Chapter 20: Never Judge by Appearance

Chapter Twenty
Never Judge by Appearance

One living person and more than a dozen corpses had played cards for half the night inside a dimly lit room. The more one thought of such a scene, the more terrifying it became, until one’s scalp tingled inch by inch.

Klein restrained the instinctive fear rising within him and looked at the twenty-eight- or twenty-nine-year-old man before him—the one with a pale face, brown eyes full of malice, and an entire person who revealed a faint trace of madness. Pretending to be intimidated by the other man’s bearing, he took a step backward. Kaspars, meanwhile, left the card room and shut the door.

The man asked in a low voice, “You are looking for a bodyguard?”

“…Yes.”

Klein deliberately swallowed.

The other party’s strangeness frightened him, but also brought him a certain feeling of reassurance.

The stronger and more impressive the bodyguard, the safer he would naturally be.

The pale-faced man in the black waistcoat lifted his chin.

“Why are you looking for a bodyguard? How much are you willing to pay?”

Klein did not immediately answer. He thought for several dozen seconds before saying, “First, I will tell you the specifics of the mission. After evaluating it, give me a price. If I can pay it, or if I possess an equivalent item, the transaction will be established. If not, I can only give up and look for someone else.”

The man whose gaze was filled with malice did not speak. He nodded lightly, signaling for Klein to explain.

Klein deliberately glanced at those living corpses, treating them as normal card players, and used his eyes to ask whether those fellows should first be sent out of the room.

“There is no need,” the pale-faced man said in a low voice.

Klein considered briefly, then described the matter truthfully.

“I have offended a big shot—one who may have the support of a nation behind him.”

The card room suddenly fell completely silent, not the slightest movement remaining. The malicious-eyed, faintly mad man stiffened where he stood, as though he had turned into a plaster statue.

After nearly one minute, he slowly spoke.

“This task is priceless.

“Leave.”

Ah?

For a moment, Klein actually did not react. Only when the other man turned and walked toward the card table did he realize that the deal had failed.

You drag a bunch of living corpses into a room to play cards, look as though your status is fairly high and your strength very powerful, yet you are frightened off just like this? You are clearly a little crazy…

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Klein added, “That big shot is not so free in Backlund.”

The man in the black waistcoat ignored him and sat down again. The living corpses once more began dealing cards, looking at their hands, and tossing chips.

Klein exhaled and withdrew from the room. Outside, he saw Kaspars Kanlinen, the half-century-old man with the rosacea nose and ferocious scar, waiting there.

“The transaction did not go through,” Klein said, spreading his hands.

Kaspars showed no surprise. After musing for a few seconds, he said, “His price was too high?”

“No. He thought the mission was too difficult,” Klein answered without hiding it.

Kaspars’s brows moved slightly.

“Maric is the most terrifying person I know. He is not even afraid of bullets. Since even he thinks the mission difficult, I do not think I can help you contact other powerful fellows.”

“What a pity,” Klein sighed.

Kaspars clenched his right fist and struck his left chest.

“May the Storm be with you.”

Then I would die…

Klein found amusement in bitterness and smiled.

“Thank you.

“You can try helping me ask powerful fellows from other places. I will pay you a certain fee. Mm… I will come again tomorrow night.”

After receiving an affirmative answer, he left Bravehearts Bar with some melancholy, not even interested in playing a round of billiards.

Was I too honest? If I had described the commission as simpler, Maric probably would have agreed just now… I simply do not know how much he would have demanded…

Sigh. Having someone face danger for me while important facts are concealed is not my style. As a Beyonder, if I always violate my true thoughts and personal principles, I fear I will not be far from losing control…

Half sighing and half relieved, Klein transferred between carriages and returned to Minsk Street.

…

After washing up, Klein did not waste charcoal. He directly entered his bedroom, drew the curtains, and isolated the room from the outside world.

On the way back, he had thought carefully and realized that the possible dangers were not impossible to resolve.

To that unknown Mr. Ambassador, his most important and fundamental purpose is to find Ian Wright. The reason he sent someone to deal with me was because he wanted clues to Ian. After failing to obtain an answer directly, he considered killing me and channeling my spirit… If I can let him know that I actually cannot find Ian either, then under the possible monitoring of the military’s special department, he does not need to take risks for the sake of one enforcer…

Of course, my appearance, and my strength beyond his expectations, exposed their operation and caused them a severe setback. If I were that ambassador, I would certainly consider revenge to vent my anger. But definitely not now. Not in the present moment, when the situation is tense and undercurrents surge… Mm. The premise is that this ambassador has a brain and is not a useless fool who relies purely on connections and knows only how to throw tantrums… Since he can be placed in charge of such an important matter, that means he should be relatively reliable…

In other words, the crux of the problem is Ian Wright’s whereabouts.

