Chapter 230: A One-Man Performance

Chapter 230: A One-Man Performance

The visitor was a man wearing a dark-green postman’s uniform. He smiled ingratiatingly at Klein.

“Are you Mr. Sherlock Moriarty?”

“Yes.” Klein vaguely guessed the other party’s purpose.

The visitor immediately raised his right hand and handed over an object the size of a palm, wrapped in layer upon layer of black gauze.

“Your package. Please sign for it.”

Klein deliberately revealed his confusion.

“Under normal circumstances, shouldn’t you give me a slip and have me collect it from the corresponding post office myself?”

The Loen Kingdom’s postal system was a perfect copy of Intis’s, and it had copied quite a few of its flaws as well. Any mail that could not be directly stuffed into the mailbox, regardless of what it was, would receive only a collection slip, leaving the recipient to busy themselves.

“…Haha. Because it is relatively valuable, it must be delivered personally into your hands,” the postman said after freezing briefly.

It seems you aren’t professional enough. You’re not a real postman… Klein asked no further questions. He accepted the package, fountain pen, and form, then signed for it with quick strokes.

After closing the front door and returning to the living room, he did not rush to unwrap the package. Instead, he took out a gold coin and tossed it into the air like a juggler.

Clink!

Klein caught the coin and lowered his head to see whether the portrait or number faced upward.

The number was upward, indicating a negative answer. There was no hidden danger… Klein nodded slightly, put away the coin, touched the paper figurines in his clothing pocket, and carefully began taking apart the package.

After the layers of black gauze were opened, the things inside clearly appeared before his eyes: a pocket watch of pale gold, engraved with elegant patterns; a handkerchief stained with dark-red blood; seven or eight short curly brown hairs tied together; and a stack of notes.

Talim’s personal effects, hair, flesh and blood, and daily records—everything is here… Prince Edessak truly is efficient. It isn’t even evening yet… Looking at the items spread across the coffee table, Klein suddenly felt that, at this very moment, many gazes were watching him.

An ancient angel family with a lineage spanning more than two thousand years must possess foundations beyond imagination. Becoming entangled in the royal family’s infighting really means I could be ground to powder at any time… Perhaps I am already being monitored… I must appear ordinary enough, useless enough, to guarantee my own safety… Klein had long since thought through what to do. He unhurriedly inspected the pocket watch, handkerchief, and hair.

During this process, his spiritual intuition gave no warning and did not prevent him from carrying out divination.

With a certain degree of confidence, Klein sat in the living room, took out letter paper, picked up a fountain pen, and wrote the divination statement:

“The true cause of Talim Dumont’s death.”

He behaved openly and frankly, as though he did not suspect he was being monitored.

Holding the curly hair and handkerchief, Klein silently recited the divination statement while leaning back against the sofa. His eyes darkened as he entered meditation.

After seven times, he arrived in the dream world and saw the familiar hall of the Krag Club.

Immediately afterward, he once again witnessed Talim Dumont clutching tightly at his heart, his expression contorted as he collapsed.

“This revelation indicates that Talim did indeed die of sudden heart disease…” Klein opened his eyes and murmured the conclusion.

He frowned, showing an expression of confusion, incomprehension, and thought.

Using different divination statements, he tried several times in succession and received the same result each time.

He rose and paced back and forth several times.

He clenched a fist and struck his own head, as if furious that his own level was insufficient and that he could not help his friend pursue the true culprit.

In the end, he sat down in dejection and did not move for a long time, like the silhouette of a stone statue inside the dim room.

That should be about enough. I can’t overdo it… If no one is watching, then I’ve just been having a battle of wits with the air… Klein shook his head self-mockingly and rose, walking toward the kitchen.

After dinner, he seemed to regain some spirit and carefully read through the contents recorded in the stack of notes. They included what Talim had done and whom he had met on the day of his death and the days before it.

Home, Red Rose Manor, the Krag Club, Viscount Conrad’s residence… There is nothing abnormal at all… Klein picked up a sharpened pencil and drew several circles, marking the places he would visit and the targets he would question over the next few days.

After finishing all that, he gave a long sigh. Seemingly lacking confidence, he put the items away, washed up, and went to sleep.

In the middle of the night, when the crimson moon was hidden by layered clouds, Klein suddenly opened his eyes and woke.

He got out of bed, slowly opened the door, entered the washroom next door, and used a paper figurine substitute to conceal his true body.

Taking four steps counterclockwise, he arrived above the gray fog and sat at the seat belonging to the Fool.

His eyes had become clear, without any trace of dejection, frustration, pessimism, or other emotions.

Immediately afterward, Klein took out the projection of the bloodstained handkerchief from a hidden pocket in the sleepwear that had been remade from his old clothes.

Earlier, while putting the items away, he had used a Magician’s Beyonder ability to secretly extract the handkerchief and hide it on himself!

After inhaling, Klein materialized paper and pen and wrote the divination statement, identical to the first one:

“The true cause of Talim Dumont’s death.”

