"There are extraordinary elements..." Klein's gaze returned to normal as he turned his head toward Leonard and Fley. Leonard suddenly chuckled: "Very professional—no surprise, given that you're a seer." You seem to be implying something... Klein murmured without speaking. Fley opened his leather case, removed the silver knife and other items, paused for a few seconds, then said: "The body confirms she died suddenly from a cardiac condition. Do you have any means to uncover more detailed information?" Klein nodded seriously: "I'll attempt a combination of 'spiritual communication' and 'dream divination,' hoping to glean something from the lingering spirit of Mrs. Lavoris." Fley maintained his composed, restrained demeanor, stepped back two paces, and said: "You go first." He glanced at Klein, then, without any change in tone, remarked: "You're growing more at ease in these situations." "I didn't really want to... Cline felt a strong urge to cry. He carefully removed the essential waters, oils, and herb powders, swiftly arranging the setup for the "spiritual attunement" ritual. At the center of the spiritual wall, he silently recited the sacred name of the Night Goddess, making his plea in Hermes' language. Soon, a gentle wind began swirling around him, and the light grew progressively dimmer. With his eyes now entirely black, Cline seized the moment, repeatedly murmuring the divination phrases: "The cause of Mrs. Lavoris' death." "The cause of Mrs. Lavoris' death."... Standing there, he entered the dream, "seeing" translucent spirits drifting in the hazy atmosphere, lingering around the body. Then, he extended his ethereal right hand, touching gently upon the residual spirit of Mrs. Lavoris. Instantly, light and shadow burst before him, and a series of vivid images flashed into view. It was a woman with a pale face, thin frame, and tattered clothing diligently gluing matches into boxes; it was her sudden pause, clutching her chest; it was her speaking to two children; it was her slight wobble and deep, labored breathing; it was the sharp tap she received when she went to buy black bread; it was the recurring signs of cardiac distress; it was her feeling exhausted, lying down on the bed, and never waking again. Klein carefully observed every detail, striving to find traces of the extraordinary. Yet, by the time everything concluded, he still lacked clear, definitive evidence. Vagueness and fragmentation broke through, and Klein stepped out of the dream, returning to reality. He removed the spiritual barrier, turning to Fley, who was waiting, and Leonard, who was observing, and said: "There's no direct symbol; most of the scenes suggest that Mrs. Lawves had been suffering from heart disease for some time. Only one scene stands out—Mrs. Lawves is suddenly struck from behind, and the hand that delivers the blow is delicate and slender, clearly belonging to a woman." "For a family like this, they wouldn't readily visit a doctor unless it was absolutely necessary—even at a free charitable health organization, the time spent waiting would be a significant loss. If they didn't work one day, they might go without food the very next." Leonard sighed with a poet's melancholy. Fley then glanced at the body on the bed and exhaled softly. Before Cline could speak, Leonard swiftly shifted into a reflective mode and said: "You're suggesting that the extraordinary element lies precisely in that moment when Mrs. Lawves is struck—originating from the lady with the slender hand?" Klein nodded in agreement: "Yes, but that's just my interpretation—divination is often vague." Without further discussion, he and Leonard each moved to the opposite side of the floor, allowing Frey to work undisturbed as he retrieved the auxiliary equipment and materials from the trunk for a more detailed examination. Leonard opened the door and stepped out first, saying to Lavoris and the tenant, "You can go home now." Caine thought for a moment and added, "Don't rush the burial—wait another day, perhaps there will be a thorough examination." "Very good, very good, Officer," Lavoris bowed slightly and eagerly replied, then, half numb and half bewildered, said, "Actually, actually, I don't have enough money to cover the burial just yet. I'll need to save a few more days—thankfully, thankfully, the weather has been cooler lately." Caine exclaimed in surprise, "You're planning to keep the body in the room for several days?" Lavoris managed a smile and said, "Well, well, the weather has been cooler lately. At night, we can place the body on the table; during meals, we'll carry her to the bed..." He had hardly finished when Frey suddenly interrupted, "I've set aside the burial expenses right beside your wife." Then, with just a plain remark, he turned and ignored Lavise's astonished expression and ensuing gratitude, briskly heading toward the apartment door. Klein followed closely, pondering one question: If the weather remained as hot as it had been in June or July, how would Lavise treat his wife's body? Would he choose a dark, windy night and secretly deposit it into the Tassok or Hoy rivers? Or would he simply dig a grave somewhere and bury it? Klein knew that "the body must be laid to rest in the cemetery" was a law established over a thousand years ago, at the close of the previous era, specifically enacted by the seven major churches and royal houses to reduce and eliminate water spirits, zombies, and vengeful ghosts. The implementation involved each country providing free land, with the churches responsible for guarding or patrolling