Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game - Chapter 149: Weisshem's Dark Clouds

Parker Chapman Odysse sat upright, holding a blue and white enamel… well, enamelware teacup, with a slight forced smile on his face.

Young Master Parker’s friend, the equally well-born Young Master Grey, seated to his left, wore a similar smile.

The Odysse family knight, with hand on the hilt of his sword, sat sternly to Parker’s right.

The three gentlemen had already spent over an hour “resting” in the town hall, adapting to their unusual surroundings. Despite the initial shock, they were gradually getting accustomed to the unexpected appearances of the undead—too much of it was no longer shocking, after all.

At this moment, there were still a few rude undead standing in the courtyard, pointing and gesturing at them through the window of the reception room.

Both Young Master Parker and his friend Grey had their attention on the man seated across from them.

This man looked a little like Yong Master Parker, slightly overweight, with somewhat dark but not rough skin. At least, he didn’t seem like a lower-class person accustomed to outdoor labor.

However, it was hard to believe in this man’s noble status… Ever since they entered, he had a flattering, almost obsequious smile that seemed out of place for someone of high birth.

Strangely, the man’s facial features, particularly his eyes and eyebrows, were remarkably similar to those of Young Master Parker. If one were to cover the lower half of his face, his eyes were almost identical to Parker’s.

Especially notable was his hair—he, too, had the light golden curls characteristic of the Odysse family, though not as long as Parker’s but cut short like a laborer’s.

“Parker? Don’t you recognize me? I’m Dart,” the man, who claimed to be Dart Odysse, said, breaking the awkward silence. “We just met half a year ago, at Uncle’s birthday. My father got me to bring a batch of fine lizard horses from our estate as a gift. You even picked one, remember?”

Young Master Parker, with the forced smile still on his face, scrutinized the man from head to toe and then slowly turned to exchange a glance with Grey.

Grey saw the confusion and wariness in Parker’s eyes, mirroring his own feelings at that moment.

“You are… you are from the McCarthy family, right? Grey Medei McCarthy, your middle name is from your godmother.” Dart Odysse tried hard to recall. “Last year… no, the year before, you visited our family’s stables. Your riding outfit got torn, caught on a newly repaired fence, am I right?”

Grey gasped, and his confusion and wariness turned into sheer disbelief.

“Are you really Dart?” Parker asked in surprise.

“Of course, it’s me!” Dart Odysse exclaimed. “Didn’t I ask Lord Rex to send my family crest and glasses? Who else could it be but me?”

Young Masters Parker and Grey: “……(° △° (° △° )”

“How did you become so skinny?” Young Master Parker was astounded.

How fat was Dart in the past? He couldn’t even fit in an ordinary double sofa meant for two.

Forget moving about freely; even sitting for long periods was a struggle for Dart, and he required assistance to go anywhere.

The man in front of the two young masters hadn’t only walked into the reception room on his own but also pulled up a high-backed chair to sit in… It was almost unbelievable for them to associate this person with the rotund wastrel they knew!

Young Master Parker barely asked this when tears started streaming down Dart Odysse’s face.

This was the same Dart Odysse who had endured nearly two months of boiled potatoes and eventually was forced to engage in labor for extra meal privileges.

Right now, he was sobbing like a child. “Don’t bring it up… You brought money, right? Please pay to get me out of here.”

Young Master Parker: “…”

He was now certain the man before him was indeed the good-for-nothing cousin of his family.

Lord Rex, having witnessed this dramatic family reunion, stepped forward timely, presenting a bill.

That’s right… A bill.

The incident of Count Odysse’s nephew, Dart Odysse, getting kidnapped while seeking pleasure in foreign lands was something the Odysse family, for the sake of their reputation, would never admit to. Rex, the “criminal”… no, accomplice, naturally wouldn’t confess this truth either.

Thus, there would be no mention of a ransom exchange between them. What Young Master Parker was actually paying for was the living expenses accrued during Dart Odysse’s three-month “stay.”

Young Master Parker promptly paid the bill and wanted to take Dart and leave right away.

“Wait a moment!”

“Hold on a bit, Parker!”

Rex called out first, followed by Dart.

Maintaining his polite demeanor, Young Master Parker nodded slightly toward Rex. “Lord Rex, I need to bring my cousin back as soon as possible. My aunt has not seen her son for over three months.”

Then, when he turned his gaze to Dart, he slightly glared—a silent reprimand for his cousin’s foolish act of delaying his departure. Just a cursory glance outside the window should be enough for Dart to know better!

Oblivious to the stress his cousin was experiencing due to the activity of undead in the courtyard, Dart continued, “Don’t be so eager to leave, Parker. Although this place saddens me, there are still some valuable things worth bringing back.”

Parker inhaled sharply—

“Indeed,” Rex said with a smile, holding them back. “As Mr. Dart mentioned, Weisshem indeed has some specialty products worth purchasing. It would be a pity for Mr. Parker, and Mr. Grey, to return empty-handed after coming all this way.”

Parker had no choice but to maintain his dignity, nodding with a restrained smile.

