As the clock struck zero o'clock in St. Selena's Church, Hagrid reappeared in Wild Hearts, holding a thin sheet of paper and handing it to Angel, who had already lost a full £2 in the Dog Catcher field.

"This identification is no problem for the police in Tingen at the moment, but the Central Archives Office in Beckland does not have your file and cannot stand up to the inspection of letters, and if you commit something in Tingen, the police will send a telegram to Beckland to check your identity, and it will be revealed immediately. I suggest you wait a week or so, and once the fake identity is filed, you can swagger out the door. ”

Angel nodded in understanding.

She looked down at the dim light in the bar to scrutinize her identification.

Name: Angel Granger; Gender: Female; Date of birth: 28 June 1331......

That's right, the same surname is Granger, and in the fake information she submitted, she is a distant cousin of Cole Granger and Lily Granger, from remote West Villas County, whose parents died in a border conflict between the Kingdom of Rune and Intis.

She also figured out why she had come to Tingen from West Villas, and Angel Granger, who had lost both of her parents, decided to take all her savings to join a distant relative living in Tingen, and Cole Granger received her and asked her to stay on Daffodil Street.

Angel's decision to tie his new identity to the Granger family was also well considered.

First of all, she can legally live in Cole Granger's house, the property in Daffodil Street is not cheap, it costs nearly a thousand gold pounds to buy a set, even if it is just rented, it will cost dozens of pounds a year, and she can not live in it and find another house, whether it is rented or bought, the cost of living alone is a huge expense.

Secondly, the connection with the locals also makes her identity more credible, and it is easier for her to be accepted by others as a "distant relative" of a local household than a stranger with a blank resume.

Finally, as a relative of Cole Granger for a while, Angel also has the opportunity to expose his previous crimes and allow the deceased to seek justice.

This is the last thing she can do for Cole Granger as his "successor" - atonement.

……

Carefully putting away the identification papers he had spent forty pounds on, Angel Granger left the still-noisy Wild Hearts bar.

The streets outside the door are no longer as crowded as they used to be, and although there is no curfew in the city of Tingen, most of the residents of the Lower Iron Cross are low-income people who work for a day to eat, and for them, staying up late is a bad habit.

Especially in a time when lighting at night is quite expensive.

Looking around, the big man who guarded the door had already sat on the empty barrel and took a nap, and he didn't seem to pay attention to Angel's departure at all, and the secret sentry on the second floor opposite was dutiful, still keeping the window open.

Angel tightened her hood and began to return the way she came.

The gas lights on the street have long since been turned off, and the residents on both sides have turned off their lights to rest, and the quiet street is only illuminated by the red moon overhead, which looks dim under the shadow of the drifting clouds.

Even if there is no one around, Angel, who has dark vision, honestly plays the role of an ordinary person with no extraordinary abilities, walking slowly through the streets by moonlight, carefully bypassing puddles of sewage and littering garbage.

She hadn't gone far before her keen sense of hearing noticed that someone was following her not far behind.

This did not surprise her.

When paying Hagrid's "license fee" at the bar, Angel noticed that there was a lot of greedy eyes focused on her in the shadows, which was why she had avoided using large bills when she went out shopping, but unfortunately the forty gold pounds would have been noticeable anyway.

Besides, even if he wasn't targeted, an intelligence dealer like Hagrid wouldn't necessarily let go of his prey, and Mr. "The Hanged Man" saved Hagrid's life, but his friends didn't.

The people behind him were vain, and they had no intention of covering it up, most likely they were ordinary people, and they had drunk a lot of alcohol. But even if she is not extraordinary, ordinary gangsters with hot weapons can pose a threat to her, and Angel does not intend to take this risk.

She used her dark vision to bypass the obstacles on the road, and quickened her pace, as long as she left the lower street and reached the intersection of Iron Cross Street, she could easily get rid of the trackers by using the roads in all directions, and she could not afford to play with such a money-hungry drunkard.

The tracker's footsteps paused, and then increased in frequency, but the dim environment caused him a lot of trouble, and Angel kept hearing the chaotic sound of garbage being kicked away and stagnant water being stepped on behind him.

At this moment, the sound of horses' hooves was heard, Angel looked back, a four-wheeled carriage was coming, under the light of the hanging oil lights, the black side of the body painted "double swords cross, cluster crown" logo shining, this is the common police system logo of the entire kingdom of Rune, the coachman wearing a high hat and a suit, calmly driving the carriage through the dirty streets.

The stalker had already pulled away a lot, and as the carriage drove by, he shuddered at the sight of the police sign and went straight into the gap between the two apartments on the side of the street.

"Black household" Angel subconsciously wanted to bow his head to dodge, but after thinking about it, there is no such high-tech as face recognition in this era, even if he walks to the police face to face, as long as he doesn't commit a crime on the spot, he doesn't need to worry at all.

On the contrary, they want to hide, which is more likely to attract their suspicion.

With that in mind, she raised her head again, turned sideways and strode sideways to the side of the street, making way for the carriage to make way in the middle of the street, while using her "assassin's" dexterity to avoid the sewage splashed by the wheels.

