Chapter 82: The Herb Shop

Chapter Eighty-Two
The Herb Shop

Colors of all kinds surfaced. Auras entered Klein’s eyes, and he casually examined Sir Deweyville’s condition.

“His body is very healthy. There are almost no hidden problems… His emotions are very poor, dim with weakness… Mental weakness? Bad sleep? But the purple at his head shows no problem at all…”

As Klein silently murmured to himself, Sir Deweyville and his party walked farther and farther away, finally leaving the library.

Retracting his gaze, Klein pinched his forehead and sighed inwardly.

“It is not easy being rich either…”

He did not pay too much attention to the matter. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the journals and magazines before him.

After reading through article after article, Klein failed to find any clues of great value. He merely confirmed several things.

First, on and around the main peak of the Hornacis mountain range, an ancient nation had indeed once existed. Second, that ancient nation’s history could be traced back at least fifteen hundred years. Third, its architectural style was characterized chiefly by grandeur. Its ruins left behind all manner of murals, from which it could be seen that the people believed the dead would protect their relatives within the night. Finally, throughout those ruins, symbols representing night could be seen everywhere, yet those symbols were clearly different from the Sacred Emblem of Evernight.

“If there is ever a chance—no, even if there is ever a chance—I am not going there!”

Klein whispered through gritted teeth, deciding to stay far away from courting death.

He organized the journals and magazines, returned them to their original places, then put on his hat, picked up his cane, and left Deweyville Library.

…

The Divination Club.

Bogda looked at the pretty lady in charge of reception and said, “I would like a divination.”

Angelica smiled politely.

“Do you have a diviner in mind? Or would you like to look through our introductions and choose the one most suited to you?”

Bogda pressed a hand against the right side of his abdomen and inhaled soundlessly.

“I would like Mr. Klein Moretti to divine for me.”

“But Mr. Moretti is not here today,” Angelica answered without needing to check.

Bogda fell silent. He paced back and forth twice before asking, “When will Mr. Moretti come?”

“No one knows. He has his own affairs. From what I have observed, he comes most often on Monday afternoons,” Angelica said while thinking.

“All right.”

Bogda’s face dimmed. He turned, intending to leave.

“Sir, you may also choose another diviner. For example, Mr. Hynas Vincent, a famous figure in Tingen City,” Angelica said, doing her best to salvage the business.

Bogda stopped. After hesitating for a moment, he said, “No. I only trust Mr. Moretti. Mm, may I wait here for a while? Perhaps once he finishes his own affairs, he will come.”

“That is no problem,” Angelica answered with a gentle smile.

Bogda came to the sofa area and sat down. At times he rubbed his cane; at times he stared out the window. He appeared exceedingly anxious.

Time passed second by second. Just as Bogda’s mind had become a blur, unsure whether he should leave or continue waiting, he heard the pretty lady call out in pleasant surprise:

“Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti!”

Seeing the familiar Angelica, Klein had originally meant to ask casually, Why are you here again? Do you not need rest? Do you not have days off?

But he immediately remembered that he was a diviner. He should not ask such a question. Instead, he ought to say, in the tone of a charlatan steeped in mysticism: Fate is truly marvelous, Miss Angelica. We meet once again.

Uh… Would that sound like flirting?

Thoughts flashed rapidly through Klein’s mind. In the end, he merely smiled and answered, “Good afternoon, Miss Angelica.”

“A client has come seeking your divination.”

Angelica pointed toward Bogda, who had hurriedly risen from the sofa area.

Someone specifically asked for me?

Delighted, Klein removed his half-top silk hat and conveniently pinched the space between his brows twice.

“Good afternoon, sir…”

His gaze turned over, and his words abruptly halted.

In his spirit vision, the color at the querent’s liver was dim and lifeless, nearly turning black. It had pulled the rest of the body out of balance, causing all the colors of the aura to thin.

Klein weighed his words for a moment, then said with a serious expression, “Sir, you should be seeing a doctor, not coming here for divination.”

Bogda froze. Then a look of joyous surprise appeared on his face, and he murmured to himself, “It is truly miraculous… Anna did not lie to me…”

…

He suddenly raised his head and looked at Klein with earnest eyes.

“Mr. Moretti, I have already seen a doctor. There may be surgery ahead, but I am filled with fear toward it. I hope to divine whether the result will be good or bad.”

Surgery in this era really is terribly dangerous… Although Emperor Roselle pushed things forward, many necessary technological points are still missing…

Klein did not refuse. He nodded slightly.

“My divination price is eight pence. Is that a problem?”

“Eight pence?” Bogda blurted in astonishment. “You only charge eight pence?”

Based on Anna’s description and Mr. Moretti’s performance just now, I would be willing to pay at least one pound!

Have you never heard of small profits but quick turnover?

Klein felt awkward for a moment. After thinking for several seconds, the corners of his mouth lifted, and he answered calmly and composedly, “To receive revelation from the gods and glimpse a corner of fate is already a sufficiently fortunate thing. Therefore, we must remain humble and restrain greed. Only in this way can we continue to receive blessings.”

“You are a true diviner,” Bogda said sincerely, pressing a hand to his chest and giving a bow.

Sensing that praise and trust, Klein felt his spirituality grow lighter again. At the same time, the “principles of conduct” he had just described seemed to make him touch upon something.

