The true seer... Klein murmured this description, said nothing more, and followed Dunning Smith down from the carriage. To its left lay the garden, and to its right, the lawn. The delicate fragrance of flowers blended with a fresh, crisp scent, creating a serene and invigorating atmosphere. As soon as they stepped inside, Caine suddenly felt his hairs stand on end, turning constantly to look around. He sensed eyes upon him—eyes watching from within the garden, beneath the lawn, from the upper floors of the house, behind the swings, and in every dim corner. Though the space seemed empty and unoccupied, Caine felt as though he were walking through a bustling street. This strange contrast, this odd sensation, tightened his body and sent a chill up from his tailbone. "Something's wrong!" he couldn't help but say, alerting Dunn. Dunn maintained his composed expression, walking beside him, and replied calmly, "Nothing to worry about." With the Night Watchers all expressing the same reassurance, Caine pressed on, gradually overcoming the unsettling feeling of being watched, observed, and yet not knowing where the gaze was focused, and finally reached the front door of the standalone house. If I have to endure this for too long, I'll become neurotic... As Dunn reached for the door handle, Caine quickly turned back, glancing once more—only the flowers swayed gently in the breeze, no figures in sight. "Please come in, gentlemen," a slightly ethereal voice echoed from within. Dunn turned the handle and stepped inside, addressing the woman seated on the sofa: "Darlie, any news?" The chandelier in the living room remained unlit. A main sofa flanked by two secondary ones encircled a marble coffee table. A single candle burned on the table, its flame glowing a vibrant blue, casting a shimmering, eerie hue over the open-plan layout of the living room, dining area, and kitchen. Sitting centrally on the long sofa was a woman dressed in a black cloak with a hood, her eyes accented with blue eyeshadow and blush, a silver chain adorned with a white crystal pendant winding around her exposed wrists. At first glance, Caine felt an inexplicable sense: she looked like a true spirit medium... Was she simply playing the part? The ethereal beauty of the "Seer" Daili scanned Caine with her shimmering emerald eyes, then looked at Dunn Smith and said, "All the spirits have vanished—including those of Welch and Naya. The young ones here know nothing at all." Spirits? The Seers... were those invisible observers just now? There were so many of them! Caine removed his hat and placed it on his chest, then bowed slightly. "Good evening, madam." Dunn Smith sighed. "Indeed, quite a challenge." "Daili, this is Caine Moretti. Try to discern something from him." Daili's gaze immediately shifted to Caine. She pointed to the single armchair at the secondary seat. "Please sit." "Thank you." Caine nodded, stepped over, and sat down with a steady heart, yet his mind unconsciously grew more alert. Whether he would live or die, whether he would smoothly navigate through, or whether his secret would be revealed—would all depend on what unfolded next! Yet the most helpless thing for him was his own lack of solid support—he could only rely on special circumstances. This truly felt dreadful. Caine thought bitterly. As Dunn settled into the double sofa across from him, the "seer" Dail extracted two glass bottles, each the size of a thumb, from a hidden pouch at her waist. With her bright green eyes smiling at Caine, she said: "I need some assistance. After all, you're not my enemy, so I can't treat you as directly or harshly as I would someone else. That would make you uncomfortable, even painful, and might leave you with serious aftereffects. I'll provide you with fragrances, enough tenderness and lubrication so that you can gradually relax and truly immerse yourself in the experience." How could this possibly make sense? Caine was momentarily stunned, his eyes wide with surprise. Dunn smiled in reply: "Don't be surprised. Unlike the people from the Church of the Storm's Sovereign, here, women are quite capable of verbally teasing men." Regarding this, you should be able to understand that your mother is a devoted follower of the goddess, and both you and your brother have attended the church's Sunday school. "I understand, though I didn't expect it to be quite like this—quite like this..." Klein gestured with his hands, struggling to find the right words, nearly spilling out the English equivalent of "a seasoned driver." Dunne smiled gently and said, "Rest assured, Daili doesn't often do this. She simply wants to calm you and help you relax—she actually prefers corpses to men." "You make me sound like a freak," interjected the medium, Daili, with a smile. She opened one of the smaller bottles and poured a few drops onto the vibrant blue candle flame: "A blend of night jasmine, deep-sleep flowers, and chamomile, distilled and extracted—this is my 'Amandah,' a word from Hermes' language meaning tranquility. It's quite pleasant." As she spoke, the candle flickered slightly, and the drops of essence evaporated swiftly, spreading throughout the room. A delicate, enchanting aroma drifted into Caine's nose, loosening his tension and swiftly calming his mind, as though he were gazing quietly into the darkness at night. "This bottle is called 'The Eye of the Spirit.' The bark and leaves of dragon-vein trees and poplar trees are exposed to sunlight for seven days, then boiled three times, and finally infused into Lanzhi wine—of course, with a few incantations woven in throughout the process..." The amber liquid dripped onto the vibrant blue candle flame as the 'Spirit-Channeler' Dely described it. Caine smelled the wine—ethereal and faintly floating—and noticed the candle flame trembling violently. He saw Dely's blue eyeshadow and blush shimmer with an eerie glow, even appearing doubled. "It is a trusted companion for spirit communication, and also a truly captivating floral spirit..." As Dely spoke gently, Caine felt her voice coming from all around him. Staring around in bewilderment, Caine realized everything was trembling, blurring—enveloped in layers upon layers of thick mist—his own body following suit, wavering, becoming hazy, lightless, as though losing its weight. Reds grew deeper, blues