With his body and mind calm and peaceful, he silently recited it seven times. Holding the paper and handkerchief, he leaned back against the chair and sank into sleep inside the silent, spacious ancient palace.

Within the gray, broken, illusory world, Klein saw a scene completely different from before.

Appearing before his eyes was a palm-sized wooden puppet, as if casually carved. It had eyes, a nose, and a mouth, complete in every respect.

On the puppet’s body were a few drops of dark-red blood, giving it a slightly bewitching color.

A hand reached over. Its skin was fair, delicate, smooth, and refined. The five fingers were long, slender, and beautiful, with balanced flesh and bone.

Most eye-catching of all was the ring worn on the little finger of that hand. It was set with a sapphire and had a distinctive shape.

Smack!

The hand’s index finger, wreathed in illusory black flames, pressed against the puppet’s heart.

Without a sound, the image shattered, and Klein woke from the dream.

His initial judgment had not been wrong. Talim had indeed died from a curse!

But the problem is, now that I have the scene from the moment the curse was cast, why did it not show the whole picture? The mysterious space above the gray fog should be able to eliminate interference… Klein was momentarily puzzled.

Under normal circumstances, if the revelation he obtained was too abstract and too easy to misread, that would be because his own divination level was limited, and because the matter he was trying to divine was too difficult. It would have nothing to do with the gray fog. That could be understood. But just now, the scene before and after the curse was clearly presented, yet it was limited to a very small portion and did not provide a more effective revelation. That was rather baffling.

Have I ever encountered something similar before…? Klein dug through his own experiences, searching for the reason.

Suddenly, he sat up straight and remembered a similar experience.

Back in Tingen, when he had divined the true reason behind several coincidences, a similar situation had appeared!

He had clearly seen the house with the red chimney, yet he could not touch Ince Zangwill and Sealed Artifact 0-08 inside the house!

This—this means there is something, or someone, at the level of a Grade 0 Sealed Artifact resisting the power of the gray fog? Klein’s eyes narrowed abruptly.

No, not necessarily. There are still quite a few possibilities. I need to confirm it again! He worked hard to calm himself.

As for how to confirm it, that was not difficult for his experienced self. The method was very simple: perform the same divination again.

If the revelation remained unchanged, it meant the matter was not that terrifying. But if the divination no longer succeeded, then it would show that the target, or something beside the target, could resist the gray fog to a certain extent, just like 0-08!

Drawing a deep breath, Klein calmly repeated the divination.

“The true cause of Talim Dumont’s death.”

…

Leaning against the back of the chair, he recited in a low voice. His eyes gradually darkened.

In the dream, what he saw was a hazy, shattered gray fog. There was no longer a puppet or finger.

Swish!

Klein straightened his back, his expression extraordinarily grave.

Just what matter was Talim involved in? he muttered with a frown.

As for what he should do next, he no longer had any doubts: slack off passively, be perfunctory, fool Prince Edessak for a while, then tell him that he truly could not uncover the truth.

Huff. This world is truly terrifying. One careless move, and you come into contact with something unimaginably horrifying… Klein sighed inwardly. Not daring to linger, he quickly returned to the washroom in the real world.

…

Tuesday morning, nine o’clock. Crown Cemetery.

Dressed in a black shirt, black waistcoat, and black wool coat, Klein held the flowers he had bought for twelve soli and stood at the edge of the crowd. His expression solemn, he watched Talim Dumont’s coffin being carried over, receive its requiem, and little by little be buried in the earth.

Throughout the process, Talim’s mother’s eyes were red and swollen. Several times, she tried to speak but was unable to do so through her sobbing. His father’s hair was graying, his expression haggard. Even standing seemed to make him tremble unsteadily.

The scene entered Klein’s eyes. He tilted his head upward slightly and closed them.

When the funeral attendees left one after another, he finally walked over, bent down, and placed the plain white flowers in his hand atop others like them.

I’m sorry… he silently said in his heart.

He straightened, stepped aside, and prepared to leave when he discovered Reporter Mike and Surgeon Allen approaching.

“This is truly regrettable. I never imagined Talim would, would… Sigh…” Mike’s expression was pained. He could not finish his sentence.

Allen, always cold and indifferent, removed his glasses, wiped the corners of his eyes, and sighed softly.

“He was a warmhearted fellow. He did not deserve this ending.”

“Yes. He originally had the hope of escaping the bad reputation left behind by his grandfather,” Klein agreed.

Just then, he saw a female figure dressed in a heavy black dress and wearing a face-covering veil walk to the front of Talim’s grave. She, too, held a bouquet of white flowers.

Klein paid her little attention and moved his gaze away, leaving only the corner of his eye to watch that side.

The woman bent down to place the flowers, revealing a left hand covered by a black lace glove.

On the little finger of her left hand, a blue gemstone faintly appeared.

Klein’s scalp suddenly went numb.

His entire body went numb.