Dah! Caine stepped back involuntarily, unsure whether he was awake or still dreaming. The figure removed his black hat, bowed slightly, and smiled softly. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the Watcher, Dunning Smith." Watcher? The designation mentioned by "Justice" and "The Hanged Man" for the night goddess's extraordinary team? Caine suddenly recalled, and then, in a natural flow, asked, "You manipulate dreams? You made me experience that very dream just now?" Dunning Smith re-fastened his black hat, covering the slightly higher edge of his hair, his gray, deep-set eyes gleaming with a quiet smile. "No, I only entered your dream and provided the necessary guidance." His voice was rich and gentle, echoing softly through the dark, dimly lit corridor, as if stirring no one's dreams: "In dreams, emotions that are usually suppressed and various darker psychological undercurrents are amplified, making everything seem chaotic, absurd, and even mad. Yet reality still exists, quietly embedded within. For someone as experienced as me, everything is clearly visible and easily discernible—more so than the clear-minded you." How could a normal person control their own dreams? If I were dreaming of things from Earth, wouldn't that mean Dunning Smith had already discovered them? Klein was suddenly startled, deeply unsettled by the dream experience. Yet soon, he sensed something strange—because he remembered being fully awake and rational within the dream, knowing precisely what to say and what to withhold. In short, it felt entirely unlike a dream. So, had Dunning Smith merely 'seen' the content I wanted him to see? Klein's thoughts raced, and a growing clarity began to emerge. This is a built-in benefit of the journey—whether it stems from the inherent qualities of the spirit, or from the added effects of the "transformation ritual"? (Please remember????????????.??????website to watch the fastest chapter updates.) "So, Mr. Smith, are you certain I truly lost my memory?" Klein asked, organizing his words. Dunn Smith didn't answer directly; instead, he looked at him deeply. "Have you ever found it surprising that such things happen?" "Even among the individuals I've encountered, those who had just woken up from a dream still didn't believe in extraordinary forces—they preferred to think they hadn't fully awakened yet." Klein nodded. "Perhaps it's because I've been praying, hoping for such power to assist me." "An interesting line of reasoning—perhaps your survival isn't merely due to luck." "Ennis nodded without a smile, 'Now I can confirm that you've genuinely lost some of your memories—particularly regarding the events themselves.'" "May I go now?" Kline breathed a long, relieved sigh, asking tentatively. Ennis pulled out one hand and walked slowly toward him, the surrounding night growing quiet and gentle. "No, you still need to come with me to see the 'expert.'" He gave a polite upward curve of his mouth. "Why?" Kline asked immediately, then quickly added, "Don't you believe in your ability to guide dreams?" What a joke! If the 'expert' was skilled in hypnosis or reading minds, wouldn't my greatest secret now be exposed? I couldn't even imagine the consequences! "I've always been modest, but I do have some confidence in matters concerning dreams." "Dunne answered calmly and composedly, 'However, it might be worthwhile to double-check the key and important matters—especially since she differs significantly from what I'm accustomed to, and perhaps she can help you recover some of your memories.' Before Cline could speak further, Dunne's tone deepened: 'After all, your connection lies directly with the fate of the Antigonus family's manuscript.' 'What?' Cline was momentarily stunned. Dunne stood before him, his gray eyes fixed steadily upon his: 'The fourth-century manuscript is missing—absent from the entire house. Welch is dead, Naya is dead, and you are the only remaining clue.' '...Alright,' Cline paused, then exhaled. The manuscript is gone... That's truly strange! I hadn't even considered the whereabouts of that fourth-century manuscript until now! Dunne gave a barely perceptible nod, speaking over Kline as he moved: "Lock the door and come with me right now to Welch's place—the Expert is waiting there for us." Kline took a silent breath, his heart pounding with uncertainty. He had intended to refuse, even to flee, but he knew that with Dunne Smith now on high alert thanks to the precedent set by his dream, and given the usual gap in strength between ordinary people and extraordinary ones, a forced effort would likely prove only partially successful. He was certain his own gun was still there—probably one he had practiced shooting many times. A flurry of thoughts raced through his mind, and