politypo

In Jackdaw Town, the midday sun was so scorching that pedestrians on the street took shelter under the eaves.

Reiner staggered down the street, occasionally letting out a violent cough that he couldn't suppress.

He used to have a relatively respectable job as a watchmaker, before he developed a strange illness.

Half a year ago, Reiner returned home in the icy rain of late winter after being hired to repair watches.

What followed was a chill and a high fever, followed by persistent coughing and convulsions.

This made him completely unable to calibrate and repair watches.

For most of the past six months, he relied on his daughter who worked as a waitress in a tavern and his son who worked as a cargo handler at the dock to continuously bring him food and cold plague potions distributed by the church.

Reiner knew that his illness would never be cured because he began to feel itching and tingling in his lungs last month.

A week ago, he began to cough up blood intermittently, dark red, semi-coagulated blood.

Reiner decisively sold the complete set of watch repair tools that had been passed down in his family for three generations, so that he could buy his son a brand new two-wheeled cart and his daughter could have the white cotton dress she had longed for.

She could wear it to church mass every Sunday, Reiner dreamed.

Unfortunately, he could not save more money for them. Everything that could be sold had been sold, and he did not want to spend any more money to find a cemetery for himself or to hire a pastor to perform a final resting place for him.

Reiner had left a simple suicide note in the shack he rented. Now he just wanted to find a hidden bridge hole or alley, lie down quietly and wait for death to come.

I walked along the street in a daze, dragging my staggering steps, and subconsciously came to the square where I used to hang out.

"Magic... Experiments, recruitment..."

Reiner was surprised to find that the notice posted on the town square was actually a temporary recruitment from a wizard.

From his limited knowledge, those arrogant spellcasters would hardly deal with any commoners. Only noble lords like the lord were qualified to drink with them in solemn occasions such as banquets.

Out of curiosity, Reiner begged the literate townspeople in the square to read the recruitment book to him.

It turned out to be the wizard Harvey who had just moved to the town half a year ago. He wanted to recruit a group of civilians to participate in his magical experiments. As long as you go for the interview, you will receive a reward of 5 silver coins regardless of whether you are selected or not.

Reiner suddenly felt happy. He heard that the necromancer would buy corpses for experiments. Maybe he could sell them for some money and leave some for the children.

Thinking of this, Reiner carefully tore off the recruitment notice and begged the donkey driver who was picking up jobs near the square to take him to Harvey's manor.

…

"Are you here for an interview?" Harvey asked calmly, looking at the sallow-faced middle-aged man sitting in the chair. "Then do you know the type of magic research I'm doing?"

Reiner rolled his throat with difficulty, suppressed a cough and whispered: "My lord, you are a necromancer, I know it very well."

Harvey nodded and asked doubtfully, "You are not afraid of necromancers? You are not afraid of zombies or skeletons?"

"No, ahem... sir, there are several necromancers living in this town. Although they usually stay at home and rarely go out,... no one is afraid of them. We all know that those rumors are not true." Reiner explained cautiously.

Indeed, since the establishment of the Spellcasters' Union a hundred years ago, the cruel image of the wizard group has been greatly improved, and the necromancers are no longer the cold-blooded wizards who are in league with the devil and are bloodthirsty as rumored.

In the eyes of common people, wizards are no different from nobles. They are equally unattainable, but just more powerful and mysterious.

Thinking of this, Harvey slowed down his tone and said patiently, "But you don't meet my experimental requirements. I'm sorry, but I will still pay you for the interview."

He was looking for someone who wasn't afraid of the Necromancer's reputation and who could operate the production line in the workshop with the zombies.

Although this middle-aged man in front of me met the most important recruitment requirements, his health looked completely unhealthy and he looked so sick that he almost died.

"Sir, I know my body can no longer work. Ahem, naturally it is of no use to your experiment..." Reiner was not surprised by the other party's refusal. He didn't come here for this job in the first place.

"But you are a necromancer, so corpses must be useful to you, right?" Reiner asked hopefully.

Harvey was a little confused. "Are you a corpse collector? I won't buy corpses from illegal sources."

"No, sir, the body I want to sell is my own..." Reiner said with a wry smile. "As you can see, I... I'm about to die, and I just want to leave some more money for my children..."

After saying these words with difficulty, Reiner began to cough violently. Even though he covered his mouth and nose tightly, Harvey could still see the dark red blood seeping from between his fingers.

"You've got the cold?" Harvey shook his head. The other person seemed to have obvious symptoms.

High fever, cough, chest pain, vomiting blood.

Harvey remembered this disease very clearly. In the world before he traveled through time, it was called tuberculosis. The only difference was that the cold plague was not contagious.

A dying person.

There is no mistake in the poem, post, content, and read the book on 6-9!

Harvey sighed secretly, and said with some reluctance: "I am indeed short of experimental materials at the moment, but this method is too cruel. I don't think your family will have the heart to make this decision..."

"Sir, please rest assured. I can sign the contract. My body belongs to me and no one else can make decisions for me." An excited blush appeared on Reiner's gray face.

Harvey closed his eyes and thought for a while, then slowly said, "Okay, I have another experiment that you may be able to do... but you must be completely willing and highly cooperative."

"But I can't guarantee the success rate of the experiment. If it fails, you will die immediately. Compared with your current condition, it will not be too painful."

Harvey paused, then took the initiative to bring up the part that Reiner was most concerned about. "As for the reward, regardless of success or failure, I will pay your family ten times the amount of money used to purchase the body, 50 gold pounds..."

"I do! My lord, I do." Reiner was ecstatic. 50 gold pounds was a sum of money that he would have to save up for 20 years without eating or drinking and working diligently.

Not only was it enough for the kids to buy a cheap townhouse, but there was also some money left over for them to complete their own major life events.

…

Reiner cut his finger tremblingly and signed the experimental agreement with the effect of a magic contract with his blood. Then he received the huge one-time payment as promised.

Harvey also thoughtfully summoned the Night Owl Messenger to help him deliver one of the agreements and the reward to his children.

A magic contract is a special form of contract with retroactive capabilities, and is mainly used to regulate contractual cooperation between spellcasters and ordinary people.

The Federation has a complete set of methods to review whether there are any violations. Whether it is a civilian or a spellcaster, the punishment for violating the contract is very severe.

Therefore, as long as the magic contract is signed voluntarily, there will be no situation where civilians are forced to participate in magical experiments. Harvey does not want to get into trouble of this level with the Federation.

After completing this series of formalities according to the procedures, Harvey clapped his hands in satisfaction and comforted the weak Reiner in a gentle tone:

"It seems that your body no longer allows you to return home and say goodbye to your family. Just stay here with me. I can start the experiment tomorrow."

We can't let him torture himself anymore. Who knows if this poor patient with advanced tuberculosis can survive these two days.

The soul transfer experiment must begin as soon as possible.

(End of this chapter)