Old Neil rubbed his temple and said, "Now that you've finally understood the reason behind your suicide, the notebook has reached Riel Bibber's hands, and the matter has come to light. Whether you're alive or dead, you'll find it increasingly difficult to influence the course of events going forward. I believe—indeed, I'm certain—that this enigmatic presence, or this mysterious force, will no longer pay special attention to you. Much like you wouldn't mind the ants crawling on the ground, hah, as long as you don't make an effort to have 'Him' remember you. Meanwhile, our pursuit of Riel Bibber will soon reach the Monastery. They'll surely deduce that this is directly tied to the fate of the Antigonus family's notebook. Believe me, these secret organizations that have survived for over a thousand years certainly possess a vast network of information channels. Therefore, their focus will shift to Riel Bibber's whereabouts, as they strive to locate the notebook before us. No—they won't bother you again, nor will they follow you, harass you, or try to undermine you." "Young man, congratulations—you've shed the shadows of the past and are now stepping into a bright, sunlit journey ahead." Klein nodded enthusiastically, a mix of joy and relief in his voice: "I hope so." The gloom that had been hovering over him since his arrival here seemed genuinely beginning to lift... Yet honestly, Klein still felt a touch of nervousness. There seemed to be an underlying connection between himself and that notebook, one that caused him to consistently find traces of it even during ordinary hostage-rescue missions. He truly feared that one day, the mailman would suddenly deliver a package, only for him to open it and discover it was precisely that notebook from the Antigonus family. He silently prayed that everything would unfold as Old Neil had described. Old Neil heard his reply and chuckled: "You don't seem to be a particularly devout follower of the goddess. At this moment, wouldn't you be drawing a red crescent on your chest and saying, 'May the goddess protect us'?" "Neil, you're not much better—true devotees wouldn't say, 'Welcome to a bright new journey.'" After these months of "esoteric courses," Claryn and Old Neil had developed a solid friendship, so he returned the jab with a straight face. They exchanged a glance, smiled in quiet understanding, and at nearly the same time, tapped four times on their chests: "May the goddess be praised!" At that moment, the sounds of turning tuning forks and marbles began, and the main door of Black Thorns Security opened. Mrs. Oliviana, elegant and refined, arranged her stylish curls and entered the reception hall with a gentle sway of her light green dress. "Good morning, Mr. Neil. Good morning, Claryn." She held up her small leather satchel, smiled warmly, and greeted, "Another clear day today—quite a good one." "Good morning, Olina. As always, you're just as beautiful as you were over the past dozen years." Neil replied with a cheerful smile. Olina narrowed her eyes, straightened her face, and said, "Mr. Neil, your compliments have remained just as irritating as they did over the past dozen years." She emphasized the words "dozen years." "Really?" Neil looked at Cline with genuine confusion, his face full of bewilderment. Never mention anything that might make a lady remember her age... As a well-rounded keyboard enthusiast, Cline instantly grasped Olina's point, and smiled lightly, saying, "Good morning, Mrs. Olina. You're always so beautiful every day." [Here I'd like readers to note our domain 101??????.??????] "Thank you, our outstanding Hoyle University graduates," Orianna smiled gently and continued, "The head housekeeper has settled the fee for the assignment. According to the captain's instructions, half goes to additional funds and the other half is split between you and Leonard. Since you're not a formal member of the team, you'll only receive ten percent of that half—signing will be arranged shortly." "How much did he pay?" asked Cline, both delighted and heartened. "Two hundred pounds," Orianna replied, imitating the old housekeeper's slightly southern accent. "Good heavens, above the storm, I simply cannot believe it—how could something so significant be resolved so easily! What kind of a company are you, with such a modest reputation? This is truly a disgrace for the entire industry!" Cline thought seriously for a few seconds, then added with a touch of humor: "It's not exactly fair to those kidnappers." "The two exceptional ones resolved the issue swiftly—quite effortlessly, in a relaxed and comfortable manner—much like fully armed adults bullying a few children." "They simply weren't lucky. They must have lost the divine protection," Oliviana chuckled. "I told the elderly housekeeper that this commission was merely due to our good fortune; a source had just witnessed the kidnappers with the children arriving at the hidden location. So, don't expect too much from us—we're truly just an ordinary security company." Generally, the more we emphasize our ordinariness, the more extraordinary we become...克莱恩含笑心中暗叹，目送奥利安娜太太穿过隔断，步入会计室。 Old Neil, standing beside him, tapped his lips softly, expressing quiet admiration: "You're truly fortunate, young man. Having joined us only recently, you've already secured a commission worth two hundred pounds." "Is that uncommon?"克莱恩疑惑地反问。 