"The clue to the 'Riddle' potion." ...On the ancient, weathered bronze long table, Careen read the divinatory phrases over and over, then leaned back, drifting into sleep. Soon, the surroundings grew calm and still, and the images perceived through his eyes became ethereal and hazy—fleeting, indistinct scenes flashing by like droplets of dew on the tender petals of a morning bloom. Gradually, Careen regained his spiritual awareness and reestablished a sense of perception. Before him stood a fireplace, with a rocking chair placed in front of it, occupied by an elderly woman dressed in a long gown of alternating black and white. Though she was looking down, her face unseen, Careen felt deeply certain that she was indeed an old woman, and that certainty was absolute. Directly in front of her, there was a table, upon which lay a newspaper and a tin jar inlaid with silver. "This is... " Clary's sense of familiarity with the scene quickly allowed him to identify what he was seeing: This was the home of Rael Biber and his mother! The very first time he had visited the site of the "Giant's View"! As the thought of "There might be clues to the 'Clown' potion here" formed in his mind, the surrounding scene began to shift. A gray-white warehouse, nestled deep within the complex, came into view. Inside, white, bone-like structures stood scattered throughout, with several clumps of mashed, stone-pressed flesh and blood. Just as Clary recognized the place and recalled what it was, the image in his eyes began to ripple and distort, as though a reflection on water had been disturbed, transforming into a new, hazy scene: A naked body lay on a long table covered in white cloth, with a blood orb floating slightly in front of it, tinged with a hint of blue. Cain furrowed his brow, murmuring in bewilderment: "Just now, it was the place where Rael Biber had concealed himself and his residual traces—now it's something formed from the insignia on the little clown's wrist?" As he struggled to make sense of what these images might symbolize, the scene suddenly intensified: a marble coffee table, a set of leather sofas arranged in a main and two secondary configuration, a chandelier suspended high above the ceiling; a dark-haired, brown-eyed man with a scholarly air, Cain Moretti, a plump, fair-complexioned gentleman wearing thin lace gloves, and a young lady with a delicate appearance; a middle-aged man with thick, rigid, upright brown hair, a plump, fair-complexioned gentleman, an elderly man in his fifties with disheveled hair, sparse brown strands, and gray-blue eyes, and a deep black notebook placed between them on the round table, exuding an ancient, timeless aura. The Antigonus family's notebook! Cain sat up straight at once—his dream was now completely gone, with no trace remaining. Gazing out at the boundless gray mist and deep crimson stars beyond the grand temple, he was both astonished and puzzled, thinking: "I'm here seeking clues for the 'Jester' potion—how could the notes of the Antigonous family have suddenly appeared?" "Let me think... let me think... that round, plump man is Welch, yes—Welch, the unfortunate one who purchased the Antigonous family's notes, triggering a chain of events thereafter... the young lady wearing a delicate lace glove and with a graceful appearance is Naya..." "I remember now—the combination of the marble side table and the leather sofa is the hallmark of Welch's residence; it was there that I first encountered the 'Seer' Dely." "So, I just witnessed the living room of Welch's home, seeing the original occupant and her two classmates discussing the notes together." Klein calmed his thoughts, regained composure, and tapped rhythmically along the edge of the bronze long table: "What does the final scene represent?" Notes appeared, Welch appeared—wasn't it the scene when he purchased that "ancient thing"? Among the other two present, one seemed familiar. The middle-aged man in the black classical robe—his brown, spiky hair, the pronounced dark circles under his eyes—yes, I know him now. Heinrich Fensent, Heinrich Fensent of the Divination Club, who passed away peacefully after Selena secretly learned the hidden incantations and the captain entered his dreams! Hmm, was that notebook the one he sold to Welch? After all the twists, it finally connected—how small the world is, how small Tingen truly is! Think about it—there's actually a real possibility that Hearn Vancent isn't just an ordinary diviner. He's clearly delved deeply into the mystical realm and has been under the watchful eye of some ancient deity. He must have had access, means, and opportunities to obtain the accidentally leaked notes from the Conventual Order… That's precisely why the team has never been able to trace where Welch acquired the notes—because their investigation was entirely off track. They were focused on the antiquities market. Once the notes' whereabouts became clear, they completely abandoned that line of inquiry. Unfortunately, Hearn Vancent had only recently passed away. Otherwise, they would surely have uncovered something about the notes from him. As someone who has immersed himself in the mystical world, he should have studied those notes thoroughly. His death truly seems serendipitous! Nevertheless, there's still one other person present—a man in his fifties—who might know quite a bit. Klein's fingers, lightly tapping the edge of the table, paused and went over once again the entire sequence of images he had seen in his dream divination: "Riel Biber's home; Riel Biber's hidden sanctuary; Riel Biber's residual traces; the substance formed from the burn marks on the little clown's cuffs; Welch's home; the scene of Welch, Naya, and the original host conversing; the 'group photo' of Welch, Hinas Vancent, and the Antigonous family's notes..." "Hey—except for the burn marks on the little clown's cuffs, everything else is directly connected to the Antigonous family's notes!" "But I was