No. 2 Xian Street, Kline nodded to Azk, then hurried to the front of the house, pulling out his key to open the door. Melissa, who had just returned home, heard the turning of the lock and quickly moved from the kitchen toward the living room. Seeing Kline, her eyes brightened as she said, "I've bought the ingredients—chicken, potatoes, onions, meat, parsnips, and peas—and I also got a small jar of honey." Sister, are you also beginning to enjoy these little luxuries now? Kline chuckled. "Today it's your turn to prepare dinner—don't worry about my portion. I have an appointment that will take me out, possibly returning by dawn. I need to help Azk's instructor at Hoy University's Department of History." As he spoke, he half-turned to indicate the carriage waiting outside. Melissa opened her mouth twice, then smoothed her lips. "Alright." Klein bid his sister farewell, stepped out of the door, and boarded the hired carriage arranged by Azk. It took two hours and forty minutes to reach the town of Ramd. By then, it was nearly nine o'clock, and the sky was completely dark, illuminated only by occasional streaks of crimson moonlight and scattered stars, with no gas lamps to guide the way. After instructing the driver to wait in the town, Klein led Azk toward the ruins of the ancient castle. As they walked, he noticed Azk moving faster and faster, forcing Klein to jog in order to keep pace—eventually, Azk began walking ahead, guiding the way. Klein had intended to say something, but upon seeing Azk’s quiet face and tightly pressed lips, he wisely held his words. At this pace, they reached the ancient castle in no time. Almost reduced to a ruin, it extended its form into the surrounding darkness, its turrets reaching skyward, appearing solemn, wild, eerie, and dimly lit. Azk stared at the ancient, abandoned castle, slowing his pace. He stood there, his gaze at times deep and at times dreamy, as though constantly drifting between dream and reality. Suddenly, he groaned sharply, lifting a hand to press against his forehead, his facial muscles contorting into a fierce expression. "Mr. Azk, what's wrong? What happened?" Klein asked carefully, activating his spiritual vision. Even on the way back to the Water Lily Street in the rented carriage, he had discreetly performed a quick divination—using the manipulation of coins—predicting that his return to Lamde would be largely uneventful. Yet he believed divination was not infallible, always wary of misinterpreting the signs or of misjudging the phrasing of the prophecy. Moreover, Azk, a figure of profound mystery, had an unpredictable nature—his past history was unknown, and it was uncertain how he would react under stress. Thus, caution, vigilance, and concern had become Klein's natural demeanor. Azk did not answer immediately. With a pained expression, he took two steps forward, loosened his grip on his forehead, pointed toward the front, and spoke in a dreamlike tone: "I have seen this castle in my dreams." "At that time, it was still complete, with strong outer walls and tall, soaring turrets." "I remember that area was the stables, that one was the well, that one was the soldiers' quarters, and there, a field was cleared out for growing potatoes and sweet potatoes..." "I remember there was a practice field. My child—my son—was only about seven or eight years old, always dragging a broadsword taller than himself, running around, saying he wanted to become a knight one day." "My wife often complained that the castle was too dark. She loved sunlight and the warmth of the day..." ...Klein, who had been carefully observing the tone and color of the other's aura, felt his scalp tingling, yet also deeply moved, as though he were personally experiencing a supernatural tale. Indeed, this ancient castle is connected to Mr. Azk—could he truly be the first Baron of Lamed, a remarkable being who has lived for over a thousand and three hundred years? Is he a man, or a malevolent spirit? Not quite—how could a spirit wander about in daylight and have interactions with the night watchmen? Clain could not contain his thoughts, allowing them to collide and spark even more ideas. At that moment, Mr. Azk ceased his murmuring and stepped into the main hall. He moved through the interior with ease, effortlessly locating the mechanisms and opening the hidden door leading to the basement, without needing any guidance from Clain. Holding firmly onto his staff, Clain trailed two steps behind, descending the stairs and returning to the spot where the coffins were previously placed. Unlike what he had seen before, the lids of the coffins were now closed, and the sense of warmth and purity had completely vanished. The casket was covered... probably done by Fley, as part of the "mortuary" professional ethic. Klein nodded thoughtfully, using his spiritual sight to watch the Azk teacher, emotionally disoriented, walk toward the casket. Azk reached out and pushed the lid, creating a narrow opening. He gazed intently at the white bones inside, headless, and suddenly let out a cry—half-sorrowful, half-pained. With heavy, labored steps, Azk retreated, stumbling and falling short before Klein could react, sliding down against the wall. He