Holding the bundle of herbs wrapped in brown paper, Bogdan left the "Rosen's Folk Herb Pharmacy" feeling slightly dazed. As he waited for the streetcar, he suddenly realized: had he really spent a full ten pounds on just this one bundle? That was nearly his entire monthly salary! Without believing in Anna and Joyce, he would never have brought such a large sum of cash to the fortune-telling club. Was it possible that Mr. Moretti, who charged only eight pence for his readings, was actually working in collusion with the unscrupulous owner of Rosen's herb pharmacy to pocket additional profits? This indeed resembled a classic case of fraud reported in the newspapers. As he reflected on the details, Bogdan began to doubt even Klein, and even questioned Joyce and Anna. When the streetcar stopped, he glanced at the herbs in his hands and, despite his hesitation, finally stepped into the carriage. The boss watched Bogda's back fade into the distance, then suddenly turned and called out toward the back door where the herbs were stacked: "Shermin, starting today, no longer go to collect herbs." "Why? Master, why?" A young, neat boy with messy hair stepped forward. The boss smiled and said: "This is the 16th customer who has come because of my reputation. If I keep doing this, I believe the Night Watchers, the Substitutes, and the Keepers of the Mechanical Heart will all take notice of me. It's time I thought about moving to another city." "Should we then sell the shop?" Shermin nodded, clearly understanding, and asked with concern. The boss chuckled and replied: "If you'd like to stay, you can take over the shop. Your ability in identifying herbs and preparing remedies is already sufficient. Of course, you'll need to save fifty percent of your monthly profits into my unnamed account at the Bank of Bekeland." "But I haven't yet learned what you truly excel at." Shelmin was tired of city life that lasted only a year, and also deeply reluctant to part with the magical formulas her teacher excelled at. The boss settled into the lounge chair and leisurely rocked back and forth, saying, "That isn't something you can just learn on the spot..." A bubbling liquid of dark green appeared before Bogda's eyes—its odor reminiscent of old socks, its color so unappealing that it made him question every move he had made that day. The freshly drawn chicken blood was then dripped into the potion, and Bogda's father watched his son with growing concern, saying, "I believe surgery is the best option." The small amount of chicken blood swirled briefly in the boiling liquid before vanishing. Bogda took a deep breath and replied, "If this potion fails to take effect this time, I'll consider surgery." "May the Lord watch over you." His father had drawn a triangular holy symbol on his chest. When the boiling liquid had cooled, Bogda, determined not to waste ten pounds of money, raised his right hand, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back, gulping down the entire potion in a steady stream. A strong, metallic odor with a hint of blood lingered in his mouth, nearly making him vomit everything he had just consumed. That night, Bogda found himself suffering from a stomach upset, visiting the restroom six times before the crimson moon began to fade, only then dozing off drowsily. After an unknown length of time, he suddenly awoke, startled by a vision of his company manager's scolding. "Thank goodness, thank goodness—I've taken three days of annual leave and don't have to rush to the office," he exhaled with relief, only to realize that his spirits were remarkably fresh—a sharp contrast to the low spirits he had carried for the past few weeks. Bogada instinctively reached out and pressed gently on his right abdomen, only to find that the area previously painful even with slight pressure now felt normal, registering only ordinary pressure discomfort. "Is it really working? That pharmacist clearly seems to be playing games with us..." Bogada was both astonished, delighted, and puzzled as he rolled off the bed and began to move around, feeling a return of a long-overdue sense of well-being. He mused for a while, speaking to himself: "According to the pharmacist's instructions, I still need to take the potion twice more. Once I've finished, I'll go to the hospital and see an internal medicine doctor..." "The pharmacist never mentioned how many times a day I should take it..." "...I still think he's a bit of a fraud." ................................ In the administrative office of Black Thorns Security, Caine had kindly requested and secured a quiet, undisturbed space. Holding a chisel, he poured his spirit into the work, carefully carving incantations and symbolic motifs onto two silver pieces. That was the Hermes text invoking protection from adversity, two esoteric symbols representing the Night Goddess, the Queen of Adversity and Fear. In addition, Klein incorporated the goddess's corresponding sacred number, "7," along with relevant magical sigils. Furthermore, both sides of the amulet and talisman had to be engraved, and the specific arrangement—what symbols, incantations, and sigils were placed on each side, and their precise positioning and layout—belonged to advanced esoteric knowledge, often misunderstood or inaccurately transmitted among ordinary people. At this moment, on the right side of Klein, there were numerous materials he had previously carved and discarded—only after repeated practice and confirming his mastery could he confidently create talismans for his brother, Bensen, and sister, Melisa. As his spirit settled and his spiritual essence surged forth from the tip of his chisel, the number "7" emerged, gracefully outlined upon the silver surface. The incantations and sigils on the reverse side of the silver piece were already fully engraved, awaiting only the final completion of that side. When the final stroke was made, all the spiritual threads intertwined, and suddenly, Klein sensed a strange, powerful, and terrifying force pulsing throughout the room. This surge quickly subsided, and in Klein's "spiritual vision," the incantations on both sides of the silver charm fully merged into a unified whole, radiating a calm and serene black glow. He set down his carving tool, gently running his fingers over the silver charm composed of a circle and a vertical stroke, feeling a smooth warmth with a subtle coolness. "Done!" he exclaimed, happily placing both the previously crafted amulet and the newly completed charm into his pocket, intending to present them to his brother, Bensen, and his sister, Melissa, at a convenient opportunity. — The amulet crafted by the extraordinary possesses certain effects, enabling the wearer to unconsciously avoid considerable misfortunes, though not to an extraordinary degree. Spiritual vitality will gradually diminish over time, unless high-level ritual magic is employed to solidify it completely. Without such magic, the amulet's effectiveness lasts only one year—yet high-level ritual magic imposes a severe demand on spiritual resources, beyond what Cline can currently sustain. At that point, he will need to redraw the amulet with renewed spiritual energy. Cline nodded thoughtfully, beginning to tidy up his cluttered desk. For now, he has not created items for himself, as amulets of this level offer limited benefits to him. His goal is to deepen his mastery of sigil magic and, in conjunction with ritual magic, craft a few protective sigils that can be activated by special incantations. After completing these final tasks, as Cline stepped out of the administrative office, ready to submit the obsolete materials, he spotted Captain Dunn approaching in a black windbreaker. Dunne's deep gray eyes swept over him, and a smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "Cline, the Hall has approved your membership. You're now an official member of our order." "Really? That's wonderful!" Cline expressed genuine excitement, half-fake, half-truthful. Dunne nodded with a smile. "You can go collect your weekly salary of three pounds now. After that, four and a half pounds each week until the advance is fully settled." "By the way, have I mentioned the Night Watcher's rite?" "Each formal Night Watcher must complete an independent task to earn the recognition of their peers. Given your outstanding performance thus far, I believe we can count your assigned routine duties toward this requirement. At that point, I'll formally introduce you to all the Night Watchers in Tingen." Cline responded without hesitation. "Yes, excellent!" With three pounds and the seven pounds reimbursed, plus a full suit of formal attire—there was no difficulty at all! And there was still a considerable balance remaining. Well, I'm not sure when I'll finally get my task... Cline waited until Sunday, until Selena's birthday gala. Klein had been puzzled at first, but after hearing Melissa's emphasis, he suddenly realized and smiled, stepping close to say: "My height and build are quite similar to Benson's—he can wear my other tailcoat." He had already informed his brother and sister about purchasing a new formal suit, explaining that during inspections, his clothes had been damaged when hung on sharp protrusions, and thus the company had generously covered the cost. Of course, he had kept the news of his promotion and salary increase hidden, fearing it might surprise Melissa and Benson, and intended to reveal it to them after six months. This explanation left Benson and Melissa deeply impressed and envious, feeling that Blackthorn Security was truly an outstanding employer. "Isn't that a bit unnecessary?" Benson still seemed uncertain, asking in reply. "No, absolutely necessary," Klein pushed Benson gently toward the stairs, "My other tailcoat is actually hanging on the coat rack right now." After watching Ben ascend the stairs with a look of bewilderment, Caine turned to Melissa and smiled, saying, "You'd like Ben to use the evening gala in Selena's honor as an opportunity to begin a lovely romance with a young lady, wouldn't you?" Over the past few weeks, he'd read numerous newspapers and magazines and noticed that galas among the aristocracy and middle class often served as matchmaking events. Melissa nodded seriously. "Yes, Ben has already missed so many opportunities for us." Sister, how have you come to embody your mother's presence so well... Caine looked at Melissa, then shook his head, smiling slightly.