Mersault's body lay there, eyes wide open, as if still glowing with the intensity of the attack. The wound that had initially been only a slender cut across half his throat had widened and blurred considerably due to the extraordinary cohesion that had occurred moments before. At the same time, the incontinence following death had emitted a strong, unpleasant odor from his lower body. Crane held the deep-red mass, resembling gelatin, in his arms, feeling uncertain about what to do next. In broad terms, his options were limited to three: first, clean up the scene, treat the wound, and go to the police to report it under the pretext of正当防卫; second, wait until nightfall, dispose of the body in a sewer, and feign that nothing had happened; or third, immediately abandon his current identity, flee to another district, and start anew under a different name. The issue with the first option is that Klein is currently still a "black sheep"—he has hidden secrets that, if exposed, could easily draw scrutiny upon him himself through a police investigation. As for the second option, beyond the constant anxiety of worrying that the body will be discovered and that the police will eventually come knocking, there lies another risk: Once the ambassador behind Murassé confirms the disappearance or death of one of his subordinates, he will certainly send someone else to 15 Minsk Street. At that point, Klein might face adversaries from Sequence 7, or even Sequence 6—potentially representing a powerful nation, one that stands behind the force directly opposing him. The third option appears the most prudent and safest, avoiding all risks—yet it has its drawbacks. Most notably, Klein's portrait is likely to be included on the wanted list, particularly as seen by his neighbors, Mrs. Summer and the neighbor Jurgen, the lawyer. In his unvarnished, authentic state, he may be recognized by the watchkeepers like Dail when the newspaper is published, even if only within the greater region of Beckland. This would quickly become a significant and troublesome issue. Given his connection to Ins. Zangewell and the sealing object "0–08," he is likely to be pursued by strong contenders at the level of Senior Officers. Of course, the third option also has a sub-branch: conceal the bodies, dispose of the evidence down the sewer, and then flee—though this too carries the risk of being pursued, as the ambassador on the other side may, upon failing to locate the individuals, dispatch members of the Zmangh party to file a police report, leveraging the official power of Beckett to launch a search. Should he succeed in tracking down Klein’s movements, the situation would effectively mirror the second option. After careful consideration, Klein swiftly made his decision: divination. "I should call the police." "I should call the police." ... After silently repeating this several times, he noticed the spirit gently rotating clockwise—quite noticeably, with a steady pace. This indicated a strong affirmation! After sequentially consulting the other two options and receiving negative responses, Kline no longer hesitated and began attending to the scene. He donned black gloves, examined Mersch's body, and discovered a sharp dagger, a modest stack of cash, a box of cigarettes, a lighter, and several other items. Kline returned all the other belongings to their original positions, then removed his gloves and directly grasped the dagger, piercing it into the wound in Mersch's throat to disrupt its original shape. Next, he put on his gloves and asked Mersch to grasp the dagger. Finally, Kline gathered Mersch's distinctive traits, the custom incantations, the tarot cards, the blood-stained contract, the sheets on which the divination statements were written, and all the materials from his home, placing them all into a paper bag. Then, he performed a ritual of summoning himself, transforming into a special spiritual entity. Carrying the Azk copper whistle, he strengthened and empowered himself before lifting the paper bag and concluding the summoning, returning to the realm above the gray mist. He temporarily placed the tangible items behind the "Fool's" high-back chair, leaving the Azk copper whistle behind, and then relaxed, simulating the sensation of a sudden, rapid descent, re-entering his own body. He chose not to burn the blood-stained standard contract or the sheets bearing the divinatory statements, fearing that once the alarm was raised and the case transferred to the Special Department, powerful entities would arrive specifically to conduct targeted divinations. With the gray mist now acting as a barrier, even the presence of the Eternal Sun itself would fail to yield effective answers. This is precisely why, after reaching the 8th rank in the promotion sequence and experiencing a significant enhancement in his spiritual capabilities, he has consistently carried out his weekly reviews and summaries on the realm above the gray mist. He simply cannot withstand substantial scrutiny or in-depth investigations now! The spiritual barriers were removed, and the sudden breeze dispersed the lingering scent of the ritual materials. In the room, and on克莱恩 himself, the only remnants of the extraordinary and the mystical were the quietly burning candles before him. This time, however, he chose ordinary candles—since he had summoned himself, praying to himself, there was no need for elaborate details. In a household, having candles was entirely reasonable, normal, and in line with the era, even if the home contained only a single bachelor. After extinguishing the candle and placing it back,克莱恩 pulled out his golden pocket watch, snapped it open, checked the time, and estimated how many minutes had passed since Merlot's death, then added the minimum time required for the police to conduct their investigation, interviews, and