A variety of colors emerged, their aura falling into view. Caine casually assessed Sir Deville's condition. "He's in excellent physical health—no hidden issues... his mood is quite poor, dull and weak, as though drained of energy. Is his spirit weary? Is his sleep troubled? Yet the purple hue at his head shows no signs of distress at all..." While Caine murmured these thoughts silently, Sir Deville and his party walked steadily farther, eventually leaving the library behind. Drawing his gaze back, Caine gently pressed his forehead, quietly remarking, "Being a wealthy man isn't easy after all." He didn't dwell on it further, and instead redirected his attention to the journals and magazines before him. After reading through each one carefully, Crane found few useful clues, only confirming a few facts: First, there had indeed once been an ancient kingdom in the central peak and surrounding areas of the Honegich Mountains; second, this kingdom's history dated back at least 1,500 years; third, their architectural style was grand and featured numerous murals, which indicated that they believed the deceased would protect their relatives during the night; finally, throughout the ruins, he encountered symbols representing night, though these differed clearly from the Night Saint's emblem. Bogda looked at the attractive woman who was handling the reception and said, "I would like to have a reading." Angelica smiled politely, "Do you have a particular astrologer in mind, or would you like to browse our list and choose one that suits you best?" Bogda pressed gently on his right side, then breathed silently, "I would like to have Mr. Caine Moretti read my fortune." "Mr. Moretti isn't here today," Angelica replied without needing to check. Bogda fell silent, then walked back and forth a few steps, "When will Mr. Moretti come?" "Nobody knows for sure—he has his own commitments. From my observation, he comes most often on Wednesdays afternoons." Angelica thought aloud. "Very well," Bogda said, his expression darkening, and turned to leave. "Mr. Bogda, you might also consider another astrologer—Mr. Haynes Vanstone, well known in Tinggen." Angelica made a sincere effort to preserve the business. Boghada paused, hesitated, and said, "No, I only trust Mr. Moretti. Um, could I stay here for a while? Perhaps he'll come over once he finishes his own affairs." "Of course," Angelaica smiled gently. Hmm, is this like making small talk? Klein's thoughts raced, and ultimately only smiled and replied, "Good afternoon, Ms. Angela." "A guest has come specifically to consult you," Angela indicated, hastily standing up and pointing toward the sofa area where Bogda was already standing. Someone had specifically chosen me? Klein was pleasantly surprised, removing his half-high silk hat and gently pressing his foreheads. "Good afternoon, sir..." he said, his gaze following the guest, then paused mid-sentence. In his "clairvoyance," the color of the guest's liver was dim and nearly dark, causing the rest of his body to lose balance and his aura to thin out in various places. After a moment's thought, Klein said seriously, "Sir, you should see a doctor—not come for a reading." Bogda stood motionless, then his face lit up with surprise as he murmured, "What a marvel... " "Anna hasn't deceived me at all..." Klein felt a moment of embarrassment, paused for several seconds, then smiled calmly and responded with composure: "To receive divine revelations and glimpse a corner of one's fate is already a matter of great fortune. Therefore, we must remain humble, temper our desires—only then can we continue to receive blessings." "You are truly a master of divination," Bogda said, placing his hand on his chest and bowing with sincere conviction. Feeling this praise and trust, Klein's spiritual sense grew even lighter, and the 'principles of conduct' he had just described now seemed to take shape within him. "Miss Angélique, may we use the yellow crystal room?" he turned to the attractive lady beside him. Angélique quietly exhaled in relief and smiled sweetly, "Certainly." Upon entering the divination room, Klein asked Bogda to lock the door from the inside, then sat behind the table, gently pressing his forehead. "Shall we use the Tarot cards for our reading?" he asked warmly. The pendulum method is only suitable for matters directly related to oneself, while drawing a natal chart is quite time-consuming. "You decide," Bogda said without hesitation. So, Klein asked him to shuffle and cut the cards, setting up an Indis card layout. Taking advantage of his special status as a seer, Klein didn't reach for any other cards—he simply lifted the card symbolizing the final outcome. "The Wheel of Fortune in reverse—the situation is heading in a negative direction," he remarked, his tone