Before heading out, Caine hurried, carefully brushing his suit and hat with a small brush and handkerchief, then changed into a fresh white shirt, pairing it with a linen shirt of the same kind and the only decent, though modest, jacket he had. He briskly made his way onto the street. First Melissa's dress, then Benson's suit—only after that could he consider his second outfit, and money was always tight. Moreover, he had to gradually accumulate porcelain dinnerware for guests, and save funds for various occult materials as well. Caine sat on the public carriage, mentally calculating the household's finances, growing more and more discouraged with each calculation. He estimated it would take at least a year to make himself, his brother, and his sister feel like a true middle-class family—of course, this didn't include any potential salary increases. As the carriage passed down one street after another, it finally stopped across from Hauls Street's "Club of Divination." Caine held his dark, non-silk semi-high hat, stepped down from the car with a half-hop, half-walk, and entered the club's entrance on the second floor, where he spotted the attractive lady with brown-yellow hair, Angelaika. Though her eye circles still bore traces of redness, she appeared remarkably relaxed. Caine raised his hand, lightly tapped his brow twice, and carefully observed—finding that the deep gray shadows beneath Angelaika's emotional tone had lightened considerably, and a few streaks of bright, sunlit whites had emerged. Only then did he approach, removed his hat, and smiled: "Madam Angelaika, isn't today a truly bright and sunny day?" Angelaika lifted her head, briefly gasped, then smiled warmly: "You move so quietly, just like Mr. VanSant's cat—so softly, you hardly make a sound. Do you notice that?" "Oh, I forgot—you're a fortune-teller who specializes in facial readings..." She paused, lightly biting her lip and bowing. "Thank you so much for your advice yesterday—I feel much better now. This year, I've never felt this relaxed, joyful, and fulfilled." Hearing the sincerity in her gratitude, Kline was likewise touched by the joy and happiness, and smiled gently. "It's my pleasure to be of help." As he spoke, he noticed a lightness and liveliness spreading through his own spirit. That's what the 'potion' seeks—a fortune-teller who genuinely helps the one seeking guidance? A fortune-teller who makes a real difference? Kline seemed to ponder this, gently pressing his fingertips to his brow and nodding twice. No denying it, he has already noticed in practice that the current gestures for activating and deactivating his "clairvoyance" aren't quite discreet. The issue is, however, that he hasn't come up with a better alternative within a short timeframe, since he's only recently become a "Seer" and his spiritual awareness hasn't yet reached its peak—nor has his own command of it. Therefore, only specific points that effectively stimulate his spirit can serve as the medium for these "on/off" gestures, and such locations are relatively few. The forehead is the most favorable option. Once he fully absorbs the "magic potion" and becomes a true "Seer," he should be able to design more discreet "on/off" gestures. Klein gave a barely perceptible nod and walked toward the partially open conference room. "Coffee or tea?" Angela asked promptly. "Decaf coffee," Klein replied, with the mindset of trying out various beverages. At that moment, he noticed there were about six or seven members in the conference room, but not including Haynes Vancent, who had been present all along. "Mr. Vancent isn't here?" Klein paused, asking casually. Angélica blinked and replied, "Mr. Vancent doesn't come every day. He's been invited to give lectures at a divination organization in Enmatt Port. Is there something specific you'd like to discuss with him?" "No, I'm just curious. After all, I've always seen him whenever I come." Klein smiled and shook his head. Meanwhile, he noticed familiar faces among the seven members: Gracis, the one who had once provided him with divination services! Gracis was wearing single-lens spectacles, reviewing materials on the table, when suddenly he became aware of someone observing him and lifted his head to meet the gaze. A clear joy suddenly brightened his face. He braced himself with both hands, rising to his feet, and took several steps toward Cline: "Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti. I've been thinking all along whether you'd come today." "From Angela, I understand you're not a physician, but rather a fortune-teller who specializes in facial readings?" Cline smiled. "I'm not limited to that, Mr. Gracis. It seems you've fully recovered from your illness?" He gently pressed his fingertips to his forehead, then lightly tapped his brow twice, and noticed that Gracis's complexion had returned to its normal health. "Yes, I truly regretted not following your advice at the time. Fortunately, there's a very skilled pharmacist near my home who prescribed a truly remarkable remedy to my wife—thanks to which, I've been spared from death," Gracis remarked. As a near-member of the Night Watch team, Cline showed his professional sensitivity by asking: "A very skilled pharmacist? A truly remarkable remedy?" Remarkable? How magical is that? Does it even fall into the realm of extraordinary? "He described it as a folk remedy from the Lüneburg region—overall, it's been