Irwiz didn't gloat over the idea for long. Instead, he just felt it was a bother.
Since the homeless man couldn't take the clothes off himself now, it required Irwiz to personally remove it.
But just as Irwiz was lamenting the fact as he lifted the man's arm, an idea was born inside his head.
He didn't necessarily have to do it 'himself'.
What if he could use his ability? He could just control the strings, in such a way that it will be doing the work, instead of himself.
After all, it was such a useful and versatile tool - able to do all kinds of things ranging from infiltrating into the minds of others to physically influencing the environment.
It could surely take off someone's clothes right? Since it was even able to stop the homeless man dead in his movements when he tried to attack.
So, Irwiz spread the webs of strings over the corpse before him, and then wrapped around his entire body before pulling it up into a standing position.
He then manipulated the strings, pulling some while pushing others, taking off the clothes.
And it worked!
The only problem was, the pain in his head grew the more he manipulated.
"Urgh" a muffle escaped from Irwiz's clenched teeth.
However, he didn't stop, continuing on with taking off the man's clothes, making sure not to scrape it against the blood on the ground as he led the clothes to himself.
Then, with pain accompanying him, he took off his clothes and wore the new, or perhaps old and used, clothes. It smelt of sweat and dirt that had accumulated for a long time. The mix of alcohol especially made it more disgusting.
But Irwiz didn't bat an eyelid at it as he wore the clothes.
For clothes to become smelly if worn for a long time was normal. Such was the nature of life, why should he be disgusted? When he had taken the life of its previous owner as well - he didn't have any privilege to be picky.
If the homeless man's death had been caused by him, Irwiz, the servant of fate, perhaps it was meant to be.
To kill and die was normal. Such was the nature of life as well. Irwiz wouldn't condemn it.
After all was said and done, and Irwiz had stolen the man's clothes for himself, the homeless man was now bare naked. He never wore an underwear anyways.
Since Irwiz didn't want the case to stand out, he clothed the man in his old ones, and then took the knife and slid it into the man's neck. Blood gushed out, spilling all over the place.
Now, it had become a normal murder case. One that happened everywhere in the slums of Evelyn.
'Done. I should move on from here. To that dealer he was talking about.' Irwiz thought.
Earlier, he had gotten a new mission. He was to find the person that knows the underground world around here, a person called Slim Eyed Jimbo.
...
The homeless man had been surprisingly knowledgeable. A a few years ago, he used to be in one of the gangs, the Bestruck Wolves, but he eventually left after seeing his friend killed in front of him.
It had been a downwards journey from then, and although he transitioned to working in a coal factory, he was forced to leave after they found out about his past.
Since then, he had resorted to alcohols day and night, waiting for his eventual death.
According to him, there were places that the gangs, or the underground world frequented. They changed places sometimes, but Irwiz could go to an information broker to know about the latest gathering spot.
The homeless man only knew one broker, someone who went by the name of Slanty Eyed Jimbo.
'He said he last saw that guy around here...' Irwiz thought in his mind as he walked around before finding the bar with the name "Iron Melody Bar".
It was clearly a place with people inside, as he could hear shouts and loud laughter coming from inside.
He also smelled a thick stench of alcohol.
Since there weren't anyone guarding the door, Irwiz just walked in normally.
Instantly, dimmish yellow light hit his face as the alcohol's smell intensified.
Irwiz could also see that it was pretty crowded. Several groups of people sat around wooden tables as they drank beer and played games with each other.
One girl, around 18, served the dishes and beers and hustled between the tables. She was pretty, with a blessed chest, and an attire that also showed it off.
Time from time, the drunk men were calling her, and grabbing her body indecently. However, the girl would always slap the men's hands away and berate, although not too rude.
From the outside, she seemed to be annoyed, but Irwiz had a strange feeling she didn't care about it at all. She was even almost enjoying it.
Besides the girl and the tables, there was a counter also with three or so people sitting, and the bartender, a middle aged man, serving the alcohol.
Irwiz's entry didn't attract much attention from the people, as they were too into their own businesses. However, once the bartender glanced at him, he seemed to crack a frown.
But that also didn't last as he looked away and went back to serving the alcohol.
After looking over the entire bar, Irwiz concentrated his gaze on a man that sat in the corner of the counter.
He had a low black newsboy cap on, and held a cup of beer in his hand. Strangely enough, he didn't seem very insistent on drinking from it.
Instead, he was reading a newspaper intensely.
But soon, he directed his gaze to somewhere else.
"Why's a kid like you here?" his voice was low and deep, even as he whispered while looking at the young boy in front of him.
Irwiz didn't respond back, instead opting to sit beside him. But since the bar stool was too high for him, he had to climb on top of it.
It kinda seemed comical, a young boy struggling to get on top of a stool in a bar, in the middle of shouts and loud laughter.
But the words he spoke next was even more contrasting to his appearance.
"I want to be a bounty hunter"