Taking a few steps forward, Caine spotted the guests coming for fortune-telling. He wore a black suit, holding a golden-wood staff, and wore a half-high hat with his short, golden hair peeking out from the edges. His nose was slightly curved, like an eagle's beak. It was Joyce Mayer—Joyce who had endured such terrible trials—whom Caine had seen in the "dream divination." Upon seeing him, Caine immediately smiled and said: "Good afternoon, Mr. Mayer." "Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti," Joyce removed his hat and bowed, "Thank you so much for your guidance to Anna. She has been praising your abilities constantly—she hardly stops talking about them." Caine chuckled, "I haven't changed a thing. It's really you who should be thanked—without steadfast determination and a yearning for the beautiful, one cannot overcome such hardships." After the polite exchange, he quietly muttered under his breath: This is clearly just mutual business flattery. "To be honest, I still feel like I'm dreaming—still can't believe I've made it through all those trials." Joyce sighed and shook his head. Before Klein could speak, he asked curiously, "When I first saw you, you immediately knew who I was. Was it because my nose is particularly distinctive, or did you foresee my visit in advance?" "I have your detailed profile," Klein deliberately responded vaguely, adopting the air of a mystic. Joyce was indeed stunned, only managing a smile after a few seconds. "Mr. Moretti, I would like you to perform a reading for me." As soon as he finished speaking, he realized something: Klein Moretti called himself a "seer," not a "seer," not a "fortune-teller"—a true "prophet." "Very well, let's go to the Yellow Crystal Room," Klein said, making a gesture of invitation. At that moment, he suddenly felt he should wear a full black robe, speaking as little as possible to convey the mystique of a seer. Upon entering the seer's chamber, Joyce Mayer promptly locked the wooden door and surveyed the surroundings, while Caine took the opportunity to gently press his foreheads twice, activating his clairvoyance. Joyce settled into her seat, adjusted her walking cane, and smoothed her black tie, speaking with a calm, steady tone: "Mr. Moretti, I would like to ask you to interpret a dream." "Interpret a dream?" Caine replied with the composed ease of everything unfolding as expected, asking it with a confirming tone. He noticed that Joyce's health color was subtly dimmed, though still far from indicating illness, and her emotional tone was predominantly blue—reflecting thought—deep and clearly indicating a sense of tension. Joyce nodded firmly: "Since the *Meadow* arrived at the port of Enmatt, I've been having the same dream every night. It's filled with fear, and I know this might be a shadow left by misfortune. I should see a psychiatrist, but I doubt this is a normal dream. Normally, even if a dream repeats nightly, there are always subtle variations. Yet this one—what I remember most—has never changed at all." "To the seers, dreams like this are considered divine 'visions'." Klein said, half-reassuring, half-explaining. "Could you describe the dream in detail?" Joyce clenched her fists against her mouth, pausing to think. "I dream that I fall from the *Meadow* and plunge into the sea. The sea is deep red, like decaying blood." "As I fall, people on the ship pull me back. I can't see their faces clearly, only that they are strong." "And I was also holding onto someone, trying to prevent him from meeting the same fate of falling into the sea—this person I knew well; he was a passenger on the Meadowlark, Unis Gold." "Because of his weight and his struggles, I could no longer bear the strain and had to let go, watching him cry out as he plunged into the blood-red ocean." "At that very moment, the person above me also released his hold. I waved my arms desperately, reaching for something, but nothing caught—my body began to fall rapidly." "Later, I would wake up in terror, drenched in sweat from head to shoulder." Seeing Joyce's expression of confusion, he elaborated: "Do not doubt that the spiritual awareness of ordinary people also provides certain reminders to themselves." "I don't know exactly what happened on the苜蓿号, but it's clear that it was a tragedy driven by blood and iron, leaving a deep, profound shadow on you." Noting Joyce's slight nod, Caine continued: "When you were on the ship, you must have been extremely afraid—fearful indeed. In such intense emotions, humans often lose their observational sharpness, overlooking many details