On the carriage leaving the club, Elena's mind was in turmoil.
She knew nothing about the men at the door who appeared dangerous, nor was she sure whether any of her kind remained inside the club. Vera had once mentioned the Inquisition, and there was also her packed luggage for travel—these clues tangled in her head like a complicated ball of yarn, leaving her mind a complete mess.
"Sir, we've arrived," the coachman's words jolted Elena from her thoughts. She quickly took out a shilling from her purse and said, "To Charing Cross."
Though puzzled by the sudden change in destination, the coachman accepted it readily—professional habit, after all. With a flick of the whip, the carriage set off again, now heading toward Charing Cross.
Night was falling, and Elena's transformation time was running out. Besides, nights in Luenton were far from safe. Whatever had happened at the club could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she needed a place to stay.
Her first thought was to go home. But she dismissed the idea almost immediately. She was currently in the form of a man—her mother and sister would never believe her identity, and it would only bring gossip and rumors to the family. Returning to her original form was also out of the question—she had no appropriate clothes and no veil to conceal her face. Just standing at her doorstep like this would probably alarm the neighbors.
Should she go to the Duke of Berkeley? She did know his address from their correspondence. But with the club already surrounded by what seemed to be Inquisition agents, Elena couldn't guarantee that the Duke's residence wasn't under surveillance too. If she was caught there, it might implicate the Duke as well—an even worse outcome.
She thought back to the other club members. If they hadn't been caught, they had likely already left for the countryside castle. Elena had seen their travel plans; since they couldn't show themselves in public, they intended to first take a carriage to the port and then charter a boat along the Luenton River to Sugue.
Elena had never traveled far from home. And in her current unverified identity, going to the countryside alone was virtually impossible.
Her thoughts were in disarray. The streetlamps cast a dim yellow glow, illuminating shop signs that hung thickly on either side of the road—many with pictures besides words: lions, dragons, mermaids, flying pigs... She saw several inns among them.
It seemed she had no choice but to find an inn for the night. She was thankful she still had a bit of money left—originally set aside for buying curiosities in the shops, but the contract negotiations had taken too long, so she hadn't spent any yet. A dozen pounds—enough, at least, to cover lodging.
There was no shortage of inns in Luenton, but finding a suitable one wasn't easy. Thanks to the club's newspaper subscriptions, Elena knew that many inns didn't have single rooms—some even required sharing a bed with strangers. So, she directly asked the coachman if there were any inns nearby with single rooms.
"Single rooms," the coachman mused for a moment, then said hesitantly, "There's a place called the Black Horse Inn on Bow Street, near Covent Garden. I've heard it's decent. But the alleys around there are narrow—carriages can't go in."
No matter. She couldn't afford to be picky. Though dimly lit alleys were prime targets for robbers, Elena's transformed body had been enhanced. One-on-one, she might not be at a disadvantage.
With her consent, the coach headed toward Covent Garden. The coachman reminded her, "There are many guiding boys there. You can hire one and tell him the address—he'll lead you there. Those alleys are tricky."
The carriage stopped outside Covent Garden, and Elena paid the fare, then looked up.
Covent Garden might be the most bustling place in all of Luenton. Originally the city's first square, it had evolved into the most vibrant produce market in the West End. Taverns, theatres, cafes, brothels, bathhouses, and casinos filled the area.
Though night had fallen, the streets remained lively. Kerosene lamps glowed in residential windows, the scent of beer from taverns, grilled meat from vendors, the fragrance of flower stalls, and the stench of discarded fruit peels mingled in the air. Elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen in dark suits were everywhere. Their laughter and chatter filled the air. Children selling flowers and matches darted among the crowd, adding to the noise.
Elena hadn't had dinner and her stomach growled. This was Luenton's freshest market—if even this food was fake, then nothing was safe to eat. She bought several apples, hastily filling her stomach, and with the rest in hand, followed the coachman's directions toward Bow Street. At the edge of the alley, several boys holding torches immediately surrounded her.
"Sir, need a guide?"
"Only a penny, sir!"
She walked up to a sharp-looking boy and asked, "Do you know where the Black Horse Inn is?"
"Of course, sir," the boy replied eagerly, bowed, and turned into a dim alley. The other children weren't upset—they quickly resumed scouting for other guests.