very helpful for my condition," Gracis replied without any sense of exceptionalism. Folk herbalist? Klein seemed to ponder, tapping his brow. "What's his name? Where does he live? You know, seers can't guarantee they won't fall ill themselves—perhaps I'll need to visit him again in the future to purchase remedies." Through his mentor and classmates, Klein learned that the modern medical system in this world was only just taking shape, with limited capacity to treat many illnesses. Therefore, magical remedies and skilled herbalists remained in high demand—gaining some familiarity would surely be beneficial, and perhaps one day he'd actually need them. Gracis responded calmly. "His name is Rosen Dacwid. He runs a small shop at 18 Vlad Street in the East District, called 'Rosen's Folk Herbal Pharmacy.'" "Thank you," Klein murmured, silently noting the details, and then spoke with genuine sincerity. Gracis turned to face him, inviting him to sit beside her. At that moment, Angelaica brought over a cup of coffee. While Dix's coffee had a richer aroma than Nan Wil's, its taste was relatively less refined. Klein sipped it and savored it. Seeing that he set down his white porcelain cup, Gracis quickly adjusted her tone and said, "Mr. Moretti, would you be so kind as to grant me a reading? I will pay you the price you determine." "Eight pence is sufficient—I won't raise it at the last minute," Klein replied, glad to have someone seeking his services. "Shall we go to the reading room?" "Yes, the yellow crystal room," Gracis said, taking the lead. Once inside the reading room and the wooden door securely closed, Klein sat behind the long table and asked calmly, "Mr. Gracis, what would you like me to read for you?" "I have an investment opportunity, but the amount involved is quite substantial—should it fail, both I and my family would face serious setbacks. I'd like to have it divined to see if it will succeed." Gracis volunteered this initiative. "I've already performed a tarot reading myself, after cultivating a pure state of mind. The results were quite favorable. Yes, I interpreted them myself, though I haven't violated any of the symbolic principles." "He lacked follow-up funding, so he established a steel company with the intention of securing a bank loan through this project and issuing a certain percentage of shares to raise initial capital. The plan is still in private development stages and offers exceptionally attractive returns. Recently reading the newspapers and being a 'historian expert,' Klein knows that stocks exist in this world, and that the concept of stocks originated with Emperor Roscel. Indeed, it's him again. During his colonization of the southern continent, he founded the West Bayron Company, raising public funds through stock issuance, successfully resolving his financial challenges and securing his first major windfall from colonial ventures. Due to the attractive returns, such initiatives have since multiplied—railway stocks, mining stocks, steam development stocks, and so on—both successful and unsuccessful. These developments have given rise to institutions such as the Becland Stock Exchange." In addition, Emperor Roscel had introduced national bonds and trust funds—bonds that have since become the most stable form of investment, yielding an annual return of between 4% and 6%. Kline remembered his brother, Bensin, once saying that if one could inherit a property worth 3,000 pounds, one would no longer need to work hard, since a steady annual income of around 5%, roughly 150 pounds, would be guaranteed—about equal to Kline’s current annual salary. That is what the rentier class is all about… Kline sighed, pausing thoughtfully and asking, “Are you certain there are no issues with this matter? Is Lan’urus truly trustworthy?” “I’ve reviewed his land deeds and exploration reports, which bear the official seals of the West Vellars County government and are endorsed by professional firms. Moreover, there’s a photograph in Mr. Lan’urus’s office showing him with Sir Deville and the Mayor.” Gracis nodded in reply. A photograph? A合影 can't possibly convey anything. Klein, who had grown up in an era of explosive knowledge growth, had witnessed countless such instances and remained unconvinced. Nevertheless, whether or not he believed in it made no difference—he simply picked up his pen and, based on the key temporal information provided by Gracias, sketched out the corresponding astrological chart. After a long pause, Klein pointed to the chart and said, "You should be able to see it yourself: this situation will not go smoothly. Beneath the surface prosperity lies a cliff, a chasm. My astrological reading suggests we should circumvent it, avoid it altogether." "..." Gracias fell silent, his mouth opening and closing several times before settling again. After a few minutes, he offered a wry smile and said, "I'll seriously consider this when I get home." Hearing such a response, Klein could only shake his head and sigh, feeling the inherent helplessness of a true "astrologer"—one who can only offer advice, not make decisions. Just as the two had left the Yellow Crystal Room, Angela approached and said: "Mr. Moretti, someone has come to consult you." She then whispered softly, "He didn't ask me to recommend anyone, nor did he look at the catalog." Has his name spread far? Klein turned toward the reception hall. PS: A chapter will be posted at 12 o'clock.