Chapter 39: Limited Literacy
City of Alova, Brick District.
Night had already fallen. Pedestrians hurried along the street, burying themselves into cotton coats to fend off the winter chill.
Sylvia, who had gotten off the car early, strolled along the street, heading toward the Rose Bar located in the lower district.
This time, she had arrived relatively early. The drunkards sipping cheap beer burst into laughter from time to time. A heavy mixture of alcohol and body odor wafted toward her nose.
Frowning slightly, the puppet girl didn’t linger and headed straight for the second floor.
Closing her eyes briefly and following the guidance of spirituality, she pushed open a door on the left side of the corridor.
At this moment, the man nicknamed the “Golden Lion” and leader of the “Dork Party” was sitting on the sofa, squinting at the paper in his hand.
A few seconds later, he snorted and handed the paper to a skinny young man in a shirt beside him.
“Read it to me!”
Seeing this, the young man accepted the paper with a forced smile, but his expression quickly twisted.
After carefully deciphering it for quite a while, he finally began to read with an uncertain tone:
“Respected Boss Wood, your… your loyal subordinate Frank greets… greets you.”
“Uh…”
“Our men in the Eastern District have recently gone missing, and not even their bodies were found.”
“Before this happened, the work they were involved in was…”
Looking at the paper in his hand, the young man frowned even deeper, and a bead of cold sweat formed on his forehead.
Seeing this, Sylvia curiously walked up beside him, tiptoed, and looked at the words on the paper.
In that moment, she nearly laughed out loud.
The handwriting was crooked, and some of the letters used were even incorrect. Understanding its meaning required pure guesswork.
“Hmm?”
Divoman lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and then cast a dissatisfied glance at the young man.
“Uh…”
The skinny young man was clearly flustered and quickly said,
“Boss, I… I don’t quite understand this part.”
“Don’t understand?”
Divoman’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
Just then—
“Can’t blame him.”
“The person who wrote this has severely limited literacy. Many of the letters and words are incorrect.”
“To understand the meaning, you have to guess.”
The moment Sylvia’s voice rang out, the two men in the room shuddered simultaneously.
“Who!”
Divoman immediately pulled a revolver from his waist, and the skinny youth, as if startled, dove forward.
However, when Divoman clearly saw the face of the person who had suddenly appeared, he was visibly stunned.
Then, at lightning speed, he put away his revolver and forced out a stiff smile.
“You… why are you here?”
At this moment, the skinny youth steadied himself and looked back—
What came into view was an extraordinarily exquisite face.
He swore he had never seen such a beautiful girl in his entire life.
Who was she?
Why did the boss seem to treat her with such respect?
"You go out first."
Just as the young man was filled with doubt, Divoman, who had stood up, issued the command.
"Remember, don’t say anything you shouldn’t."
The young man turned around and saw the deep and imposing look in his boss’s eyes.
"...Yes."
With that, he lowered his head and left.
Sylvia then bent down and picked up the paper from the ground, carefully trying to decipher it:
"Mm... before they disappeared, they once..."
Her voice paused briefly as she used context to guess the intended meaning:
"...once offended the owner of a shop."
"According to our investigation, the shop owner seems to hold an illegal faith."
"We secretly infiltrated the shop and discovered an idol of the King of Loathing and Hatred."
"Therefore, we seek your instructions, Boss, on whether to retaliate against them."
Sylvia simply summarized the latter content in her own words and read it aloud.
Then she lifted her head with a slightly amused look and glanced at Divoman, who was standing silently:
"You all should just speak face to face from now on."
"Judging from Mr. Frank’s literacy level and the fact that you can’t read, written communication seems a bit too much for you two."
Hearing her words, Divoman sighed, his expression tinged with melancholy as he said,
"That’s no longer an option."
"Hm?"
"He’s already dead."
"And this piece of paper was found on his desk."
"Frank was an ambitious young man. He used to be illiterate, but taught himself the basics of reading and writing."
"Ever since then, he’d write a report every time he reported to me, showing off how many new words he had learned."
"But this time, he was found dead at home, and this sheet of paper, filled with writing, was left on his desk."
"......"
Sylvia’s expression visibly froze for a moment, but she quickly concealed it.
"I understand."
She put away her smile and said to Divoman.
Realizing his own moment of vulnerability, the gang leader quickly adjusted his posture:
"...My lady, what brings you to me today?"
In response to his question, Sylvia casually found a place to sit down:
"You may address me as Her Grace."
After this brief clarification, she explained the purpose of her visit:
"Help me keep an eye on anything unusual or out of place in the Brick District, as well as unfamiliar outsiders."
"Hmm... also, keep watch for the whereabouts of a certain puppet—"
"Black hair, green eyes, with visible joint structures."
She suspected that the suspected puppeteer might infiltrate the City of Alova.
If that were the case, the chaotic Brick District would be his first choice.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Divoman nodded, awaiting her next instructions.
"If you receive any information, you can—"
Her words came to an abrupt halt.
Because she realized—she didn’t really have a good method!
The other party was just an ordinary person, so any means of communication via mysticism was definitely unusable.
And besides, he was her only contact here. Relaying messages through him wouldn’t be convenient either.
In the end, she said in a somewhat awkward tone,
"You can have someone send a letter to St. Ruls Cathedral in the Ruls District, or come find me there."
"Huh?"
Divoman was clearly taken aback.
"Your Grace, are you with the Church of Radiance?"
"No."
Sylvia shook her head.
"That’s not something you need to know."
"By the way, what’s your faith?"
"The God of Industry and Machinery."
Divoman answered plainly.
"Alright."
Sylvia leaned back in her chair, pondered for a moment, then continued,
"Regarding the information recorded on that paper just now, I don’t recommend you take action for investigation or retaliation right away."
"Because I suspect the other party possesses extraordinary abilities."
"Hm?"
Divoman was visibly stunned, then nodded a bit reluctantly.
Seeing this, the corners of Sylvia’s lips gradually lifted:
"Don’t be discouraged. I only said not now—not never."
Upon hearing this, Divoman suddenly looked up, sensing something.
Sure enough, Sylvia’s voice followed:
"Now you have a choice—a choice that concerns your future fate—"