Just like the average passerby should do when he encounters a galloping carriage.

The police carriage passed by her without pause.

The moment she passed by, she saw through the car window that two people were sitting opposite each other in the car, one was dressed in black and had a high hat, with a warning star on his shoulder, short light brown hair, gray eyes staring ahead, and saying something with a serious expression, and the other was obviously much younger, with black hair and brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt, and looking indifferent.

This can't be the second generation of the official family late-night bus for private use, Angel sneered.

Before she could think about it, the carriage sped away, and the light from the oil lamp hanging on the carriage vanished, and the street fell back into the dim moonlight.

The footsteps behind him sounded again, but I didn't expect the stalker to still not give up, and took advantage of Angel's stunned time to speed up his pace and lean back again.

A strong smell of inferior wine wafted in, and footsteps stopped a meter away, followed by the sound of clothes rubbing.

Knowing that conflict was inevitable, Angel turned back and quickly judged the situation with the help of dark vision.

The stalker is a middle-aged man wearing coarse cloth trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, with an ungroomed beard and sticky hair suggesting that he is not in good financial condition, most likely having recently lost his job and escaping from cheap liquor at a bar.

Seeing that he was taking something out of his trouser pocket, Angel stepped forward first, lifted his right foot and kicked it on the left knee of the other party, and the man who had ingested too much alcohol and caused a loss of balance only felt a pain in his knee and knelt on the dirty street.

He pulled out a small, strangely shaped pistol from his trousers with his right hand, and before he could raise his gun to aim, Angel reached out and grabbed the hammer, grabbed the pistol and twisted it, snatching his weapon from the man's cries of pain.

"Ah...... Fingers, my fingers ......" The man ignored the pistol that had been snatched away, but fell to his knees, his left hand covering his right hand, his index knuckle in hyperextension, apparently dislocated.

"It's just a sprain, get a doctor to take a look, you should be glad that it's only your finger that hurts." Two moves subdued the stalker, Angel took the captured pistol and said unhurriedly. This small revolver was supposed to be a woman, it could only be loaded with four rounds, and the caliber was smaller than that of a general-purpose pistol cartridge, and the lack of maintenance had caused the grease oozing from the receiver to clump, making the body mottled, and Angel even suspected that the primer of the bullet had been damp and could not be fired at all.

Pointing the gun at the man, Angel asked, "Now I ask you, where did you pick up the gun?" ”

"Out of town...... The pier outside the city, I picked it up at the pier. In the past, I was unloading in the gang, maybe someone dropped it there, and there were only three bullets in it, but I didn't dare to use it, and I kept hiding under the bed. Now that my job is gone, and my money is gone, I ...... I'm sorry, I don't dare, don't kill me! ”

The man was pointed at the gun, his face was frightened, he didn't dare to hide it, and told Angel the origin of the pistol like a bamboo tube pouring beans.

"Did anyone instruct you?"

"What...... What? No, no! I just saw that you were generous and gave Hagrid a lot of money, and I wanted to make a profit, and I blamed that rye beer! ”

The man raised his head in panic, saw that the muzzle of the black hole was still aimed at him, and quickly lowered his head, denying it repeatedly.

Seeing the stalker's flustered after the gun was snatched, Angel felt that he might indeed have decided to stalk him on the spur of the moment, under the influence of alcohol, rather than the pawn sent by Hagrid or someone else to tempt him.

Of course, it may be that the other party hides it deeper, and even this outcast himself doesn't know.

Angel looked in the direction of the Wild Heart bar, but found no sign of anyone else.

"Alright, count yourself lucky today, I don't want to kill yet. Let's find something to do in the future, I confiscated this gun. Ignoring the man who was kneeling and begging for mercy, Angel took a few steps back with the pistol, and saw that the man still did not dare to raise his head, before turning around and leaving the scene quickly.

The streets of Tingen are deserted after midnight, as if the bustle of the first half of the night was an illusion. On the way home, Angel was not idle, she disassembled the pistol, threw the bullet nest and the body of the gun into different sewer drains, and threw a few bullets into the garbage heap on the corner.

She didn't have the idea of keeping the ladies pistol for herself, not to mention that special small cartridges were hard to come by, and the lack of maintenance alone made her lose interest in using them.

All the way back to Daffodil Street, Angel entered through the main entrance this time, inserted the key to unscrew the lock, and caught the note that slipped through the crack of the door, she did not relax, but carefully checked the environment of the entire living room through dark vision, and compared it with the memory before going out, before entering the house.

After locking the door and taking off her cloak and hanging it aside, her tense body completely relaxed, and from this moment on, she was truly able to gain a firm foothold in this world.

Having her own identity is only the first step, and the next step is how to use this identity to settle down in Tingen, and make up a suitable reason for living in Cole's house, she already has a general idea, but there are many holes to fill in to form a detailed plan.

Changing into loose and comfortable clothes, Angel walked into the study again, sipped on the ink, spread out the notebook, and it would be another sleepless night.