On a misty morning, Caine sat at his dining table, breaking apart specially purchased oat bread and soaking it into milk, refining his method of consumption. Though his body had changed profoundly, his passion and dedication to fine cuisine remained deeply etched in his soul, making it impossible to adapt to the monotonous, repetitive breakfast traditions of the Kingdom of Ruin. He made constant efforts to experiment, not confined to toast, bread, bacon, sausage, butter, and cream, but actively expanding his culinary horizons—introducing new dishes such as the Southern-style pork pie, Fenneport pasta, and grilled corn pancakes to his repertoire. "The caviar from the Farsaek Empire is also excellent, though rather expensive—suitable only for formal banquets," Caine said, using a spoon to lift a soft, soaked piece of oat bread and placing it in his mouth. With only a slight chew, he immediately sensed the milk, now infused with the rich aroma of oats, flowing through his palate, and the bread itself left behind a lingering, sweet aftertaste. After breakfast, Caine set down his fork and spoon, didn't rush to clear the table, and picked up the several newspapers just delivered, unfolding them leisurely to read. He'd make a divination later—if nothing urgent came up, he'd visit Mr. Raphard at 3 Satchley Street in St. George District to assess the investment potential of his new transportation systems... Beckland truly is vast; each district is almost equivalent to Tinggen City, especially the eastern district, which exceeds it by at least a factor of two... The most convenient and cost-effective way to travel remains walking to the steam subway and then walking again—though it does take time. Caine's thoughts drifted freely. —Beckland's public horse carriage system is similar to Tinggen's in pricing, the only issue being that much of it operates within a single district. To travel from Joewood to St. George, one must transfer several times, which naturally increases the cost. This situation makes the prospects for new transportation technologies particularly promising. Thud! Thud! Thud! At that moment, a deep, resonant knocking echoed through the hall, reaching克莱恩's ears. Who could that be...? He hadn't even remembered to press the doorbell. Muttering a few words, he smoothed his collar and approached the door, reaching to open it. Mersault nodded stiffly. "I'd like to entrust you with finding someone." "I'll explain the details when he comes in," Klein kept his demeanor entirely calm. Mersault shook his head coldly. "No need." Then, his eyes suddenly sharpened. "The person I'm looking for is Ian, Ian Wright. He has bright red eyes, about fifteen or sixteen years old. He likes to wear brown, slightly worn coats and brown round hats. I believe you've seen him before." Klein chuckled. "I don't understand what you're saying." Mersault seemed not to have heard the denial. "He's a thief. He stole something of great importance from me. As soon as you find him, you'll receive at least ten pounds." "Your clues are too sparse," Klein offered a casual excuse. "Thirty pounds," Mersault proposed a new figure. Klein glanced at him and said, "No, that goes against my confidentiality principle." "Fifty pounds," Merlot replied coldly. "...I'm sorry, but I won't take on this assignment." Klein paused for two seconds before finally declining. Merlot studied him slowly and deeply for several seconds, his gaze gradually growing colder and more fierce. He didn't offer a new price, nor did he politely bid farewell—he abruptly turned and strode swiftly toward the end of the street. The mob's intelligence capabilities are quite impressive—they even know Ian came to see me before. Klein silently remarked on this, without feeling particularly concerned or intimidated. After all, I've faced off directly against a demon offspring, even if it was through a layer of flesh. Thinking of this, a bright smile spread across his face, and he began tossing coins to decide whether to go out today. The answer was yes. ........ St. George district, Sachi Street. Klein, who had journeyed from a horse-drawn public carriage to a steam subway and finally to a foot-powered public carriage, arrived at his destination, having paid a total fare of eleven pence. As soon as he stepped out of the carriage, he noticed a light, steady drizzle beginning to fall, and he had not brought an umbrella. "According to the newspapers and magazines, this is the daily weather in Beckett—hats have become popular precisely because gentlemen and ladies don't carry umbrellas at all times," Klein remarked, adjusting his half-high silk hat and briskly hastening toward the outside of No. 9 house, sheltering himself under the eaves. He shook off the visible drops of water from his coat and rang the bell. Yet he heard neither the characteristic cuckoo sound nor the gentle clinking of footsteps. "Has the bell broken?" he thought, just as he raised his hand to knock. Suddenly, he became aware of footsteps approaching from a distance. In his mind, a clear image of the visitor emerged: a man in his thirties, tall and slender, with black hair and blue eyes, dressed in a neat gray-blue workman's attire, yet appearing refined and well-mannered. Creaking open the door, the gentleman rubbed his temple and asked, "May I help you? What's on your mind?" Cain removed his hat and slightly bowed. "I'm looking for Mr. Leppard. I'm quite interested in his new transportation devices." The gentleman's eyes lit up instantly. "That's