Chapter 240: An Unquiet Night

Chapter 240: An Unquiet Night

Because Silver Coin Viper Odell was not a pirate, the various rumors about him were mixed between truth and falsehood, making them difficult to untangle. Klein withdrew his gaze from the stairway and walked to the bar counter, finding a seat. He lightly tapped the counter and said, “One Zarhar.”

This was a local malt beer, considerably cheaper than Southville beer shipped over from the Northern Continent.

“Three pence.” The bartender had also recovered from the silent state and picked up an overturned cup.

The patrons in the bar began whispering among themselves as well. Under the glow of gas wall lamps, they discussed why Silver Coin Viper Odell had bought ten tickets.

“He’s definitely being tracked. Three ships, ten tickets—that’s to stop the pursuers from figuring out which ship they’ll board!” a gang member with rolled-up sleeves and tattooed arms said, offering an opinion based on his two experiences fleeing trouble.

An adventurer drinking Lie Longqi sneered. “You don’t understand Odell. If his plan were really that simple, he wouldn’t have the nickname Silver Coin Viper.

“I dare bet they won’t board any of the passenger ships represented by those ten tickets!

“The only thing that can be confirmed is that they’re going to Pritz Harbor.”

Another adventurer shook his head. “Maybe even the information about going to Pritz Harbor is false.”

The gang member from earlier was stunned as he listened, but unwilling to concede, he said, “According to your descriptions, Odell might have already thought of everything you thought of. So perhaps he really does want to go to Pritz Harbor and really will board one of those three ships!”

The two adventurers opened their mouths to refute him, but after carefully thinking about it, they found that there really was a considerable possibility. For a moment, neither could say anything.

This made the gang member extremely happy. He finished the rest of his strong liquor in one gulp.

Klein, meanwhile, held his glass of Zarhar, slowly sipping while idly listening from the side and waiting for the fake identity documents and ship ticket he needed to return.

“Still three quarters of an hour. I hope nothing unexpected happens. I hope the bar doesn’t descend into chaos…” He silently prayed and drew a crimson moon in his heart.

The light-yellow beer lowered at a slow speed. From time to time, Klein looked toward the wall clock, and from time to time, he glanced at the door, hoping time would pass more quickly.

Over half an hour later, the bar door suddenly opened with a bang, letting the night wind pour in from outside.

No way… The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched slightly. Suppressing the urge to smile bitterly, he turned sideways and looked toward the source of the sound.

Five people appeared at the entrance. The leader had black hair and brown eyes, with deeply carved features and hard lines, very much bearing Loen traits. He appeared to be in his early forties.

His expression was cold and solemn, authority naturally emanating from him. The patrons inside the bar unconsciously fell silent again.

Behind him, three men and one woman all wore trench coats and openly held revolvers, as though prepared to aim and fire the moment anything abnormal happened.

I don’t know them. They aren’t on any wanted notices and have no bounties… Klein muttered inwardly, maintaining his spectator posture.

The five intruders suddenly spread out, each arriving before different drinkers. Slightly bending down, they looked at them and asked one after another, “Where is Silver Coin Viper Odell?”

The patrons were still hesitating over whether they should answer when they saw the black muzzles of guns pointed at them. The white ivory or black ebony grips displayed a strange beauty under the light.

“He—they went upstairs!” the questioned patrons almost simultaneously pointed toward the stairway.

There really are people tracking Odell. Are they trying to deal with the Queen of Mysteries, or did Silver Coin Viper do something himself? Or is it because of that mysterious hooded candy-eater beside him? Klein drank another mouthful of beer and watched four of the intruders head toward the second floor while the remaining one stayed where he was, continuing to question people.

Very quickly, the latter learned about Odell buying tickets from Deniel. He immediately walked to the thin, dark-skinned black-market merchant and asked in a deep voice, “Tell me honestly. Where did Odell buy tickets to?”

Deniel did not try to act tough by relying on his extensive connections. Squeezing out a smile, he said, “He didn’t say explicitly. The requirement was ten tickets, belonging to three different ships, for tomorrow, destination Pritz Harbor.”

“Really?” The questioner was an aggressive-looking man in his twenties.

Deniel answered softly, “You can ask everyone here. They all heard it.”

“Shit!” The man angrily shoved Deniel, then turned and walked toward other patrons.

Deniel lost his footing and stumbled backward. Just as it looked like he would fall and the back of his head would strike the edge of a small round table, he felt a force appear at his shoulder, and his body immediately regained balance.

He subconsciously turned his head and saw that it was the customer who had just bought a forged identity document and black-market ticket.

“Thank you. Those damned military hounds!” Deniel first thanked him, then cursed softly through gritted teeth.

The one who had steadied him was Klein. He did not wish for the “ticket dealer” to have any accident. After all, he had already paid five pounds in advance.

Of course, casually helping an innocent bystander caught up in trouble was also his habit.

Military hounds? In Bayam, that description usually refers to MI9 personnel… What did Silver Coin Viper Odell do? Klein silently muttered, eliminating the possibility that someone was targeting the Queen of Mysteries.

To the Loen military, that would have no meaning.

