Chapter 126: Professional

Chapter 126: Professional

The boundless gray fog floated quietly. At the head of the bronze long table, a faint scraping sound rang out.

Klein changed his sitting posture and began analyzing the evil spirit incident with increasing gravity. The more he thought, the more he believed that he and Miss Sharron had completely overlooked, at that moment, the possibility that something was wrong with Rafter Pound.

“Does this belong to the Red Priest pathway’s Conspirer Beyonder ability?

“And this was closer to deception within the normal range. There was only a subtle supernatural effect at work. Therefore, even if I entered this mysterious space above the gray fog, I would not passively detect that I had been deceived. I had to think and analyze actively to discover the problem.

“If I had not learned from Mr. Azik that the evil spirit is suspected to be the long-fallen Red Angel Medici, I would not have felt that something was wrong, and I would never have commissioned Miss Magician to go to Williams Street and look for abnormal signs…”

After several minutes of thought, Klein materialized paper and pen, preparing to confirm his conjecture through divination.

He considered his wording for quite a while before finally writing a dream divination statement:

“The current condition of Sub-Baron Rafter Pound.”

Putting down the crimson round-bellied fountain pen, Klein held the paper bearing the divination statement and leaned back against the chair.

First, he recalled the information he had about Rafter Pound. Then he closed his eyes, silently recited the statement, and entered meditation.

Klein’s thoughts swiftly calmed, and he rapidly fell into a dream.

In that gray, hazy world, broken scenes flashed one after another, finally freezing on the house at 29 Sivellaus Street.

Inside a warm sitting room, Rafter Pound wore cotton velvet pajamas and held a glass filled with red liquid, standing quietly by the window as he gazed across the street toward Backlund Police Headquarters.

The sub-baron’s temples had become even more noticeably gray. The puffy bags beneath his eyes were tinged a blackish-blue, and the wrinkles on his forehead, at the corners of his eyes, and around his mouth were far deeper than they should have been for someone in his forties.

His pupils were not severely, but still abnormally, dilated. His cheeks were flushed, and a smile hung on his face. Compared to the Rafter Pound Klein had previously seen, he had changed subtly yet abnormally.

As expected, something has gone wrong with him… Klein left the dream and began considering how to handle the evil spirit.

Without question, he had a thinking habit in this regard. When he could not contact Miss Sharron, his first reaction was to report it!

But how should he report it? Klein thought carefully for a while, then materialized The World’s figure and had him pray:

“Through a reliable channel, deliver the following information to the Church of the Evernight Goddess and the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery.

“The information is: high-ranking spies from Feysac and Intis have gathered on Williams Street for unknown purposes.

“Payment: one hundred pounds.”

This was wording Klein had carefully weighed. Directly revealing matters involving a King of Angels, the Red Priest, the Medici family, and a Tudor dynasty ruin would indeed draw more attention from the Churches and the military, but it would also make Miss Magician Fors, the person responsible for reporting it, very easy for official organizations to watch. The danger would be tremendous.

The statement that “high-ranking spies from Feysac and Intis have gathered on Williams Street” was not only comparatively gentle, belonging to something that an ordinary Beyonder might have a chance to notice, but also enough to put the Churches and the military on guard, causing them to dispatch corresponding powerhouses and adopt the most effective methods.

As for whatever might be uncovered afterward, that would be their contribution and have nothing to do with the informer.

Klein had considered the option of asking Mr. Azik for help, but he ultimately gave up on it. That evil spirit was suspected to have been a King of Angels while alive, making it extremely dangerous, and Mr. Azik, still recovering, might not necessarily be able to handle it.

After some thought, Klein turned the materialized scene into flowing light and cast it into the crimson star symbolizing Miss Magician.

…

Backlund, Cherwood Borough.

Fors received Mr. World’s reply and was left stunned.

“Those are high-ranking spies from Feysac and Intis?” she muttered in astonishment, certain that the material she had provided could not possibly allow such a conclusion to be inferred.

But she quickly found the explanation acceptable. She believed that the reason Mr. World suspected Williams Street of hiding abnormalities was precisely because he had received corresponding intelligence about high-ranking spies. Once the presence of Feysacians and Intisians was confirmed, reaching that conclusion became very simple.

Deliver the information to the Church of Evernight and the Church of Steam? Isn’t that just a tactful way to say “report it”? What a pity. I cannot go watch from the side, or I would definitely be able to see quite a show… Fors was not unfamiliar with reporting matters, since her roommate and best friend was a bounty hunter.

She quickly had an idea. She decided to leave the matter of reporting it to the experienced Xio.

Leaving her bedroom, she saw Xio sitting on the sofa, leaning forward as she flipped through target documents. From time to time, Xio raised a hand to scratch her messy blond hair, looking extremely focused.

Fors casually picked up a decorative object, approached the sofa, and handed it over.

“Here. Have some cake.”

Xio glanced at the cake spread with cream. Her thoughts did not scatter, and she reached out to take it.

