Chapter 157: The Object of His Dreams

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven
The Object of His Dreams

“No, we are not—”

Before Klein could finish his rebuttal, Benson interrupted him with a smile.

“Although Elizabeth is indeed a little young, and although her family situation is considerably better than ours, I think the two of you are quite well suited. You would only have to wait several years. She is attending public school and intends to enter university, so marriage would be at least six or seven years away. Of course, you could become engaged first.”

…Can the two of you please not think that far ahead?

Klein drew in a breath and said, “I do not like Elizabeth. Mm, to be accurate, I do not like girls much younger than me. I prefer someone more mature.”

Actually, within a reasonable range, I can accept quite a lot. But not right now…

He helplessly added inwardly.

“More mature?”

Melissa’s brows creased slightly. “Then you must resolve your marriage problem as soon as possible.”

Ah?

Klein truly could not understand his sister’s jumping logic. Blankly, he asked, “Why?”

Melissa explained with great seriousness, “By the time you save enough money for a future marriage, you will be almost twenty-five or twenty-six. A girl more mature than you at that age would either already be married or long engaged. Do you want to pursue a widow?”

What in the world…

Klein answered in Chinese inside his mind, his face completely wooden.

Benson, meanwhile, smiled and refuted his sister.

“Melissa, you do not understand. Among the current middle class, there are quite a few ladies who are still neither married nor engaged by thirty. Most are believers of the Goddess. The majority have the ability to live quite well on their own and would rather remain single than accept an unsatisfactory marriage. Uh, I read that in Family magazine.”

“Really?” Melissa was, after all, only a sixteen-year-old girl and did not understand such matters very deeply.

Seeing his elder brother and younger sister growing more and more interested in this topic, Klein coughed and said, “What I mean by more mature is psychological state, not that she must be older than me. Besides, the one whose marriage problem should be worried about more is Benson.”

Sorry, Brother. I had no choice…

He apologized silently in his heart.

“…”

Melissa froze for a moment, then nodded heavily.

“Yes!”

Benson had originally intended to speak in detail about middle-class marriage issues, but he suddenly shivered. Looking at his sister, who was staring at him, he said, “I am currently at a turning point in my life. I must dedicate all of my energy to study. Only after I have a satisfactory job and certain savings will I have the confidence to pursue the lady I admire and give her a sufficiently wonderful life.”

Klein and Melissa were first stunned, then blurted almost simultaneously, “You have a lady you admire?”

Benson, who had merely been speaking off the cuff, jumped in fright and hurriedly shook his head.

“No!”

“I was only giving an example!”

…

Backlund, Hillston Borough, inside a somewhat dim and gloomy house.

Before an unlit fireplace, a middle-aged to elderly gentleman with graying temples sat peacefully in a rocking chair, holding a dark pipe. His deep gaze rested on the visitors in the sofa area.

He was the owner of this place, Isengard Stanton, a private detective quite famous within certain small circles. He had not opened an agency and only hired one assistant to help him.

Wearing a white shirt and black waistcoat, Isengard brought the pipe to his mouth, inhaled with intoxication, and slowly exhaled.

“The consultation fee is one pound per half hour. If I were you, I would not waste a single second.”

The two ladies in the sofa area were Fors Wall and Xio Derecha. They had gathered information on Vice Admiral Hurricane Qilangos and intended to hire a great detective skilled in deduction to summarize the target’s behavioral patterns.

Of course, they had concealed Qilangos’s name and changed the descriptions involving the supernatural.

Looking at Isengard’s thin face, sharp features, and dark-blue eyes, Xio Derecha handed the document bag in her hand to the detective’s assistant—a capable-looking young brown-haired man wearing gold-rimmed spectacles.

“Detective, I hope you can identify the target’s behavioral patterns in Backlund from these materials.”

Though Xio was not tall, when she sat perfectly straight and spoke in a deep voice, her dignity still made people instinctively want to obey.

Isengard looked deeply at her, accepted the document bag from his assistant, untied the cord, and pulled out the materials inside.

He set down his pipe and read with focus, page by page, not missing a single one.

After more than ten minutes, the gentleman with graying temples slowly tapped the armrest and said, “The target has an obsessive fondness for wind… Therefore, in Backlund, the ‘Capital of Dust,’ he would certainly not choose a heavily polluted district for long-term residence. In other words, he may live in Queen’s Borough, West Borough, Hillston Borough, Cherwood Borough, or the northern suburbs…

“The target is a serial killer with psychological illness. Every other day, he must murder a living person… The rational approach would be to target homeless vagrants. In Backlund, even the police cannot say clearly how many vagrants there are…

“The district where the target lives would be neither too close to nor too far from places crowded with vagrants, such as East Borough and Backlund Bridge… Repeatedly searching for victims in the immediate surroundings is immature behavior, which does not match your description. But if he has to spend a long time to find a desired target, he may fail to control his urges and commit crimes under circumstances that easily expose him…

“The target is an experienced sailor with outstanding ability to act in water… A reasonable inference is that he would not live too far from a river. If an accident occurs, that would be his best route for safe escape…”

…

“In summary, we can sketch out the target’s range of activity. He likely lives not far from the Backlund Bridge area. Consider the banks of the Tussock River in West Borough and Cherwood Borough…”

…

“The materials you provided can only allow me to deduce this much.”

