Chapter 12: Guiding Without a Trace

Chapter Twelve
Guiding Without a Trace

Klein did not touch Zeriel’s corpse. He withdrew from the side passage just like that.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Suddenly, noise came from the distance, echoing again and again through the hollow, cold sewer.

Klein listened for several seconds, then decisively retreated along the filthy cement path on both sides of the sewage river, heading toward the exit.

To him, matters that did not involve him were completely unnecessary risks.

After climbing out of the sewer, Klein closed the iron cover again, slightly handled the surrounding area, and only then returned to the one-room apartment he had rented in the East Borough. There, he changed clothes and removed his disguise.

Next, he put on gold-rimmed glasses, walked to another street, took a rental carriage, and returned to Cherwood Borough in the silence and cold of three in the morning—but not to Minsk Street.

Afterward, Klein made another large detour. Only once he confirmed that no one was following him did he enter his own home, where he slept until the sky brightened and the doorbell shook with a dinging, clanging sound.

He abruptly rolled over and sat up, put on his shirt, buttoned his waistcoat, and quickly went downstairs to pull open the door.

Before that, the Clown Sequence’s premonition ability had already allowed him to naturally sketch the visitor’s appearance in his mind:

An old coat that did not fit especially well, a brown round-topped hat, a tattered satchel, bright-red eyes, delicate features, and a calm temperament. It was precisely the older boy Ian, who had commissioned him the day before.

“Good morning, Detective Moriarty,” Ian greeted, glancing left and right. “Did you find anything? Mm… I was just passing by, so I thought I would ask.”

Klein nodded solemnly.

“Yes.”

“…”

Ian seemed startled and was unable to speak for quite some time.

After a while, his lips moved, and he asked in astonishment, “You confirmed Mr. Zeriel’s condition?”

“Yes.”

Klein paused, then said seriously, “I found Zeriel’s corpse.”

“Corpse…”

Ian’s pupils contracted. He repeated the word softly.

He did not show obvious surprise, as though he had already foreseen that this worst possible result might occur.

Klein watched quietly without interrupting.

“Hoo…”

Ian exhaled and looked around warily.

“Your efficiency is astonishing. Can you take me to see Mr. Zeriel’s corpse?”

“No problem. In fact, I was planning to do exactly that.”

Klein thought for a moment and said, “When you report it to the police, I hope you will not mention me. Just say that you discovered it yourself. I think you know how to weave a reason.”

Ian was not surprised by this at all. He knew very well that not every detective enjoyed dealing with the police. In fact, aside from famous great detectives who often provided consultations and help to the police department, others were discriminated against by the police, excluded by them, and even extorted.

That was the present situation in the Loen Kingdom.

“All right,” Ian agreed readily.

Considering that they would enter the sewer, Klein changed into ordinary working-class clothes, wore a deerstalker hat, and took a lantern.

The two took a public carriage to the East Borough. Beneath the gazes of countless eyes—some numb, some malicious—they walked for half an hour and arrived at that remote sewer entrance.

“How did you find it?” Ian asked, half surprised and half curious, as he watched Klein move the cover away and climb down.

Looking below, Klein answered casually, “Skillful training. It includes many techniques of reasoning, investigation, tracking, and questioning.”

Ian followed him into the sewer and nodded without disgust.

“…You seem to have received very professional training.”

Klein did not answer directly. Carrying the already-lit lantern, he led Ian into the side passage and arrived at that sinister corner.

Just as he approached, Klein narrowed his eyes slightly, because Zeriel’s corpse was even more incomplete than last night. It was missing an arm and half its ribs.

That is not something rats could do…

Klein muttered inwardly, but did not remind Ian.

With the lantern’s light, Ian clearly saw the state of the corpse.

He abruptly crouched and vomited, gradually bringing up yellow-green bile. Klein took out the prepared Kragg Oil, unscrewed the stopper, bent down, and brought the mouth of the bottle close to Ian’s nose.

Ian suddenly shivered and calmed.

A dozen seconds later, he murmured weakly, “Thank you…”

He slowly stood and carefully examined the mutilated corpse several more times.

“I can confirm. He is Detective Zeriel.”

“My condolences,” Klein replied politely. “I suggest you call the police.”

“Mm.”

Ian nodded almost imperceptibly and followed him back to the surface.

At that point, Klein clapped his hands.

“My mission ends here. What happens after this is for you to decide.”

Ian was silent for several seconds.

“I still owe you three things. You can tell me now.”

“In fact, for now, I have only thought of one.”

Klein answered frankly, “I want to know where I can obtain guns and bullets without needing a full-weapons permit.”

Without almost any thought, Ian said, “Backlund Bridge area. Iron Gate Street. The Bravehearts Bar. Find Kaspars Kanlinen and say the Old Man introduced you.”

“All right. As for the other two matters, I will leave them for later. I have a premonition we will meet again.”

Klein nodded, deliberately lighthearted.

Ian looked at him and remained silent, saying nothing.

The two parted there, walking toward different streets in the East Borough. That remote place once more returned to silence.

After walking for a while, Klein suddenly turned around and retraced his steps. He hid behind a concealed corner and watched the sewer entrance.

After waiting two or three minutes, he saw Ian return soundlessly, scanning his surroundings with vigilance.

