Chapter 142: Warning

Chapter 142: Warning

Inside the bathroom, the wet and dry areas were separated, and billowing steam enveloped the entire bathtub.

Klein was submerged in hot water from the neck down, lying there comfortably. He did not even want to move his toes.

What a wonderful night… If only Cynthia weren’t outside. I still have to deal with her later… Klein sighed and began considering what excuse he should use afterward to avoid intimacy.

Following the characteristics of Admiral Amyrius Leavitt, he decided to begin with work. After that, he could arrange a sequence of excuses: recent physical discomfort; the loss of that particular capability due to injury; having just taken medicine that required a period of digestion; a sudden awakening of his true sexual orientation to the point that even a curly-haired baboon looked delicate and charming to him; and so on.

As for whether this would damage the admiral’s image, Klein felt no psychological burden whatsoever. So long as Cynthia did not suspect that he was a fake Amyrius Leavitt, his mission could be considered perfectly completed.

How he explains those excuses afterward, and how he finds reasons to return to normal, are Admiral Amyrius’s problems. What does any of that have to do with me, Gehrman Sparrow? And what does Gehrman Sparrow’s ruined image have to do with me, Sherlock Moriarty? Klein rose from the bath in a pleasant mood, dripping wet as he stepped outside, wrapped himself in a towel, and dried his body.

After changing into the bathrobe hanging nearby, Klein silently inhaled. As though facing a powerful enemy, he unlocked the door and turned the bathroom handle.

Seeing that the corridor was empty, with only the glow of wall lamps illuminating the dark passage on either side, Klein relaxed slightly and was no longer quite so tense.

This feels almost the same as challenging the pirate admirals… As he muttered inwardly, he suddenly discovered a serious problem: he did not know which room was the master bedroom and which was the study.

No matter what, I need to greet Cynthia first. Otherwise “Amyrius” will appear guilty and strange… Klein recalled the layout of similar houses and attempted to identify the master bedroom accurately.

Just then, the door to the room diagonally opposite creaked open, and Cynthia walked out wearing only a silk nightgown.

Her golden hair fell in slight disarray, with even a few strands drifting before her azure eyes and bright red lips, half concealing her gaze and making her lips seem both parted and closed. In the dim, ambiguous atmosphere, she appeared exceptionally alluring.

The silk nightgown’s neckline was cut very low, and whiteness and its valley entered Klein’s eyes at the same time.

…Klein almost raised his head to stare at the ceiling and escape that intense stimulation.

Calm down. Calm down. You are Amyrius Leavitt… And you’ve seen a Succubus before… Compared with “Disease Maiden,” this young lady’s charm is clearly still insufficient… Wait, why am I thinking about Demonesses? Who knows whether they were men or women before… Klein kept his gaze steady and even “playfully” examined her from top to bottom, then from bottom to top.

At that moment, he could sense a primitive desire, but his lower body showed no reaction whatsoever…

“Is this the second manifestation of the temporary contract? To be honest, Admiral Amyrius didn’t need to go to such trouble. Even if I had an impulse, I could control myself… What kind of scene haven’t I seen before?

“Mm… Cynthia is a little different from the records. Didn’t they say she had only become Amyrius’s mistress one or two years ago, and that most of the time she couldn’t see him? In that sort of matter, she was supposedly rather reserved, and the admiral had to coax her each time. Why does she seem inclined to seduce him today?

“Did she sense that her position was unstable, or has she also been replaced?” Ever since becoming a Faceless, Klein felt that everyone he looked at might be fake.

Cynthia’s eyelids lowered. The courage she had forcibly mustered gradually vanished beneath Amyrius’s scrutiny, and her face slowly flushed a startling crimson. She felt both shy and, faintly, proud.

Then she heard His Excellency the Admiral calmly instruct, “Prepare coffee for me and place it in the study.

“I have many matters to deal with tonight. You don’t need to wait for me.”

“…” Cynthia looked up blankly, the blush still lingering on her face.

For a moment, she could not understand Admiral Amyrius’s words.

Klein quietly drew a breath, stepped forward, embraced her, and kissed her forehead lightly.

“I’ll keep you proper company in a few days.”

This response came from the materials. He had only slightly altered the wording.

Frankly speaking, if he had not understood the situation beforehand, Klein would certainly have assumed that Admiral Amyrius kept the same stern expression when interacting with his mistress, even during bed sports, speaking and acting with utter seriousness. Yet this demigod also had a gentle tone and a side capable of smiling and flirting. He was simply not very good at sweet words.

This made Klein understand another matter: for many people, merely looking at the surface made it impossible to imagine what they were like in private. To perform a true disguise, a Faceless needed detailed investigation and thorough understanding, just as a Magician never performed unprepared.

Cynthia revealed obvious disappointment, but she soon restrained those emotions and raised a smile.

“All right.

“General, your sleepwear is in the room. A bathrobe isn’t suitable for handling business.”