Elena followed the boy, carefully avoiding mud and trash underfoot. A strange, indescribable stench filled the alley, making her frown. After many twists and turns, the boy finally stopped and pointed ahead.
"There it is."
A sign with a black horse painted on it swung in the wind.
Elena gave the boy two pennies, delighting him so much that he bowed repeatedly in gratitude.
The Black Horse Inn had a large courtyard, surrounded on three sides by guest rooms, with exterior staircases and walkways leading to upper levels. A few hunting dogs were chained in a corner of the courtyard, eyeing Elena warily and growling softly.
She carefully crossed the yard and stepped inside the building, where a dense cloud of smoke greeted her. The air was thick, hard to breathe, and carried the strange scent of tobacco and animal fat candles. She looked around and saw several men and women gathered in the common room—talking, standing, sitting, laughing. A fire crackled in the hearth.
She approached the rotund innkeeper behind the counter, removed her hat respectfully, and asked, "Do you have any rooms? Just one."
The innkeeper squinted at her for a moment, then grinned. "Two shillings."
Elena didn't hesitate. She took enough coins to cover three nights and handed them over. The innkeeper took the money, then pulled a brass key and a lit candle from a drawer. "Top floor, last room at the end."
She left the common room, climbed the outside staircase to the top floor, and unlocked the last room.
The room was plain: a narrow bed, a worn vanity, a basic water basin with a ceramic bowl. No fireplace. No toilet. She drew the curtains, placed the candle on the vanity, and promptly ended her transformation.
Though her transformation time had increased from one hour to seven after much practice, and the cooldown had shortened to half a day, the divine favor owed to Hecate had not lessened. She had pushed herself to the limit today—more than seven hours. She could feel the goddess's favor dwindling. A few more uses, and she wouldn't be able to pay the price.
Misfortunes never come alone. Elena didn't even have the luxury of being sentimental. She focused on figuring out her next move.
Maybe she could write to *Ladies' Monthly* and ask them to forward a letter to the Duke of Berkeley to learn what happened at the club. But that might expose her location. After the fright she got at the club's doorstep, she was like a startled bird—terrified that the next time she blinked, the Inquisition would be at her door.
If the Duke knew what happened, perhaps the next issue of *Ladies' Monthly*—due in two days—would include some hint. She had paid for three nights anyway; it wouldn't hurt to wait and see before deciding whether to write.
Right now, her top priority was regaining the favor of the goddess Hecate, to sustain her ritual magic. Also, the only moonless night this month was coming in just under two weeks—the night designated for the ritual to restore her appearance. If she missed it, she'd have to wait another month and a half. By then, her father and brother would be back. If they visited the club and found only an empty shell... she didn't dare imagine the consequences.
Even if she knew what had happened at the club, she couldn't help for now. The most important thing was to recover her appearance. She had already told Mr. Herman that she urgently needed funds and asked him to rush the printing of *Spring Dream*. Half a month should be enough time to roll out distribution. There weren't many words anyway—they could sell while printing.
With such thoughts, Elena gradually drifted into sleep in that plain little room.
The next day, it was afternoon by the time her transformation badge finished cooling. She took on her male form again and went down to the dining room. Yes, the inn served food and drink—though not especially delicious.
The hall she had entered yesterday was both the lounge and the dining room. A few guests were already there, playing chess or dice. Elena took some stew and beer, finally filling her empty stomach.
Since there was still time before sunset, she headed out again. Wandering through dirty, muddy alleys, she returned to the shops near Covent Garden and bought paper, pens, ink, envelopes, and stamps—cheap and functional, no time to be picky. She also got some fruit. She didn't dare touch the bread—she'd heard too many stories about adulterated flour, and some bakers supposedly let their sweat drip into the dough.
She was certain that, living like this, she'd definitely lose weight.
By the time she returned to the inn, it was nearly dusk. More travelers had gathered in the common room. They all seemed to be social butterflies. One young man enthusiastically greeted her:
"Saw you yesterday. Hello there! We're sharing stories from the road. Want to join us?"
She had no particular plans anyway. Elena removed her hat politely and sat down at the table. She listened to tales of dubious truth while nibbling stew. The rotund innkeeper also seemed curious, listening closely from nearby.
Until a lad suddenly said, with mysterious flair, "This story happened at my aunt's house… Have you heard of ghost stories?"
Elena froze mid-bite, leaving her caught between a laugh and a sigh of exasperation.