Klein withdrew his gaze in time, pressed his back to the wall, and listened.

He heard the sound of the iron cover being moved aside. He heard someone climbing down.

Carefully poking his head out, Klein discovered that Ian had reentered the sewer.

Was there a clue hidden on Zeriel’s corpse? Or some item? This matter’s waters really are deep…

He nodded thoughtfully.

Having satisfied his curiosity, Klein no longer stayed. He truly left this time, planning to look for Kaspars Kanlinen in a couple of days.

…

Afternoon tea, at Viscount Glaint’s home in Queen’s Borough.

The study door was tightly shut, completely separating the four people inside from the guests participating in the salon outside.

“Xio, Fors, this is the compensation you deserve.”

Audrey, wearing a pale-yellow gown decorated with numerous lace embellishments, pushed a bulging envelope toward the two ladies across the desk.

Xio had intended to offer a polite word or two, but her hand had already moved one step faster and grabbed the envelope, feeling the weight of money.

She could only sincerely say, “Miss Audrey, thank you for your generosity. Your honesty makes you even more beautiful.”

As she spoke, she had already undone the thin cord wrapped around the envelope and seen the banknotes inside.

They were paper notes with a uniform gray base and black patterns, thick and numerous, carrying a special scent of ink—a scent of ink that refreshed the heart.

“Ten pounds…”

Xio drew one note out and confirmed the denomination. Fors, who looked languid and indifferent to money, had somehow moved over beside her.

This is at least…

Xio observed the thickness, trying to estimate how many notes there were.

She could not help exchanging a glance with Fors, seeing astonishment in each other’s eyes.

This was clearly much more than they had imagined.

Audrey smiled softly.

“Eight hundred pounds in total. You may decide how to divide it between yourselves.

“That matter put you in danger, and for that, I am very sorry.”

Eight hundred pounds… No, there is no need to apologize… If it happened again, even knowing the possible consequences, I would still accept that commission… Even if we only split it evenly, added to my savings, it would be enough to buy the Sheriff potion formula…

Xio, who was barely over 1.5 meters tall, stared straight at the banknotes inside the envelope, wishing she could pull them all out and count them again and again.

She believed that the generous, magnanimous, beautiful Miss Audrey certainly would not underpay them. But what if the other party miscounted?

Everyone made mistakes!

Xio raised her right hand, paused for several seconds, and silently lowered it again.

The corners of Fors’s mouth could not stop rising. She sighed.

“This is more than the total royalties my book Stormwind Mountain Villa has earned so far…”

Should I praise Miss Audrey, or mock the poverty of writers?

She silently added another line.

Viscount Glaint, sitting on the sofa, also felt a little envious. But he was not envious of Xio and Fors. As a viscount in relatively good financial condition, eight hundred pounds was not a particularly large sum.

What he envied was Audrey’s lavishness, the way she spent such money without the slightest burden.

“Cough…”

Viscount Glaint cleared his throat.

“If you can obtain the Apothecary formula, I will also give you a considerable reward.”

“We will do our best!” Xio answered without hesitation. Then she looked toward Audrey. “We recently came into contact with people suspected of belonging to the Psychology Alchemists. There should be clues to the Spectator potion you wanted very soon.”

Xio, I am already Sequence 8 now. Stronger than you…

Audrey smiled reservedly.

“I look forward to it.”

After finishing proper matters, the four chatted idly about various rumors in Beyonder circles while, under Audrey’s demonstration, each began searching for books they wanted to read.

Suddenly, Xio’s eyes lit up. She saw two hardcover books:

History of the Nobility of the Loen Kingdom and Heraldry.

At the same time, Fors also found books she was interested in:

The Biographical Geography of the Feysac Empire and Travels Across the Northern Continent.

“Respected Viscount Glaint, may I borrow these two books? I will return them soon.”

Xio looked toward the study’s owner with an almost pleading gaze.

Glaint nodded without much concern.

“No problem.”

Hearing his answer, Fors quickly made a request as well and likewise received permission.

Audrey, who witnessed all of this, curved the corners of her mouth slightly. Reservedly, she looked to the side and pretended to search for books.

As a qualified Spectator who had advanced, after repeated contact, she had accurately grasped Xio and Fors’s preferences in certain areas. Using this, she had arranged things in advance—arranged them without anyone noticing.

To let those being guided feel that everything was their own will: this was precisely a manifestation of the Spectator’s ability.

…

At dusk, Xio curled up on the sofa facing the fireplace. Under gaslight, she flipped through History of the Nobility of the Loen Kingdom, while Fors had gone to attend a gathering in the writers’ circle.

After reading for quite some time, Xio suddenly felt that the cardboard cover was strange. She carefully inspected it and found a hidden layer. From it, she pulled out an old piece of paper.

The front of the paper was covered in those special symbols created by Emperor Roselle, while the back had a passage of ancient Hermes written upon it.

“Viscount Glaint’s ancestors deciphered some of Emperor Roselle’s special symbols?”

Xio abruptly grew excited.

With difficulty, she identified that passage of ancient Hermes and silently recited:

“The Fool that does not belong to this era;

“The mysterious ruler above the gray fog;

“The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.”