Chapter 59: Observing Each Other

Chapter Fifty-Nine
Observing Each Other

A detective? A colleague… But if he can assist the police department in handling such a serious case, then he must be a truly famous great detective. At the very least, he must be quite well known inside Sivellaus Yard… Hm. The serial murders involve demon worship. Should this not have been transferred to the Nighthawks, Mandated Punishers, or Machinery Hivemind? The police department should only need to provide assistants. Why would they invite a private detective to help?

Mm. Eleven murders in a row must have already caused a sensation. Sivellaus Yard is carrying enormous pressure and is unwilling to simply wait in torment?

Many thoughts flashed through Klein’s mind in an instant, but outwardly, he revealed a smile.

“All right.”

He boarded the carriage Isengard Stanton had hired and saw that inside, there was also a capable-looking young man with brown hair.

“This is my assistant,” Isengard said by way of introduction, his face thin and sharply contoured. “Please sit.”

He did not close the carriage door, nor did he order the coachman to drive on, showing that he bore no malice.

Klein deliberately sat down somewhat stiffly and asked, with a hint of unease, “Mr. Stanton, what would you like to speak with me about?”

Isengard took out a dark pipe.

“I wish to know what you gained from following Madam Lopez. What did you hear, or discover?”

“This…” Klein answered with deliberate difficulty. “I am also a detective. You should know our profession has confidentiality agreements.”

“I am asking on behalf of Sivellaus Yard. That has nothing to do with confidentiality agreements.”

Isengard rubbed the pipe with his thumb.

“One pound. Hm… how about two pounds?”

With the lesson of Meursault still fresh in his mind, and since there truly was no need for secrecy, Klein answered without hesitation.

“Acceptable.”

“Good.”

Isengard smiled and took two one-pound notes from his pocket.

Klein acted as though recalling the matter and said frankly, “We heard only one sentence. Madam Lopez tried to send one of her subordinates to tell Capim not to send any more people over in the near future.”

“Capim?”

Isengard nodded, seeming to understand.

“I see.”

“You know Capim?” Klein did not conceal his surprise.

Isengard handed over the notes, his smile faint.

“He is a rather controversial wealthy man in Cherwood Borough.

“In Backlund, naive young women often disappear on quiet, deserted streets. After a long time, they may be accidentally discovered in all sorts of legal and illegal brothels. Many rumors point toward Capim, believing him to be a criminal leader with blood on his hands and filth all over him. But because there has never been enough evidence, he remains free to this day, and has even made the acquaintance of quite a few important figures.”

If that is true, then this fellow deserves to die ten thousand times over…

Klein nodded once and sighed.

“This is Loen. This is Backlund. Mr. Stanton, I should take my leave.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Isengard half rose with polite courtesy to see him off.

“Ah, right. Your fighting level is rather outstanding. Perhaps we will have opportunities to cooperate in the future. How should I address you?”

“Sherlock Moriarty,” Klein answered simply, then stepped down from the carriage.

Only after he had boarded a tram carriage that had just arrived did Isengard Stanton have his assistant close the door and instruct the coachman to head for Hillston Borough.

Turning his head to look out the window, the middle-aged-to-elderly gentleman with graying temples put away his dark pipe and drew a brass ornament from his pocket, rubbing it slowly in his hand.

That brass ornament was a miniature open book, with an upright eye at its center.

“That Mr. Moriarty’s appearance and attire are somewhat inconsistent. He wears refined gold-rimmed glasses, yet deliberately grows a beard around his mouth, making him seem coarse and wild. That does not fit normal thinking. In the present era, those willing to wear gold-rimmed glasses generally care a great deal about their own image—an image of knowledge and temperament. Perhaps he is deliberately concealing something… Of course, he may simply be a gentleman with aesthetics different from ordinary people’s…”

Isengard seemed to be talking to himself, yet also seemed to be teaching his assistant.

At that very moment, Klein was leaning against the wall of the public carriage, muttering soundlessly to himself.

“That Detective Isengard Stanton has something wrong with him. From the moment I activated spirit vision, he maintained the blue of rational thought, the cold detachment of distance, and the purple of spirituality taking dominance. Very few other emotional colors surfaced.

“For an ordinary person, unless they are focusing intently on studying a difficult problem, it is extremely difficult to maintain a similar state for too long. Other emotional colors would inevitably appear. The difference lies only in how long they linger.

“Mm… Either Detective Isengard Stanton is precisely that kind of prodigy—someone constantly observing and deducing—or he is a Beyonder?”

The tram carriage, divided into upper and lower decks and carrying more than forty passengers, traveled toward the Backlund Bridge area. Klein gradually gathered back his thoughts and turned his gaze to the window, admiring the two- and three-story buildings of various styles across the street.

Occasionally, he could also see brown buildings five or six stories high, announcing Backlund’s newest trend and the kingdom’s most advanced architectural techniques.

After changing carriages once, Klein arrived at Iron Gate Street and stepped down opposite Bravehearts Bar.