ultimately, Kline decided to face reality: "Yes, alright." Well, he'd have to take it one step at a time—perhaps the special effect from his dream would kick in again after all. "Then let's go," Dunne said, his tone utterly unflinching. Caine turned and took two steps, then stopped. "Mr. Smith, I... I'd like to go to the restroom first." I came out specifically to use the restroom, after all. Dunn didn't stop him, but looked at him deeply. "No problem, Caine. Believe me—during the night, I'm far stronger than you imagine." In the night... Caine silently repeated those words. He didn't rush or act impulsively. He simply resolved the discomfort in his abdomen, then washed his face with cool water, fully calming himself. Dressed neatly, closing the door to his own room, Caine moved gently down the stairs, following Dunn toward the apartment door. In this quiet stillness, Dunn Smith suddenly spoke: "In the final moments of your dream, why did you want to run? What were you afraid of?" Klein's thoughts flashed like lightning as he pondered and replied, "I don't remember doing anything at the Welches' home, nor do I recall directly causing their deaths—should the final evidence point to me, I wouldn't dare risk it. Better to flee and begin a new life on the Southern Continent." "If it were me, I'd do exactly the same," said Dunning, pushing open the apartment door to let the cool night breeze dispel the stuffiness inside. He didn't worry about Klein escaping—he took his own turn onto the carriage, the very one Klein had seen in his dreams: a four-wheeled, single-horse vehicle, with a coachman, and the side panels adorned with the police emblem—two swords crossed, flanking a crown. Klein followed in, noticing the thick carpet and the soothing, calming fragrance that filled the carriage. Sit down whenever you like; he was finding topics to discuss, trying to learn more: "Mr. Smith, if—let me say if—the 'experts' confirm that I truly have forgotten that part of my memory, and if there's no other evidence showing that I'm the perpetrator rather than the victim, then that would be the end of it, wouldn't it?" "Theoretically, yes. We'll look for the notebook through other means; as long as it exists, we'll find it. Of course, before that, we'll verify that you carry no curse, no lingering presence of a malevolent spirit, no corresponding psychological issues—so that you can welcome the future of your life in peace and health." Dunn Smith offered a smile, a slightly odd one. Klein noticed this immediately, and without letting up his breath, quickly followed up: "Theoretically?" "Yes, only theoretically. In this field, things are always twisted, illogical, and hard to believe." "Ennis looked into Caine's eyes and said, 'Their continuity, their endings—sometimes, they are not something we can foresee or control.' 'Like what?' Caine suddenly felt a bit afraid. "We only deployed two team members, working closely with the police, and successfully dismantled the cult—no one escaped. As for the person who reported the incident, we confirmed he had no lingering presence of spirits, no curses, no psychological barriers, no personality issues, and no other unusual traces." "Since then, his career has flourished. He married a wonderful wife, had one son and one daughter, and all the shadows seem to have receded from his life. The past horrors and bloodshed appear to have completely faded." At this, Dean Smith smiled gently: "But in March this year, despite his solid financial situation, strong marital bond, and bright, beloved children, he died—strangely, he suffocated himself in his office." The soft, crimson moonlight spilled through the carriage window, casting a gentle glow over Dean Smith. At that moment, his seemingly self-deprecating smile struck Klein as unsettling—unbearably so. "Self-killed...," Klein breathed silently, as if he had just witnessed his own tragic end. Even if he had survived this crisis, was it only a temporary escape? What could truly resolve this? Could he become a非凡者 himself to face it? The carriage fell into a profound silence. Klein's thoughts surged, only to settle one by one. In this unspoken stillness, the carriage journeyed for a long time—swiftly. Just as Klein had resolved to approach Dunning Smith with a brave face and ask for solutions, the carriage came to a halt. "Mr. Smith, we've arrived at Welch's residence," the driver announced. "Let's get off," Dunning straightened his black coat to the knee. "By the way, I'd like to introduce you—our 'expert' has been publicly known as the most renowned spirit-medium in the Ahovia County." Klein silenced his other thoughts and asked curiously, "What is her actual identity?" Dun half-turned, looking back over his shoulder with deep gray eyes, "a true spirit seer."