That matches the materials. She’s rather considerate and knows how to be thoughtful… Klein watched as Cynthia turned and entered the room, pulling the bell. He seized the opportunity to remove the bathrobe and change into dark-red sleepwear and matching trousers.

Cynthia attentively opened the door to the study, briefly tidied the somewhat messy desk, then waited for the maid to brew the coffee. She received it personally and brought it in.

During this process, Klein flipped through the documents and materials, putting on a very professional appearance. In reality, he understood almost nothing about the relevant data and design concepts of ironclads, sailing ships-of-the-line, and other vessels. He was not much better than an illiterate man in this field.

In such areas, he only knew concepts like aircraft carriers, air superiority, big-gun battleships, and multiple turrets.

Seeing from the corner of his eye that Cynthia had silently left and closed the door behind her, Klein finally let out a breath of relief. He knew that, for tonight, he had successfully muddled through.

Inside the master bedroom, Cynthia pressed her lips together and took the necklace from beneath her pillow, gripping the black rhinoceros-horn-like object, only the size of a finger joint, tightly in her palm.

She stood there and prayed in a low voice, “Great Mother Tree of Desire, please make me even more alluring. Let Admiral Amyrius be even more infatuated with me. Let him experience ultimate pleasure from me, and give me a child…”

…

In the quiet study, Klein rustled through the pile of documents before him. Following the methods of handling described in the materials, he selected the simple ones and swiftly signed Amyrius Leavitt’s name across them. The reason he could imitate the handwriting was because a Faceless could memorize the target’s traits, while a Clown provided the precise control required.

As for the complicated ones and those he could not quite understand, Klein wrote similar comments:

“Study this further.”

After “busy”ing himself until the early hours of the morning, Klein raised a hand to cover his mouth and gave a small yawn.

No, I have to sleep a little. There will be many challenges tomorrow, and I need to maintain sufficient energy… After thinking about it, Klein abandoned the idea of returning to the master bedroom.

He raised his right hand, pressed it over his half-closed eyes, and suddenly pulled them downward, moving them to either side of the middle of his nose bridge.

Immediately afterward, Klein opened two slits where his eyes had originally been and used flesh and blood to disguise them as a pair of fake eyes.

After becoming a Faceless, I really am looking more and more like a monster… If only I’d had this divine skill when I was in school… He sighed silently. Then, with his body half bent forward, his real eyes closed and his fake eyes open, he “looked” at the documents while falling asleep.

The special traits of a Clown allowed him to instinctively maintain his balance, motionless like a marble statue.

After an unknown amount of time, Klein suddenly woke within his dream, sensing that a force was trying to pull him into deep sleep and invade!

Who? I haven’t done anything recently. Why would someone want to enter my dream? No, wait. Right now, I am Admiral Amyrius Leavitt… Klein’s heart stirred, and he immediately changed his appearance. Even in the dream, he became that demigod.

At the same time, he felt his consciousness tightening, as though trying to evade something.

This is different from normal dreamwalking. I’ve clearly recovered my reason and should be able to break free and wake myself, yet no matter what, I can’t leave the dream… After a brief attempt, Klein discovered even more oddities.

He knew very clearly that he was asleep, and he could even sense and control his body outside the dream. Yet no matter what he did, he could not wake up!

Immediately afterward, hazy white mist spread before his eyes, condensing into a figure whose appearance could not be seen clearly.

Klein narrowed his eyes. His mind pierced through the dream, causing his body in reality to move soundlessly. Then he placed his hand into his pocket and touched the “Ninth Law” charm.

At that moment, the blurry figure calmly said, “Do not involve yourself in Auston and the others’ affair.

“This is a warning.”

…Rather impressive, actually. It’s warning a demigod… What exactly are Auston and the others planning to do? After some thought, Klein extended his spirituality slightly, allowing the “Ninth Law” charm to emit a deep, solemn authority. Then he imitated it, expressing a similar sensation within the dream before saying in a low voice, “Who are you?

“Whom do you represent?”

The blurry figure paused for a moment, then gave a sighing laugh.

“As expected of Amyrius the Law Weaver. You can still maintain clarity under such circumstances.”

No, no, no. Although Amyrius is known as the Law Weaver, he isn’t actually good at this sort of thing. What you should say is, “As expected of Mr. Fool”… Klein grumbled inwardly, then said sternly, “Answer my question.”

The blurry figure laughed softly.

“You don’t need to know who I am.

“As a demigod, you should understand very well that all things have their own destiny. Every era is the same.

“Do not defy the destiny of an era—in other words, its tide. That will only make you a sacrifice to history.”

The destiny of an era, the tide of an era, a sacrifice to history… Hearing this, Klein suddenly recalled a name:

The Twilight Hermit Order!

But Klein did not speak. He did not utter those words, because for the next few days, Admiral Amyrius would be him.

Seeing “Amyrius the Law Weaver” sink into silence, the blurry figure said nothing further. It dissolved back into the spreading white mist and vanished from the dream.