Chapter Four: Leizein (Part One)

Every page of the booklet was densely packed with information. For some people with little connection, only half a page was dedicated, while for those deeply linked, the details spanned three to four pages. Naturally, the most crucial section—occupying a full third of the booklet—was dedicated to Chris, the identity Virak intended to impersonate.

From Chris’s basic family background, personality, hobbies, social circle, to his time studying economics at the Lazeyn Empire University’s Business School, his recent work summary reports, and even the childhood anecdotes occasionally mentioned by relatives and friends, every detail was meticulously noted.

“Phew...” A drop of sweat fell onto the booklet. Virak, struggling to contain his excitement, suddenly realized his forehead was already slick with a mixture of exhilaration and fear.

The wheel of history was turning once more. This time, he was determined to change his fate, to transcend social class and become a man of wealth.

Fletcher watched Virak closely, noting the flickering expressions on his face, stirred by a torrent of thoughts.

Feeling Fletcher’s gaze, Virak briefly met his eyes, then quickly lowered his head to return to the booklet.

He was not particularly worried about making mistakes that might arouse suspicion. As Fletcher had told him in his past life: when others have no reason to doubt you, any reaction you show can be interpreted in a thousand friendly ways.

Virak refrained from over-controlling his demeanor and focused intently on the booklet.

Most of the people listed were ones he had interacted with in his previous life. Face-to-face encounters left deeper impressions than words on paper, so he still remembered them clearly. But now, he studied the booklet carefully not merely to impress Fletcher or reinforce his memory, but to uncover details within Chris’s social circle that he had overlooked before.

As a key member of the rebellious organization highly active in Lazeyn, and an indispensable source of substantial financial support to the group, Chris’s social circle surely included a ‘hub’—someone who outwardly appeared normal but secretly transmitted information, connecting Chris to the rebels.

Virak recalled that during his previous participation in multiple events, certain individuals had deliberately approached him, trying to pass messages. At the time, he was only filled with panic, wary that they were acquaintances of Chris. His response was either to leave hastily before being exposed, or have Fletcher intervene.

It wasn’t until he learned the true cause of Chris’s demise, right before being framed to die agonizingly, that he connected these two threads—and extracted vital intelligence.

The mysterious person who had repeatedly tried to contact him before was very likely a member of the rebel group. If so, an even more astonishing revelation emerged: the rebels were unaware that Virak was impersonating Chris.

The newly formed government of the Buresi Republic was still in its infancy, an extremely sensitive period during which it ruthlessly suppressed any force that might threaten its rule.

Although Virak had been entangled with the rebels ever since he assumed Chris’s identity, he admitted he lacked the capability to navigate these complexities for now. Therefore, he was in no rush to engage with this hot potato.

He regarded this connection as a potential lifeline in a critical moment. If he lost the power struggle against the Thomas family, the rebel link could at least spare him from mortal danger.

It was precisely this consideration that gave Virak the confidence to choose a path both similar to and distinct from his previous life’s, bringing along his two close friends, Nord and Dumps. In the turbulent currents of Lazeyn, these trusted allies would help him secure a foothold early on.

On the journey to Zword Train Station, Virak flipped through the booklet while planning his moves upon arriving in Lazeyn.

If he failed again there, his situation would be ten thousand times worse than living in the slums.

He had to survive these two months, leveraging the Thomas family to gain immense profits and transform his life.

An hour later, they arrived at Zword’s train station. The next train to Lazeyn was scheduled to depart at 12:30 a.m. Fletcher had booked an entire carriage. The group boarded and waited for departure.

“How’s your memory?” Fletcher asked, removing his top hat and thick black coat as he sat opposite Virak.

“Not bad,” Virak answered evasively.

Fletcher was unsatisfied and leaned forward, taking the booklet from Virak’s hands. He casually opened a page and asked, “Start with Chris’s basic info.”

Basic facts were the easiest to memorize. Virak didn’t want to appear overly studious by recalling everything, but he wouldn’t pretend to be half clueless either.

“Chris is twenty-four, two years younger than me. He’s 184 cm tall, three centimeters taller than me. Well-proportioned, weighs about the same. Doesn’t smoke, left-handed, mildly nearsighted but dislikes glasses, fond of watches and knowledgeable about them... He’s gentle and humble, rarely angry, which makes some people see him as a pushover—”

“Good,” Fletcher stopped him with a raised hand. “What’s Chris’s favorite drink?”

“Julay wine.”

“Allergies?”

“Lemon.”

“What does he usually do on Tuesdays?”

“Tuesday mornings... I can’t recall, but in the evenings he attends classical concerts.”

“Does he like horseback riding?”

“He was injured by a horse as a child, so he dislikes riding. His sister is skilled at equestrianism and often goes to the stables.”

After this line of questioning—though Virak feigned forgetting a few points—Fletcher was quite pleased with his progress.

“Not bad. On the way, try to memorize as much as possible. But we won’t put you in danger. When you attend the banquet, people we’ve arranged will discuss pre-prepared topics with you. Just repeat what you’ve memorized exactly.”

“Understood.” Virak nodded, glancing at Nord and Dumps, who sat at a nearby table, drowsy from fatigue and drink.

Fletcher followed his gaze. “I’ll take care of them. No need to worry.”

“Can I keep them close by?” Virak probed.

Fletcher’s look deepened, and after a few moments of silence, he replied, “Of course, but not now. First, we must resolve the Thomas family scandal. We’ll talk about that later.”

“Alright,” Virak conceded.

“Although you look almost identical to Chris, you still need to dress the part.” Fletcher beckoned, and several waiting staff entered the carriage. A tailor began selecting fitted clothes for Virak, while a barber prepared to style his hair exactly like Chris’s.

Half an hour later, transformed, Virak donned polished leather shoes with three-centimeter lifts and stood before Fletcher for inspection.

Seeing him in a crisp suit, his previously messy hair neatly styled to mirror Chris’s sharp appearance, Fletcher smiled with satisfaction.

“If you just stand here silently, no one would suspect you’re not Chris.”

Nord and Dumps, stubbornly resisting sleep nearby, stared at the seemingly changed Virak in silent amazement.

“What’s next?” Virak asked.

“Chris is left-handed. You’ll need to get used to using your left hand.”

“I’m left-handed too,” Virak replied.

“That’s even better,” Fletcher beamed. “Also, you seem reserved and steady, somewhat like Chris. Keep that up.”

The train whistle blew. Slowly, the train began to move, gradually picking up speed.

Virak and Fletcher looked out the window together as Zword Station quickly faded behind them. The train raced through the vast, dark night toward Lazeyn.