It was the same dream divination, but this time, Kline saw more scenes. The first scene remained the small, dark, and dirty room, with Ian Wright asleep on a bed of varying heights. The second scene showed them both at the sewer they had visited together—Ian kneeling before Zerel’s partially decayed body, gently running his fingers over the two rows of white, gleaming teeth, and removing one. The third scene unfolded on a bustling street, where pedestrians wore simple, even outdated or worn clothing. In the center of the street, a garden and lawn were surrounded by low chimneys belching steam. Ian, dressed in an old coat and wearing a round hat, remained alert and scanning his surroundings, entering the telegraph office a short distance from the center. Across the street stood a steam-powered subway entrance resembling a bustling marketplace. The scene faded quickly, eventually becoming transparent. Cain opened his eyes, gently tapping the edge of the bronze long table with his index finger, forming an initial judgment: "Given that tooth and the telegram, Zerel and Ian aren't merely coincidentally drawn into this crisis—they're part of an organized team!" "I should be able to pinpoint exactly where the third act takes place..." Cain didn't rush into deeper analysis, as he didn't wish to remain in the gray mist for too long. Leaving the high-backed chair belonging to 'The Fool,' he moved to the corner on the side, retrieving from the paper bag delivered earlier Merle's extraordinary properties. Holding the jelly-like deep red object in his hands, Cain sat down again and wrote a new divinatory sentence: "The name of the corresponding potion." While silently reciting, he held the extraordinary properties in one hand and the paper with the divinatory sentence in the other, entering a state of meditation and drifting into sleep. In the hazy, dreamlike vision, the ambassador—dressed extravagantly, with a lean face streaked with beard—appeared once again before Klein's eyes. He held a bottle of deep red liquid and addressed Merso: "Drink it, drink this 'Hunter' potion, and you will master the Zmang Party. Of course, money is also indispensable; the Emperor Roscel said, 'One stick in your hand, one carrot in the other.' 'Hunter?' Merso frowned slightly, puzzled. In his own illiterate perception, hunters belonged to the wild, to the realm of animals. The middle-aged ambassador chuckled warmly: "The largest city is also the greatest dark jungle." "Here, everyone has two identities: first, they are prey; second, they are hunters." "Even the weakest hunter is a hunter and may wound the strongest prey." "Go then, and join this grand hunt." … The scene shattered, dissolving into countless streaks of light. Caine looked down at the deep-red extraordinary property in his hands, murmuring silently: "So it was the 'Hunter's' potion. That explains why Merle was so formidable—and used poisoned blow darts." "It's no wonder he could track me down all this way..." "But it seems he hasn't truly grasped the essence of the hunter—no traps laid, no weapons employed, no use of his particular strengths. On one hand, he must not know that I am also an extraordinary one, a Sequence 8 extraordinary, and thus has underestimated me. On the other hand, this suggests he has only recently begun taking the magical elixir." "The 'Hunter' path has been jointly held by the Solon royal family of the Tiris Dynasty and the Ainhorn royal family of the Fasak Empire, and only in the past two or three centuries has the secret organization known as the Iron Cross Order emerged. Combined with his attire, the ambassador's identity is almost certain—he is a senior diplomatic official from the Republic of Tiris, serving as ambassador to the Kingdom of Roon." "I wonder what important item he is seeking..." As his thoughts raced, Caine wrapped his spirit around himself and plunged downward swiftly. Upon returning to the room, he immediately scanned the surroundings with alertness, detecting no signs of any unusual changes. Phew. Klein exhaled silently, gaining a bit more confidence in his ability to convene the Tarot circle members at the scheduled time tomorrow afternoon. He pulled out the Beckland map he had bought on the steam train, searching for the telegraph offices along the subway lines—specifically those near the city center. Beckland currently had only a few subway lines, and Klein quickly identified three targets: one in the West District, one in the Saint George District, and one at the intersection of the East District and the Beckland Bridge area. Recalling the attire and social standings of most pedestrians from his dream, he arrived at the final answer: The third one! At the intersection of the East District and the Beckland Bridge area! Sometimes, interpreting revelations requires not only rich practical knowledge but also corresponding reasoning abilities… Klein made a self-deprecating remark, moved to the desk, and added a sentence after the one he had previously written, enriching the content on the paper: "I don't know where Ian Wright is. Since I discovered Zerel's body, I haven't seen him again. However, through my own channels, I learned that Ian Wright had appeared at the telegraph office on Brampton