Time moved steadily. By mid-August, Tinggen had bid farewell to the tail of summer, and the temperature settled comfortably around twenty-six to twenty-seven degrees Celsius. Plink! Kleen suddenly stood up in the bathtub, stepping out with a cascade of droplets trailing behind. Standing barefoot, he looked down at his abdomen, and with a slight exertion, clearly saw the defined contours of his muscles—proof of his consistent training over the past days. He now felt more energetic and vibrant than ever. Today, his combat instructor, Gowan, began teaching him the fundamentals of boxing footwork and power generation. Tap, tap, tap—Kleen's bare soles struck the floor of the bathroom, occasionally sliding forward, retreating suddenly, or stepping to the right, accompanied by punches and defensive blocks. Inhale—he stopped, exhaled with satisfaction, and took a towel from beside him to wipe himself dry. Over the course of more than two weeks after coming into contact with Dr. Dastur Goodriean, Klein began to feel as though coincidences had finally receded. His life settled into a steady rhythm—receiving his salary on time, delving deeply into esoteric studies, practicing shooting and combat, experimenting with new recipes, gradually accumulating fine tableware and décor with his brother Ben and sister Melissa, seeking advice from Captain Dunn and teammates like Leonard about past extraordinary cases, and offering fortune-telling services at the club—all while strictly adhering to the rules he himself had developed. This brought a sense of inner peace to his life, except when, late at night, he still longed for Earth, or when the red chimney incident remained unresolved, or when the patterns conveyed by the ill-fated puppet occasionally appeared in his dreams. In those moments, he would begin to truly settle into and cherish his current life. During this period, the "Tarot Circle" convened three times, and Crane did not secure any new Rossel diaries. However, according to "Justice," she has recently met two remarkable individuals and is naturally engaging with them; once she enters their respective circles, she should be able to acquire more Rossel diaries. "The Hangover" also reported that they have returned to land and are currently handling several matters, promising to immediately begin seeking out new opportunities as soon as they find time. Furthermore, "Justice" feels that both of the new individuals she has met are promising prospects—each has a solid, credible public identity, distinct resource networks, unique strengths and characteristics, and a strong sense of integrity, making them unlikely to casually disclose secrets. The only issue is that both are currently at Sequence 9, which may not be well-suited to the high-end, rigorous, and discreet nature of the "Tarot Circle." High-end organization? I began to feel more like a pyramid scheme. The " Fool," Klein, only managed to wipe his face and sigh deeply, utterly at a loss to respond to the self-satisfaction of the "Justice" lady, and could only agree to let her continue observing the two extraordinary ones. Of course, the "Justice" lady was no longer the naive, romantic girl she once was; she had carefully withheld the names and specific traits of the two extraordinary ones, fearing that the "Hanged Man" might trace back to her own identity. "The Justice lady clearly feels the signs of the potion being digested," said Klein. "Perhaps in another three or four weeks, she'll be able to fully embody the role of the audience. The 'Empath's' formula should be brought forward soon..." After drying himself, Klein placed the towel aside, dressed in his underclothes, and thought back to the events of the previous day's "Tarot gathering." Over the past twenty days, he had only met once with Dr. Dastor Goodrian, driven by a sense of urgency that ultimately proved counterproductive—having only briefly discussed the doctor's condition and inquired about some trivial matters from the Psychological Alchemy Circle. Meanwhile, the speed at which "Justice" metabolized the potion compelled him to start thinking ahead about how to secure the Sequence 8 "Mind-Reader" recipe from Dastur. Buttoning his shirt one button at a time, Caine picked up another dry towel and used it to wrap around his head, absorbing the moisture from his short hair. Compared to "Justice," he didn't metabolize the "Seer" potion any faster—by this week, during meditation and clairvoyant states, he no longer experienced the odd sounds he shouldn't have heard or the unexpected scenes he shouldn't have seen. Flipping the towel, Caine wiped his hair and looked up toward the door, murmuring silently: "My summarized 'Seer's Rules' indeed prove effective. Next week... next week I should be able to fully absorb the potion. I still haven't figured out where to source the Hornacir's Gray Goat Horn Crystal and the face-of-rose from the 'Clown' formula. Maybe I can follow Madame Dailie's example and submit a special request. But that would certainly draw the attention of the upper management. Right now, all I want to do is grow steadily and quietly. The believers in the Aurora who were previously identified by the police have also been found, though I still don't know who Mr. Z is." "Henry said he'd complete the 'Red Chimney' commission before the end of this week. My personal savings have recovered to just over seven pounds—no worries about paying the final balance." "The property and guest information he provided earlier doesn't reveal any immediate issues, and I simply don't have