The figure in the mirror was clear, yet there was no trace of the woman who had just been wearing a black court gown—she seemed to have never appeared at all. Kline quietly activated his spiritual sight, but found nothing. Could it be that I've hired a ghost as a bodyguard? That's even more strange than a ghost. After all, spiritual sight should be able to perceive ghosts. Kline thoughtfully ran his fingers over the Azk copper whistle in his coat pocket, feeling only the same coolness and chill, with no additional changes. Unaffected by the whistle—so it's not a necromantic being. Still, he couldn't be certain. When the whistle accompanied me to the burial, none of the surrounding deceased showed any unusual signs. After all, the people buried in the cemetery had all undergone the prayers and rites of the priest and bishop. When exactly does it work, and when doesn't it?... Once my ambassador's affairs are settled, if I'm still alive, I'll go to the cemetery and conduct some experiments to figure out its scope and limitations—I can't keep living like someone carrying a time bomb the whole time. Kline washed his face and stepped out of the bathroom. He had just picked up the newspaper in the living room, intending to head to the study or the bedroom to browse, when suddenly the doorbell rang. As the rhythmic chime sounded, Kline instantly tensed, becoming highly alert and donning a coat of various materials, making his way toward the door. He clearly remembered that danger was imminent in the coming days! Standing behind the door, waiting a moment, Kline naturally envisioned the scene outside. A red moon rose and dipped, softly visible in the sky. Elegant gas lamps along the streets illuminated the damp pavement. A boy in an old coat stood there, his bright eyes deep and slightly bewildered. Ian Wright? How had he appeared? Isn't this exactly the scene I've seen in my dream divinations? Is this a sign of impending danger? Kline opened the door and stepped back cautiously. "Detective Moriaty," Ian removed his brown top hat and inclined his body slightly, "I'm here to apologize. I'm truly sorry to have drawn you into such a dangerous situation." Kline furrowed his brows. "You should have gone straight to the police station." Ian glanced around, then slightly lowered his head. "I just came from MI9." Ah? That's the name of the military's special department? Kline cleared a path and pointed toward the living room. "Perhaps we can talk a bit." At least I need to know precisely what has brought me into this passive position... he murmured to himself. Ian didn't hesitate, following Kline into the living room and taking the same seat as before. Just as he was about to speak, Caine suddenly added, "If what you'd like to say would put me in even greater peril, then please, don't say it." "No, everything is almost over," Ian said, with a steadiness that belied his age. Caine exhaled in relief and asked curiously, "Then, what exactly has happened?" Before he could finish, he suddenly saw a figure materialize on the convex windowpane opposite the living room: a black court gown, long hair with a soft golden braid, blue eyes, refined features, pale complexion—exactly the woman who had greeted him earlier in the mirror. The woman appeared to have settled into an imaginary high-backed chair, her left hand resting on her right elbow, her right hand supporting her cheek, maintaining a composed, expressionless listening posture. … Caine found himself at a loss, unsure of what to do. At that moment, Ian, having remained silent for a few seconds, spoke softly: "In fact, Zerel the detective is a spy from the Fasak Empire. He has adopted several orphaned children and trained them in the art of gathering intelligence—among them, myself." So it was—that I had been drawn into a major espionage case. Klein suddenly felt it all click into place. Ian looked steadily at the coffee table and continued: "We have the advantage of age; we often go unnoticed, allowing us to collect a wealth of valuable intelligence. Two weeks ago, I accidentally uncovered a clue relating to the Helmosvin manuscripts." "Helmosvin?" Klein found the surname familiar. Ian raised his eyes to meet his gaze and explained: "Turani von Helmosvin, the greatest scientist, mathematician, and mechanical engineer after the Great Emperor Roser, the founder of the second-generation Difference Engine." It was him! Klein suddenly remembered the relevant introduction: He was not only a great scientist, but also a mad one, who believed that humanity inherently possessed fundamental flaws and could only attain ultimate truth through machines. He had a profound love for food, which he seemed to draw energy from. During his research on the third-generation difference engine, he mysteriously disappeared, becoming one of the most sought-after figures across nations. "His manuscripts? Manuscripts