Chapter 25: Dream Encounter

Chapter 25: Dream Encounter

Someone has infiltrated the house?

Klein did not immediately turn over and sit up. He merely shifted onto his side, slipped his right hand beneath the pillow, and silently gripped Death Knell. At the same time, he slowly spread the fingers of his left hand, putting Creeping Hunger into a state ready to be activated.

Knowing that it would be difficult to find food for Creeping Hunger after returning to Backlund, he had gone ahead of time to a prison in Conant City, Desi Bay. There, after confirming the crimes of a death-row convict, he had fed the man to the glove.

Have the people from the Rose School of Thought locked onto me? No, that’s impossible. Not so quickly. Besides, if it were them, they definitely wouldn’t rashly come straight to my door. They’d wait for an opportunity, trying to strike in one blow when I passed through some secluded area, so as not to alert Backlund’s official forces…

Was I targeted by criminals because I donated too much at Moon Mass? Mm. A foreign tycoon who has just arrived in Backlund and spends generously would indeed make an easy target… Of course, it might also be the Nighthawks conducting a routine investigation…

As thoughts turned one after another, Klein heard a very faint sound from the large balcony of the semi-open room next door.

Immediately afterward, the lock gave a tiny click, and the French window was pulled open almost without a sound.

Klein listened carefully and noticed footsteps pass through the semi-open room and enter the corridor.

After a brief pause, the footsteps came toward the master bedroom, then passed by it and twisted the door handle of the room belonging to his personal valet.

Did they go to the wrong room? Or are they here precisely for Richardson?

Klein’s heart stirred. He released Death Knell and reached instead for the iron cigarette case nearby.

Once he removed the wall of spirituality, an illusory figure wearing a dark-red coat and an old tricorn hat instantly appeared beside him and walked into the full-length mirror.

When Senor, this Wraith marionette, leaped to the glass window of Richardson’s room, he happened to see a figure with brownish-yellow skin, soft contours, and black hair walking out of the door. Meanwhile, Richardson sat soundlessly at the edge of his bed, leaning forward, his back slightly hunched as if he had merged into the darkness.

His expression shifted from fear to difficulty, then to weakness, before finally settling into silence.

So he really came for Richardson… His appearance is close to that of people from the Southern Continent. Agile, practiced, probably not an ordinary person… Is this someone Richardson knew back at that estate in the Southern Continent? Or a connection from his mother’s side? Richardson is only a personal valet with an annual salary of 35 pounds. What matter could require his help?

Klein observed through Senor’s eyes while silently making guesses.

At that moment, he suddenly understood a little why Richardson was so good at observing things, and why he liked looking at passersby from the balcony.

He was afraid of being found by certain people.

I hope it isn’t a serious problem, and I hope it won’t affect my plans… I’ll divine it later… If Richardson keeps failing to deal with his troubles, then I’ll have to find an excuse to dismiss him…

Seeing that his personal valet had lain down again, Klein withdrew the Wraith marionette.

…

At the same time, at 7 Pinster Street, Leonard Mitchell once again entered sleeping Backlund, shrouded in fog.

He had already questioned Daily Observer reporter Mike Joseph in a dream, concluding that Sherlock Moriarty had not become involved in the Lanevus affair on his own initiative, but only because he had been hired. This had caused the detective’s suspicion to drop sharply.

If this great detective’s figure had not also appeared at the edge of the Capim case, and if he did not have a close relationship with Emlyn White of the Harvest Church, Leonard Mitchell would have wanted to give up the investigation altogether and continue pursuing Ince Zangwill’s whereabouts.

Sherlock Moriarty had not had many good friends at the Quelaag Club. One had died in the Prince Edessak incident, and another was Mike Joseph. Therefore, Leonard’s current target had only one remaining: Dr. Aaron Ceres.

“Judging from the internal files, this doctor was also involved in a Beyonder incident related to the Monster pathway… After the exchanged item was taken from him, his bad luck and nightmares disappeared, and his life returned to normal…

“Heh. Most of the people Sherlock Moriarty knows have some involvement with the supernatural. That detective definitely isn’t simple…”

As Leonard thought, he rang the doorbell symbolizing Aaron Ceres’s dream.

After entering the dream, he casually found a sofa and sat down. Looking at Dr. Aaron across from him, he said, “Please tell me in detail how you came to know Sherlock Moriarty.”

Aaron in the dream made no attempt to conceal anything. He began with Mrs. Mary introducing Sherlock Moriarty into the Quelaag Club and his own role as one of the recommenders, then continued all the way to the great detective advising him to tell a bishop of the Evernight Church about the unusual events he had encountered.

It really matches the files. Sherlock Moriarty’s attitude toward the official forces is quite friendly, and he also has Isengard Stanton’s endorsement…

Leonard glanced at the bearded Sherlock that Dr. Aaron had manifested, then withdrew his gaze and continued listening.