the grounds, charging only minimal fees—just enough to cover the labor costs—at the time of cremation and burial. Yet even under such arrangements, true poor families still found it difficult to afford. After leaving No. 134 on the lower side of the Iron Cross Street, the three night-watchmen parted from Beaufort Montbatten and walked in silence toward the West District Poor House on the nearby streets. As they approached, Caine noticed a long line forming, just like the queues of food-loving citizens in countries waiting for popular restaurants—people pressed close together, crowded and shoulder to shoulder. "There must be over a hundred, no, nearly two hundred," he murmured in astonishment, observing that the queue members wore worn clothing, their expressions blank, only occasionally glancing anxiously toward the entrance of the poor house. Fley slowed his pace, speaking with a cold, somber tone: "Each poor house has a limited daily capacity for accepting homeless residents and selects them strictly according to the order of arrival. Of course, they also conduct screenings to exclude those who do not meet the eligibility criteria." "There's also the factor of recent economic difficulties," Leonard remarked. "Those who haven't secured a spot have to find their own ways?" Caine asked instinctively. "They could also try their luck at other workhouses—each workhouse opened at a different time, yet the lines were always just as long, with some people waiting since two in the afternoon." Fletton paused. "The rest would go hungry all day, thus losing their ability to seek work, falling into a vicious cycle that led straight to death. Those who couldn't bear it would eventually give up on their faith in kindness..." Kline remained silent for a few seconds, then exhaled. "The newspapers never report these stories... Mr. Fletton, I rarely hear you speak so at length." "I once served as a clergyman at the goddess's workhouse." Fletton remained in his usual cold tone. The three well-dressed individuals smoothly reached the entrance of the West District workhouse, presented their credentials to the gatekeeper who was looking down his nose at the queue, and were ushered inside. The poorhouse was originally a dilapidated church. In the chapel hall, mats lay scattered on the floor, and hammocks hung from the ceiling, their musty scent mingled with foot odor filling every corner. Numerous destitute residents were present both inside and outside the hall—some hammering stones to break them, others carefully lifting thin bundles of fibers from old ropes—no one seemed to have a moment of rest. "To prevent the poor from becoming idle and dependent on charity, the Poor Law of 1336 stipulated that each poor person could stay in the poorhouse for no more than five days. After that, they would be evicted. During those five days, they were required to work—either breaking stones or lifting bundles of fibers—just as prisoners in a jail must perform their duties," Fley stated matter-of-factly to Caine and Leonard. Leonard opened his mouth, then finally said, either with irony or as a straightforward observation: "Once you leave this poorhouse, you can always find another one—though, of course, you may not be able to return there. Hm. Perhaps, in the eyes of some, the poor are simply seen as criminals." “…The twisted rope fibers?” Kline remained silent, unsure of what to ask. “The fibers from the old ropes are excellent material for filling the gaps in ships,” Frey paused, stopping to examine the charred traces on the ground. They waited a few minutes until the院长 and the rector arrived, both men in their forties. “Sorles set the fire right here, yet only himself perished?” Leonard pointed to the spot on the ground. The院长 was a man with a broad, slightly protruding forehead, who scanned the direction indicated by Detective Mitchell with blue eyes, then nodded firmly. “Yes.” “Did Sorles exhibit any unusual behavior prior to this?” Kline added. The院长 thought for a moment and said, "According to those who slept beside him, Solis kept repeating phrases like 'The Lord has abandoned me,' 'This world is so dirty and filthy,' and 'I have nothing left,' filled with resentment and despair. Yet no one could have imagined that he had planned, while everyone was asleep, to break all the kerosene lamps and set the entire building on fire. Fortunately, someone noticed and stopped him in time." Crane and Leonard then visited several poor residents who had slept beside Solis the previous night, as well as the guards who had prevented the tragedy, but received responses no different from what was already documented. Of course, they secretly verified through spiritual vision and divination whether anyone was lying. "It seems Solis has long harbored intentions of revenge and self-destruction—what appears to be a rather ordinary case," Leonard said, asking the院长 and the priest to step aside and express his own opinion first. Caine said thoughtfully, "My divination also indicates that this case is not influenced by any extraordinary factors." "Temporarily rule out the Sours fire incident," Leonard concluded. At that moment, Fley suddenly interjected, "No—perhaps there's another possibility. For instance, Sours was influenced by someone else, someone extraordinary, though not using any extraordinary means." Caine's eyes lit up, and he immediately agreed, "That's very plausible—perhaps the one who previously instigated the case!" "Instigator" Tris! But that still didn't connect to the death of Mrs. Lavoris... he thought, frowning slightly.