Well, although I no longer need it, I can pass it on to Suzy—something I can trade for other extraordinary materials… Hmm, Suzy still needs the spinal fluid from the Farsman rabbit for her potions… There are certain things it’s far more convenient to delegate to Suzy than to handle myself… Every great detective needs a good assistant, yes! Audrey made up her mind quickly—this was no longer something particularly close to her heart. Setting down the telegram, her initial joy settled into a more grounded sense of reality, and practical concerns began to surface. I still owe the Sir "The Fool" of the Conclave information about the secret society, details regarding the assassination of Ambassador Indis, and one specific request from his followers… I finally understand what it feels like to carry a heavy debt… Audrey, we can’t delay any longer! It’s time to take action! The girl quietly clenched her fists, resolved to pull out paper and pen, and write a letter to Viscount Glairin, asking him to arrange a meeting as soon as possible between herself, Hugh, and Folsom, and to delegate the matter. She picked up her pen, dipped it into the ink, then paused, holding it motionless at her wrist. Just then, a crucial point had come to her: she knew very little about Ambassador Beclan of Intis. In such a situation, it was easy to misjudge the challenge—either failing to find someone willing to accept the commission, or assigning it to an unsuitable person, which would immediately jeopardize the mission from the outset. As for the cost of this increased effort, it wasn't her primary concern. She believed that the compensation offered by the "Knight of Fools" would be even more favorable and would better support her own needs. After a moment's reflection, Audrey turned to her maid, Anne, and said: "Tell Countess Garlya that I accept her invitation and will attend her ball precisely at eight tomorrow evening." Countess Garlya was the wife of Count Wolf, and her upcoming ball had invited the ambassadors of various nations to Ruin, including Beclan Jean-Mathieu. Audrey had originally intended to decline on the grounds of illness, but now she was genuinely enthusiastic about the event. After observing Ambassador Beckland and gathering sufficient intelligence, and then meeting with Hugh and Forthright! Audrey suddenly felt an exhilarating surge of excitement—she was truly entering the fray, beginning to dream of an adventurous career! ………… The capital of the Rose Isles, "the City of Generosity," Bayam. Back in the real world, Alger Wilson changed into a slightly ostentatious, elegant outfit befitting the Indist Republic and entered the narrow alleyway from the back of the hotel, walking past several streets. He stopped in front of a house without gardens or lawns, took out a common white hard-shell mask, and put it on. Then, he raised his hand and knocked on the door—three strong knocks, followed by two lighter ones—with intervals of two long and two short. After waiting for several seconds, the door creaked open, and a man wrapped in a pirate's headband peered out, quickly scanning left and right. "Come in," the man said, stepping aside in a steady tone. Alger said nothing, simply entered the house silently. Clang! The door closed suddenly. ……… At number 15 Minsk Street, Klein opened the curtains and sat at his desk. The Masonic intelligence provided by the "Hanged Man" indicated that the target likely still had some connection with the Inthys Republic. At the same time, he recalled the "strange" and "terrifying" descriptions the "Hanged Man" had previously given of the Antigonous family. The extraordinary being who had infiltrated his room last night using the iron-black worm, eavesdropping on his information and leaving a warning, indeed seemed rather strange. The Antigonous family's sequence chain was precisely the "Prophets' Path" of the Masonic Order—two paths that could be considered equivalent. Thus, one might speculate that the extraordinary being from last night was either a Masonic member serving as a double agent for the Inthys Republic, or someone outside the Masonic Order who had leveraged the existing ties between the Inthys Republic and the Masonic Order to gain access to the relevant formulas and potions. Caine began to make bold assumptions, carefully verifying: "This explains why my 'clown' intuition failed during the eerie invasion by the iron-threaded worms—this failure stems from suppression by higher-sequence beings operating through the same pathway... Of course, there's also a reason why certain iron-black worms didn't pose a tangible threat to me..." "Similarly, it makes sense why, shortly after I finished drafting Ian Wright's intelligence report, iron-black worms infiltrated that very night and directly headed for my desk—having the 'seer' ability makes the sequence entirely plausible..." After repeated deliberations, Caine felt his conjectures were likely nearing the truth. "If indeed a higher-sequence being from the 'seer' pathway, what sequence would he belong to? What is his potion name? Could he command the