intensified, blacks darkened further; colors blended into a dreamy, impressionistic painting, while a constant stream of fragmented, overlapping murmurs drifted through the air, as if countless invisible beings were conversing. "This feels similar to what I experienced during my earlier 'transit rituals,' though without that overwhelming sense of madness, that urge to burst into flames," Caine mused, puzzled. At that moment, his gaze was drawn to a pair of luminous, emerald-like eyes. Daelie, dressed in a black robe, sat on a blurred 'sofa,' her gaze fixed strangely upon Caine's head, her voice soft and warm as she smiled: "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Daelie, the Seer." "Ah... I can still think clearly and rationally... just like during the 'Transfer Ritual' and the 'Gathering'... Clary deliberately let her mind drift, appearing dazed and disoriented: 'Hello...' "Human thought is vast and deeply layered, full of hidden depths. Look at the sea—what we can perceive are only the islands rising above the surface. Yet beneath the waves, the islands extend far beyond, and beyond those islands, there is an entire ocean. Even beyond that, there is the boundless sky, symbolizing the immaterial realm. 'You are the spirit of the body. You not only know the islands above the water, but also the submerged parts of the islands, and the entire ocean itself. 'Whatever exists leaves a trace. While the surface-level memories of the islands may fade, the submerged portions and the ocean as a whole will retain their enduring reflections and echoes.' Dai Li repeatedly guided the scene, and the hazy winds and shadows around them shifted into similar forms—seeming as though Clary’s inner sea of consciousness had fully unfolded here, patiently awaiting her own exploration and discovery. Klein watched calmly, occasionally "stirring" the sea, and finally responded in a distant, hazy tone: "No... I can't remember... I've forgotten..." He perfectly conveyed his sense of sorrow. Dailie tried one more time to guide him, but the clear-minded Klein remained unaffected. "Alright, that's enough. Let's go back now." "Go back now." "Go back now..." The ethereal voice lingered, and then Dailie faded away, the wind and shadow settling, the fresh scent and subtle wine aroma becoming clearly evident once more. All colors returned to normal, the earlier sense of blur and confusion dissolving. Klein's body trembled slightly, regaining a sense of weight. He opened his eyes—having closed them at some point—only to find that the bright blue candle before him, the comfortable chair occupied by Dunning Smith, and the cloaked "seer" Dailie remained unchanged. "How did you come up with that theory from the psychological chain of the evil madmen?" Dunning frowned, turning to Dailie. Dai Li gathered the two small bottles as she calmly replied: "I think it's quite accurate, at least consistent with what I've seen and experienced..." Before Dunning could speak again, she spread her hands and said: "A difficult one—leaving absolutely no traces." Hearing this, Caine beside her exhaled deeply, feigning confusion and asked: "Is it over? What just happened? I feel as if I've just woken up..." Is that it? Good thing there was the "transfer ritual" drill! "Let's just go with that," Dunning interrupted, looking at the seer Dai Li. "Have you checked on Welch and Naya's bodies?" "The bodies can tell us more than we imagine. Unfortunately, Welch and Naya did commit suicide. The force that affected them was indeed formidable—leaving no traces at all." Dai Li stood up and reached out toward the candle. "I'm going to rest now." The vibrant blue light faded, and the house was instantly flooded with a hazy deep red. ... "Congratulations—you may now return home. But please remember: do not tell this to your family or friends. Make sure to keep it a secret," Dene led Caine all the way toward the entrance. Caine was surprised and asked, "Didn't they check for any traces of the curse or lingering spirits?" "Delia didn't mention anything—there was nothing at all," Dene replied briefly. Caine breathed a sigh of relief, recalling his earlier concerns, and quickly added, "Then how can I be certain there won't be any further issues?" "Don't worry too much," Dene said, brushing his lips slightly. "According to statistics, in similar cases, eighty percent of the living survivors don't face any serious aftermath. Well, that's what I remember—roughly, about that figure." "As for the remaining twenty percent of the unfortunate ones..." Caine wasn't about to risk his face. "You could consider joining us as an administrative staff member, so that should any early signs appear, we'd be able to detect them promptly," Duan said casually as he approached the carriage. "Or, you could simply become a remarkable one—after all, we're not your nannies, and we can't stay up all night watching over you, monitoring every move you make, especially with your interactions with women." "Can I?" Kline asked right away. Of course, he hadn't held much hope—how could it be that simple to join the Night Watch and gain such extraordinary power? After all, it was truly extraordinary power. Duan paused, glanced at him: "...It's not impossible, depending on the circumstances." What? This shift surprised Kline deeply. He stood there by the carriage for a moment before asking, "Really?" Seriously? Could it really be that easy to become a remarkable one? Duan chuckled softly, his gray eyes partially shaded by the carriage's shadow: "Unbelievable?" In truth, becoming a nightwatcher means you lose many things—like freedom. Even without mentioning that, there are other issues. First, as a cleric or a devout believer, you don’t have the privilege of choosing your path; you can’t pick the safest or most secure route. Second—well,» Dunning grasped the handrail and ascended the lane, «among the events we handle each year as penitents, as those with mechanical hearts, and other judicial bodies, one quarter involve the loss of control by extraordinary individuals. One quarter… extraordinary individuals losing control… Caine froze. At that moment, Dunning slightly turned toward him, his gray eyes deep and thoughtful, his lips moving without a trace of smile: «And within that one quarter, a significant portion involves our own teammates.