serious. Bogda's face instantly paled; his lips moved several times as he asked, "Is there no hope?" Holding onto the idea of doing his best, Klein said, "Then I'll try a different method. Could you please keep your ring here and write down your date of birth on this sheet? Then, kindly wait quietly outside." Inspired by Klein's calm and soothing voice, Bogda composed himself, wrote down the requested information, and left his ring behind. He watched as the other person stepped out and wrote on the notepad: "Results of Bogard Jones's liver surgery." Taking up his ring and the paper, he leaned back against the chair, attempting the "dream divination method" once more. In the hazy, distorted world, he gradually regained his sense of self, seeing the gentleman from earlier collapse with a pale face, then being carried out, wrapped in a white sheet, from the wobbling operating room. This time, nothing unusual happened—there was no sense of being watched. He awoke quickly, his brow slightly furrowed, considering how to convey the results to Bogard. The surgery might prove fatal... I've only just learned the healing ritual magic—perhaps I could try it... But that would reveal the extraordinary nature of the matter, and I'd have to first request approval from the队长. Perhaps it wouldn't be enough to treat such a serious condition. Klein thought deeply, and then suddenly remembered something. Mr. Gracis's lung illness was cured by a pharmacist, who said her remedies were truly magical... What was her name again? Ah, yes—Rosin Dacwight, 18 Flad Street, East District, "Rosin's Folk Herb Apothecary!" Since he had remembered the details carefully at the time, Caine quickly recalled them. He lightly tapped the edge of the table and soon made up his mind. Using the "pendulum method," he swiftly confirmed the strength of his thoughts. Then he opened the door, watching Bogda rise in haste. As he handed back the ring, he smiled gently and said, "I see your hope." "Really?" Bogda asked, surprised. Caine didn't answer immediately; instead, he continued, "Your hope lies in the East District, on Flad Street, connected to the word 'Rosin.'" "If you haven't found it, please come back to me after four o'clock on Monday afternoon." "Understood, understood." Bogda nodded enthusiastically, excitedly pulling out his wallet and counting out one five-pence coin and three one-pence coins. He strictly followed Klein's instructions, making no effort to bribe the genuine seer. Klein, with a slight smile, took the coins warmly and said, "I hope you find your hope soon." When Bogda had finally left, as he had done last time, he paid the commission and also gave a small tip to Angela, pretending to have paid one sou. ........ East District, Vlad Street. Bogda walked from the street's beginning to its end, making three full rounds, his liver aching with each step. Finally, he confirmed that there was only one thing on this street connected to "Rosen"—the "Rosen's Folk Herb Pharmacy" at number 18. With courage, he entered the shop, where he immediately smelled the aroma of various herbs and saw the shopkeeper, a short-haired, round-faced man in his thirties. The boss was dressed like a country healer, wearing a deep black robe embroidered with various strange symbols. "Good day," Bogoda said, adjusting his hat, "do you have any remedy that can treat my illness?" The boss lifted his head, his deep blue eyes scanning Bogoda with a slight smile. "Your liver condition is quite serious, but first and foremost—do you have the means to pay for the remedy?" Could he really see that? Bogoda felt a surge of confidence, and nodded hurriedly. "How much will the remedy cost?" "Ten pounds—quite reasonable," the boss said, pulling out a bundle of herbs from beneath the counter. "Add water—enough water—and boil it into a decoction. After boiling, add ten drops of fresh rooster's blood and drink it immediately. This bundle can be boiled three times; after that, you should be all set." As he spoke, he unfolded the yellow-brown paper and added several more unusual herbs inside. It sounds utterly unbelievable... Boghada swallowed hard and asked, "Like this?" The boss glanced at him and suddenly smiled, saying, "Do you want anything else? How about this package? Once your liver condition improves, I guarantee you and your wife will be thoroughly satisfied." He chuckled, producing another package of black herbs and lowering his voice, "It contains some added mummia powder—believe me, many nobles are taking it daily, either in tea or as a broth." ...Boghada's confidence in the boss was completely shaken; he even felt nauseated. "I believe Mr. Moretti," he breathed, reaching for his wallet and withdrawing two of the largest-denomination bills from the dwindling amount of gold pounds he had left.