Chapter 164: Capim’s Dinner

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Four
Capim’s Dinner

After putting down the dark-red round-bellied fountain pen, Klein picked up the paper on which he had written the divination statement and leaned back against his chair.

His lips moved as he softly recited, “The time of Capim’s dinner today,” over and over.

His words rippled layer upon layer through the silent, empty space above the gray fog. Klein’s eyes swiftly darkened, and his eyelids slowly drooped.

Inside a fragmented dream, he saw the spacious and elegant dining room. He saw porcelain tableware inlaid with gold. He saw caviar, roast chicken, stewed lamb, pan-fried beef eye, fried dragon-bone fish, cream soup, and other foods.

Following a certain order, and according to certain needs, the food was placed one after another before several diners. Among them were Capim, who was slightly plump; the middle-aged gentleman Heras, who wore a white wig; Katie, dressed only in a thin shirt; and Parker, whose face looked old and not at all intimidating.

From the end of the dining table, looking diagonally outward, one could see a gorgeously decorated glass window. Beyond it, clouds were sparse, and the red moon could faintly be seen hanging in midair.

Klein opened his eyes, marked the moon’s position from the dream, then swiftly calculated the corresponding approximate time according to his knowledge of astrology.

“Around 7:30 to 7:45… Considering that in several images, Capim and the others had already eaten half the meal, it can be moved fifteen minutes earlier. In that case, 7:30 is the better choice…” Klein silently muttered to himself, interpreting the revelation granted by dream divination.

Dinner at 7:30 was not especially uncommon. It was even mainstream in the Loen Kingdom and across the Northern Continent. Many members of the middle class, whether because of environmental issues or cheaper rent, lived in the suburbs and took short-distance steam trains to and from the city every day. By the time they returned home, it was often already past seven in the evening. Therefore, 7:30 to 8:00 became the normal dinner hour.

Back in Tingen, Klein had experienced something similar. But that had been because there had been no servants and no full-time housewife. The three siblings had returned home and still needed to busy themselves for a while before enjoying hot food; it had not been because work was far away.

This was why civilians and the poor often ate dinner between 7:30 and 8:00.

And because lunch and dinner were separated by too long an interval, afternoon tea—which had originally belonged to high society—gradually became popular among the middle class and common people.

After finishing the interpretation, Klein recalled the revelation he had just received and keenly noticed one problem:

Where are Capim’s wife and children?

They did not appear in the dining room… Could Capim be an extreme believer of the Lord of Storms, requiring women and children to eat in the sitting room? Or is there another reason? Or perhaps Capim has not married and has no children? But he is already middle-aged… Klein tried divining it, but failed to obtain an effective revelation, so he could only leave the matter be.

“7:30.”

He repeated the time once, then returned to the real world.

…

In the evening, Capim, who wore a formal bow tie even at home, narrowed his eyes and looked at the subordinate before him. He asked in a slow voice that still made people shudder:

“Fabian is dead?”

“Yes, Boss.” Even as Capim’s long-time accomplice, that subordinate felt rather afraid and uneasy.

“Odes, call me sir. Sir. In a few years, you will have to call me baronet.” Capim tugged at his bow tie and handled the thick cigar in a seemingly leisurely manner. “When did Fabian die? How did he die?”

“This afternoon, I sent him to the East Borough to handle something. He ended up clashing with the Zmanger gang and got stabbed in the neck…” Odes described it fearfully.

Capim roasted the cigar. His tone carried no fluctuation.

“Fabian truly was an idiot.

“However, would the Zmanger gang not know he was an idiot under me?”

“Sir, you know how it is. Highlanders often come to the East Borough to join the Zmanger gang. They are savage and reckless and would not care who is who at all,” Odes hurriedly explained.

Capim snorted.

“Have they forgotten this is not the highlands? Or have they forgotten me, Capim?

“Odes, I want the corpse of the Zmanger gang leader in that block. Can you do it? If you cannot, I will sink you, your wife, and your children into the Tussock River together.”

“Sir, no problem!” Odes immediately raised his voice.

Then he asked in a much quieter voice, “Which men can I call on?”

Capim was about to answer when the door was suddenly pushed open. The middle-aged gentleman wearing a white wig, Heras, walked in.

He gave Odes a cold look, then shifted his gaze to Capim.

“I heard one of your subordinates clashed with a gang in the East Borough and died?”

“Yes, Mr. Heras.” Capim stood, holding his cigar.

Heras stared into Capim’s eyes.

“You intend to take revenge on them?”

Sweat suddenly seeped from Capim’s forehead.

“No. No, Mr. Heras. You have misunderstood.”

Heras nodded slightly.

“You must remember that we are at a critical stage. Unless absolutely necessary, do your best not to cause trouble.”

He paused for one second, observing Capim’s reaction, then said, “Backlund has more than one human trafficker. We can support you, and we can support others. Remember that.