specifically about the third-generation difference engine?" Klein asked cautiously. He paused and then recounted the events: "I reported the matter to Detective Zerel, who was very pleased and asked me to follow up on that lead, while he immediately informed his superior. I spent some time before finally locating the manuscript, but I was afraid of danger and didn't go straight to steal it. Instead, I returned to Detective Zerel's office, after which came the events you've already heard—his home was broken into, several of the small mechanisms were left undisturbed, he failed to respond to my calls, and members of the Zmangar party even attempted to capture me." "With your assistance, I confirmed Zerel's death and removed a false tooth from his body—yes, the one I took after we parted ways." "Zerel had told me that the inner surface of that tooth bore an emergency contact method to reach his superior, a method he himself didn't know about, which only became apparent in the event of an unexpected occurrence." "Klein nodded gently." So you sent a telegram?" Ian, rarely startled, looked momentarily surprised. "Did the MI9 people tell you that?" "No," Klein casually invented a reason. "I happened to see you on Whitehall Street." "Hmm," Ian sighed, nodding with a sense of disappointment. "I contacted my superior at the Beckland office of Detective Zerel through telegram, and arranged a meeting time, place, and method using cipher code. But soon after, I was discovered—no, more precisely, by Intis' intelligence personnel, as MI9 informed me." "Fortunately, the MI9 people arrived in time, and a battle broke out between the two sides. I managed to escape during the chaos." "However, when I met with the superior of Detective Zerel this afternoon, I was once again ambushed by Intesis intelligence agents and captured. I'm quite afraid of dying—I told them everything I knew. Yet they failed to honor their promise and still decided to kill me. It wasn't until then that the MI9 finally arrived." At this moment, you truly sound like a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy. Just as Caine was reflecting on this, a question suddenly arose from Ian's words: Previously, when Ian had found important items still remaining on Zerel's body—items that he had successfully retrieved—he had initially assumed the other extraordinary being was not particularly skilled, with mediocre abilities, and that the 'divination' effect was insufficient, failing to yield much useful information, thus resulting in some errors. But now, upon confirming that one of the ambassador's staff members was a mid-tier 'diviner,' this situation became quite puzzling. Under such a strong 'divination' ability, the artificial tooth could not have gone unnoticed. Yet the body was left in such a remote and hard-to-find location—that didn't seem like a deliberate trap. Combined with Ian's earlier description, the answer became clear. Caine nodded. "Have you considered the possibility that someone within泽瑞尔's superior's circle had betrayed him, someone who had switched allegiance to the Intesis intelligence agency?" "That's precisely why泽瑞尔 was exposed and died after securing the manuscript clues—and why you were ambushed." Precisely because the Intesis ambassador had access to information about泽瑞尔's superior, he had overlooked the emergency contact details engraved on the inside of the denture!泽瑞尔's regular reports to his superior had directly led to his downfall! Ian was momentarily stunned, and only after a moment of regret did he clench his fists, striving to remain composed and said, "I never thought of that—you truly are an outstanding detective." He exhaled softly and went on, "I also informed MI9 about the whereabouts of the manuscript, and mentioned all the other details. To my surprise, they casually brought up your circumstances. Indeed, they didn't suspect me of lying, nor did they send anyone to monitor me—they all rushed off to seize the manuscript. But under such pressure, no one could have maintained the truth." At this point, Ian stood up and bowed deeply, "Please allow me to offer my apologies once again." "I'm sorry to have drawn you into this matter. In truth, you didn't need to conceal anything for me." Understanding the full context, Caine smiled and said, "No, it's mainly my own mistake that has brought me to this situation." He had just been listening, reviewing the entire situation based on Ian’s description and his own reflections over the past few days, and confirmed that he had made two mistakes: “First, he realized Ian’s situation was more complex than he initially thought—yet still accepted the commission. That was entirely reasonable. At the time, he had only assumed it would involve the mafia, perhaps a few exceptional beings operating quietly in the shadows, not wanting to be exposed. The divination failed due to insufficient information—something