Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The afternoon duty continued with Orle's shopping and MacMurray's insights into police work.

The police system in the Norton Empire, being established later, borrowed experiences from other countries, but its overall structure and rules for police functions were still quite rudimentary and even chaotic.

For example, the patrol officers in Sodman had to undertake various tasks besides patrolling the streets and staying at the police station. They also had duties at the courthouse and prison, providing perimeter security, while police in smaller towns even had to take on firefighting responsibilities.

Their tasks while stationed at the police station were also varied: organizing case files, accompanying detectives to arrest criminals, “assisting” in interrogating suspects, executing criminals, protecting VIPs, and so on.

This was like getting one salary for doing at least four or five different jobs.

"…Orle, if we’re assigned to protect important persons, remember two things: first, never act alone, no matter what suspicious situation you encounter. Second, don’t accept any gifts privately, whether from the person you’re protecting or other related individuals."

Orle nodded, taking in MacMurray’s important advice as a rookie.

"Fish Tail District may be small, but it’s still part of Sodman and not as safe as it seems. And... uh..." he hesitated, "and your appearance, to be honest, could attract a lot of trouble."

So far, to MacMurray, Orle seemed obedient and kind, which matched his identity as a privileged child who hadn’t been exposed to the real world. This made him decide to offer more advice, though he braced himself for a possible angry outburst from the young man.

"I understand your concern and will do my best to protect myself," Orle, now inhabiting the body, was well aware that this warning stemmed from genuine care.

Orle had flaxen hair, grey eyes, a few freckles on his cheeks, a high nose bridge, rosy lips, and a slightly chubby oval face. He wasn't androgynous but was indeed a handsome young man. Especially since the original host was well-educated, Orle, having taken over, also possessed a good education and upbringing, which gave him a demeanor and manner of speaking superior to most in this world.

Youth is beautiful, pure, but youth is also underage, a child.

Ollie is gay, not LTP. He looks at a child, a teenager, and no matter how attractive, he feels only a protective instinct, never thoughts of anything more. But he knows others are different.

In the information-saturated world of Blue Star, he had seen many documentaries, aware that many harbor dark predilections. In this world, the original host's memories include business partners of Old Mondale, classmates' fathers, strangers at banquets, and even teachers who had looked at him strangely. In contrast, those openly expressing affection in the public school seemed more straightforward and pure.

The original host really should have left Sodeman with Old Mondale. He wasn't yet of age to be on his own and still needed the protection of a father's wings.

Ollie's gaze was earnest, his response not a casual one. Big Mike was momentarily taken aback and changed the subject: "We're on duty at the police station tomorrow. It's generally uneventful, but I'll take you around the station."

"That's great, does it include the armory?" Ollie's eyes lit up; this was something to be excited about.

"Of course, we have wooden stock and steam-powered shotguns. You can't carry one, but you can check them out."

Oll, who had only handled two wooden stores during military training in college, nodded continuously.

Around six in the evening, Oll and Big Mac, returning from patrol to the gas station, saw the police officers coming to take over their shift. On their way back to the police station, they took a public horse carriage, as there was only one public train.

They didn't pay either—Oll would have paid if he were traveling alone in the future, but now he couldn't make an exception.

Big Mac pointed out the herbal shop, but Oll, having already bought garlic and ginger from Mrs. Buttrif's grocery store, decided not to visit. He needed to save money, and the pain of not being able to afford spices while removing dish after dish from his recipe book was truly agonizing.

He already felt the heartache, a hollow pain accompanied by the rumbling of his stomach.

However, before heading home, Oll had to do some physical labor.

"All the things you bought are here, please check them," Mrs. Torrey said, opening the storage room on the first floor, where all of Oll's purchases were neatly stacked.

"Okay, Mrs. Torrey." It took Oll about five or six minutes to complete the check, "You've organized everything so clearly, I haven't missed anything, thank you very much."

It was the first time Oll saw the usually stern Mrs. Torrey smile, "Start moving your things, young man. I'll keep an eye on your belongings here. Although the gentlemen living here are trustworthy, it's best to follow the rules, don't you think?"

