years, but it’s all true. That boy was my friend before becoming an Apostle. That’s why he spared me.”
Anke’s emotions grew agitated.
That was why he feared Mel Carlo—a sudden calmness, and even the terror he showed seemed like a mask.
Others might be fooled by Mel Carlo’s appearance, but he wasn’t.