that fell within his own capacity to manage. This was a normal, expected outcome, and likely even an opportunity to connect with the exceptional beings in Beckettland.” “Second, upon discovering Zerel’s body and confirming the depth of the situation, considering his own sensitive position, he had promptly and decisively stepped back, allowing Ian to handle the aftermath. That was an even more prudent decision.” "One of my mistakes was that, when Merso came to visit, I didn't decisively back down and bring up the matter involving Ian. At the time, I simply assumed the other party was a crime syndicate—perhaps even some extraordinary figures behind it. Who could have guessed that someone of the stature of the Ambassador of Intis would be involved? Even more surprising was Merso's boldness: after failing to secure the commission, instead of making threats or following formal procedures, he simply showed up in person to confront me—effectively eliminating my chance to reconsider. My position thus deteriorated significantly." "So this isn't a particularly subjective or serious error." "The real mistake that left me so passive was actually a small one made at the very beginning: when I rented the apartment under Sherlock Moriaty's name and accepted the commission, I failed to feign any disguise!" "This means that once my extraordinary status is revealed to the Ambassador, I'll be too afraid to flee—even if I appear anxious or disoriented, which would naturally lead the Military Intelligence Nine and the police to assume that my flight is entirely reasonable. I'll still hesitate, fearing that the Ambassador will find someone to hold accountable and casually mention it to the official channels. Based on my experience as a night watch duty officer, most 'enforcement personnel' harbor hostility toward uncooperative extraordinary individuals, and they certainly won't overlook me simply because of my lower sequence. They will certainly initiate an investigation. At that point, my appearance will serve as clear, undeniable evidence that I have been pursued by high-ranking, high-sequence members of the Divine Church for being involved in a Level-0 sealing artifact and having returned from death. Such an outcome cannot rely on the other party suddenly forgetting or not prioritizing it—proactive contingency planning is essential. If we wait until the Ambassador takes action, it will already be too late. Whether it's a targeted assassination, hiring bodyguards, or purchasing supplies, sufficient time will be required." "Only when the ambassador dies—when his assistant either dies with him or shifts focus to investigate the cause of his death—can I eliminate this threat. The assistant has no official status and cannot interface directly with the official channels. For a mere Sequence 9, at most Sequence 8, and someone who has vanished without a trace, it's certainly unlikely that he would go to the trouble of formally reporting it." "Of course, the best outcome would be for the ambassador to die, in which case the threat would be completely removed." "Compared to securing Mr. Azk's assistance to re-enter the '0–08' spotlight and being pursued by stronger, higher-ranked individuals, assassinating the Ambassador is actually the simplest option. If this fails, one can only endure one of these two outcomes." "Oh, everything ultimately stems from a small oversight at the beginning. I simply assumed that, arriving in a metropolis of over five hundred thousand people where few would recognize me, and having avoided the Night Watchers, I wouldn't need to constantly disguise myself—this very consistency might actually make my presence seem suspicious. Yet, for such a minor mistake, I now have to pay a cost of over ten thousand pounds, and it's not guaranteed to resolve the issue." "Truly, a clown—making one small error, triggering a chain reaction, then desperately struggling, striving to maintain balance, all in an effort to please the audience." "This is simply the cost of inexperience. Combined across my two lifetimes, this is the first time I've ever been a fugitive." "Once this matter is fully settled, revealing my extraordinary identity will no longer be dangerous. They'll simply assume I acquired the potion during my recent search for bodyguards, rather than questioning my background. Of course, I'll have to get used to wearing glasses, growing a beard, and gradually helping people adapt to my new appearance—so that when they eventually ask about me, they can only recall this updated image." With this realization,克莱恩 smiled more openly, a smile that made伊恩 feel slightly uneasy. "I should go now. I need to vanish for a while; otherwise, I might end up in prison."伊恩 put on his hat and departed.克莱恩 didn't stop him, watching him fade into the crimson moonlight, while the lady at the protruding window had already disappeared without a trace.