Because it was not yet the bar’s busiest time, the moment he entered, he saw Kaspars sitting at the counter, drinking.

The rosacea-nosed old man had ordered a glass of strong Lanti liquor and was savoring its malt aroma and the burning stimulation in his throat. He narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

Klein moved closer, knocked on the bar counter, and asked with a smile, “Is Maric here?”

At the same time, he thrust one hand into his pocket, grasped Azik’s copper whistle, and used spirituality to shield its negative effect.

Before his voice had even fallen, however, he suddenly felt a gaze sweep over him, filled with scrutiny.

By the time he finished asking, that line of sight shifted away again, seeming to look toward Kaspars.

The old man with the enormous scar across his face opened his eyes. Seeing it was Klein, he said irritably, “He is not here. He was not here yesterday either.”

Not here…

Klein immediately relaxed and no longer used spirituality to wrap around Azik’s copper whistle.

When I mentioned Maric just now, someone looked at me… After hearing clearly that I was asking after Maric’s whereabouts, that gaze shifted away… Someone is looking for Maric…

Klein restrained the impulse to turn and observe, silently analyzing the abnormality from earlier.

Combined with a doubt he had already held, he felt the matter seemed to have a rough answer.

Last week, I was puzzled as to why Miss Bodyguard, who should be at the level of Sequence 5, would accept a protection mission for one thousand pounds and three days. It was not that the price was too low, but that someone at that level already counts as a powerhouse. In the Church of the Goddess, that would be enough to become a Nighthawk deacon or diocesan bishop. If they could also obtain a holy artifact’s favor, they might even compete for the seats of archbishop or senior deacon…

Among secret organizations and intelligence agencies, Sequence 5 likewise means being a regional head or the second or third most important person in a region. Even a wild Beyonder without an organization, if strong enough to reach that level, could easily establish a small organization of their own…

No matter how one looks at it, Miss Bodyguard should be able to enjoy offerings from subordinates. There was no need for her to personally accept “jobs”…

At the time, I thought the greatest possibility was that I had hired a Sequence 6 security professional who could hold out for a while against the powerhouse sent by Bakerland and create an opportunity for me. Who could have known Miss Bodyguard would be so terrifyingly strong…

Judging from today’s incident, Miss Bodyguard and Maric may be similar to me: their identities are sensitive, and they must hide from place to place. Mm. Their situation may even be worse. They may need to worry constantly about being pursued… Hiss. An organization capable of pursuing Miss Bodyguard, even if it lacks high-Sequence powerhouses, definitely possesses a holy artifact—or several Sequence 5s…

Of course, all of this is only my guess. Perhaps Maric’s Beyonder identity was exposed and he has been targeted by a Machinery Hivemind squad…

As thoughts flowed one after another, Klein spoke with regret.

“I see. I was hoping to play cards with him.”

Hearing words that clearly did not match the other party’s usual style, Kaspars immediately became alert. Likewise without observing his surroundings, he chuckled and said, “I will organize a card game tonight. Texas Hold’em. Do you want to join?”

“No. I only wanted to play now until dinner. Sigh. I suppose I will go home honestly.”

Klein sighed and left Bravehearts Bar without even ordering a drink.

Originally, he had intended to ask Kaspars for information about other Beyonder gatherings. But after such a situation occurred, he prudently gave up the idea.

In truth, he could have gone to a relatively enclosed place such as a card room and spoken to Kaspars about the matter. But for safety’s sake, he decided to leave it for next time.

Klein also did not hurry straight home. Instead, he went to the one-room apartment he had rented in the East Borough and performed a divination above the gray fog, confirming no one was following him.

Once his mind settled, he returned to Minsk Street before the sky had fully darkened, only to find that the mailbox was stuffed with all kinds of newspapers he had subscribed to.

“I was in such a hurry to go out today that I did not even have time to read them. At Cragg Club, after practicing shooting and eating well, I took a nap, then Talim dragged me into several rounds of tennis. Heh. When skill is insufficient, physical quality can make up for it…”

Klein muttered soundlessly a few times, opened the door, entered the house, and turned the gas valve.

Holding those newspapers, he entered the living room, sat on the sofa, lit the wall lamp, and casually began flipping through them.

The first paper Klein browsed was the Backlund Morning Post. He turned directly to the fifth page and saw an advertisement: Ernst Firm was purchasing goods!

The quoted prices were, respectively, flour at seven pence per liter, butter at one soli per pound, lard at six pence per pound, cream at one soli and three pence per pound, Marquis black tea leaves at eight soli per pound…

In other words, there will be a Beyonder gathering tomorrow night at eight in the old place. The door code is seven heavy knocks, one light knock, then six long pauses and one short pause, carried out in sequence… The three and eight afterward are meaningless…

Klein decoded the content, leaned back against the sofa, and began looking forward to tomorrow night’s gathering.

He wanted to sell a portion of his formulas and see whether he could buy corresponding materials or items!