Chapter 63: Interpreting Dreams

Chapter Sixty-ThreeInterpreting Dreams

After walking several steps, Klein saw the customer who had come for a divination. He wore a black formal suit, held a gold-inlaid wooden cane, and had a half-top hat on his head. Short blond hair stubbornly emerged from beneath its brim, and the tip of his nose curved faintly, like the beak of a hawk.

Anna’s fiancé… Joyce Meyer, the man who experienced terrible ordeals…

Having seen the other man during dream divination, Klein immediately smiled and greeted him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Meyer.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti.”

Joyce removed his hat and bowed.

“Thank you for the guidance you gave Anna. She has been praising how miraculous you are almost without stopping.”

Klein chuckled.

“I changed nothing. The person to thank is yourself. Without a resilient will and yearning for good things, you could not have defeated those calamities.”

After finishing this exchange of courtesies, he could not help inwardly commenting:

Does this count as mutual business flattery?

“To be frank, I still feel as though surviving and returning alive was a dream. Even now, I can hardly believe I made it through one disaster after another.”

Joyce sighed, shaking his head.

Without waiting for Klein to say anything else, he asked curiously, “When you saw me just now, you immediately knew who I was. Was that because my nose is too distinctive, or because you had already divined my visit in advance?”

“I have your detailed information. To a Seer, that is enough.”

Klein deliberately answered vaguely, assuming the air of a charlatan with mystical airs.

Joyce was indeed stunned. Only after more than ten seconds did he force out a smile.

“Mr. Moretti, I would like to ask you for a divination.”

The moment he finished speaking, he suddenly realized something.

Mr. Klein Moretti called himself a Seer, not merely a diviner or fortuneteller.

“All right. Let us go to the citrine room.”

Klein made an inviting gesture.

For some reason, he suddenly felt that he ought to be wearing a long black robe and speaking as little as possible in order to better display the mystery of a Seer.

Once they entered the divination room, Joyce Meyer locked the wooden door himself and examined the surrounding environment. Klein used the opportunity to quietly pinch the space between his brows twice and activate spirit vision.

Joyce sat down, leaned his cane nearby, adjusted his black bow tie, and spoke in a lowered voice.

“Mr. Moretti, I would like you to interpret a dream for me.”

“Interpret a dream?”

Klein maintained the attitude that everything was within his expectations, repeating the phrase in confirmation.

He saw that Joyce’s health colors were dim to varying degrees, but none had reached the level of illness. His emotional colors were dominated by the blue of thought, yet the blue was so dark that obvious tension seeped through.

Joyce nodded solemnly.

“Ever since the Clover arrived at Enmat Port, I have had the same dream every night. The dream is full of fear. I know this might be the shadow left by calamity, and that perhaps I should go see a psychiatrist. But I suspect it is not an ordinary dream. Ordinary dreams, even when they repeat every night, should surely have differences in the details. Yet this dream—at least the part I remember—has never once changed.”

“To a Seer, dreams like that all belong to revelations given by the gods,” Klein said, half soothing and half explaining. “Could you describe the dream in detail?”

Joyce pressed his fist to his mouth and thought for a moment.

“I dream that I fall from the Clover, falling toward the ocean. The ocean is deep red, like rotting blood.

“As I fall, someone aboard the ship catches me. I cannot see his appearance clearly. I only know that he is very strong.

“And I am also holding on to someone, trying to keep him from falling into the sea. I know this man. He was a passenger on the Clover. Yunis King.

“Because of his weight, because of his struggling, I…