Klein nodded. "Alright, but I still don't know what my task is exactly." "Non-threatening, at least not yet showing any signs of danger," Dune emphasized first, then added, "This case was transferred from the police department in the Golden Pheasant district. Sir Deville, a well-known philanthropist, has been experiencing strange disturbances for the past month. Despite the efforts of his bodyguards, hired security personnel, and the police, no suspect has been identified. Detective Tolle, who's been handling the case, strongly suspects involvement of extraordinary powers, and thus forwarded it to us." I had seen Sir Deville at the library earlier, and noticed he was in a poor emotional state—clearly affected by the disturbances. Klein furrowed his brows. "What kind of disturbances?" So far, no tangible harm has been caused—indeed, it can't yet be considered dangerous. Sir Devereux hears nightly cries of anguish and moans, no matter where he sleeps or whether he is in Tingen or not—this severely compromises his sleep. Dunning flipped through the materials at hand. "He's consulted a psychiatrist and spoken with the house staff and servants to confirm it's not a hallucination, so now he suspects someone is disturbing him." Closing the file, Dunning looked up at Cline. "Change into your constable's uniform at the lounge and meet Constable Toller in the shooting club hall—he'll give you the full details." "Constable's uniform?" Cline asked instinctively. Dunning rubbed his forehead, smiled. "Half our salary comes from the police headquarters. The title of 'constable' isn't just a formality in the records. When you first met me and Leonard, we were both wearing uniforms—this is a benefit every formal member enjoys, yes, the one King Rosceler mentioned." (Please remember www.????????????.?????? for the fastest chapter updates.) Unfortunately, they can't wear it regularly—otherwise, they'd have an extra set of laundry clothes. . . . Caine took his staff, bowed, and exited the captain's office. Close the door. Caine removed his formal suit, took off his hat, and donned his uniform. He hung up his original garments, then stepped out and entered the clerical office, checking himself in the full-length mirror secured by Rosan. In the mirror, the young man had sleek black hair, warm brown eyes, and his uniform gave him a more distinguished air than usual. "Well, that's something," Caine said to himself, pleased with his appearance, leaving his cane in the office and stepping out of Blackthorn Security. In his pocket, he had as many officer credentials as his full weapons certification. ........ At the shooting club's main hall. Caine spotted Torle, the only person there wearing a police uniform. Of course, now I'm adding myself to that list, Caine thought silently. Torle's shoulders bore two silver stars, his suit slightly stretched at the waist, and he had a dense, warm-brown beard. Tall but not particularly imposing—perhaps once imposing. "Moretti?" "Klein Moretti?" Tolé looked him over carefully and smiled warmly. "Good morning, Inspector Tolé. I'm sure you haven't mistaken me." Klein responded with a light, engaging tone, then, as he recalled, raised his right hand and closed his fingers in a polite gesture. Tolé chuckled. "It's clear you're a pleasant, easy-going young man—so I'm reassured. Shall we go directly to Sir Deville's home now?" Though Tolé held a higher rank in the police force, his tone carried a clear sense of inquiry. "Certainly," Klein replied after a moment's thought. "You can give me a detailed account on the way." "Very well," Tolé stroked his thick, rich brown beard, and led Klein out of the shooting club onto a horse-drawn carriage parked across the street. The carriage bore the emblem of "two swords crossed, surrounding a crown," drawn and driven by a dedicated coachman. "Sir Deville is a devoted follower of the goddess, which is why we've transferred the case to your office." "Tolle had barely sat down when he immediately offered a remark." "Of course, Sir, you're a regular on newspapers and magazine covers," said Kline with a warm smile. Tolle took up the file folder beside him, untangled the ribbon, pulled out the documents, and began flipping through them while speaking: "Regardless of whether you're familiar with it or not, I'd like to give you a detailed introduction." "Sir Deville is one of the most prominent wealthy figures in Tinggen. His business began with lead and porcelain factories, and has since expanded into steel, coal, shipping, banking, and securities. He's also a highly lauded philanthropist, having established the Deville Charitable Fund, the Deville Trust Company, and the Deville Library. He was granted a lordship five years ago. If he decides to run for mayor, I believe there won't be a single opponent in Tinggen." "Yet his ambition lies in Beckland—he aims to become a member of the Royal House of Lords. We've long suspected that he's been under some form of pressure related to this, though we haven't been able to find any concrete evidence." "Klein nodded slightly: 'It's certainly possible, but I can't determine anything definite at this moment.' Tolé didn't dwell on the issue further, and continued: 'Since June 6th last month, Sir Deville has been hearing, every night when he goes to sleep, a series of distressing, bone-rattling groans—like a dying patient struggling desperately. He's checked the surrounding rooms and found no abnormalities, and both the housekeeper and the servants have confirmed that such sounds do exist, though they are quite faint.' 