“We selected you in the beginning because you were vicious enough, shameless enough, and yet unusually cautious—not because you were already the largest human trafficker.”

Listening to their conversation from the side, Odes wished he were only a lump of air, so that he would not have to see his boss Capim looking so humble.

Capim showed not the slightest anger on the surface. He smiled ingratiatingly.

“Mr. Heras, I was mainly worried that Fabian’s death was not simple. It might disturb your plan.”

“No. His death has no problem.” Heras spoke with complete certainty. “I received no feedback.”

“I see…” Capim pretended to feel relieved. “Then I can rest assured.”

He glanced at Odes, signaling him to leave, then lowered his voice.

“Mr. Heras, among this batch of goods is a type you like.”

Seeing Heras’s expression loosen slightly without showing anything else, Capim hurriedly added one more sentence:

“The ones to be delivered over there have already all been gathered.”

Heras slowly nodded.

“Have her come to my room tonight.”

“Yes, Mr. Heras!” Capim answered with his face piled full of smiles.

After seeing Heras leave, his expression darkened immediately. He breathed in and muttered quietly, “I hope you truly keep your promise this time… I do not want to participate in something like this again!”

He clearly remembered the Harvest Festival that year, when someone had come to him wanting to purchase a batch of innocent young girls.

From that day onward, the trajectory of his life had changed tremendously. He had even swallowed one-fifth of the slave trade that had gone underground after being outlawed.

He quickly became one of Backlund’s fairly famous rich men, got to know many important figures, and dragged them into the abyss of corruption.

At this stage, he desperately wished to conceal the sins of his past and let “Capim” be baptized anew, becoming a true member of high society. Yet for the moment, that wish could not be fulfilled.

Looking at the cigar in his hand, Capim picked up the framed photograph on the desk. Inside was a picture of him with a beautiful woman and two children.

His thumb stroked across the frame’s surface. Capim narrowed his eyes and whispered to himself, “After this time, you should be able to come back…”

At dinner time, Capim left the study, a warm smile once again fixed upon his face.

“Madam Katie, tonight we have caviar that you like, as well as roast chicken specially prepared for you,” he said to the woman in the thin shirt.

Katie touched the old scars on her face and said nothing, merely nodding gently.

Knowing that she was silent and fierce by nature, Capim did not ramble. He watched her sit in her place.

Immediately afterward, Heras, wearing a white wig, entered the dining room and nodded slightly to each diner.

The old-looking Parker drank a sip of aperitif and smiled, signaling for Capim to sit down quickly.

White napkins were unfolded. Food was served one dish after another. Capim lifted his wineglass and gave a soft laugh.

“Storms above. Let us drink to a wonderful future.”

“To a wonderful future,” Parker echoed.

Heras did not speak. He merely pinched the stem of his wineglass and lifted it slightly. Katie, meanwhile, completely ignored the others.

At that moment, the classical wall clock hanging in the hall had just moved to 7:23.

…

In the Backlund Bridge area, inside a cheap hotel.

Disguised, Klein pulled out his gold-cased pocket watch and glanced at the exact time. Then he took out Night Sanctifying Powder and sealed the room with a wall of spirituality.

After finishing all this, he swiftly arranged the altar and began the ritual:

“I!”

“I summon in my own name:”

“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.”

…

Once the ritual was complete, Klein immediately walked four steps counterclockwise and entered above the gray fog, preparing to respond to himself.

Inside that towering, solemn palace, he saw the rippling light patterns condense into a “summoning door”—a pair of illusory double doors covered in mysterious symbols.

Klein did not rush to be summoned. Instead, according to his predetermined plan, he placed the Sun Brooch and other mystical items inside his own Spirit Body.

Finally, he picked up the Black Emperor card and let his Spirit Body wrap around it.

Suddenly, Klein felt his Spirit Body become so solid that it was almost flesh and blood, as though he could pick up a handgun or move tables and chairs!

Dark, illusory mist spread around him, clinging to the surface and forming a suit of armor filled with majesty.

Upon his head appeared a pitch-black crown, and behind him came a long cloak of the same color.

At that moment, Klein looked like an emperor about to set out on campaign.

A Black Emperor.

He made one final check of the Purifying Bullets, the revolver, and the other items he had not brought with him, then took one step forward and entered the crack in that illusory door.

After leaping out from the candle flame, he immediately flew at high speed under the cover of night toward Capim’s villa on Iris Street in Cherwood Borough.

Before long, he was floating before the artificial fountain, approaching the villa entrance neither quickly nor slowly. The patrolling guards passed by him without any reaction. Since true night had not yet arrived, no Beyonder was keeping watch outside.

In addition, Klein was not afraid that the powerful Beyonders inside would sense him in advance or receive some premonition.

Because the Black Emperor card countered prophecy and divination!