The beautiful town, the pretty streets, the refined cottages, and the colorful flower pots were all signs that Morganstock Town was about to welcome its own festival, with smiles and anticipation visible on the residents’ faces.
Milk Day had evolved over the years and had developed various new features, such as these colorful flower pots on the streets, which had become popular only in the last decade.
Originally, although people would prepare various pots to hold milk during the festival, they did not care much about the appearance of the pots, as their attention was mostly focused on the revelry.
Now, after decades of evolution, everyone would prepare various kinds of beautiful flower pots to place in the middle of the roads during the festival.
By then, the pots would be filled with milk, which not only helped reduce the cost of the festival but also made the town more beautiful.
After all, it was different now than in the past, the location was remote, but with the development of logistics, surplus milk would not go to waste.
Moreover, many children had left this place to pursue the broader world outside, and few were willing to stay and take care of the farms steadily.
Therefore, compared to before, the symbolic meaning of the festival was greater than its actual significance, and people celebrated purely to celebrate and commemorate.
Even so, Milk Day held an irreplaceable position in the hearts of the residents of Morgan Stoman Town, even surpassing Christmas and Halloween.
Many young people who worked outside would make a special trip back on this day just to join their families in this annual Milk Day celebration.
On the festival day, the town’s streets would be filled with beautiful, exquisite flower pots, and people would throw a coin or two into their favorite pots as a way of making a wish.
Come evening, everyone would gather together and start reveling in the center of town.
Of course, besides these small flower pots, there were also many large pots, and some people even brought up water tanks to dominate the festival day and become the envy of others.
This year, there seemed to be more flower pots on the streets of Morgan Stoman Town than in previous years, and the festive atmosphere intensified under the embellishment of these colorful decorations.
Aaron Griffin walked past these small pots and into a grocery store by the roadside.
As the wooden door opened with a "creak" and the small bells on the curtain jingled, a middle-aged woman who was knitting a sweater behind the counter stood up and looked at this somewhat unfamiliar face.
Although the stranger’s weird hair color and attire made the shop owner feel somewhat mismatched, she still put down her work and asked warmly,
"Young man, is there anything I can help you with? If you’d like to buy a flower pot, you can take a look at the second shelf on the left; those are all carefully selected by me, and you’re sure to find what you want."
Aaron glanced in the direction she had indicated, then shifted his line of sight and looked around the small shop, asking,
"Ma’am, I need some garlic, preferably the kind that’s been air-dried... oh, and Sichuan pepper too, I need some of that. Do you sell those here?"
The woman shook her head somewhat helplessly, but just as a faint look of disappointment appeared on his face, she spoke up again,
"Young fellow, we don’t sell those items in the store, but if you need them, I can go to the kitchen and bring you some."
Aaron looked up, surprised, and then gratefully thanked her.
The middle-aged woman went into the back room and soon returned with the two items.
"Thank you very much for your help. I have been looking for these items since yesterday but couldn’t find them in any store. Thank you," he said.
Aaron again expressed his thanks before he reached out to take the several cloves of garlic and Sichuan peppercorns handed to him, opening the briefcase he had been carrying and placing them inside.
The shop owner glanced at the contents of the briefcase and her expression turned somewhat peculiar, as she saw some strange items inside.
It was a wooden briefcase, lined with red padding, neatly partitioned by wood and holding several articles that the middle-aged woman recognized at just a glance:
A cross, a dagger, a hand crossbow, a bottle of Holy Water, a Bible, and several wooden stakes engraved with crosses.
Now, the case also contained three cloves of garlic and a handful of Sichuan peppercorns.
Clearly, these items all seemed to have a very specific purpose...
The middle-aged woman looked again at the white-haired young man in front of her and finally couldn’t help but ask,
"This... child, what exactly are you intending to do with these...?"
Aaron, seemingly oblivious to the odd tone intermingled in her voice, neatly arranged the garlic and Sichuan peppercorns before replying,
"The garlic is to ward off vampires; they really dis scent and it can buy me some time when I face danger. The Sichuan peppercorns are for dealing with werewolves. These creatures have very sensitive noses, and sprinkling them with Sichuan peppercorns can cause them pain for quite a while."
The more he explained, the stranger the middle-aged woman’s gaze became. From her expression, which clearly read "Are you joking with me?", it was evident she didn’t believe a word he said.
Furthermore, she regarded Aaron’s actions as those of a young adult suffering from a fairly severe case of ’chuunibyou’ fantasy syndrome.
"Do vampires and werewolves really exist in this world?"
"Then, are you planning to hunt them?"
Their question and answer session was quite decisive; Aaron seemed accustomed to such discussions and showed no sign of surprise.
He calmly locked the briefcase again and carried it in his hand.
"Thank you, madam. May I ask about a person? Her name is Bena Braun; she should be living here."
"Oh? What do you need her for?"
The woman immediately showed a wary expression.
Seeing this, Aaron pulled out a wrinkled newspaper from his chest, spread it open, and pointed to a corner saying,
"There is a plea for help from her here, which I saw. It includes her phone number and address. I contacted her and planned to come over..."
"But when I arrived here, her phone suddenly went unreachable, and many of the house numbers in the town are so faded I can’t read them. I have been searching all day and still haven’t found the place, so I wanted to confirm with you."