Leonard’s singing was like a lullaby, softly echoing between the adjacent doors and winding up the wooden staircase. Cain’s spirit instantly grew hazy, as if he saw serene moonlight and still, gently rippling lake waters. His eyelids grew heavy, as though he could fall asleep simply by standing. Amid this blurred awareness, he felt an invisible, eerie, detached gaze coming from behind—like he himself was drifting through the realm of spirits. A strange, familiar sensation surfaced, and suddenly, Cain regained his thoughts, relying on his strong intuition and deeply ingrained meditation to gently push aside the influence of the “Midnight Cantata.” Yet he remained profoundly calm, unable to stir any other emotions. Soon, Leonard stopped singing and smiled slightly to one side. “I’ve been thinking of applying for a Fenneport harp—how could a song be performed without accompaniment?” “Hah, just kidding—I heard they’ve all fallen asleep.” The night watch team member with black hair and green eyes, possessing a poet's grace, stepped forward and reached the door where the kidnappers and hostages were located. Suddenly, he shrugged his shoulders, drove his fist into the door lock with force. Crack! The wooden panels around the lock shattered, the sound remarkably soft. "This requires precise control," Leonard said, turning back with a smile, as he reached into the opening and pushed the door open. Klein, though, was less confident—he reached into his armpit, extracted his pistol, and adjusted the magazine to ensure immediate readiness. As the door slowly retreated, he saw a man lying on a desk asleep, his pistol resting at his feet, and another man blinking drowsily, trying to rise. Step! Leonard slid close, knocking out the kidnapper just as he began to awaken. Klein was about to follow in, when suddenly, as if sensing something, he sharply turned around, facing the stairs. Ding, ding, ding. The footsteps grew clearer as they ascended, and a man in a brown coat, without a hat, carrying a paper bag of bread, rounded the stair corner and moved toward the third floor. Suddenly, he stopped, noticing the metallic gleam of the gun barrel directly facing him. In his pupils, he saw a young man wearing a half-high silk hat, a black suit, and a matching tie, leaning against the railing—his hand cane and the threatening revolver clearly reflected. "Stop all movements and raise both hands—three, two…" Caine spoke low and calmly. He held the revolver firmly, attempting to treat the man as a target for practice. Under the tense atmosphere, the man in the brown coat dropped the bread bag and slowly raised his hands. "Mr. Perhaps I've misunderstood something?" he said, fixing his gaze on Caine's finger resting on the trigger, and managing a slight smile. Klein couldn't yet determine whether the man was a fellow kidnapper or a neighbor across the hall, yet his expression remained perfectly calm. He spoke steadily: "Don't struggle—someone will come later to verify whether this is a misunderstanding." At that moment, Leonard, who had just dealt with the kidnappers inside the house, stepped out and glanced at the man by the stair corner. With a relaxed tone, he asked, "So there was another accomplice, handling the coordination and grocery runs?" Upon hearing this, the man in the brown coat blinked sharply, suddenly stepping forward and kicking the bag of bread that had fallen in front of him, attempting to block Klein's view. Klein seemed unaffected, as if rehearsing, and calmly fired his shot. *Thump!* A burst of blood erupted from the man's left shoulder. The man rolled over, aiming to make for the second floor, but Leonard had already reached out and braced himself against the railing, then leapt down. *Thud!* Leonard landed squarely on top of the man. The man collapsed unconscious. Leonard wiped the blood from his clothes and looked up at Kline, chuckling, "Good shot." I had intended to hit him in the leg... Kline's mouth twitched slightly, and a faint scent of blood reached his nose. He realized that after taking the "Seer's" potion, while his vision, hearing, and sense of touch hadn't improved, he could still "see" things blocked from view and "hear" faint footsteps, allowing him to anticipate and react in advance. Was this within the realm of "inspiration"? Kline nodded thoughtfully, watching as Leonard searched a companion of the kidnappers and found a sharp dagger, then dragged the man into the room. Holding the gun in one hand and the staff in the other, Kline entered the kidnappers' room, where Elliot Vickerly was startled awake by the gunshot, his body straightening from a curled position and slowly sitting up. The original three kidnappers had been securely tied by Leonard using the ropes they had previously used to restrain Elliott, linked end to end and placed in a corner—any remaining gaps were closed by tearing their clothing. The one who had been shot in the shoulder was unconscious and receiving dressing, yet Leonard, displeased with the mess, had not bothered to remove the bullets. "Yours, yours?" Elliott gazed at the scene, stammering with evident surprise. "Yes, you were absolutely right—very accurate," Leonard replied casually, half-kneeling. Unbelievable—he really did have a sense of humor after all... Klein lowered his revolver and looked at Elliott. "We are the mercenaries hired by your father; you may also refer to us as security personnel." "Ah, really? Then I've been rescued?" Elliott asked, full of joy yet hesitant to move. It was clear that, in just a few hours since his abduction, he had endured considerable hardship and had lost the youthful impulsiveness one would expect at his age. Leonard stood up and said to Caine, "Go down and find the patrol officers, have them notify the tobacco merchant—I don't want to look like a kidnapper dragging children and these four along with me." While thinking about how to handle the next steps, Caine nodded, tucked away his revolver, and took his cane, heading toward the stairs. As he descended step by step, he faintly felt as though he had forgotten something, and heard Leonard say to Elliott, "Don't worry—you'll soon see your father, your mother, and your old