Just then, Fors turned and spread her wrist. The cake in her palm had already transformed into a golden fabric flower.

“Surprised?” she asked with a smile.

Xio could not help rolling her eyes.

“Stop performing. I would rather it be food.”

“Alright. I have something to commission you for. Seventy pounds.” Fors smiled and sat down.

…

After making preliminary arrangements for the evil spirit incident, Klein returned to the real world and, as a matter of course, held a ritual to bring the wireless telegraph receiver, which had spent several days above the gray fog, back into the master bedroom of the first-class cabin.

He lay down on the bed and used meditation to recover his energy until he was awakened by tapping sounds.

When Klein opened his eyes, crimson moonlight was already shining through the window, covering the dim room and the wireless telegraph receiver on the desk, which was spitting out illusory white paper by itself, like a layer of thin gauze.

This really has the feeling of a ghost movie or horror film… The pity is that it is connected to a shameless, bottomless magic mirror… Klein rolled over, sat up, and walked over. He saw lines of Loenese already appearing on the illusory white paper:

“The great existence above the spirit world, your loyal servant Arrodes has arrived and greets You.

“Do You have a matter You wish to test me on?”

Look, look at this. This is what it means to know how to speak! This is what professionalism looks like! At that moment, Klein had a strong urge to drag the fat Apothecary Darkwill in and let him experience the magic mirror’s art of speech.

Obviously, I have something to ask it, yet it turns into me testing it—and it even included a question as a bonus… Klein controlled the upturning corners of his mouth and answered in a deep voice, “Yes.”

“Please ask. Ignorant, shallow Arrodes is ready.” Amid the tapping sounds, not only did Loenese words appear on the illusory white paper, there was even a fawning smiling face.

This is already the prototype of an emoji… This fellow evolves so fast… Klein directly asked, “Where can I obtain a mystical item capable of stealing another person’s Beyonder abilities?”

The tapping suddenly grew intense. On the illusory white paper, scene after scene appeared rapidly, so realistic they resembled still frames from a film.

Among them were images familiar to Klein: Chanis Gate beneath Saint Selena Cathedral in Tingen City; Leonard Mitchell, the handsome poet with black hair and emerald eyes; a middle-aged man sitting on a sofa and smiling at a noblewoman opposite him; a proud young lady wandering through shadowed sewers…

There were twelve scenes in all. At the end came a line of Loenese:

“These belong to the types You can easily or conveniently obtain. There are many others, but they are either very complicated and troublesome, or they involve very high levels that I cannot see clearly.”

Not bad. It even knows how to filter the results for me proactively… This is practically a fantasy, mysterious, intelligent version of Google… Klein gently nodded and knowingly said, “It is your turn to ask.”

“You have already answered.” Amid the tapping sounds, the magic mirror Arrodes, as expected, displayed its answer on the illusory white paper.

Klein laughed inwardly, then continued asking, “Where has Leonard Mitchell been living recently?”

The tapping sounds once again became intense. Scenes leaped into Klein’s vision in the form of images:

It was Backlund’s most famous landmark: a towering Gothic clock tower, upon which hung the Bell of Order.

It was a street sign standing at an intersection, with “Pinster Street” written across it.

It was a row house bearing the number 7 on its door. It was Leonard Mitchell, casually wearing a black coat and red gloves, looking exceptionally carefree. It was that poet classmate flipping through the case files for the Lanvus case and the Capim case.

This fellow is in Backlund, and he is investigating the Lanvus and Capim cases? What is this supposed to mean… The corners of Klein’s mouth moved slightly. He carefully thought about whether he had left any clues in those two cases.

The only clue was that Detective Sherlock Moriarty had been connected to both cases. If Leonard entered Daisy’s dream, he should be able to discover that. But at that time, I already had a beard and a fairly decent disguise. Relying only on relatively blurry images from dreams and a few portraits, he probably cannot recognize me… As long as he cannot recognize me, it does not matter. What does a problem with Sherlock Moriarty have to do with me, Gehrman Sparrow? Klein withdrew his thoughts and memorized Leonard Mitchell’s current address:

No. 7 Pinster Street, North Borough, Backlund.

He planned to commission The Moon, Emlyn White, later and have him visit Leonard Mitchell tomorrow or the day after, using the Hermits of Fate badge to seek the purchase of a mystical item.

Hopefully Poet has a spare one… If he does not, there will definitely be a hefty markup… Klein gave an “Mm” and said to the wireless telegraph receiver, “It is your turn to ask.”

To be honest, he was rather curious what question the magic mirror Arrodes would come up with this time.

Tap, tap, tap. The wireless telegraph receiver spat out a new illusory white paper, where a question formed in Loenese:

“Great Master, Leonard Mitchell hides a very great secret. Do You wish to know it?”

…This counts as a question? Klein lifted his head, both amused and stunned, and glanced at the crimson moon quietly shining upon the dark sea.

Very soon, he answered honestly:

“Yes.”