pressed his palms to his face, sitting there with a sense of profound weariness, and the surrounding environment seemed to grow darker and more hazy. Klein stepped forward two paces, intending to reach out, but then hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. At that moment, his intuition told him that the current Azk was terrifying—so terrifying that the basement had grown colder and more somber. Klein moved silently, approaching the stairs. He believed in Azk's character, yet feared he might lose control. Within this sense of unease, he waited for several minutes until finally he saw Azk see his hands fall, rise slowly to his feet. Mr. Azk seemed to have changed... this is the answer that inspiration has given me... yet in the vision, his aura's color had not shifted noticeably, and his emotional tone remained as subdued, sorrowful, and painful as before. Caine quickly assessed the situation, sensing that Azk had grown more profound and more dignified. "I recall some things, though only a small part of them," Azk said, his voice emotionless. Then, he glanced around the room. "I sense the force that has been disrupting your fate here." "Ah?" Caine was first startled, then exclaimed with excitement, "Can you trace its origin?" The unseen force behind the red-smoking house—beyond merely orchestrating coincidences—had even come to Ramdeth Castle and taken the head of the knight clad in black armor? What exactly did it intend? What was his true purpose? "It's been too long—though, I'd like to give it a try," Azk's low voice seemed to hold a volcano about to erupt. "How exactly?" Kline asked curiously. Azk stepped back to the coffin and gazed at the white bones within. "He took my child's skull. I want to find him through the bloodline connection." Your child? Mr. Azk, are you certain that the black-armored knight is indeed your child? You're truly a relic—do you really forget things periodically? Is this the price of living so long? Kline took a quiet breath, feeling as though he were encountering mythic beings. At that moment, Azk extended his right hand and, with a suddenly sharp thumbnail,划破ed his index finger. A drop of red blood fell, landing precisely on the bones. It quickly seeped in, instantly turning the entire skeleton blood red. Wow! Wow! Wow! Klein suddenly heard the infant's cry, feeling as though someone were watching him from behind. He swiftly drew his revolver, pointing toward the back, then slowly turned around—only to find the space empty, nothing at all present. Not even the stairs leading down to the ground! Waaah! Waaah! The infant's cries poured into Klein's ears, and he once again turned his gaze toward the coffin's location, only to be stunned to see a series of forms—some intangible, some distorted—intermingled with rising black mist, coalescing into a strange, towering door. Creak! The ethereal door opened, and arms, pale and slender, surged forth, only to vanish back into black mist before Azk's very eyes. Through the fissures of the opened door, Klein saw a white skull, casually discarded beneath a deep brown tree, slowly decaying into dust in the wind. Clang! Countless pale arms were snapped in two as the suddenly closing door pressed them together, falling to the ground. At that moment, Kline heard a long, resonant sigh—Mr. Azk's sigh, echoing through the weight of centuries. With that sigh, the black mist suddenly vanished, the infant's cry abruptly ceased, and everything returned to its former state, though now slightly colder. Kline clenched his teeth, shivering, and turned toward the coffin. There, the crimson bones had once again turned pale, luminous white. "I'm sorry," Mr. Azk said, speaking softly while facing away from Kline. "I couldn't find him." At the same time, he reached out and closed the coffin lid. "It's not unusual to not find him," Kline reassured him. "To find him at all is a real surprise." In truth, Kline had already been disappointed many times in this matter... he added silently. Mr. Azk glanced once more at the coffin before slowly turning to face him. "I will continue my investigation," he said. "I hope you'll assist me." "No problem," Kline replied. "That's exactly what I'd like to do." Klein held back the impulse to tell Azk about the "Red Chimney" right away. It would do no good—only he could verify the target himself. Yet this settled one of his major concerns: once he found the Red Chimney house, how to introduce the Night Watchers' involvement—something he simply didn't believe he could accomplish alone against such a mysterious and formidable force behind the scenes. Now, he could seek Azk's assistance! Azk opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, merely sighed and walked silently toward the stairs. Once they stepped out of the basement and closed the dim door, the two proceeded along the path overgrown with weeds and thorns, speaking not a word as they moved toward the ruins of the old castle. Amid the deep night, Azk suddenly spoke: "Once this matter is resolved, I will resign from Tinggen and pursue the past I have long lost." "Mr. Azk, have you finally come to understand what has truly happened to yourself?" Klein asked, his curiosity evident.