Lily Bennett's scalp tightened and she jerked her head up.

At some point, a little boy had squeezed in front of her, staring at her with wide eyes.

He seemed a bit malnourished, his face sallow and thin, wearing a crumpled flat cap, his face covered in red freckles.

“What are you daydreaming about here!” the little boy said. “Something big happened, you know? Eric Carter stole Mike Harris's gold pocket watch!”

Lily Bennett said hoarsely, “Eric Carter?”

“Yeah! Mike Harris was furious—he tied his foot to the saddle and dragged him for several hundred meters... By the time the manager found out, his leg was swollen like a steamed bun, his back was almost torn up, and the ground was covered in bits of flesh from being dragged... Serves him right,” the little boy spat disdainfully, “always trying to steal our spotlight!”

The ground was covered in bits of flesh from being dragged... Just imagining it made Lily Bennett's back ache in sympathy, but the little boy seemed completely unconcerned, as if he were talking about a mouse caught in a trap, not a living person.

“If you ask me, that was letting him off easy... A gold pocket watch is so expensive, Mike Harris should have called the police and sent him straight to the gallows...”

Lily Bennett thought, Is it even possible to call the police in this godforsaken place?

Wait, the gallows?

At that moment, the little boy suddenly squeezed closer, motioning for her to lower the tent flap, leaving only a narrow slit to peek outside.

“Shh, shh...” His face flushed with excitement as he lowered his voice, “The manager and the others are here!”

Lily Bennett looked up and immediately spotted Eric Carter.

He was very thin, badly injured, lying motionless on a stretcher.

His shirt was soaked black with dirty blood, like a greedy shadow ready to devour him at any moment.

A thick, metallic stench filled the air, drilling straight into her nostrils.

At first, Lily Bennett thought she was having a nosebleed and instinctively tilted her head back, only realizing after a few seconds that it was the heavy smell of blood.

A spark flashed—one man struck a match, lit the cigar in his mouth, and walked over to Eric Carter's side.

It was dusk and the light was dim; Lily Bennett couldn't make out the man's features, only that he wore a suit, a watch chain hanging from his vest, and a gold, gem-studded ring on his thumb. He must be the “manager” the little boy mentioned.

“Dear Mike Harris,” the man said slowly, “may I ask why you did this to him?”

Only then did Lily Bennett notice another boy standing nearby—blond, fat, sturdy, with a ruddy face.

The blond boy immediately shouted, “He stole my watch!”

“No, no, Mike Harris,” the man shook his head, “you misunderstood me. What I mean is—why do you think you have the right to beat him like this?”

At these words, Mike Harris was stunned.

He clearly hadn’t expected the man to speak up for Eric Carter, and grew anxious: “Uncle, he stole the gold pocket watch my mother gave me...”

The man took a puff of his cigar and made a hush gesture. “You’re my beloved nephew, so when you kids roughhouse, I usually turn a blind eye. But this time, you’ve gone too far.”

“Eric Carter can do magic, ventriloquism, and sing,” the man glanced at Eric Carter on the stretcher, his gaze full of regret, as if looking at a guard dog that had lost its usefulness. “At my command, he can even jump through a ring of fire. And you? All you do is waste my food—you can’t even earn half of Eric Carter’s performance fee.”

Mike Harris's face turned red and purple with embarrassment. “B-but he stole my gold pocket watch... Uncle! He stole my watch! The gold one!”

The man asked, “Did you see him steal it?”

Mike Harris: “No, but—”

“Did you find any evidence he stole it?”

“No, but who else could—”

The man’s tone suddenly turned icy. “If he wasn’t caught, then he did a good job.”

Mike Harris said in disbelief, “Uncle, how could you...”

“How could I?” The man sneered. “My sister was a great pickpocket—she could clean out the lady of the house’s bedroom without anyone noticing. And you? You didn’t even know your own watch was stolen, and you nearly crippled my cash cow.”

The man lowered his head and glanced at Eric Carter. “And you picked such a bad spot,” he said coldly. “Now look—Eric Carter's leg is broken, his back is injured. So who’s going to perform magic for me now? You?”

Mike Harris looked as if he’d been slapped several times, his face flushed, unable to say a word for a long while.

After all, they were uncle and nephew. After a few scoldings, the man waved his hand and told Mike Harris to get lost.

Lily Bennett carefully recalled their conversation, feeling a chill run down her spine.

—Is there even any law in this place?

Mike Harris looked only sixteen or seventeen, yet the man casually told him his mother was a pickpocket.

He’d committed such a serious offense... fighting, dragging someone behind a horse, nearly killing another child, and the man only gave him a mild scolding.

And then there were all the strange details: the gold pocket watch, the gallows, cigars, matches, completely unfamiliar hands.

...She was very likely no longer in the modern world.

Lily Bennett took a deep breath, forced herself to calm down, and kept listening.