Before Klein could even shift his thoughts, he saw Senator Menard, rigid as a statue, brace himself with both hands and plunge straight toward him—toward his left! In past encounters, such a sudden development would have left him flustered, struggling to evade, and even if he'd sensed it early, he'd likely have had to roll and tumble to escape Menard's charge. But now, Klein reacted almost instinctively: he planted his polished, buttonless boots and leapt sideways, landing gracefully on the high-backed chair. Though only recently promoted, he still found it difficult to fully adapt to his own strength, agility, and speed. In his haste, the leap proved too high and too far, landing him not on the seat itself, but at the very top of the chair's backrest. That narrow strip of space sent a jolt through him, and he quickly stabilized himself, adjusting his balance. He swayed slightly, yet remained steady—like a black cat proudly displaying its mastery of balance. As he swayed, he swept his left arm forward, following the momentum of Meunard the undead's forward charge, and with a swift stroke of his staff, struck it across the side ribs, knocking it off balance and sending it staggering to the carpet. As the resonance of the incantation spread, the talisman exuded a serene and peaceful atmosphere. Caine quickly infused it with spiritual energy and threw it toward the "withered" figure, Meander, who was struggling to rise. A shimmering ice-blue flame erupted, enveloping the triangular thin slice, and a calm, gentle black hue swiftly spread, soothing the spectral tension and unease. Meander halted, his hollow eyes fixed blankly on the ground, droplets of mucous falling one after another onto the blanket. Caine exhaled in relief, preparing to retrieve materials, set up the ritual, and cleanse the unclean being through purification. Yet suddenly, Meander emitted a series of rustling sounds from his throat, and once again, his hollow gaze turned toward the left pocket of Caine's police uniform. Wait—Caine leapt upward, springing from the armchair's peak onto the window ledge. At the same time, he heard the armchair topple and snap. Klein, his scalp tingling slightly, had to reach once more for a rectangular silver wafer. This was the "Sleeping Sigil!" Not only do the living need sleep—deceased beings themselves are in a state of prolonged slumber, only awakening when something unusual occurs, drifting about the ground! In certain esoteric texts, some "zombies" are even described as sleeping during the day and awakening at night. "Crimson!" Klein again whispered the ancient Hermes incantation, determined to try once more—should he fail this time, he would simply draw his revolver and fire wildly. Only the living need to worry about what comes next! As the silver wafer in his hand grew cold, Klein infused it with spiritual energy and cast it into the air. Instantly, a deep crimson flame illuminated his eyes, and a soft series of explosions echoed throughout the room. A quiet, soothing power radiated out, carrying with it an irresistible sense of weariness. "The undead" Menard, just rising from the broken high-back chair, immediately swayed, closed his hollow eyes, and then fell flat on his back. Drawing on his recent experience, Caine didn't dare relax. He immediately produced a "Amande Elixir," distilled from a blend of night jasmine, deep sleep, and chamomile, and a "Full Moon Essential Oil" crafted from dragon-vein bark and moonlight, swiftly setting up an altar. Then, using "Sacred Night Powder," he sealed the surrounding area with a wall of spiritual energy, enclosing both the altar and the sleeping "undead" Menard within. Chanting the incantation silently,克莱恩 lights the corresponding three candles and drips pure essential oils into each flame, then sprinkles herb powder before retreating one step. With cautious eyes on the "withered" Meander, he recites in Hermes tongue: "The goddess of night more noble than the stars, more enduring than eternity;" "I invoke your grace;" "I ask that you bless a faithful guardian of yours." "I invoke the power of crimson;" "I invoke the power of sleep and stillness;" "I ask that you purify this unclean being near me, once known as John Meander." ... "Moon of the red moon, grant your strength to my incantation!" "Deep sleep of the red moon, grant your strength to my incantation!" ... In silence, as if a cool breeze from midnight had stirred within the spiritual walls, delicate strands of thin, pale black mist rise from the body of the "withered" Meander. Once everything had settled, Caine used his spiritual vision and divination methods to repeatedly confirm that the man would never wake up again. Seeing the results, he finally let go of the worry he had been holding and concluded the ritual, dissolving the