divining the clues for the 'clown' potion—this isn't scientific. No, this isn't even mystical!" After becoming a diviner, Klein had once attempted to determine where Welch had acquired the Antigonous family's notes, but at that time he hadn't considered the special nature of the gray mist and had failed to receive any revelation. Now, while divining a different matter, he had seemingly stumbled upon the truth by accident. After a moment of calm, Caine, combining the content of Rosel's journal, began to interpret the dream: "First possibility: Charathus, or the Monastery, is actively seeking and pursuing the relics of the Antigonid family. Thus, the symbolic significance of this dream lies in using events related to the Antigonid family to draw the Monastery into the scene, thereby securing the recipe for the 'Clown' potion." "The second possibility is that the Antigonid family's records themselves contain the recipe for the 'Clown' potion... Since the Charathus family is actively seeking traces of the Antigonids, this indicates a deep connection between them—perhaps friendship, perhaps rivalry. Therefore, it's entirely natural that the Antigonids have preserved parts of the Charathus lineage; friends would naturally share such knowledge, while rivals would know each other's inner workings even better." "But the second symbolic interpretation doesn't quite connect with the insignia of the tailor-clown. Hmm—I'd actually prefer this second interpretation. Once the sanctuary's experts have fully interpreted the records, I'll be able to secure the 'Clown' potion without any risk." "Currently, the first interpretation seems most likely, yet my intuitive sense as a seer suggests there's a deeper symbolic meaning at play." With this thought, Caine rubbed his forehead, suddenly deeply aware of the limitations of seership. Unless dealing with something simple and immediately obvious, a seer's interpretation must be handled with great care—like walking along the edge of a deep chasm, or across a thin ice lake. Once a misstep occurs, or the most crucial meaning is missed, the little clown in the tailcoat becomes a vivid, blood-streaked example. At this moment, Caine has the vivid sensation of having truly grasped the essence of seership—only a final touch away from fully absorbing the potion. "Thank you for your life lesson," he murmurs, drawing a crimson moon on his chest. Then, he casts further readings on whether Azk is benevolent and whether he is an exceptionally outstanding figure, both of which yield affirmative answers. At this point, the continuous divinations and the ongoing drain from the gray mist were beginning to wear on Caine, forcing him to pause his stream of thoughts and settle on the key actions he needed to take: "Quickly find the elder who appears alongside Welch, Haynes Vincent, and the Antigonus family's notes in the same scene!" "This should start with the Divination Club." "Simply keep dropping by Mr. Azk, you know—he might be a mid-tier member of the Life School, but he lacks certain details, so he can't offer much in the way of divination." Exhaling deeply, Caine let the air settle, causing the parchment that had just materialized before him to clearly reveal the image of an elder with messy brows, sparse brown hair, and gray-blue eyes. This was the third person present when Welch and Haynes Vincent traded the Antigonus family's notes! Staring at the portrait, Caine suddenly found himself at a loss: "...I don't draw very well. In elementary school art class, I was always the one criticized by the teacher." "Using ritual magic, like old Neil? But this is a plea to the goddess... the matter involves something special above the gray mist. If the deities discover this, I'll never be able to face them again!" "Wait—perhaps I can make a plea to myself! It's much like transmitting a visual image, isn't it? Though I can't yet manipulate the mysterious forces above the gray mist, something so simple should definitely be manageable!" With this idea clear, Caine immediately spread his spiritual energy, enveloping himself and simulating the sensation of descending. Back in his bedroom, he simply lit the gas lamp and began to softly 'pray': "O fool from a time beyond this era; You, the sovereign of the mysteries above the gray mist; You, the king of fortune, of yellow and black. I beseech you for insight, I beseech you to enable me to depict what I see." He finished the incantation without diffusing essential oils, without burning herbs—without drawing upon their powers at all. To make a plea to himself was simply that casual! A soft murmur brushed his ear, and he saw four dark spots emerge on the back of his hand, forming a square. Taking four steps counterclockwise while reciting incantations, Caine once again pierced through madness and chaos, returning to the gray mist above. This time, he did not notice any deep red stars contracting or expanding, but he observed a strange symbol—composed of parts of "Eyes Without Pupils" and parts of "Twisted Lines"—glowing faintly behind the high-backed chair at the head of the bronze long table, as if making a delicate, ethereal plea. Caine listened closely, confirmed the details, and then re-presented the portrait of the "Third Person," projecting it toward the flowing light in response to the plea. Immediately after completing these actions, he stepped out of the mysterious world above the gray mist and returned to his bedroom. As soon as he steadied himself, the portrait appeared before him, and he felt a subtle, phantom force enveloping him. He picked up a pen, found a sheet of white paper, and expressed his intention. What surprised Klein was that his right hand began moving of its own accord, swiftly sketching lines. Soon, he saw a vivid portrait of the "third person." He noted the hair color, eye color, and other details, and as his right hand slightly trembled, he exhaled in relief. The "vision" before him was rapidly fading.