that should have been noticed. But this doesn't mean you didn't see them—it simply means you overlooked them, do you understand? Overlooked them." "In your subconscious, within your spiritual awareness, those overlooked details still remain. If they point to something particularly significant, your spiritual awareness will remind you—through dreams." I had previously sensed the feeling of being overlooked, and found that the note had ended up in the hands of Riel Beiber—exactly the same case… only I was more perceptive, more spiritually attuned, and richer in esoteric knowledge, so I could make my judgment immediately. Kline paused for a few seconds, then looked directly into Joyce Meyer’s eyes and asked: “Mr. Eunice King, who fell into the blood-red ocean when you released him, didn’t he pray to you on the ship, yet still couldn’t escape his fate?” Joyce shifted slightly in her seat, fumbling to find her words before finally responding: “Yes, but I didn’t feel sorry for him. Perhaps within a few days—or a week—you’ll read in the newspapers that he was a particularly cruel and detestable villain, having raped and murdered at least three women, cast an infant into the raging sea, and led a group of wild, uncontrollable beasts to slaughter passengers and crew.” "He is cunning, strong, and evil. I dare not and cannot stop—should I, it would cost me my life." "I don't question the action you've taken," said Kline, offering his stance first, then explaining, "but your dreams tell me you're regretting it, feeling a sense of遗憾. You believe you should have held on. Since you see killing him as just, why do you feel this regret and longing, why do you keep dreaming of releasing him?" "I don't know..." Joyce shook her head, puzzled. Kline crossed his hands over his jaw, probing gently, "In light of what I've just described, have you overlooked something in this matter—something like what Unice King mentioned, what she pleaded for, the way she presented herself? I can't replace your memory; please reflect carefully." "No... at that moment, he only managed to say, 'Pardon me, I surrender.'" Joyce murmured, still full of questions. Klein had no specific details, only drawing on the dreams to offer guidance: "Does it seem to you that Eunice King surviving might be more useful—able to prove certain things, explain certain things?" Joyce furrowed her brows immediately and hesitated before speaking: "Perhaps… I’ve always felt the conflict aboard the *Meadow* came too suddenly, too intensely, as if all the hidden malice within everyone suddenly erupted uncontrollably… It’s not normal… very unusual… Perhaps… perhaps I want to interrogate Eunice King, to find out exactly why she first reacted so dramatically, as though possessed by a demon." Caine crossed his hands, resting them against his chin, his gaze steady and solemn as he spoke in a low, yet firm tone: "You don't just think this situation is unusual—you've seen certain things that you initially overlooked, and when these overlooked details are connected, they lead to a terrifying conclusion." "So your intuition tells you that someone is strongly suspect—the one who reached out to you in your dreams and then finally released his grip. You subconsciously didn't question him, so you never saw his face. He became your companion; he once held the power of life and death over you, or in other words, he saved you!" He was a round-faced, gentle, shy boy—hero of the survivors... Klein didn't interrupt him; he leaned back slightly and waited quietly. Joyce's expression changed several times before settling into a pale, steady normality. He offered a wry smile. "I understand now. Thank you for your dream interpretation—I think I'll have to go visit the police station." He pulled out his wallet and produced a one-souler. "I don't believe money can reflect your worth. I'll pay you exactly as you set the price. This is your fee." He handed the bill to Klein. "You give me ten pounds—I wouldn't mind at all... One souler, you and your fiancée really do resemble each other." Klein maintained his sage demeanor, saying nothing, merely smiled and gently took the bill. Joyce took a deep breath, put on his hat, and turned toward the door. As he unlocked the door, he suddenly turned back, sincerely saying, "Thank you, Master Moretti." "Master?" Klein chuckled quietly, watching the other depart the seer's chamber, and murmured under his breath: "Something significant must have happened aboard the *Meadow*... If only the captain were here, he could unravel the entire story from Joyce Mayer's dreams..."