Chapter 35: Both Sides Waiting

Chapter Thirty-Five
Both Sides Waiting

Both sides already know where the Helmosuin manuscript is. This matter will reach a conclusion tonight… Then the ambassador will have his hands free, with spare strength for retaliation and similar actions… Is that the reason danger is about to descend?

Klein roughly understood the earlier divination result and that inexplicable omen.

If not for the Words of Filth charm, if not for the powerful bodyguard costing one thousand pounds for three days, he most likely would now shamelessly cling to the police station, or go to Saint Hilran Cathedral, the Backlund headquarters of the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, and “stay temporarily” there to avoid the possible attack while waiting for the ambassador to be assassinated. As for whether the assassination would succeed, Klein had no certainty. In any case, he had already considered the worst result and prepared a certain plan for it.

But now that he had double preparations, he naturally would not choose a strategy of avoidance. He would remain at home as before, pretending he knew nothing.

In his heart, he was even faintly looking forward to the attacker coming to his door.

Sequence 9 Hunter Meursault was killed by me. If they send someone else, at minimum it will be a Sequence 7, perhaps even Sequence 6, Sequence 5, or else a pile of numbers. No matter which it is, as long as they are dealt with, I will obtain formulas, obtain Beyonder characteristics, and recover some of my losses… Mm. I will tell Miss Bodyguard that I got lucky and obtained some benefit from that black ear I bought, becoming a Beyonder. After all, if the battle is intense, there is no way for me to hide that point. And what I say will be almost the truth. I did indeed obtain considerable gains from that black ear…

As Klein thought through the matters to follow, he almost instinctively wanted to draw a crimson moon over his chest.

May the Goddess bless me. Let it be that Beyonder of the Diviner pathway!

He prayed silently.

Thinking of that, he looked around the room, wanting to find his bodyguard. He worried that after hearing the whole story, she had run away without a sound.

The living room and dining room were warmly lit, illuminating the coffee table, sofas, and chairs. Apart from that, there was no one else.

Just as Klein was gradually beginning to feel uneasy, he suddenly saw a face appear on the glass shade of the gas lamp in the sitting area. The hair was pale-gold, the features exquisite, the face deathly pale.

This lady still has quite a bit of confidence in her own strength…

Klein’s heart instantly settled. In a low voice that seemed to be self-directed, he said, “I am a Beyonder too.

“I attended a gathering through Kaspars and purchased an item that gambled on luck. I obtained certain benefits from it—benefits only for someone like me, of course.”

Both sentences were true. No matter what method they faced, they could withstand testing.

But placed together, the two sentences would easily make one think that the benefit had made him a Beyonder.

The face reflected on the glass shade of the gas lamp gave a slight nod and quickly vanished, showing no other reaction.

Although Klein’s outward appearance did not change, he inwardly let out a quiet breath.

He returned to the sofa area. Without taking off his coat, he picked up a newspaper and casually began flipping through it.

After a while, the dinging and clanging of the bell echoed again. Someone had pulled the doorbell once more.

Who?

Klein’s mind instantly tightened. Both hands entered his pockets, touching a tarot card and the Words of Filth charm respectively.

He slowly walked toward the door and, with the Clown’s ability, foresaw the scene he would see after opening it:

The crimson moon still appeared and disappeared faintly. The elegant gas streetlamps remained unchanged. A sergeant in a black-and-white checkered uniform, with three Vs on his shoulder insignia, waited impatiently by the door.

A short yellowish-brown beard grew beneath his chin. It was precisely the sergeant who had previously handled the case of “Sherlock Moriarty’s legitimate self-defense.”

Jurgen seems to have mentioned his name. Sergeant Fassin? Mm. In another day or two, I can go ask for my ten-pound bail back… Why has he come? Did MI9 send him to look for Ian Wright? Or to notify me to temporarily avoid danger somewhere?

Amid his doubts, Klein grasped the handle.

…

In the Intis embassy located in Backlund’s West Borough, lights blazed brightly. The scents of various perfumes and wines spread with melodious music, diffusing into every corner.

A ball was being held there.

During Bakerland’s years as ambassador, he often held balls at the embassy. He invited bankers of the Loen Kingdom, major factory owners, great philanthropists, famous wealthy men and lawyers, and occasionally offered chances to certain merchants of the next tier.

In such an atmosphere, he would tell the guests about Trier’s prosperity and openness. He would tell them that the Intis Republic was no longer dominated by nobles, that bankers, factory owners, lawyers, and people of similar professions were now the masters of the nation. They directly and indirectly occupied the majority of seats, decided the direction of national policy, enjoyed true freedom, and possessed lofty status.

Today, Bakerland was doing something similar. Holding a wine glass, he appeared constantly before different guests, as though he intended to prove that at this point in time, he was at the banquet and had not gone out.

They should have already obtained the manuscript… After learning from that trembling detective that Ian Wright had appeared at the telegraph office on White Rum Street, I began arranging everything. Now is the time for harvest…

Bakerland, with his lean but distinctive face, took a sip of blood-red Aurmir wine and walked toward the balcony, intending to enjoy the cool night air.

