I woke up with the sunlight hitting my face.

  Compared to yesterday—when I'd been woken by loud knocking and then forced to drink a potion—this felt like a good morning.

  I stood up and washed my face. Today, I finally took a better look at my new home. Yesterday, after the exhausting information gathering, I had gone straight to sleep.

  It was a small apartment with a tiny kitchen. Near it were three chairs and a small table where I usually ate. There wasn't much else inside. The only other useful item was a small clock to tell the time.

  Once again, I made myself the usual breakfast: bread with butter.

  Sadly, today wasn't a day off. I hoped I wouldn't have to keep this job for too long.

  I went outside and started walking to work. I worked as a waiter in a small restaurant called Nosh's Kitchen. I wouldn't call it a good place—especially knowing how unhygienic the cooking there was.

  I soon arrived at my workplace.

  "Viktor, you're later than usual," someone said. "The guests will be coming soon."

  "Yes, boss."

  This was Nosh—obviously the owner of the restaurant, judging by its name. From Viktor's memories, I knew he was quite grateful to Nosh for giving him this job when he needed it.

  I headed into the kitchen and greeted my coworker, Josh, the cook. He wasn't very skilled and had no formal training, but he was passable. The bigger problem was how unhygienic the kitchen was.

  When I looked around, I saw mouse traps everywhere—we had a serious mouse problem. Flies were sitting on food that would soon be served to guests. The ingredients themselves were low quality, poorly managed, and there wasn't even a refrigerator. The kitchen also had no windows, so once cooking started, Josh would begin sweating heavily.

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  From Viktor's memories, I knew that even with the smell of food cooking, the stench of sweat was still overwhelming.

  Viktor had almost wanted to quit and rob someone instead—but for now, it was better to keep things normal.

  After about ten minutes, the first guests arrived. A man and a woman in their thirties, at least from what I could tell.

  "Hello," I said. "What would you like to order?"

  "I'd like the fried eggs," the woman said.

  "And I'll take the breakfast special," the man added.

  I went back to the kitchen and told Josh, who immediately got to work. At that point, there was nothing for me to do except wait and think.

  I wondered how I should rob Louis—or whether I should start with someone easier first. I also considered asking Edward for advice. Although I held a grudge against him for pushing me onto the Abyss Pathway, he did have far more experience. And since he had hinted at the acting method, it seemed he valued me to some extent.

  Soon, the meals were ready. Honestly, they didn't look too bad. Nothing special, but since it was morning, something light was acceptable.

  I brought the food to the couple's table and then returned to the kitchen.

  For a long while after that, no one came. The only thing I did was clear the table after the couple left and wash the dishes.

  About an hour and a half later, a regular customer arrived. I wasn't sure of his name, but from Viktor's memories, he came often—and he even tipped, which was rare in the East Borough.

  I approached him quickly.

  "Do you already know what you'd like to order?"

  "Yes. I'll have the mutton stew, with bread on the side."

  "It'll be ready soon."

  From Viktor's memories, he came almost every two days. Having such a regular was rare.

  Since Josh was only cooking for one person, the meal was prepared quickly.

  "Here's your mutton stew, sir."

  "Thanks."

  After finishing his food, the regular seemed satisfied and left an eight-pence tip. It wasn't much, but considering how often he came, it added up.

  The hours passed quickly. Around noon, more customers arrived, and in the evening, even more came. It wasn't overwhelming—there were only Josh, Nosh, and me—but it was still stressful. By evening, the kitchen truly reeked of sweat.

  When the day finally ended, I was exhausted.

  Still, I had somewhere to go.

  While working, I had decided to ask Edward for advice. The only way to contact him was through the mailbox. Fortunately, it was only a fifteen-minute walk.

  When I arrived, I placed a blank letter inside—nothing written on it—then headed home.

  It had been an exhausting workday, but despite the stress, it felt far more normal than yesterday.