the time to go through them one by one." "Perhaps I should first check which of the houses with the red chimney recently changed their tenants?" "Ah, that's a good point." "... Sitting quietly for twenty or thirty seconds, he donned his gray-black trousers, tied his necktie securely, fastened his gun satchel, and tossed his removed knight's training uniform into the laundry basket. He stepped out of the bathroom—just shortly after finishing his combat training on Wednesday afternoon, still at his teacher Highwood's home." "Good morning, Mr. Moretti," said Highwood's housemaid, who happened to pass by, bowing politely as she went. Klein nodded slightly and pointed to the messy, damp bathroom. "Could you please clean it up?" "It's my responsibility," the housemaid replied, her head lowered. "The clothing will be handled by the laundry worker, who comes at six." The laundry workers do not receive housing or a high wage, so they rarely work exclusively for one household. Instead, they often take care of several nearby residents' clothes, either rushing from one to the next, washing one household and then moving on to another, or gathering all the laundry at home and processing it in batches before delivering it back, only in this way can they manage to make a living. Klein said nothing more, and went to the living room to bid the host good day. He saw Gawin, sitting in the armchair, his hair now whitened at the temples, nodding listlessly, a light brown blanket draped over his legs, holding a copy of the *Ahova Evening News* in his hands. Klein knew that the man bathed in the setting sun was actually only just past fifty, yet he seemed drained and weary—like one well into his eighties or nineties. Throughout their regular sparring sessions, Gawin had remained silent, speaking only when it was necessary to offer guidance, never lingering with idle conversation. Klein, on the other hand, was constantly exhausted from his daily labors and lacked the energy or desire to initiate talks, so their relationship remained as cool and distant as ever. "Watching Mr. Gowan's demonstration, his strength is truly impressive—his movements are also quite agile, and he'd easily manage three rounds against me. He receives a salary from the Police Headquarters and has purchased a plot of land in the suburban area of Tinggen, where he collects a steady rental income. He employs a chef, a housemaid for domestic tasks, and a laundry woman. In a country renowned for its love of food, a man of his means in his fifties or sixties would have long since traveled the world." Leonard wore a white shirt, black trousers, and leather boots without buttons, rotating his hat in his hands. Upon seeing Crane arrive, he smiled and asked, "Surprised?" Only surprise—no joy. Crane ignored Leonard's informality, fixing his gaze on the younger man's green eyes. "What's going on?" Leonard fastened his hat and said, "Captain has asked you to join me and Frey. We'll go into greater detail on the way." "Understood," Crane replied, following him into the carriage. As the scenery passed by on both sides, Leonard picked up the document bag beside him and tossed it across to the other side. Crane caught it steadily, opened the files, and began to go through them carefully. "At 11 p.m. on August 11th, Solis, a bankrupt, attempted a fire at the West District Poor House to create a tragedy, but ultimately only managed to kill himself." "At 10 p.m. on August 11th, Zed, a dockworker, jumped into the Tassok River and ended his life in poverty." "At 8 p.m. on August 11th, Madame Lavoris, who earned her living by selling paste matches on the lower side of the Iron Cross Street, died suddenly of illness." ... When he saw the first two incidents, Crane felt puzzled, believing such similar deaths were so ordinary and common that they should not even warrant the attention of the night watch, let alone draw unnecessary police resources. But as he continued reading, his brow gradually furrowed. After flipping through two pages, he suddenly looked up at Leonard and asked, "Isn't this too much?" When normal deaths become so frequent as to be astonishing, they can no longer be considered normal. Leonard rarely nodded seriously: "The number of deaths in the past two weeks is five times the normal baseline." "The Tinggen City Police Department noticed this anomaly and promptly transferred the matter to us—the Enforcers and the Mechanized Heart." "Although the initial investigations into these deaths have all come up clean, the队长 believes we must re-examine them, which may require the assistance of divination or ritual magic." Klein nodded in understanding. Leonard snapped his fingers. "I'll take charge. You and Fley will go together; he'll meet us at the lower section of the Iron Cross Street. Westga, Lo Yao, and Old Neil will form another group to investigate the corresponding incidents in the northern district. The队长 will remain at the security company to handle any unforeseen developments." "Understood," Klein said, nodding firmly. Suddenly remembering something, he asked quickly, "Could I go back home first and leave a note?" He needed to let his brother and sister know he had an engagement tonight and wouldn't be dining at home. Leonard smiled, "No problem, it's a perfect opportunity." Only then did Kline feel at ease, once again flipping through the records of the deaths, trying to find connections among the different causes, names, and timelines. As he looked on, he thought to himself: This is my first collective assignment as a night watcher?