iron-black worms? Might he be one of the major figures from the 'circus' pathway—the trainer of beasts?" Caine silently shook his head, half self-mocking, half amused. Perhaps my future potion recipes will come from him... That's exactly what the insight I received earlier meant, isn't it? Bekland truly is a place of hope. Klein mused a few moments, then began to consider what to do next: He had already entrusted the mission to eliminate Ambassador Beckland, a potential threat, and needed to remain discreet—indeed, he lacked the capacity to handle it himself. After revealing Ian Wright's movements to both parties, he believed Ambassador Beckland would be too busy in the short term to retaliate against him and would not add further complications. What truly mattered to him, however, was finding the precious item he mentioned as being of utmost importance. "In other words, until that item is found, I'm safe—there's no immediate need to hire powerful, exceptional-level guards... Well, even if there's subsequent retaliation, the Ambassador won't be able to summon high-tier exceptionalists to target me. It would neither be cost-effective nor necessary, since Beckland isn't his home base... The most likely scenario is to assign the exceptionalist who used the iron-black threadworm to infiltrate my room last night—the one who at least ranks 7, possibly 6, or even 5. With sufficient strength and intimate knowledge of the situation. I'll simply hire guards based on that standard when the time comes. I hope, by then, the Ambassador has never issued a command... Klein gazed out the window at the fog that had finally lifted, appearing as though lost in thought." He decided to continue heading to "The Brave One Bar" tonight—first, to leverage his connection with Caspar and reach out to other extraordinary individuals, laying the groundwork for selecting suitable bodyguards; second, to showcase Merzso's unique qualities and secure some funds; and third, to see if anyone had any particularly powerful magical items for sale, thereby enhancing his own capabilities—an approach that would never grow outdated. Once his plan was clear, Caine feigned relaxed browsing of the newspaper, only rising slowly as the evening deepened, and prepared himself a tomato-braised beef shank soup. After a satisfying meal, he followed his usual routine of drawing the bedroom curtains, deciding to leave them closed all night. Then, he summoned himself, responded to himself, and transformed into a special ethereal form, bringing the Azk copper whistle from the gray mist, Merzso's extraordinary traits, his self-created sigils, various materials, and the tarot cards back into the tangible world, leaving only the stained standard contracts and a few other items behind. With all this accomplished and the necessary equipment in place, Caine's strength returned to its peak, and he once again became a half-expert in mysticism. He straightened his collar, took up his hat and cane, and left the 15th street house. Kaspas covered the cards, barked a curse, stood up, and walked to the door, speaking softly, "I'll take you to a place where the people may not be as outstanding as Marič, but they're all quite capable. As for whether a deal can be struck, that's entirely beyond my concern. However, I must warn you—don't anger them, or you might not see the sun again. Of course, in Beckland after September, seeing the sun isn't easy." Kaspars turned to his friends, spoke a few words, then took Caine by the arm and limped toward the kitchen area of the bar, where he entered a side passage and rounded to the front of a dark, empty house. He produced a bronze mask that covered only his upper face and handed it to Caine, smiling lightly. "Consider it two pounds' worth." Two pounds could buy me a dozen such masks, Caine thought. Caine put on the mask and deliberately messed up his hair. Seeing that Caine was ready, Kaspars knocked rhythmically on the door. After seven or eight seconds, a small wooden panel suddenly swung open, revealing a brown-eyed figure behind it. After a moment of scrutiny, Caine finally saw the main door swing back. A man wearing a mask stood there, offering Caine a long robe with a hood, and in a hoarse voice said to Kaspars, "Next time, do remember to let me know in advance—otherwise, I'll be sure to make you regret it!" He closed the door, turned around, and led Caine through the dark living room into the downstairs parlor. A single candle on the coffee table cast a dim, yellow glow, making the room appear hazy and shadowed. Several people sat around the sofas and chairs near the table, all dressed in cloaks with pointed hoods and iron masks. Caine, now dressed in his cloak, quietly found a chair in a corner and listened as a plump man complained, "Recently, there's been a growing population of wild beasts in the sewers, devouring many of my medicinal herbs. They're quite intelligent—they've left the toxic ones untouched. I need someone to help me clear them out. As you know, that's not my strength; I'm only skilled in preparing remedies and treating patients."