"Yes, you're right." Oll bowed slightly, showing respect and agreement to his elder, "The brothers at the grocery store were also very careful, not even a single piece of cutlery was chipped. I should tip them a bit more next time I go."

"You've already tipped them, and that's enough. Getting too much at once is not good for those kids."

"You're right." Although Oll thought Mrs. Torrey was a bit too strict, as a newcomer, he decided to heed the advice of the elder.

Without further ado, Oll started moving his things.

Although he only lived on the second floor, the floors here were very high, equivalent to climbing two floors in a typical house. Oll, just out of the hospital and worried about his frail health, managed to move all his belongings back home quickly.

"I must say, you've surprised me," Mrs. Torrey said, stroking her chin, not hiding her astonishment, "Mr. Biddle even secretly told me to go to him anytime for help, but you seem to be a sturdy little colt already."

Oll couldn't help but smile at this description: "Actually, I'm quite surprised myself."

He had already taken off his police coat, rolled up his sleeves, and placed his helmet at home. He was prepared to rest immediately if he felt any discomfort, but he managed quite comfortably, only breaking into a light sweat.

"Well, I should get back to knitting my socks. Goodnight in advance, Mr. Mondale."

"Goodnight to you too, Mrs. Torrey. See you tomorrow."

Oll's already small room felt even more cramped with the additional clutter. Closing the door, he frowned and pursed his lips, walking over to his bed to sit down and start removing his boots.

As he pulled off the boot, his bare left foot touched the floor, and a sock fell out from the boot's shaft.

Oll sighed; the last time his socks uncontrollably tried to escape his feet was in middle school. Back then, it was because his feet kept growing, making his socks too small. This time, it was due to the lack of elasticity in the socks. They were cotton but too loose.

The last time he wore comfortable, fitting sneakers, so it didn't matter much if the socks shrunk. But now, he was wearing stiff leather boots, new ones that chafed a lot.

"Ouch..." Oll freed his right foot, which was in worse shape than the left. The blister on his big toe had burst, "Ah, some things really are necessary."

This "some things" referred to garters...

(ω＼) They were not bought by Oll, but came with the complete outfit. He had even spent a long time figuring out what those little straps were. He initially thought they were decorative bands for the police uniform's jacket, fiddling with them on the buttons. It was only a fragment of the original host's memory that revealed their true purpose.

These were men's garters, meant to be wrapped around the calf and then clipped to the socks.

The memory fragment also gifted Oll with another piece of knowledge: there were also garters for men used on the thigh, not for socks, but to clip the shirt's bottom. Women's garters hang down to hold up socks, while shirt stays clip upwards to hold down a shirt. The moment he learned about these, Oll was even a bit excited.

He imagined his dream lover wearing a white shirt and black shirt stays, cough, wearing only that...

"Although I don't know what my dream lover looks like, I know what type of physique I like the most. That attire, it's really smoking hot."

Precisely because of his first glimpse of those small items, the X-rated implications were too strong for Oll, so he didn't wear them, and subsequently paid the price.

He found a needle to puncture the unbroken blisters and drain the pus. The broken blisters were disinfected with saline. In this era, without anti-inflammatory ointments, he could only hope the broken blisters would scab over.

After eating two baked potatoes for dinner and making himself a pot of radish soup, Oll's feet felt much better. He picked up a wooden box from the only small table in his room. It was the most expensive item he bought at the grocery store today—three cloves of garlic and two pieces of ginger, totaling 1 gold Huo and 40 Eko, with Mrs. Buttrif rounding down the amount.

As a homebody with plenty of leisure time, Oll had grown onions, ginger, and garlic himself, so he was quite experienced.

Garlic was easy, but ginger gave Oll a headache. He used to germinate large, plump, and healthy pieces of ginger the size of his palm. Now, these two pieces, although whole, were only the size of a matchbox, wrinkled and ugly on the surface. Could they even successfully sprout?

Anyway, he had to try. If it didn't work, he'd go to the herbal shop.

Next, Oll boiled a pot of hot water and quickly washed up—his room's bathroom was less than two square meters, with only a toilet and a washbasin. The original host had brought a small basin for washing, which Oll used. He had bought a larger bathtub, but there was no way he could take a bath today.