Chapter 156: A Soul-Shaking Glimpse

Chapter 156: A Soul-Shaking Glimpse

For one instant, Klein’s casually sweeping gaze paused, freezing upon that familiar figure.

Immediately, he realized that he had shown a slight abnormality. And within a demigod’s spiritual intuition, that was a problem impossible to ignore.

The muscles of his back tightened. Thoughts spun and collided within Klein’s mind, sparking like flint.

He did not reflexively move his gaze away. Instead, he continued looking there, at the demigod suspected to belong to the Black Emperor pathway, and said to Councilman Macht with a smile, “As expected, those who come here are not limited to retired officers.”

This was meaningless nonsense that seemed to come from careful observation.

Councilman Macht laughed.

“Any club, once it develops to a certain point, will exceed its original boundaries.”

His answer seemed to say nothing at all. Yet if one savored it carefully, one would feel that he seemed to have said something—or perhaps exactly the opposite.

At this moment, the broad-shouldered, long-armed gentleman in black formalwear also naturally turned his head sideways and glanced at the position of the two. He saw a certain wealthy man who had donated fifteen thousand pounds curiously looking at him and his companions while whispering with Councilman Macht beside him.

This made him feel that the astonished gaze from before was more like the normal reaction of someone who had learned his position.

Then he withdrew his gaze and continued the conversation that had not yet ended.

At that very moment, Klein’s back was already covered in a dense layer of cold sweat. Even his legs felt somewhat weak.

Although he had faced demigods directly before, and even fought them, this was the first time he had experienced such close contact in a small setting, where danger lay within a single thought. More importantly, the current him was far from prepared to face a demigod. He did not even have a single marionette. On him, he only carried the Death Knell revolver, Azik’s copper whistle, and the adventurer’s harmonica.

The Sea God Scepter could not be carried by his physical body, and its use placed strict requirements on the environment. Otherwise, it would cause massive casualties. Groselle’s Travels, if carried for too long, would passively draw Klein into the book world. After that, coming out again would be very troublesome. Creeping Hunger still lacked its seal and was restless every day. Unless he needed it, there was no way he would take it out in advance. As for the Fate Stealer charm, it had been made from a Worm of Time and might possibly attract Amon. Unless he was about to use it very soon, how could Klein dare keep carrying it?

If that suspected Black Emperor pathway demigod truly discovered a problem, the best solution Klein could think of was only one:

Blow the harmonica, summon Miss Messenger, and ask her to take him into the spirit world and flee Backlund!

He had not thought of having Reinette Tinekerr directly entangle the other party while he used Death Knell on the side to look for chances to fire a shot. This was because this was Backlund, the home ground of official Beyonders. Given Miss Messenger’s peculiar appearance, that gentleman could casually pin a crime on her, and what awaited Klein would inevitably be a siege—inevitably more and more demigods and powerful sealed artifacts.

That really was dangerous…

Klein moved his gaze away in accordance with logic. Using his Clown abilities, he controlled his legs and walked toward the main entrance without revealing the slightest abnormality.

He did not ask Councilman Macht beside him. He did not ask who those people had been. He showed not the least interest, using this to prove that his previous glance really had been only a casual look.

However, the other party’s glance back had exposed his appearance to Klein:

Thick but not messy black eyebrows; short, stiff hair of the same color; dark-blue eyes nearly black; a high, straight nose bridge like a mountain peak; large expanses of beard spreading outward from around his mouth; deep contours; a long face; and cold, hard lines.

He was a man with a very rugged aura. His age could have been anywhere from his thirties to his forties, making it difficult to determine precisely.

Judging only from appearance, Klein felt that he looked more like a demigod of the Arbiter pathway than one of the Black Emperor pathway.

Of course, this demigod’s bearing was actually closer to that of a Warrior. But he was too short.

With this clear appearance, Klein no longer needed to ask. He could directly ask Arrodes for the answer. Even if he still feared and guarded against the Magic Mirror, he could also commission Miss Xio, Miss Sharron, and others to do a simple identity investigation.

He believed that no matter how much a demigod hid himself, his position would not be low, and it would be very easy to uncover.

One step, two steps, three steps. Klein left the East Balam Veterans Club with normal posture.

After boarding the carriage, he leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and remained silent for several seconds. In his heart, he let out a long sigh.

“The broken clue from the Great Smog of Backlund has finally connected again…”

For a long time, he did not open his eyes or speak, as though still savoring the business discussion from earlier. In reality, he was doing more to smooth out the emotions he had forcibly suppressed just now.

During this process, Klein noticed that his personal valet Richardson several times seemed about to speak, only to close his mouth again, as though struggling with something.

In the end, Richardson said nothing. He focused on preparing Marquis black tea for his employer.

Because of the encounter just now, Klein did not have the mental space to attend to his matter for the time being, so he pretended to notice nothing.

