Chapter 95: The “Supplicant”

Chapter Ninety-Five
The “Supplicant”

“A prayer?”

Klein’s spirits lifted. Following the method he had used last time to peer at the Hanged Man, he let his spirituality spread and touch that mass of crimson.

A blurry, distorted image immediately appeared before his eyes. He could barely make out a brown-haired boy kneeling on both knees before a pure crystal ball.

The boy wore black, close-fitting clothes utterly different from the fashion trends of the Loen Kingdom. They also differed considerably from the traditional clothing of foreign countries like the Feysac Empire and the Intis Republic that Klein had seen in magazines.

His surroundings were dim. The tables and chairs were old and shabby. From time to time, flashes of light illuminated them, yet Klein could not hear the rumble of thunder or the sound of falling rain.

In the image, the boy clasped his hands against his forehead and bent his body forward, ceaselessly praying for something. His thick voice buzzed beside Klein’s ears.

Klein concentrated and listened, only to discover an embarrassing fact:

He could not understand what the other party was saying. It was a language he had never encountered before!

…As the mysterious ruler above the gray fog, I actually do not understand “foreign languages”…

Klein mocked himself with a smile, unwilling to give up. He distinguished the sounds carefully for a while longer, more attentively than when he had once taken English listening tests.

As he listened, he gradually noticed a problem.

Although the boy’s language did not belong to any language Klein had studied, it was very close to ancient Feysac, showing similar traces.

“Father… mother… those two words should mean that, right? They are very similar to ancient Feysac, but also somewhat different…”

Klein frowned, sinking into thought.

“Ancient Feysac was the common language of humanity during the Fourth Epoch. It is the source of all modern languages, and it too changed gradually over time… I cannot confirm anything yet…”

He listened again and again, using grammatical structure to rule out modern Loenese, Feysac, Intisian, and other contemporary languages.

“Is it a variant of ancient Feysac from some long stretch of history? Like the script used in the Antigonus family notebook?”

Klein’s fingers tapped repeatedly against the edge of the bronze long table, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

“There is another possibility. Ancient Feysac was not created from nothing. It evolved from Giant language… The Feysac Empire to the north has always claimed its citizens possess giant blood. Perhaps this is the Giant language of an ancient age…”

At this point, lacking sufficient knowledge, Klein could only stop. He withdrew his spirituality and no longer observed or listened.

He had no intention of immediately pulling that praying boy above the gray fog. He was prepared to first understand what the boy was saying.

Of course, before that, he would observe frequently and perform a basic “examination.”

Hoo…

Klein breathed out and leaned back in the magnificent gray-fog temple.

He wrapped himself in spirituality and simulated the sensation of falling.

…

Having “reviewed” Roselle’s diary, Klein changed into formalwear and left for the Divination Club.

Even after having his salary doubled, he still chose to take public carriages. He merely indulged himself by supporting Mrs. Wendy’s business, spending one and a half pence on a cup of sweet iced tea to drive away the afternoon heat.

When he reached the Howes Street area, Klein threw the paper cup into a trash bin and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Before entering, he pinched the space between his brows, activating spirit vision in advance.

The moment he stepped into the reception hall, Klein sensed a faint sadness permeating the place.

Angelica, the pretty receptionist, sat there with unfocused eyes and faint redness around her eyelids.

“Grief will always pass,” Klein said in a gentle, steady voice as he came before her.

Angelica suddenly lifted her head and murmured blankly, “Mr. Moretti…”

Very quickly, she came to herself and asked in surprise, “You—you already know about Mr. Vincent?”

“Ah, right. I forgot you are an excellent diviner.”

Klein gave a cooperative sigh.

“I could only divine a blurry situation… What exactly happened to Mr. Vincent?”

“The owner told us that Mr. Vincent suffered a sudden heart disease in his sleep and passed away peacefully,” Angelica said. As she spoke, traces of sobbing entered her voice. “He was a kind, courteous, true gentleman. He was the spiritual mentor of many members. He—he was still so young…”

“I am sorry for making you sadder,” Klein said without offering further comfort, slowly walking toward the meeting room.

Angelica took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes and nose. Then, looking at Klein’s back, she raised her voice.

“Mr. Moretti, what would you like to drink?”

“Black tea.”

Compared with coffee, Klein preferred it, though he did not find it especially wonderful either.

Relatively speaking, he preferred ginger beer and sweet iced tea more. Only, as a gentleman, in formal situations he should not behave like a child…

Because it was Monday, there were only five or six members in the meeting room. In Klein’s spirit vision, their emotional colors varied. Some were sincerely sad, slightly dimmed by grief; others were hardly affected at all.

“All very normal… normal reactions.”