Aaron described everything in detail. At the end, he said, “He went south on vacation and still hasn’t returned. I’ve always been very worried.

“However, he is a wise and kind-hearted great detective. I don’t think anything will happen to him. I hope he returns in time to attend the celebration banquet after my child is born.”

“Perhaps…” Leonard suspected Sherlock Moriarty would not return to Backlund at all.

He then politely took his leave and walked out of Dr. Aaron’s dream.

After taking a few steps, he instinctively looked back and saw that within the house with its garden, hazy spheres representing dreams overlapped one another, filling the entire space without any problem.

Is it my imagination? I keep feeling like something has changed about me…

Leonard murmured, turned around, and flew toward Pinster Street.

As far as his vision could reach, thick fog lay below him, and one gas streetlamp after another appeared dim and pale.

Suddenly, Leonard stopped flying and turned his gaze toward a particular building.

Inside the house, five or six hazy spheres of light floated quietly, no different from the other buildings around it.

Yet in Leonard’s spiritual intuition, there seemed to be a dark mass inside the house that could absorb all light.

Even more importantly, he realized he did not recognize the street or the block.

His heart thudded. Suspecting that he had seen something he should not have seen, he hurriedly withdrew his gaze and prepared to leave this place and hurry back to where his body lay.

At that very moment, from within that utterly ordinary-looking building came a teasing voice:

“Why not come in, sit awhile, and have a cup of tea?”

Every thought in Leonard’s mind exploded at once. Without thinking, he began flying at high speed.

In his spiritual perception, the terraced houses and garden villas behind him enlarged one after another. Their doors and windows transformed into mouths, biting toward him.

Nearby iron-black gas lamp posts grew upward with sharp rustling sounds, turning the surroundings into a steel forest that seemed intent on blocking Leonard’s path.

Leonard did not stop. He did not look back. He only felt the chill at his back grow clearer and denser.

His body gradually stiffened, as if countless invisible hands had seized him.

Just as he thought he could no longer hold on, the familiar house, familiar window, and familiar lamplight ahead all entered his eyes.

Leonard quickly held his breath and plunged downward, falling into his own dream.

Hah…

He woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat.

“Old man, what exactly did I run into just now?” Leonard pulled his legs down from the edge of the desk and asked in lingering fear.

The slightly aged voice in his mind remained silent for several seconds before answering, “I do not know.”

Leonard’s eyelids immediately drooped halfway. He asked no further questions.

Then he turned his gaze toward the window. Outside, nighttime Backlund was full of lamps, tranquil and quiet.

…

At 160 Böklund Street, inside Dawn Dantes’s residence.

“Sir, Ms. Wahana Heisen has arrived,” Richardson entered the room and said to Klein.

Hearing that, Klein set down the newspaper, raised his head, and glanced at his personal valet. He found that Richardson was still as taciturn, quiet, reserved, and timid as ever. There was not the slightest abnormality.

If not for the divination result being acceptable… Dismissing him rashly would also arouse suspicion…

Klein muttered soundlessly to himself. He stood as though nothing had happened and let Richardson help him into his coat.

A quarter of an hour later, holding his etiquette instructor Wahana Heisen, he began learning another dance commonly used in social settings.

“I feel I will lose my job in a few days,” Wahana said after a while, subtly praising Dawn Dantes’s progress. Then she added, “However, you are still a little restrained. Although there is no need for you to press close to a lady all the time like an Intis gentleman, you also need not keep a fixed distance at every moment. Occasional contact is very normal. As you are now, you appear too stiff and rigid.”

Klein drew her a little closer and replied with a smile, “I am afraid of being discourteous.”

Is he saying that standing too close to a lady is discourteous? Or implying that I am very charming, and that he fears embarrassing himself if he draws too near? That is a subtle compliment…

Wahana’s thoughts turned, and she smiled lightly.

“You are learning very well.”

The dance continued. Klein looked at Wahana Heisen’s face and asked gently, as if making casual conversation, “Madam, you seem troubled by something?”

Wahana lowered her head and laughed.

“It is not a major problem. My husband is a merchant. Recently, he has had a small dispute with certain people. We can resolve it.

“Mm. Your question just now was too direct. Before two parties have established a friendship, one should avoid asking what trouble someone has encountered unless she has already made it extremely obvious.”

Compared to you, who enters various upper-class households and knows many ladies and young misses, a wealthy merchant who has just arrived in Backlund truly does lack contacts and resources…

Klein nodded lightly and smiled.

“I thought we were no longer strangers.”

He then passed over the subject and began speaking of his own experiences and the neighbors nearby. Wahana listened and responded now and then, allowing Klein to grasp more of the neighbors’ characteristics and preferences.

When Wahana left, Klein stood at the door for a long while. Then he turned slightly toward his butler and said, “Walter, find out what trouble Ms. Wahana has encountered. If she cannot resolve it, we shall provide help in time.”