“Miss Angelica, is the citrine room available?”

He turned to look at the pretty lady beside him.

Angelica quietly breathed a sigh of relief for Bogda and smiled sweetly.

“Yes.”

After entering the divination room, Klein had Bogda lock the door. He himself sat behind the table and pinched his forehead.

“How about using tarot cards for the divination?” he asked with a smile.

The pendulum method was only suited for matters related to oneself, while drawing an astrolabe would waste too much time.

“You decide,” Bogda said, without the slightest objection.

Thus Klein had him shuffle, cut the cards, and lay out an Intis spread.

Relying on the special qualities of a Seer, Klein did not turn over the other cards. He directly flipped open the card symbolizing the final result.

“The Wheel of Fortune reversed. Matters will develop in a bad direction.”

He glanced at it once and spoke in a solemn tone.

Bogda’s face instantly turned pale. His lips moved several times before he said, “Is there no hope?”

Holding to the idea of doing his best, Klein said, “Then I will switch to another divination method. Please leave your ring here and write your birth date on this sheet of paper. Afterward, wait outside quietly.”

Infected by his warm and soothing voice, Bogda calmed down. Following the instructions, he wrote the information, left the ring behind, and exited.

Watching him leave, Klein wrote a line on the paper recording the information:

“The result of Bogda Jones’s liver surgery.”

Holding the ring and the paper, he leaned back against the chair and once again attempted dream divination.

Within the hazy, distorted world, he gradually recovered himself and saw the gentleman from earlier collapse with a dim face. He saw the man covered in a white cloth and pushed out of a swaying operating room.

This time, Klein did not encounter anything strange. He did not feel himself being watched. Soon he awoke, brows faintly furrowed, considering how he should tell Bogda the result.

The surgery will most likely result in death… The healing ritual magic I learned today could be tried, but that would expose Beyonder matters and would have to be reported to the Captain first… Mm, and it might not be able to treat such a serious illness…

Klein pondered bitterly, then suddenly remembered something.

“Mr. Glacis’s lung disease was cured by a pharmacist. He said the man’s medicine was very miraculous… What was his name again? Right, Rosen Darkweed. Number 18 Vlad Street, East Borough. Rosen’s Folk Herb Shop!”

Because he had deliberately committed the matter to memory, Klein quickly recalled the details.

His finger lightly tapped the edge of the table. Very soon, he made his decision.

After using the pendulum method to rapidly determine whether the idea was good or bad, Klein opened the door and walked out. Looking at Bogda, who hurriedly stood, he returned the ring while smiling gently.

“I have seen your hope.”

“Truly?” Bogda asked back in joyful surprise.

Klein did not answer directly. He spoke as if to himself.

“Your hope lies in the East Borough, on Vlad Street, and is connected to the word ‘Rosen.’

“If you cannot find it, come here again on Monday after four in the afternoon to see me.”

“All right. All right.”

Bogda nodded repeatedly. Excited, he took out his wallet and counted one five-pence coin and three one-pence coins.

He had completely followed Klein’s earlier explanation and had not attempted to corrupt a true diviner with a tip.

The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched as he accepted the money. Smiling warmly, he said, “I hope you find hope as soon as possible.”

After Bogda left, Klein did as he had last time: he paid the club’s share and gave Angelica a tip, pretending that he had received one soli.

…

East Borough, Vlad Street.

Bogda walked from one end of the street to the other, and then back again, a full three times. His liver began aching faintly once more.

Finally, he confirmed that the only thing on this street related to “Rosen” was the shop located at Number 18: Rosen’s Folk Herb Shop.

Summoning courage, he walked inside. The scent of various herbs reached his nose. Behind the counter stood a man in his thirties or forties, with very short black hair and a round face.

The shop owner wore clothing much like that of a village witch doctor: a deep-black robe embroidered all over with strange symbols.

“Hello. Do you have any medicine that can cure my illness?” Bogda asked politely.

The owner lifted his head. His deep-blue eyes swept once over Bogda, and the corners of his mouth curled.

“The illness in your liver is very serious. But the premise of everything is this: do you have money? Enough money to pay for the medicine?”

He can tell?

Bogda instantly gained a little more confidence. He hurriedly nodded.

“How much is your medicine worth?”

“Ten pounds. Very fair.”

The owner casually pulled out a packet of herbs from beneath the counter.

“Add water. Enough water. Boil them together into a medicinal brew. After boiling, add ten drops of fresh rooster blood, then drink it immediately. This packet can be boiled three times. After three times, there should be no problem.”

As he spoke, he opened the yellow-brown paper and tossed in several more odd-looking herbs.

That sounds extremely untrustworthy…

Bogda swallowed and said, “Just that?”

The owner stared at him, then suddenly smiled.

“What else do you want? How about this packet? Once the illness in your liver is cured, I guarantee both you and your wife will be satisfied.”

He chuckled and took out another packet of herbs wrapped in black paper. Lowering his voice, he said, “Mummy powder has been added inside… Believe me, many nobles take this sort of thing. They put it in tea, or boil it into soup.”

…

Bogda’s confidence in the shop owner was completely shaken. He even felt somewhat nauseated.

I believe Mr. Moretti…

He inhaled deeply, took out his wallet, and from his dwindling number of pound notes, withdrew the two with the largest denomination.