Although Xio and Fors did not entirely understand what they had heard, it did sound very reasonable. They looked at each other, nodded solemnly, took back the materials, and rose to leave.

Watching his assistant escort the two ladies out, Isengard, whose temples were gray, took a brass ornament from the pocket of his waistcoat. It was a miniature open book, and at the center of the book stood a vertical eye.

Rocking his chair slightly, he rubbed the ornament and murmured, “Qilangos has infiltrated Backlund?”

…

Pritz Harbor, inside a certain basement.

The Hanged Man, Alger, sat in a chair and looked coldly at the struggling man before him.

That man was dressed like a sailor. His head was completely wrapped in a pale-blue film of water, and his face had been suffocated to a reddish purple.

His hands kept clawing and tearing at his face, but he could only fling off droplets of liquid.

Finally, unable to endure any longer, he gave the signal of surrender.

The corner of Alger’s mouth curled up. He casually clapped his hands.

The pale-blue film of water instantly collapsed, turning into raindrops that fell to the ground.

The sailor-dressed man gulped air in great mouthfuls, choking until he coughed violently, until it seemed his heart and lungs might be torn apart.

Only when the other man calmed down did Alger lean back slightly, imitating the Fool’s calm, indifferent tone.

“Tell me Qilangos’s purpose in going to Backlund.”

“He—he went to complete a commission, but I do not know exactly what it is.”

The pirate had completely lost the will to resist. He answered honestly and openly.

“I only know what benefit he might obtain. Qilangos once boasted in front of us that if this matter went smoothly, he would obtain an item he had dreamed of for a very long time. The Four Kings among the pirates would become Five Kings.”

An item he has dreamed of for a very long time?

Alger’s brows furrowed. He sank into thought.

…

On Monday morning, Klein still did not manage to rest. He continued following his plan, investigating houses in Tingen City that had red chimneys.

Unfortunately, once again, he failed to find the target.

At noon, he returned home, heated up leftovers from the previous night, gnawed on a strip of oat bread, and then caught up on an hour of sleep.

At two-forty in the afternoon, Klein set down the book in his hands, sealed his bedroom with spirituality, and once again entered the mysterious space above the gray fog.

He casually sat at the head of the bronze long table. Paying no attention to how many heartbeats the Sun should count, he extended his right hand and gave a response ahead of time.

Inside the City of Silver.

Derrick Berg was drenched in sweat on the practice grounds when his vision suddenly blurred. He saw layer upon layer of gray fog, and deep within that fog, he saw the Fool seated upon a high-backed chair.

He first froze. Then he stopped moving and lowered his head.

Once the “illusion” vanished, he began silently counting his own heartbeats. Holding his silver-white straight sword, he swiftly walked toward the rest area.

One thousand heartbeats later, he had already locked himself alone inside a washroom.

After waiting a dozen more breaths, he saw crimson light surge from empty space and instantly drown him.

Above the gray fog, Klein leaned back in his chair and quietly tapped the teeth on the left side of his mouth twice, activating spirit vision.

He saw that deep within the Sun’s Ether Body, the mottled colors had turned pure, like the light of dawn. Smiling, he said, “Congratulations, Mr. Bard.”

At the same time, he discovered that the brilliant stars behind the other party’s high-backed chair swiftly moved and rearranged themselves into the symbol representing the Sun.

It changed naturally, without needing my intention, almost like a conditioned reflex… Mm. Aside from the palace, the long table, and the chairs, the other manifested objects cannot be preserved after I leave this place… They are very special… There are truly many secrets above the gray fog…

Klein looked thoughtfully at everything before him.

Derrick lowered his head again and answered, restrained and humble, “This is all due to Your help. This is only the beginning.”

He was not surprised at all that the Fool could see he had consumed a potion.

At that moment, Klein took out his silver pocket watch, snapped it open, glanced at it, and chuckled softly.

“Then let us begin the gathering. Remember, afterward, it will be roughly this frequency—or rather, interval.”

As he spoke, he established a connection with the crimson stars symbolizing Justice and the Hanged Man, pulling the two members once more into the majestic palace like a giant’s residence.

The moment Audrey saw the scene before her clearly, she greeted them in a brisk voice.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fool. I have another page of Emperor Roselle’s diary.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sun. Have you obtained the Telepathist formula?”