As his thoughts moved, the MI9 members who had gone to the second floor hurried downstairs. While rushing straight toward the door, one said to his companion, “They already jumped out the window and ran!”

This group had arrived in a hurry and left just as hurriedly. The bar soon recovered its noise, and only the still faintly swinging door indicated the earlier disturbance.

Klein finally waited until the fake identity documents and black-market ticket arrived, no longer having to worry about interruption by accident.

After paying the remaining fifteen pounds, he left Seaweed Bar and returned to the ordinary inn he had rented.

“John Yord… Isn’t that name a little too convenient? Before I return to Backlund, I’ll still need a more realistic proof of identity.” Klein flipped through the series of identity documents and tossed them into his suitcase.

He took a bath, relaxed, and prepared to leave Bayam tomorrow, beginning the final stretch of this “journey” by sea.

Just then, he heard the knocking sound of thud, thud, thud.

Who is it? Klein hurriedly took off his bathrobe, put on his shirt and trousers, and walked to the door.

Outside were several police officers in black uniforms. One looked Loenese, while the others were either mixed-bloods or pure natives.

“Is something the matter?” Klein asked in puzzlement.

“Please show your identification,” a mixed-blood officer said politely, because the gentleman opposite seemed to be Loenese as well.

Good thing I just got one made. Otherwise, tonight I’d either be spending the night at the police station or running away on the spot, changing my appearance, and starting over… As Klein muttered inwardly, he returned to the room and took out his identity document.

The leading Loenese officer casually flipped through it and said, “Mr. Yord, are you living here alone?”

“Yes. Everyone at the inn can confirm that,” Klein answered frankly.

The Loenese officer revealed a faint smile. “Have you seen this person?”

As he spoke, he had the officer beside him unfold a portrait. On it was an extraordinarily thin old man with completely white, messy hair. Apart from that, there were no particularly obvious traits.

“No,” Klein said, shaking his head.

“He likes eating candy,” the Loenese officer added.

“Candy…” Klein suddenly remembered the mysterious hooded person beside Silver Coin Viper Odell. He had been constantly eating coffee-colored candy at very short intervals.

After considering, Klein did not conceal it and said, “Perhaps I have. Earlier, when I was at Seaweed Bar, I saw a person who loved eating candy following beside Silver Coin Viper Odell.”

The Loenese officer did not hide his disappointed expression. After simply thanking him, he ended the questioning.

Only after they knocked on another room did Klein close the wooden door and return to the reclining chair.

“Odell’s matter not only drew out MI9, but also made the Governor-General’s Office arrange manpower for a citywide search. This isn’t simple…” he muttered twice, deciding to go above the gray fog and browse through the prayer light spots around the Sea God Scepter. From the prayers of Bayam’s many believers, he would search for more information, lest he inexplicably get swept into a large whirlpool because of some mistaken response.

Entering the washroom and arriving above the gray fog, Klein beckoned, making the white bone scepter surrounded by countless light spots fly out from the junk pile.

After browsing the light spots one by one, he could only confirm that the questioning earlier was not limited to a small area. The targets were indeed Odell and that mysterious person, but he could not learn more.

After some thought, he cast his gaze toward a light spot that had been specially marked by divinity.

It belonged to a mixed-blood police officer named Braya. He claimed that for Sea God, he had endured humiliation and converted to the Lord of Storms only so he could climb higher inside the police station.

He was now already a police superintendent!

Then, Klein projected Sea God’s will into the corresponding light spot.

Braya, who was currently assigning tasks to his subordinates at the police station, suddenly broke out in cold sweat. He hurriedly found an excuse, entered the washroom, and prayed softly:

“Blessed of the sea and the spirit world, great Kavituwa, your believer reports to You.

“The key person being searched for tonight is a very thin old man. His hair has completely turned white, but is still fairly thick, only extremely messy. He is very afraid of cold. Even in Bayam, he wears very thick clothing. He loves eating candy, as though he himself were a steam engine and candy were high-quality coal. The instruction from above is to find him but not harm him.”

Klein stopped paying attention to Braya and pulled back his thoughts. His finger lightly tapped the edge of the long table as he said, “Compared to the portrait, this description gives me a sense of familiarity.

“It seems I’ve heard of something like this somewhere before…”

For a Seer, a sense of familiarity meant a clue. Klein therefore wrote a divination statement and began questioning his own spirituality.

While silently reciting the statement, he leaned back against his chair and used meditation as a springboard into sleep.

Inside the gray, dark dream world, Klein discovered he had returned to Backlund, to 15 Minsk Street, the place he had previously rented.

Before him was the red-eyed Ian. This older boy lifted his head and said, “Turani von Helmosuin. The greatest scientist, mathematician, and mechanician after Emperor Roselle. The father of the second-generation Difference Engine.”

All at once, Klein woke and understood who MI9 was searching for!

They were looking for the great scientist whose mere draft manuscript for the third-generation Difference Engine had caused the Loen military and Intis intelligence organizations to clash fiercely, resulting in no small number of deaths!

They were looking for the scientific madman who had mysteriously vanished many years ago!

No wonder Old Quinn, Blood Admiral’s intelligence officer, had an improved radio transceiver more advanced than those in Backlund! Klein suddenly understood everything.