He was determined not to show even the slightest hint of fear in front of this illegitimate son! Absolutely not!

Rex, fully aware that such young masters always carried ample gold coins on their excursions, enthusiastically led this group of wealthy clients (Dart, having paid his debt, was now included in the customer list) to view the products.

Selling curtain fabric to the young master of a count’s family was impractical. Nobility of this caliber had near obsessive levels of peculiarities in their attire. Most had their own silk and cotton farms, weavers, and tailors for personal customization; they insisted on “custom-made” attire, rejecting any “off-the-rack” options.

In Weisshem’s consumer goods market, the only item that could tempt Young Master Parker to spend was spices.

Family members of the ex-soldiers, who excelled in cooking, were invited to perform a demonstration for Young Master Parker, preparing dishes like stir-fried potatoes with Lao Gan Ma chili sauce and spread on bread slices…

Lao Gan Ma chili sauce, which struggled to sell due to its higher price, was suddenly sold in nearly half a container load in one sitting.

Rex, who was all smiles when collecting the money, quickly had samples of hotpot base brought out…

Given the local economic conditions, selling Lao Gan Ma was challenging, and hotpot base was even less marketable. The batch of expired hotpot base Yang Qiu had bought from the supermarket had been lying untouched in the cold storage of Exile Town’s Merchant Association canteen.

Both stir-fried and stewed dishes were made with the already expired hotpot base, and Young Master Parker once again eagerly paid—such convenient, portable compound spices that could be just thrown into a pot were incredibly handy for those traveling on the road!

While Young Master Parker was momentarily lost in the thrill of shopping, a villager carrying a load mingled with the flow of vegetable vendors, slowly making his way into the bustling Martin Street market.

Dressed in a rustic hemp tunic and brown cotton-linen trousers typical of local farmers, topped with a straw hat and wearing wooden clogs tied with straw rope, he blended seamlessly with the other market vendors.

After setting down his load in an apparently less popular spot left over by others, the villager soon slipped into an alley.

When he entered the alley, another man, also dressed in the style of villager, emerged from the alley and casually squatted at the “stall.”

The original “villager,” who had entered the alley, did not look back and continued straight into its depths. Stopping in front of an inconspicuous house, he quickly pushed open the half-closed door and entered.

Inside, several spies who had been infiltrating Weisshem Town for days were already waiting. They stood up and respectfully greeted him, “Commander.”

The “villager” raised a hand to stop them, removed his straw hat, and casually hung it on the coat rack by the door.

This man disguised as a villager was none other than Walton, the commander of the Radiant Sun Church’s cavalry unit!

Walton took a seat, looking seriously at the elite scouts who had been executing their mission for several days. “How is it? What have you guys found out?”

“Commander, as you predicted, the situation here is indeed serious,” a short, unremarkable middle-aged man reported gravely. “There’s a significant return of young people to Weisshem. At least 40 to 50 percent of the young men and women who were working in Indahl have come back.”

“Worse still are the diverse professions of these returning youths,” stated another scout, a woman who looked like an ordinary housewife, her expression as grave. “There were waiters from mid-range restaurants, laundry workers from hotels, apprentices from workshops, and even factory workers.”

Walton’s breathing got heavier for a moment.

He had anticipated the situation to be serious, but never to this extent—a catastrophe that was contagious! The more people coming into contact with a contaminated person, the more terrifying and harmful its impact!

“Have you tried coming into contact with these young returnees?” Walton asked gravely.

The female scout nodded. “I’ve spoken to several of them. They share similar traits to the original city defense force soldiers—seemingly clear-minded and coherent, showing no signs of mental contamination.

“However, when subtly probed about whether they would leave Weisshem again for job opportunities in Indahl… they all claimed that Weisshem offered better job prospects, so there was no need to look elsewhere.”

Pausing, the female scout’s expression grew worse. “On further questioning about what jobs in Weisshem could be superior to those in Indahl, their responses were vague and unconvincing. They stubbornly believed that Lord Rex would provide them with better opportunities than Indahl.”

The unremarkable-looking male scout added, “But according to our investigation, it’s impossible for Weisshem to have that many job openings. So far, the only need for labor is the temporary work for the comprehensive reconstruction of the town’s main street, but the pay there is only 30 copper a day, and hiring will cease once the work is completed.”

Walton shook his head in disbelief.

An income of less than nine silver coins a month from unstable temporary work, somehow enticing workers with stable monthly salaries to abandon their original jobs, made no sense whatsoever.

Rubbing his throbbing temples, Walton uttered, “What about the status of the original city defense force soldiers?”

“I was about to report that to you,” the female scout said, perspiring and visibly frightened. “Half of those soldiers have disappeared without a trace.”

“What?!”

“These people were initially working on the main street construction site as temporary laborers, but they have been missing for the past three days,” she continued, her voice laced with fear. “I risked contacting those who were still around… The surviving soldiers showed no concern for their missing comrades. Instead… they expressed envy toward the situation of those who had disappeared.”

Walton’s breathing got heavier once more…