successive reports. He wanted to ensure that, even if extraordinary beings came to investigate later, Merlot's time of death had already passed by at least one hour. In esoteric circles and in the realm of spirit communication, this is a pivotal moment—beyond it, the information received becomes notably limited and highly vague. For instance, one might be able to discern that the person who killed Meursault is "Sherlock Moriarty," yet the specific details of the death remain elusive. As for potential concerns regarding extraordinary elements or hidden risks in the divination, Kline feels absolutely no apprehension, since the primary such element—the stained standard contract—is situated above the gray mist. Moreover, his own intuitive sense and combat abilities are likely to be blurred and confounded—definitely, the divination will point toward that mysterious space above the gray mist and will be disrupted. Fortunately, I am also a professional—feeling quite like Moriarty myself. After carefully reviewing the scene and confirming everything was in order, Kline began to fix his gaze on the ticking of his watch. Once the threshold of his estimation was surpassed, he donned his gold-framed glasses, waited a few more minutes, and then stepped out. At this point, the sky over Beckland was already dark, and the gas streetlamps illuminated the rainy, overcast atmosphere. As a neighborhood known for its middle-class residents, Minsk Street was regularly patrolled by police. After waiting a moment, Klein spotted his target and approached immediately. It was two junior officers, each wearing only a single 'V' on their shoulder epaulettes, who were carrying guns, wielding batons, and holding umbrellas, scanning the surroundings. "Officer! A robber has attacked me!" Klein called out with practiced flair. His disheveled appearance prompted the two officers to take immediate notice, each drawing their baton and maintaining a watchful stance toward the side. "Where is the robber?" asked the officer with a round face and brown eyes, speaking firmly. Klein pointed to his own house. "He broke into my home and intended to kill me!" "During the struggle, I accidentally stabbed him to death!" "Stabbed to death?" The two officers exchanged glances, then examined Klein with a critical eye. "Take us there." "Certainly." Klein feigned the appearance of someone emerging from a crisis, leading the two officers to No. 15 Minsk Street, producing his key and opening the door. The officers first observed the chaotic scene, then noticed the body lying on the ground, the violent wound to the throat, and the blood-stained dagger lying beside it. "You secure the scene; I'll go back to the station and report to the supervisor," one officer said to his round-faced, brown-eyed colleague. "Understood," replied the round-faced officer, his expression and body language clearly conveying his caution and suspicion. A short while later, the chief officer, wearing a black-and-white checkered uniform with three V-shaped insignias on his shoulders, arrived with the earlier officers and two additional subordinates. While the officers examined the scene and gathered evidence, the chief officer, who had a short, brown-yellow mustache, approached Klein and conducted an initial interview. "Name?" "Sherlock Moriarty. Here is my rent receipt for the past six months." Klein produced something that had been prepared in advance. The chief glanced at it casually and asked, "What's your profession?" "Private detective," Klein replied straightforwardly. The chief furrowed his brow and asked, "Do you know the deceased? Do you know why he attacked you?" "I know him. His name is Morel, the executioner of the Zimang party," Klein said without waiting for further questions. "I had a commission from Ian Wright, who asked me to investigate his former employer, Zerel Victor Lee, a detective—this matter is directly connected to the Zimang party and to Morel." "I followed him and discovered that he was meeting secretly with a prominent gentleman, whom he referred to as 'Mr. Ambassador.'" As he said this, Klein didn't surprise himself when he saw the chief's expression shift several times. "Mr. Ambassador... Do you know his name?" the chief murmured, asking in a steady tone. "I'm not sure, but if I see his photo, I'm certain I'll recognize him." Kline spoke plainly. "This morning, Murass came to visit me, asking me to locate Ian Wright. By professional ethics of a private investigator, I declined his request. Later that afternoon, as I was just returning home, I was attacked—almost killed. Fortunately, my combat skills and reflexes have held up fairly well." The chief paused, then asked a few more detailed questions about the encounter. Kline described the events almost verbatim, merely converting his intuitive feelings into reactions, and changing the final standard contract he had thrown into the air into the dagger that the other person dropped. "Hmm... You'll come back to the station with us, while we await the autopsy results, the scene investigation findings, and the interviews with relevant parties." The chief's mind seemed elsewhere—somewhat indifferent. Right now, his only thought was: This is a matter involving the foreign ambassador! It must be reported immediately! Suddenly, he remembered a question and quickly added, "What is your faith?" "Gods of steam and machinery," Klein replied without hesitation. The Saint Wind Church, the headquarters of the Storm Church in Bekland, is located in the Joowood district, so cases involving the extraordinary are usually transferred to them—except when the involved parties share a unified faith that is not centered on the Storm Church. To avoid encountering the night watchmen, Klein had to make peace with the goddess. PS: A chapter will be updated early in the morning.