Mm… Another hidden danger exists. After the ambassador ultimately fails, will he deliberately reveal to the military’s special department that Meursault was a Beyonder, letting them know that my strength is suspicious, using their hands to take revenge on me? That is only a matter of opening his mouth. It is not difficult at all. I must guard against it…

After clearly analyzing his own situation, Klein suddenly felt the impulse to hire someone to kill that unknown ambassador.

But after thinking of the powerful Sequence Beyonders that might exist at the other party’s side, he felt dejected again.

“I wonder whether the messenger can accept my commission without Mr. Azik’s consent… Probably not… Closely watch this matter and find a chance to silence him? Since he sent people to kill me, I would feel no psychological burden killing him… Right. I can consider issuing this task at the Tarot Gathering and see whether Miss Justice and Mr. Hanged Man have any method. Perhaps I can pay a high price to invite Mr. A, or a powerhouse of equal Sequence…”

A flash of inspiration suddenly crossed Klein’s mind, and he thought of the Tarot Club.

With an idea now in place, he calmed considerably. He found paper and fountain pen and wrote a divination statement:

“Ian Wright’s whereabouts.”

After confirming that there were no hidden Beyonders in the room, Klein glanced at the curtains that blocked outside prying eyes. As he recalled Ian’s appearance and clothing, he silently recited the divination statement and leaned back against the chair.

He quickly entered the dream. Within that illusory, hazy world, he saw a dark, narrow, filthy room. It held bunk beds and floor bedding, and four people slept inside in total.

Ian lay on the top bunk, curled up, pressing down on that old satchel as he slept.

The dream shattered. Klein opened his eyes and interpreted the revelation:

“Such lodging conditions only exist in the East Borough and the Backlund Bridge area. But those are abnormally large places. Even if all of Backlund’s police were mobilized, they still could not truly search them fully…

“Ian is very careful. He left nothing behind with me. Otherwise, I could have used dowsing to find him…”

After thinking for several minutes, Klein picked up his fountain pen and added a sentence before and after the divination statement, transforming it into a defensive declaration:

“I do not know Ian Wright’s whereabouts. After discovering Zeriel’s corpse, I have not seen him again.”

The paper was left on the desk just like that, with the fountain pen pressing down one edge.

After finishing this, Klein stood, returned to the side of the bed, and used an inconspicuous coin toss to quickly confirm whether someone was currently observing his every move.

Receiving a negative answer, he swiftly walked four steps counterclockwise, recited the incantation, and entered above the gray fog.

Inside the ancient, towering palace, Klein did not have time to examine his surroundings. First, he repeated the divination from earlier.

Seeing that the negative answer had not changed, he became less nervous. He lifted his head to the side and discovered that the newly added crimson star had a trace of sunlight-like gold staining its core.

“So this is the source of the warmth I felt?”

Klein spread his spirituality and carefully touched it as if responding to a prayer.

Light and shadow shifted. A blurry scene swiftly appeared before his eyes.

The petite girl he had once attempted to pull above the gray fog stood with a slightly curled brown-haired lady before an altar. A man wearing a white hard-shell mask was reciting, in a low voice, the corresponding honorific name of the Eternal Blazing Sun, producing warm, pure light.

She is looking for someone to exorcise her?

Klein nearly burst out laughing.

At this point, he finally understood the cause of what had happened earlier. It was not that someone had pierced through the gray fog and locked onto him. It was similar to when Justice and the others recited his honorific name and performed prayers. After the gray fog received the information, it naturally and instinctively fed it back to him. It was only that because this was not a prayer, the illusory layered voice had become a warm current.

“A notification. This is a notification, not harm or influence…”

Klein made a clear judgment.

At the same time, he roughly confirmed one matter: the way this mysterious space above the gray fog established connections with Miss Justice and the others was not absolutely strange, nor did it exist outside the rules of this world. It still suffered certain restrictions and could be influenced to some degree by certain methods.

Klein continued watching the image before his eyes and listening to the voices. He discovered in astonishment that this lasted far longer than any previous time.

Before this, he had been unable to actively spy on the targets corresponding to crimson stars. Only when the other party prayed could he receive the corresponding scene.

There was another situation: when he gave feedback, he could see the scene on site and hear synchronized sound. But once the response ended, he could obtain no further information.

Now, however, it was like he was watching a recording—a reality-show recording covered with heavy mosaic that lasted for quite a long time.

He witnessed the petite lady and a man wearing a golden mask converse in the study. He heard her companion call her Xio, and he understood that she was currently seeking the corresponding Beyonder materials for the Sheriff potion.

Only when the two ladies returned home did the “recording” come to an end, leaving Klein regretful that he could not clearly see their house number.

Looking at the slowly fading sunlight-like gold, he nodded thoughtfully, vaguely understanding why this abnormality had occurred.

“In other words, the power of purification helped me maintain the corresponding passage? Xio’s thirty pounds were well spent… I wonder when I myself will be able to maintain it…”

Klein shook his head with a smile and manifested paper and pen, intending to continue divining Ian Wright’s whereabouts above the gray fog.