me, Leppard. Please, come in." He stepped aside to allow Cain to enter, but there was no coat rack in the foyer. Cain had to rely on his cane, keeping his coat on, and followed Leppard into the living room. Indeed, the house was quite disordered—on the living room coffee table alone, there were numerous mechanical items: wrenches, bearings, and screwdrivers. "How much would you like to invest?" Leppard asked, then added, "Oh, by the way—would you like coffee or tea? Ah, I think the tea's gone..." This gentleman is rather direct—seems to struggle with interpersonal interactions… A thought flashed through Cline's mind, and he revised his intended response, stating plainly: "I must first see your new mode of transportation before I can make a decision." "I can't commit without having a clear understanding." As he spoke, he glanced around and noticed the triangular holy emblem hanging on the wall. It symbolized the gods of steam and machinery, with a solid triangle filled with symbols of steam, gears, and levers. Raphad didn't find Cline's straightforward approach off-putting, and immediately replied, "I'll show you." Just as he finished speaking, he suddenly tapped his head: "I almost forgot—we must first sign a confidentiality agreement to ensure you don't steal my inventions." Raphad, your memory isn't the strongest, is it? Cline chuckled. "No problem." After signing a simple contract, Raphard led Caine into the room that appeared to be a living room. He had connected this room with the adjacent guest quarters and the basement, making it much wider and more open. The floor was cluttered with various parts, and at the center stood a rough, half-person-high structure resembling a wagon carriage. The doorbell wires had also been routed to this space and arranged ingeniously: whenever someone pulled the cord, a steel bead would be launched by a mechanical mechanism, roll along a specially designed track, and strike the central structure, producing a resonant sound. Though the sound wouldn't be loud, it was sufficient to rouse Raphard, who was deeply immersed in his mechanical pursuits. "That's your newly invented mode of transportation?" Caine pointed to the central, rough structure. "Yes! I developed it based on the Emperor Rossel's vision!" Raphard replied with passionate enthusiasm. "The Emperor Rossel's vision?" Caine asked, startled. Rapad explained with reverent tones: "Emperor Roscel left behind a manuscript filled with his visions of various mechanical devices. He was truly a brilliant mind, no—indeed, a master! Many of these ideas have now become reality! Heh, this manuscript is housed in the Church of Steam and Machinery. Those who aren't devout members simply cannot access it." ...Oh, Emperor, are you leaving no one else any room for survival at all?... At the corner of his mouth, Caine's smile nearly faltered. "Please elaborate," he changed the subject. Rapad led Caine to the rough metallic object and swiftly opened the door: "This is a vehicle that doesn't require horses." "The driver sits at the front left, constantly stepping on the pedals, using levers and chains to connect the four wheels and make them roll forward. On the wheels themselves, I've adopted a rubber-inflated method, which ensures a smoother ride." So, a human-powered car? Klein couldn't help but make a comment. "Such a large body, accommodating at least four passengers—relying solely on human power, it's unlikely to travel far." "That's precisely my next goal: reducing weight and increasing the leverage ratio!" said Raphaël, with hopeful eyes toward Klein. "But my financial situation has become less favorable, and I can no longer support further experiments." "Why not consider another approach? For instance, using steam power?" Klein slowly organized his thoughts. Raphaël shook his head. "Steam-powered vehicles have already been invented, but they are quite large and often encounter difficulties navigating city streets." Klein had been waiting for exactly this response: "Then, why not design something simpler—say, with just two wheels, carrying only one person, and without an outer shell?" "You mean a bicycle-type design?" Raphaël asked, as though pondering. Did Roxel's manuscript mention such a concept? Klein nodded heavily: "Yes." "The other pedal-powered vehicles invented by others aren't very practical... Simplifying this one—seems like it really could work, and it's genuinely different. But who would buy it?" Raypard murmured to himself. Klein immediately offered his direction: "Mail carriers, working-class families with a bit of savings, and small business owners who don't need much in the way of appearance but can save money—there are many of these in Beckland." Raypard paused and nodded slightly: "...I can give it a try, but I no longer have the funds to purchase parts." "I'll invest you with 100 gold pounds, plus the suggestions I've just made—how much ownership shall I take? Ten percent, or fifteen percent? After all, 100 pounds isn't a large sum." "You take thirty-five percent! But only for the pedal-powered vehicle project you've described!" Raypard interjected, eager to prevent Klein from setting too high a demand. "Deal!" "Let me just draft a simple agreement to secure this matter," Klein said with a smile, "and then I'll have my corporate counsel prepare a formal contract later, adding specific provisions—such as requiring my approval before any further investment." "Absolutely," Raphel replied eagerly, eager to finalize the purchase of the parts.