'At first, Sir Deville thought the matter would pass soon and didn't give it much attention. But the groans have become increasingly frequent, even occurring during the day, and now they're accompanied by sudden, heart-stopping cries.'" "This has left Sir De维尔 sleepless again and again, forcing him to leave Tingen and move to his country villa—yet without any relief. The moans and cries still haunt him, just as persistent. Even when he travels to Beckland, the situation remains unsettled, though less severe. He has asked his security personnel to investigate the surroundings, but no clear leads have emerged. Our initial investigation has also yielded no significant results. Over the course of this month, Sir De维尔's mental state has nearly collapsed. He has repeatedly consulted with psychiatrists, yet still cannot shake off the distress. He told us that if the issue remains unresolved within the next week, he will move out of Tingen and settle in Beckland, where he believes someone must be able to assist him." Hearing Tolé's account, Cline quickly began to assess various possibilities: Has he offended a particular extraordinary being? Has he fallen under a curse?" No. If it were a curse, both the butler and the servants should have heard the sound at the same time. Could there be a remarkable person among the servants and the bodyguards, with no clear purpose? The issue, however, is that no one has approached Sir De维尔 in the past month. Perhaps Sir De维尔 has inadvertently absorbed the spirits and ghosts—those 'contaminants'? That possibility cannot be ruled out. As克莱恩's thoughts raced, the carriage entered the Jinwutong district and stopped at Sir De维尔's doorstep. Here, there was a lush garden enclosed by iron railings, a pair of statues standing within a latticed iron gate, streams of water continuously gushing forth to bathe the marble statues, spacious two-story houses, and a road wide enough to accommodate three carriages side by side. "Sir De维尔's house only has two floors... The newspapers report that Beckland is now attempting ten-story apartment buildings..." As克莱恩 stepped down from the carriage, a police officer wearing three V-shaped insignias approached briskly. He glanced at Klein and raised his hand in greeting, saying, "Good morning, sir!" "Good morning," Klein replied with a smile and a nod. Tolli chuckled and said, "This is Chief Constable Gatt—anything you need, just ask him." "This is Assistant Inspector Moretti, sir," Tolli added, introducing him to Gatt. "He's a historian and a psychologist with the County Police Department." ...I'm not worthy at all," Klein felt a wave of humility. After the small talk, Gatt pointed toward the two-story building behind the fountain. "Sir John is waiting for us." "Very well," Klein said, running his hand along the side of his waist where his revolver rested. It was his greatest asset in dealing with enemies now—since he had changed into uniform, he could openly carry the gun at his side and draw it easily. As they spoke, the three of them walked along the broad avenue, passing the fountain, and reached the main entrance. At that moment, a servant had already opened the door and was waiting respectfully. While still catching the opportunity to enter, Caine pretended to adjust his hat, pinched his brow twice, and activated his "spirit sight." The middle-aged butler frowned and asked, "Indeed?" It was clear he did not recognize克莱恩 as the kind-hearted person known for being thrifty with his finds.克莱恩 smiled gently, "That's my colleague, not me." "Sir, this is an expert sent by the Police Headquarters," Tolé interjected at the right moment. De维尔 studied the young expert intently and said, "Very well, Karlen, take them to my bedroom." "Sir, I would like you to join us,"克莱恩 said seriously. De维尔 hesitated a few seconds, then added, "If that might help resolve the matter..." As he spoke, he picked up his cane and walked with slightly unsteady steps toward the stairs, with Karlen and several bodyguards close at hand, ready to assist at any moment.克莱恩 glanced around, remaining silent yet composed, following behind. One step, two steps, three steps... they reached the second floor and entered the master bedroom. Before he could even take in the surroundings,克莱恩's hairs stood on end. This is feedback drawn from his inspiration!