He had previously either been studying history or the arcane, or else wandering around outside, seeking inspiration and clues. "According to Oliviana's records, we rarely meet a commission each week, and most of them are worth under twenty pounds," the old Neil sighed, rubbing the white crystal pendant at his wrist. Then, with a quiet expectation, he turned to Caine: "If you encounter any similar commissions in the future, please do make me aware of them." Hearing Neil's words, Caine suddenly felt an odd sensation and immediately asked: "Mr. Neil, it seems you're quite short on funds—how much do you earn weekly? If it's inconvenient to share, please disregard my question." Leaning back against the sofa's cushion, Neil chuckled: "This isn't something to hide. I've been here for many years, and currently receive weekly salaries from the church and the police department, totaling twelve pounds." "Twelve pounds a week?" "Klein was stunned. A weekly salary of twelve pounds, for fifty-two weeks a year—that meant roughly six hundred pounds annually! When he had previously read about senior lawyers in the *Tingen Morning Chronicle* and the *Honest Man's Paper*, he had seen that even senior lawyers earned between eight hundred and one thousand pounds a year. This was a senior lawyer! And yet the manager of Bensons' import-export company earned only six pounds weekly—already a quite respectable figure. "Yes, this salary is actually quite generous, and we don't have to pay income tax," Neil added with a smile. Klein had heard from his brother Benson that employees earning over one pound per week were subject to Class E tax—government and company salary tax—where the first pound to two pounds were taxed at three percent, two to five pounds at five percent, five to ten pounds at ten percent, ten to twenty pounds at fifteen percent, and over twenty pounds at twenty percent." In addition, he saw four other forms of income tax in the newspapers: Class A, tax on land, housing, and other tangible asset appreciation profits, including rent and lease payments; Class B, tax on agricultural income; Class C, tax on profits from bonds, funds, and stocks; and Class D, tax on income from commerce, finance, and specialized professions. "Remarkable," agreed Klein, echoing Old Neil's words. "Nevertheless," Old Neil shook his head, "for us extraordinary individuals who constantly seek hidden knowledge and regularly practice and attempt rituals, salaries are always insufficient." "Are the materials not all applied for and claimed?" asked Klein, surprised. Old Neil chuckled, "There are limits—sometimes, one must provide a sufficiently sound justification. To practice and experiment more within the mystical realm, one must bear the cost personally, either by purchasing materials internally or through underground markets." Klein was struck speechless and immediately asked, "Is there a thriving underground market for rare materials? I thought—well, I thought the Church would definitely prohibit such markets from existing." He himself lacked sufficient channels for acquiring materials! With a secret organizational structure forming behind him, he couldn't possibly resolve every matter solely within the Night Watch circles. "Such markets are simply impossible to regulate," said Old Neil. "From a mystical perspective, all things are alive and share a common origin. The materials we use don't come solely from extraordinary beings—they also originate from ordinary animals, plants, and minerals. For instance, the toxic foxglove, golden mint, and night-scented jasmine in your 'Seer's' potion—common ingredients you'd encounter in daily life—may not possess extraordinary properties themselves, yet each has its own unique characteristics. When combined and harmonized, they produce a meaningful effect. Therefore, the Church simply cannot ban such transactions outright." Old Neil explained in detail. Before Kline could speak, he continued: "Moreover, extraordinary species aren't only valuable in their core components. Take the Lava octopus, for instance—its eyes, its skin, and even its tentacles are all useful materials. Unless the Church sends its own agents to capture them, fully stockpiling and controlling the outflow of these materials would be a significant economic burden, especially for lower-tier extraordinary materials. In such cases, we can only manage to keep the more unique ones in circulation. "Old Neil suddenly chuckled, "Another key reason is that we know far more about the underground markets than we don't. As long as the hidden organizations remain intact, this is a sound strategy—and it also helps us secure materials we otherwise lack. Naturally, once such markets emerge, certain restricted goods will appear. As long as they're not overly rare or dangerous, we simply pretend not to notice, and use them to enrich our own reserves." "There are also several churches mutually restraining each other, preventing them from adopting too aggressive measures, isn't there?" Caine speculated. Old Neil nodded, but didn't elaborate further. "I'm a 'Seer,' and I'll certainly need to practice more and gather more materials in the future, Neil先生—could you take me to those underground markets, please?" Caine requested with a legitimate reason. Old Neil looked slightly hesitant: "Actually, most of the active people there aren't extraordinary individuals. There are noble patrons who enjoy the mystical, and affluent individuals who are drawn to such matters... well, I have a bill for thirty pounds due soon—I'm currently unable to make the trip." "Ah, well..." Caine hadn't expected the reason to be simply an overdue payment. After a moment's pause, he carefully said: "Neil先生, would you like to borrow some money? I have ten pounds to offer." "Ah, no, thank you—I'll manage that myself." "Old Neil tapped the sofa and rose slowly, 'Ah, age is indeed the most formidable enemy nature has to face. Last night's watch left me utterly exhausted. By the way, this morning, you take it upon yourself to review your previous lessons and read more literature. Tomorrow, I'll begin teaching you the fundamentals of ritual magic.'" "Very well," said Caine, rising to his feet and removing his hat as a gesture of farewell.