The pain of a hangover is an important experience for a man to mature. Only when one has experienced the lingering dizziness and headache of the morning can they truly understand how to drink alcohol properly.

Last night, my wife must have helped me to bed. This bed is comfortable, much better than the "bed" at home made with a fur rug. I haven't taken off my clothes and shoes, which feels a bit uncomfortable.

"I should take a shower..."

Rarely, my wife didn't bother me to sleep. It's probably because the sunlight is shining into the room, making it warmer. There are no windows in our house.

She held onto my glasses tightly in her hand because I didn't wear them to avoid waking her up. I heated up some water and mixed it with the leftover water from the bathtub last night. I took a shower in a daze. Only I can turn an entire bathtub of water gray...

Taking a shower here is definitely not like before. There is no shampoo or shower gel, only a white creamy substance. I'm not sure what it's for, but it can be used to wash both hair and body.

After the shower, my wife still hasn't woken up. After observing her for a long time, I roughly figured out Medusa's sleep routine. Compared to humans, Medusa sleeps for about two more hours, which is reflected in her waking up later than me. But it doesn't affect our lives because, after all, Medusa is a creature that sleeps at night and is active during the day. If she were a vampire-like creature that hides during the day and comes out at night, it would be troublesome.

I put on my clothes and stepped on my boots. The time on my pocket watch is not even half past eight. I plan to go downstairs and make some breakfast.

"Simmon, good morning..."

"Hmm, good morning, Mr. Raul."

"Now, can we eat?"

"Oh, wait a moment."

In my impression, a Western breakfast should be steamy milk and soft croissants, but here, breakfast is oatmeal... Oats are different from oatmeal, even though they are made into porridge, it's still a bit hard. What's interesting is that the oats in this world look like coffee beans, both in color and shape.

While chatting with Simmon, I thought about today's itinerary. I don't mind staying a few more days as long as my wife is willing—it can be considered our honeymoon. Just as I was thinking about it, she came downstairs.

Medusa can't go upstairs, but she can go downstairs!

My wife's way of moving is basically divided into two types. One is slow crawling, equivalent to human walking. The other is moving in an S-shape with her tail, equivalent to human running. Of course, there is also an extremely fast movement that might be an instant burst based on her tail muscles.

The process of coming downstairs is slow, almost inching her way down. I quickly went over to support her. It's clear that Medusa has a difficult time controlling her center of gravity. If she is on flat ground, she is more stable than humans, but when moving between different planes, she has to be careful like she is now.

I fed her some oatmeal and took a whiff of her scent. Hmm, no change, still has that snake smell. It's a lie that there will be a "girlish scent" after showering, like in anime.

Where should we go today? Night Fall Town is so big, we can play here for days. Let's just go wherever~

When traveling in a strange city, it's not necessary to only visit famous landmarks. There are rewards in wandering the streets, and besides, I have plenty of time now. Thinking this way, we said goodbye to Uncle Simmon and walked on the streets of Night Fall Town.

I truly felt accepted by this small town from the beginning when people greeted me. It felt great when two or three people actively greeted me along the way. Although I don't remember who they are, there were too many drinkers last night. Subconsciously following the path I walked, we soon arrived at Park's factory.

Park still looks like a hardworking laborer. From the machines and materials being operated, I guess the finished product this time should be wooden fences.

"Hey, Mr. Raul."

"Good morning, Mr. Park."

"Haha, how was last night?"

Park planed the wood into sharp and angular sticks while marking them with rough tree branch pens.

"Got a bit too drunk..."

"Hehe, even though you were drunk, you were still impressive. It's been a long time since I've seen someone capable of drinking eight cups of Nawaedomu."

"Nawaedomu?"

"Yeah, that's the name of the alcohol you drank."The name sounds cool, and not just the name, the wine is also quite something...

"What are you doing, Mr. Park?"

"Oh, you're asking about this? Here you go."

Putting down his work, Park handed me a blueprint. It showed an enclosed area surrounded by wooden fences, possibly a ranch or a similar facility. It seems like this small town is self-sufficient, or else it would be difficult to develop outside the kingdom's territory.

There was no place to rest in the factory, only a few chairs used as merchandise. My wife and I didn't hesitate, we just sat on the chairs and looked around. Park had a wide range of manufacturing areas, including things that had nothing to do with his rough and calloused hands, such as clocks and flintlock pistols.

I had played with flintlock pistols before, but they were not a practical weapon for me now. The loading process was too cumbersome and they could only fire one projectile at a time. However, I noticed something different about the guns Park made compared to the ones the five people had. The five people had three pistols, and each one was exactly the same. On the other hand, Park's guns varied in length and had unique designs. My guess was that the kingdom's weapon manufacturing probably had very strict uniform standards.

Seeing that I seemed interested in the pistols, Park, wiping his face with a tattered apron, came over and enthusiastically introduced them to me. Although he seemed rough, it made me feel at ease.

"Wanna give it a try?"

"Here?"

"Mhm, right back there."

Park stuck a lit match into the tobacco chamber of his pipe and took two puffs.

My wife was also curious about the guns, and since we had some spare time, it wouldn't hurt to play with these antique guns. So, I followed Park to the back of the factory. The factory was about 100x100 in size, just as Park had said. It was really huge, larger than any factory building I had seen before.

In the back of the factory, there were piles of wood and minerals covered with waterproof cloth, and there was also a small shooting range. About ten meters away, several wooden stumps were arranged in a line as targets, and on a long table next to them were various types of firearms. The reason I called them "firearms" was because their appearance far exceeded my knowledge of 17th and 18th century Western weapons.

But soon I understood the significance of those weapons - stepping stones for geniuses.

With Park's recommendation, we tried shooting several guns, and the results on the targets were quite unexpected. My wife couldn't handle the guns as well as I could, and I had to help her cover her ears. Can't you just use your little snake to block your own ears?

"How is it? Are they good?"

"Um... this one is better."

"Agreed."

My wife took out a short bow and shot three arrows, all of which hit the wooden stake accurately. Whether it was speed or accuracy, it far surpassed the flintlock guns.

"Mr. Park, do you have any... better guns?"

I asked tentatively, as getting a good weapon wasn't the highest priority for me. What I actually wanted to know was what the most powerful weapon was in this world, or rather, in Night Fall Town, besides magic.

Park remained silent and blew out a large amount of smoke from his nose.

Although my question may not have appeared to have any hidden meaning, a little bit of thought would reveal the true intention behind it, so Park's hesitation was understandable. For an outsider, giving them a powerful weapon would increase their danger level.

"Follow me."

His mountain-like figure moved, and my wife and I glanced at each other and followed closely behind.

In a small brick house at the back of the factory, I saw a weapon that seemed out of place in this world - a revolver. Yes, it was a revolver stored in an iron box.

The black and gray material had a slight sheen, and the gun did not have the fancy patterns I had imagined. The cylinder could hold five bullets neatly. But this was enough. I remembered clearly that the real revolver appeared in the mid-19th century, while this world was clearly still in the flintlock era of the 18th century.

Park didn't pay attention to my surprised expression and sat on a low bed, tapping out the ash from his pipe. Then he motioned for us to find a place to sit.

"Can you listen to what I have to say?"

With two eyes blinking, one large and one small, Park reloaded his pipe with tobacco."You may not know, but this gun was made for a person called Clevre."