Street." After writing this, Klein did not fold the paper or raise it spiritually to ignite it—he left it spread open on the desk, displaying its contents freely. He gazed at it intently before returning to the bed, undressing and going to sleep. Outside the tightly drawn curtains, the red moon broke through the cloud layers, radiant and full, complete and bright. ………… In the Hillsborough district, within a house. Firth, who had been sleeping separately from Hugh, suddenly sat up, reaching out both hands to cover his head. Her once还算 pleasant face had twisted to a point of terrifying grotesqueness, resembling that of a demon. Folshe pressed her ears against the bed, rolling restlessly, as though battling phantom murmurs. Droplets of sweat beaded on her forehead, and veins stood out prominently on the backs of her hands. Her body alternately tightened and rolled, the once lighthearted, languid blue eyes now filled with pain. Within the depths of those pupils, countless shifting lights seemed to layer and change. "No!" Folshe finally could bear no longer, emitting a low, wailing cry. Her hands, no longer covering her ears, now tugged at her hair, as though striving to counter pain with pain. After twisting and writhing for several minutes, Folshe finally came to stillness. She loosened her hands, gazing at the cascades of softly wavy brown hair, frail and self-mocking: "I deceived Rest. I told her that each full moon's murmured whispers had no adverse effects upon me... at least, hair loss was a serious issue." Forthright struggled to sit up, her eyes fixed on the curtain half-draping the window, through the gaps of which she saw the dreamlike crimson full moon outside. "It's getting worse with each passing month—perhaps next time it will be enough to send me into collapse," she whispered, unable to contain the quiet vulnerability she had long kept hidden. She had tried to separate the bracelet—capable of enabling passage between realms—from her own body, but this effort had failed to eradicate the full moon murmurs. She had tried sedatives, tried invoking the names of the deities of steam and machinery, tried various ritual spells—yet none could halt the steady descent into the depths. "If only I could understand what those murmurs were saying... I hope to die clearly, not confused and buried without knowing what happened... Perhaps, perhaps, after the eighth rank in the promotion sequence, I'll be able to hear more distinctly? But I've never encountered anyone selling a recipe for a 'Master of Illusions.' Vorth stared blankly out the window, his eyes tinged with a soft red glow from the moonlight. Klein's pupils contracted as he suddenly reached out and pulled the curtain aside, only to find the bulging window still shut, no breeze having entered! The paper itself had spun halfway around—without a single gust of wind! No, someone must have entered during his unawareness! A cold sensation surged up his spine toward his head. Even in his sleep, he had remained completely oblivious. This meant he had been utterly at the mercy of the other person—his life and death resting entirely in their hands! Was it a member of the military's special department, or a powerful envoy dispatched by the ambassador? Given that the paper remained tilted and unchanged, it was more likely the latter—signaling a clear warning. The ability to enter silently and undetected was truly impressive. Should he be grateful for this person's kindness? No—why would he leave something as simple as this undone if there wasn't a deliberate reason? Perhaps to avoid disturbing the military special department members stationed nearby? Klein's thoughts raced, his mind overflowing with questions. He wrote those words last night, spreading the paper open upon the desk, so that people might see, so that the ambassador might receive what he wished to know, so that any potential retaliation might be postponed until the matter concluded, and so that he himself might gain more time to prepare. Yet, what he had originally expected was that the other party would seize the opportunity while he was away, when the military's specialized units reduced their surveillance of the house—only to find that he had managed to slip past the surrounding extraordinary beings, entering the bedroom quietly and without a sound, while he himself remained sound asleep. This feeling of life and death being held in the hands of others was deeply uncomfortable! "A very strong extraordinary being—or one with an unusually strange ability..." Klein turned his body, facing away from the bulging window, and drew out a copper penny. "Someone entered this room last night." ... He silently repeated the words, using his body as a shield, and launched the coin upward. The coin rolled and leapt, only to fall swiftly beneath Klein's shoulders, landing in the palm of his open hand. This time, the number is facing up. That means negation! It means no one entered Klein's bedroom last night! Paper doesn't turn randomly... Am I dozing off? No, I've been fully awake even during the captain's intrusion into my dreams. Klein furrowed his brows, considering two possibilities: "One: the divination result was disrupted or misinterpreted." "Two: the intruder wasn't human!"