Amid the silent atmosphere and the sound of the carriage wheels turning, they returned to 160 Böklund Street.

After going up to the third floor, Klein was just about to soak in the bath whose temperature had already been adjusted by the first maid when Richardson, holding his hat and cane, hurried forward two steps and respectfully asked, “Sir, are you going to the Southern Continent soon?”

“Yes,” Klein answered frankly.

He had even already prepared to give the housekeeper, Taneja, another 500 pounds in cash as the daily expenses of Dawn Dantes’s household while he was in the Southern Continent.

At the same time, he gained a deeper understanding of how important the two positions of upper-class butler and personal valet were.

Many matters of the master simply could not be hidden from them. Therefore, once irreconcilable conflicts appeared in faith, attitude, or political stance, replacement was inevitable.

Richardson hesitated before saying, “Sir, I was born in the Southern Continent. I speak Dutanese, and I understand all kinds of local customs very well. I should be able to help you.”

Dutanese was the common language of the ancient Balam Empire. In today’s East and West Balam, ordinary people still used this language. Only those among the middle and upper classes knew foreign languages such as ancient Feysac, Loenese, and Intis.

Klein mostly felt fortunate about this, because ancient Balam had once been a unified empire with a true god. Therefore, although the various states within it each had their own accents, they all used Dutanese, and the written script was likewise the same. This saved him no small amount of trouble.

If I ran into dozens or hundreds of languages mixed together, that would truly make my head hurt… However, Dutanese and ancient Feysac do not belong to the same system. I cannot master it quickly the way I could with the many branches of the latter. Finding a translator is indispensable. Uh, Anderson seems to be very good at Dutanese. I have never heard him mention any communication difficulties in West Balam…

After listening to Richardson’s words, Klein suddenly understood what the other man had been struggling over earlier.

As a personal valet, when his employer went out to handle matters, he had to follow. A butler did not.

In other words, a personal valet was both a life secretary and, to a certain degree, a business secretary.

Clearly, Richardson liked life in Backlund. He liked everything here. He was unwilling to return to the Southern Continent and did not want to see scenery and events that would remind him of the past. That was why, inside the carriage, he had several times wanted to explain his expertise but could not make himself speak, hoping that Dawn Dantes would find someone more suitable.

Klein pondered briefly.

“I can tell that you do not especially like the Southern Continent. Why did you take the initiative to tell me these things?”

Richardson slowly lowered his head and looked at the tips of his shoes.

“You gave me the opportunity to gain experience and grow. I think—I think I should help if I can.”

A very simple-minded sense of gratitude… If you did not say it, no one could know for certain that you speak Dutanese. After all, you were born and raised on a colonial manor in East Balam…

Klein carefully looked at Richardson for several seconds, then smiled soundlessly and sighed inwardly.

However, he had no intention of bringing this personal valet with him to the Southern Continent. First, that would make all of his movements inconvenient. Second, if Richardson were recognized by acquaintances from the Restoration Society or Numinous Episcopate, it might affect the latter half of his life.

Klein smiled and said, “I have quite a few friends over there. They all know Dutanese and understand the various customs.

“Mm, you have more important things to do. You must remain in Backlund. At regular intervals, deliver gifts to some of my friends on my behalf. I will give you a list when the time comes. Also, read more newspapers, pay attention to valuable investment news, conduct field investigations, and then give me the corresponding reports. I will have Madam Taneja prepare a dedicated fund for these matters.”

Richardson first froze slightly. Then, both surprised and delighted, he said, “Yes, sir. I—I will work hard!”

At that moment, he felt he had been entrusted with important work, and his vision inexplicably turned blurry.

For the first time since his birth, he felt that the future was filled with hope—something to long for.

After sending Richardson away, Klein comfortably soaked in a bath, easing his tense mind. Then, dressed in his pajamas, he returned to the bedroom, took out paper and pen, and drew a complicated symbol combining Peering and Concealment.

On the surface of the full-length mirror, water ripples suddenly spread in circles. Silver light formed one Loenese word after another:

“Supreme and great Master, Your loyal, insignificant, humble servant Arrodes has come in answer to Your summons!

“Are You leaving Backlund again?”

Klein nodded.

“Yes.”

Without waiting for Arrodes to say he could ask his question, he directly said, “In the Southern Continent, will I still be able to contact you?”

“Of course! As long as You bring out that magical radio transceiver.” On the mirror surface, the silver words quickly reorganized. “However, You must not let it remain in reality for too long, nor use it too frequently. The Southern Continent contains many bestowals from the Mother Tree of Desire, and She may sense it through that.”

Klein nodded lightly and followed the topic.

“What do you know about the Mother Tree of Desire?”

The Magic Mirror Arrodes abruptly fell silent. Only after a long time did the silver trails of light on the mirror wriggle and change into a complete sentence:

“I dare not speak, and I dare not display.”