spiritual barrier. "How could he suddenly come back to life?" Caine stood before Menard, who lay on the carpet, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked down. For a非凡者 with such strong intuitive abilities, it was quite evident when a deceased person staged a revival—especially since Caine himself was a "diviner," always sensing such occurrences. Yet this change had completely surprised him. Unless, unless there was some more mysterious factor at play… just like the time with the tailor-clad clown… Caine carefully recalled the scene and began to sense the issue: The "waking corpse" Menard had been consistently trying to attack the left pocket of Caine's police uniform! The left pocket? Klein transferred the silvered black staff to his right hand and extended his left into his pocket, withdrawing an ancient copper whistle that Azk had lent him for summoning messengers. "It's possible that this copper whistle caused Menard's transformation into a corpse. After all, Mr. Azk is not a descendant of the Death God, nor is he entirely disconnected from the Death God; it makes logical sense that he always carries such a magical object with him." Klein nodded thoughtfully, then produced a copper half-penny and performed a swift divination based on his current assessment. With the scene unfolding right before him, holding the relevant item, and having ample documentation at hand, he quickly reached a conclusion—watching as the half-penny rolled downward and came to rest in his palm, the head side up. This indicates confirmation... Mr. Azk had no reason to point out such issues to me, after all... He's a patient with amnesia, so it's quite normal that he forgets things. Moreover, the bronze whistle might not even have a negative effect on him—it's very likely suppressed. Therefore, when visiting places like cemeteries or castles filled with bodies or prone to ghostly occurrences, he should avoid carrying the whistle, otherwise he'd be setting himself up for constant trouble, constantly seeking his own demise. Klein quietly recorded these newly deduced precautions and effortlessly returned the naked Member of Parliament, Meunard, to his bed. With a creak, the door opened, and Crane saw that Det. Toller was standing outside, blocking anyone from approaching. "What happened just now?" Toller asked, expressing both curiosity and concern. He could faintly hear significant activity inside. Crane smiled, deliberately over-the-top in his response: "Mr. Menaud has come back to life and has been trying to give me a warm embrace." "Stop being dramatic," Toller said, glancing inside with a look of exasperation. "Why all this seriousness?" Crane held up his hands. "Because, at this point, we're still uncertain—Mr. Menaud has become a kind of living corpse, you know, the kind that appears in ghost stories. Fortunately, I haven't left yet; I've used ritual magic to cleanse the impurity and restored him to a peaceful, serene slumber." "Does this have any connection to the cause of his death?" Toller asked, his expression serious. "I can't give you an answer right now—I'm not even sure what's going on. You should know, in our field, unexplained events are quite common." Kline offered casually, then waved the portrait in his hands. "During the séance, I saw the scene of Senator Menard's death. 'You mean... that's the cause of death?' Tolle said, as if it were obvious. 'Theoretically, yes—though the autopsy results will confirm this.' Kline passed the portrait to Detective Tolle. Tolle glanced at it and gasped, 'Mrs. Xhellen!' Kline looked puzzled. 'Is she well known?' He thought to himself, well, judging by her appearance and build, she should be fairly recognizable. Tolle glanced around, slightly excited as he introduced: "Mrs. Xuelin is the most renowned and beautiful widow of Tinggen, and the most sought-after lady in social circles. She was the second wife of Baron Hoy, though she has become a widow by unfortunate circumstances. She is widely admired among the aristocracy and among the newly affluent merchant class, and is someone who can receive invitations to both Conservative and Progressive party gatherings. It's said that she maintains close, amiable relationships with her stepson, the current Baron Hoy, with certain noble families in Beikeland, and several senior government officials—making her a truly influential lady. I didn't expect her to also have such ties with Member of Parliament Menard... Hey!" In short, an outstanding socialite. Klein silently summed it up, then turned toward the room and pointed: "The next segment is not within my responsibilities. As for how exactly to question Mrs. Xuelin, that's up to you." "Um, before the purification, I gave Senator Menard a good punch. You folks handle that and come up with an explanation."