Crow's Nest Town, the midday sun was so scorching that pedestrians on the street hurried to take shelter under the eaves.
Leina walked with faltering steps down the street, periodically letting out a violent, irrepressible cough.
In the past, he had a relatively decent job as a clockmaker, before he contracted this strange illness.
Half a year ago, after a job where he was hired to repair a clock at someone's home, Leina returned home soaked by the freezing rain of late winter.
What followed was a cold and high fever, then continuous coughing and convulsions.
This made it impossible for him to continue working on clock calibration and repair.
For the past six months, he had relied entirely on his daughter, who worked as a waitress in a tavern, and his son, who moved goods at the docks, who constantly brought him food and the cold plague medicine distributed by the church.
Leina knew he would never get better, because starting last month, he felt a sensation of stinging and itching in his lungs.
A week ago, he started coughing up blood intermittently, dark red, semi-clotted blood.
Leina resolutely sold the complete set of clock repair tools passed down through three generations of his family, so his son could get a brand new two-wheeled cart, and his daughter could have a cotton white long dress she had long desired.
She could wear it to attend the Sunday church mass, Leina dreamed.
Unfortunately, he couldn't save more money for them; everything that could be sold had been sold. He also didn't want to spend money finding a burial plot for himself or asking a priest for last rites.
Leina had already left a simple will in the rented shack where he lived. Now, he just wanted to find a secluded bridge underpass or alley, lie down quietly, and wait for death to come.
Drifting aimlessly, dragging his faltering steps down the street, he subconsciously arrived at the square where he used to often wander.
"Magic... experiment, recruitment..."
Leina was surprised to find that the notice posted on the town square's bulletin board was actually a temporary recruitment notice from a Master Mage.
In his limited experience, those high-and-mighty Spellcasters almost never interacted with commoners; only noble lords like the liege were qualified to socialize with them in formal settings like banquets.
Filled with curiosity, Leina begged a literate townsperson in the square to read the recruitment notice to him.
It turned out to be Master Harvey, who had just moved to town six months ago. He wanted to recruit a group of people from the commoners to participate in his magic experiments. As long as they came for an interview, they would receive 5 silver coins as compensation, regardless of whether they were selected or not.
A surge of joy instantly welled up in Leina's heart. He had heard that Necromancers would buy corpses for experiments. Perhaps he could sell himself for another sum of money, leaving more for his children.
Thinking of this, Leina carefully tore down the recruitment notice and begged a donkey cart driver who was looking for work near the square to take him to Harvey's manor.
...
"You're here for the interview?" Harvey asked calmly, looking at the middle-aged man sitting on the chair with a sallow complexion. "Do you know what type of magic research I conduct?"
Leina swallowed with difficulty, suppressing a cough as he mumbled, "Master, you are a Necromancer. I am well aware."
Harvey nodded, asking with a hint of doubt, "You're not afraid of Necromancers? Not afraid of ghouls or skeletons?"
"No, cough cough... Master, there are several Necromancers living in town. Although they usually keep to themselves, no one is... afraid. People know those rumors aren't true," Leina explained cautiously.
Indeed, since the Spellcaster's Association was established a hundred years ago, the cold image of mages from the past had greatly improved. Necromancers were no longer the cold-blooded sorcerers rumored to consort with devils and be bloodthirsty.
In the eyes of commoners, mages were no different from nobles; equally unattainable, just more powerful and mysterious.
Thinking of this, Harvey slightly softened his tone and said patiently, "However, you don't meet the requirements for my experiment. I apologize, but I will still pay you the interview fee."
He was looking for someone who wasn't afraid of the Necromancer's reputation and could work alongside ghouls on a production line in the workshop.
Although the middle-aged man in front of him met the most important recruitment requirement, his physical condition seemed completely unsuitable; he was so sickly he looked like he was about to breathe his last.
"Master, I know my body can no longer work, cough cough, and is naturally useless for your experiment..." Leina wasn't surprised by the refusal; he hadn't come for the job in the first place.
"But you are a Necromancer, aren't you? Surely dead bodies are useful to you?" Leina asked, his face filled with hope.
Harvey was a little confused. "Are you a body collector? I won't buy corpses from illegal sources."
"No, Master, the body I want to sell is my own..." Leina said with a bitter smile. "As you can see, I... I am dying. I just want to leave a little more money for my children..."
After saying these words with difficulty, Leina began to cough violently. Although he covered his mouth and nose tightly, Harvey could still see the dark red blood seeping through his fingers.
"You have the cold plague?" Harvey shook his head; the other party's symptoms were obvious.
High fever, coughing, chest pain, vomiting blood.
Harvey remembered this illness very clearly. In the world before he transmigrated, it was called tuberculosis. The only difference was that the cold plague wasn't contagious.
A dying man.
Harvey sighed inwardly, speaking with a hint of reluctance, "I am indeed very short on experimental materials right now, but this method is too cruel. I don't think your family would have the heart to make this decision..."
"Master, please rest assured, I can sign a contract. My body belongs to myself, and others cannot decide for me." A rush of excited color appeared on Leina's ashen face.
Harvey closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then slowly said, "Alright, I have another experiment that perhaps you could be suitable for... but you must be completely willing and highly cooperative."
"However, I cannot guarantee the success rate of the experiment. If it fails, you will die instantly, and compared to your current condition, it won't be very painful."
Harvey paused, then proactively brought up the part Leina cared about most. "Regarding compensation, whether it succeeds or fails, your family will be paid ten times the amount for purchasing a corpse, 50 gold pounds..."
"I'm willing! Master, I'm willing." Leina was ecstatic. A full 50 gold pounds! This was an amount of money he would need to work diligently for twenty years without eating or drinking to save up.
It was enough not only for his children to buy a cheap terraced shack, but also to have some money left over for them to complete their major life events.
...
Leina trembled as he cut his finger and signed the experiment agreement, which had the effect of a magic contract, with his blood. As agreed, he received the enormous one-time payment.
Harvey even thoughtfully summoned a night owl messenger to help him deliver one copy of the agreement and the payment to his children.
A magic contract is a special form of contract with retroactive capabilities, primarily used to regulate contractual cooperation between Spellcasters and ordinary people.
The Association has a whole set of methods to investigate whether there are violations. The penalties for violating the contract are very severe for both commoners and Spellcasters.
Therefore, as long as a magic contract is signed voluntarily, there is no such thing as forcing commoners to participate in magic experiments. Harvey certainly didn't want to get into trouble of that magnitude with the Association.
After completing this series of procedures according to the process, Harvey clapped his hands in satisfaction and comforted the weak Leina in a gentle tone:
"It seems your body won't allow you to return home and say goodbye to your family anymore. Just stay here with me. We can start the experiment tomorrow."
He couldn't let him tire himself out by going back and forth anymore. Who knew if this poor late-stage tuberculosis patient could even survive the next two days?
The soul transfer experiment must begin as soon as possible.