Klein nodded almost invisibly. Holding his cane, he found a random seat.

He was just about to conveniently close spirit vision when he suddenly saw Angelica enter and walk toward him.

“Mr. Moretti, a client is here to see you. Mm, the same gentleman from last time,” the pretty young woman said in a lowered voice.

“You still remember him?” Klein asked back with a smile.

Mm. I wonder whether that gentleman bought the miraculous medicine according to my hint… I wonder whether he still needs surgery…

Angelica pressed her lips together.

“The only querent willing to wait an entire afternoon at the club was him.”

Klein gripped his cane, stood, and walked outside without saying another word.

In the reception hall, he saw the gentleman who had come for divination last time. He also saw that the aura color around the other man’s liver had returned to normal, and the overall harmony of the body had also been restored.

“Congratulations. The taste of health is truly wonderful.”

Klein smiled and extended his hand.

Bogda froze for a moment, then reached out both hands and firmly clasped Klein’s right palm.

“Mr. Moretti, you really can ‘see’ my condition!

“Yes, I am cured! The doctor asked again and again, examined me over and over, and still could not believe I had simply recovered like this!”

Listening to Bogda’s wildly delighted account, Klein calmly confirmed one thing:

The pharmacist at Rosen’s Folk Herb Shop was absolutely a Beyonder!

Klein had personally seen how serious the gentleman’s liver illness had been. For it to be cured within a few days already surpassed the limits of herbs and medicine. Only the extraordinary could explain it.

Add the matter with Glacis, and only one answer remains.

“I must confess to God. I actually doubted you and doubted that miraculous pharmacist,” Bogda said, still gripping Klein’s hand and rambling with shame and gratitude. “…That ten pounds was truly worth it. It bought back my life!”

What? Ten pounds? You spent ten pounds on the miraculous medicine? And the divination fee you paid me was only eight pence… only eight pence… eight pence… pence…

Klein almost froze upon hearing that.

At that moment, Bogda finally released his hands. With a smile covering his face, he stepped back and bowed respectfully.

“I came today to express my gratitude. Thank you, Master Moretti. You pointed me in the right direction and saved my life.”

“This is the result you paid for through divination. There is no need to thank anyone,” Klein slightly lifted his head, looking melancholically toward the place where the wall and ceiling met. His answer carried the air of a very practiced charlatan.

“You are a true diviner,” Bogda praised. “Next, I must go to Vlad Street to thank that pharmacist, and buy the medicine he recommended.”

“Are you not already cured?” Klein concealed his surprise very well.

Bogda glanced around and, seeing that the pretty receptionist was not paying attention to them, gave a low laugh.

“That is an herb preparation with mummy powder added to it. It can be brewed into a potion that will satisfy both men and women… Previously, I did not believe that pharmacist at all. Now, I do not doubt him in the slightest.”

…There is even medicine like that?

For a moment, Klein actually felt that the pharmacist was a fraud and wondered whether he had pushed the gentleman before him into a fire pit.

He examined Bogda up and down, confirming that the man’s aura colors contained no problems.

“Mummy powder?” Klein cautiously seized on the term and asked back.

“Yes, mummy powder. I consulted a friend. He said the nobles of Backlund have always been madly chasing such things. Powder ground from mummies can let a man give perfect performance in bed. Although it is disgusting and sounds filthy, it is a true noble material…”

Bogda explained in detail, his eyes full of urgency.

Mummy? A mummy made from a corpse? Ground into powder?

Klein listened, dumbstruck, nearly vomiting directly onto Bogda on the spot.

Those nobles really know how to play…

Just as he was about to advise the man against it, Glacis, who had previously suffered from lung disease, happened to enter and overheard the latter part of Bogda’s description.

“Yes. It is very effective. I recommend you go to Rosen’s Folk Herb Shop on Vlad Street. Mr. Rosen’s secret formula is highly effective!”

Glacis removed his monocle, drew closer with interest, and lowered his voice to recommend it.

“My experience was very, very, very perfect.”

“You know it too? I was just about to visit Mr. Rosen’s Folk Herb Shop.”

Bogda was thoroughly reassured.

After they exchanged a few more pleasantries, he impatiently left the Divination Club.

Klein remained faintly dazed for quite some time.

At five twenty in the afternoon, he put on his half-top silk hat, took up his silver-inlaid black cane, and went straight by carriage to Vlad Street. He intended to observe the pharmacist named Rosen Darkweed from the shadows before deciding whether he should report the matter to the Captain.

…

Number 18, Vlad Street.

Klein stood outside the herb shop and saw that its door was shut tight. A notice of transfer was pasted upon it.

“…Quite vigilant…”

He murmured soundlessly.

In this way, he no longer needed to hesitate, and no longer needed to observe.