housekeeper, Cleary. Shall we play Quent cards?" ... Caine smiled gently as he stepped out onto the street, following directions from the passersby to locate two patrol officers. He didn't use the insignia or credentials of the Special Operations Division, but instead introduced himself as a professional security officer and recounted the situation clearly and thoroughly. Regarding the issue of carrying weapons, he was completely at ease, having just received the "Certificate for Use of All Types of Weapons" the day before—applied through internal channels, which ensured a swift approval process. The two officers exchanged glances, one of them going to inform the backup team to notify the Vekrol family, while the other followed Caine back to the room where the kidnappers were located. After waiting over forty minutes, seizing the moment when the police were momentarily distracted, Leonard signaled to Caine, urging him to follow. "Trust me, going to the police station would be a waste of time—we should leave now," the night watchman, with a poet's grace, explained calmly. Caine, carrying the mindset of someone whose height would be sufficient to bear the weight of the world collapsing, didn't hesitate and followed. A few minutes later, several swift-moving carriages arrived at the building where the kidnappers were stationed, and the elderly housekeeper, Kelli, accompanied her stout master, Vekrol, down the steps. Until then, he remained in a state of bewilderment, unable to believe how swiftly the good news had come—so swiftly that it felt like a dream. Suddenly, he heard a crisp snap, and instinctively turned to see: a two-wheeled carriage passed by, its window open, and Leonard once again tapped his finger sharply. After the carriage passed by the Vekrol family's vehicle, Leonard closed the window and turned to face Caine. He smiled, raised his right hand, and said: "Excellent cooperation!" We don't know each other very well... Caine politely shook hands with him. He hadn't expected the kidnapping case to be resolved so quickly, and could only quietly marvel at the extraordinary nature of exceptional people—even someone like himself, a half-decent Sequence 9, could accomplish so many remarkable feats. "This is the gesture nobles use after a fencing match to express their celebration," Leonard explained with a smile. "I know," Caine replied, noting that he had many noble classmates. He glanced out the window, furrowed his brows, and said, "Shall we confirm this with Mr. Krell? If he believes Elliot was rescued by the police, our fee will be cut in half." A full 100 pounds! As for the information regarding the kidnappers, there would be no doubt following their recent meeting. "Don't worry about it—money isn't that important to our lives," Leonard said, spreading his hands with a smile. "...For me, it is absolutely vital!" Klein managed a polite smile. "Many poets die prematurely due to poverty." Leonard chuckled, "I'm certain Elliot won't lie about this. I can see he still holds onto his innocence. But even if we receive a fee of 200 pounds, you won't get much of it yourself." "How much will I actually get?" Klein asked immediately. "By the unwritten rule we've always followed, half the compensation goes to Mrs. Oliviana as additional funds for the team, and the rest is divided equally among the participating members. Unfortunately, you're not an official member, so you'll probably only receive about ten percent." Ten pounds? That's not bad... Caine pretended not to care, and instead asked, "Won't you be concerned that the kidnappers wake up and realize they've been affected by something extraordinary?" "They won't suspect a thing. They'll simply think it's due to the excellent weather—perfect for sleeping—which makes them fall asleep unexpectedly. In fact, they'll believe that the chanting exists only within dreams, something we've verified firsthand." Leonard answered with great confidence. "As for your magic bullet, that will certainly seem odd. Of course, it's perfectly reasonable to explain that you're a rather mysterious person with an interest in esoteric studies." "Hmm." Caine set aside his concerns, feeling only that he had somehow forgotten—or overlooked—something. …Back on Zothlan Street, Caine didn’t wait for Krell to join him; instead, he strolled to Welch’s house, took a different route home, and bought beef, cabbage, and other ingredients for dinner. As always, the dinner was pleasant, and the three siblings enjoyed their relaxed, study-centered conversations—only now, there was an extra visitor. He was the utility worker who came to collect all the one-penny copper coins from the gas meter. As night deepened, the three siblings said goodnight and returned to their rooms. Caine was sound asleep when he was suddenly awakened by a soft, rustling sound outside. Curious, he opened the door and found himself outside the room that was now empty. Pushing open the weathered door, Caine saw a gray table. On the table lay a notebook, its cover made of thick paper and entirely blackened. A strange sense of familiarity surfaced in his mind. He walked over and opened the notebook. The page spread open bore a pattern: a figure dressed in splendid attire, adorned with vibrant headdresses—the "Card of the Fool!" Below it, in Hermes' script, ran a line: "All will die, including me." Klein was startled. Suddenly, he noticed the Fool's lips curling into a smile! Huff! He sat bolt upright, catching the deep crimson moonlight filtering through the curtains, seeing the bookshelves and desk, recognizing the outline of his own bedroom—realizing he had just woken from a nightmare. As a "seer," he knew dreams always conveyed something. He now reflected carefully. Then, as he recalled, Klein froze—he remembered something he had overlooked today! While immersed in Leonard's chanting, he had been subtly, unobtrusively, watched from behind—something he had not felt during ordinary meditation or when using his clairvoyance. It felt strangely familiar. According to Captain Dunn, once such a sensation arises, it often signifies... Cain suddenly sat up straight, confirming the feeling: Yes, it was it—the notebook! The Antigonus family's notebook!