After learning that Ian had sent a telegram, Bakerland, as a veteran Conspirer and professional intelligence officer, had keenly realized that the other party was contacting his superior’s superior. He had therefore immediately ordered the double agent planted within the Backlund group of the Feysac Empire’s intelligence agency to investigate. From that, he obtained the time, location, and method of Ian’s arranged meeting with the “team leader.”

After that, he pretended nothing had happened and continued sending people to search for Ian near White Rum Street. They had successfully discovered him and drawn out MI9’s interception.

According to his arrangements, the intelligence personnel at the scene deliberately allowed Ian to escape, making MI9 believe that both sides were standing at the same starting line.

After numbing his main opponent, he redeployed other intelligence personnel who had not been exposed, using them to ambush Ian and that “team leader” from the Feysac Empire. He intended, without MI9 noticing, to find the manuscript and carry it out of the Loen Kingdom.

Originally, the matter had progressed smoothly, exactly as he had predicted. But the news sent back at dusk had made his mood exceptionally heavy.

MI9’s people had actually appeared!

They, who should have been deceived, had actually appeared!

With Rosago here, it definitely is not a matter of divination. Besides, MI9 is not skilled at divination at all… That means there is a worm inside us… I hope Rosago can seize the initiative, obtain the manuscript, and hand it to “Shadow” to take away…

To avoid suspicion, Bakerland had deliberately organized this ball, and therefore he could no longer interfere with the matter’s progress. He could only pray that his subordinates were capable.

According to his arrangements, after Rosago succeeded, he would immediately transfer the item to another intelligence agent—an agent who had never been activated before. After that, Rosago would draw away MI9’s people and, by creating several incidents, keep interfering with their “line of sight,” attracting attention for his companion. In the process, Bakerland had instructed Rosago to conveniently kill that little detective.

If not for him, the whole matter would never have become known to MI9. Everything would have gone extremely smoothly… My connection with the Zmanger gang would not have been exposed either, and I would not be transferred back home… He actually did not run away? Does he think MI9’s people will protect him forever? Does he think staying at home is safer than fleeing?

Bakerland rubbed his face.

He had already received orders: once the operation corresponding to the manuscript ended, he would hand over intelligence-related matters to the embassy’s first military attaché and wait for the new ambassador to take office and complete the transition.

Bakerland was quite reluctant to leave this place. Although Backlund had poor weather and heavy pollution, it was the most prosperous city in the world—without question.

Besides, the young ladies and madams here are comparatively conservative, not like those wantons back home. Slowly coaxing them into bed, removing their conservatism bit by bit—that is a very satisfying, very mesmerizing thing. Unfortunately, I must bid farewell to these beauties…

Bakerland thought with a little gloom, and his resentment toward that little detective who had dared to resist grew deeper.

As for Rosago’s own safety, Bakerland was not worried at all. He believed that as long as Rosago wished it, as long as no high-Sequence powerhouse had locked onto him, the man could escape immediately. That was because Rosago possessed a special Beyonder ability.

As he thought, Bakerland’s eyes suddenly lit up. He saw a young lady in a dark-red dress holding a glass of wine and standing near the balcony’s edge.

She had a beautiful face and a refined temperament. Her ink-black hair was flowing and smooth, and her light-brown eyes seemed to hide countless words.

Bakerland immediately walked over and skillfully began chatting with her. He learned that the young lady was the daughter of a timber merchant named Irene. Her father could not truly be considered wealthy and was currently doing everything he could to climb into the upper circle.

Borrowing the status of the Intis ambassador, Bakerland very soon won Irene’s admiring gaze.

After dancing together twice, the physical gestures between them grew intimate.

“Beautiful miss, I would like to invite you to my room to taste Aurmir wine. The 1286 vintage,” Bakerland hinted.

Irene answered with almost no hesitation.

“All right.”

The two left the ballroom and quietly went to the second floor, entering Bakerland’s room. They ordered the guards to stay away and not disturb them.

The so-called 1286 Aurmir wine had yet to appear before Bakerland eagerly brought Irene to the bed.

As they rolled together, Irene’s not especially complicated dress slipped down. Her fair arms embraced him.

Her hands gripped Bakerland’s shoulder blades. Suddenly, black, thin, furry “spider legs” grew out from her nails and veins.

Bang!

Irene’s eyes abruptly bulged, and white foam bubbled from her mouth.

Bakerland withdrew the fist that had struck her abdomen and stood from the bed. There was no trace of the earlier eagerness left on him. His expression was cold.

“Who sent you?” Bakerland asked in a low voice.

Irene tried to stand, but the pain made it impossible. Her eyes were both frightened and stunned.

Seeing the pretty young lady’s expression, Bakerland smiled.

“I truly am fascinated by beautiful women. But I know this problem about myself very well. So every time I face a beautiful woman, I am especially cautious.

“Speak. Who sent you?

“Do not think of enduring it. I am very skilled with fire.”