In the luxurious manor of the Count Holle, Queens Borough. Audrey, propping her white napkin on her lap, watched the serving maid carefully slice the bacon, arrange a double-cooked, perfectly seared egg, spread jam on soft bread, and season the roasted mushrooms with sauce. In truly noble households, maids are categorized into distinct roles—besides personal attendants, there are bedroom maids, study maids, living room maids, guest room maids, dress maids, shoe maids, jewelry maids, dining maids, laundry maids, and kitchen maids—each assigned to a specific duty, ensuring one task per maid. Although this system often entails significant labor overhead, nobility values dignity above all, and only when burdened by mounting debts would they consider relaxing such standards. Audrey sipped her rich, brown tea, letting the subtle malt and rose notes linger in her mouth. At that moment, she heard her father, the Lord Holle, a senior member of the Royal Upper House and a leading banker, murmuring to himself, "The Aurora Society truly must be mad." "The Aurora Society? Audrey blinked, curious and asked, "What have they done?" "Oh, dear, you won't believe this— they've actually assassinated Beckland, the ambassador of Indis. It's done them absolutely no good," Count Holbrooke shook his head, flipping through the newspaper. His elder brother, the Count's eldest son, Hiberth Holbrooke, swallowed a bite of roasted mushrooms and offered his own opinion: "Perhaps they intend to undermine the relationship between the kingdom and Indis, allowing the war to spread from the colonies all the way across to the northern continent." The noble youth possessed a handsome face and bright golden hair, exuding a classical sculpture-like grace from any angle he was viewed. "No. If that were the case, they would have left far more obvious evidence. Moreover, the kingdom has recently introduced so many new policies that are now entering implementation, requiring a period of stability. We will not rashly initiate war. Last night's events were reported this morning, with detailed accounts and specific information about the perpetrator—this clearly reflects the King's and the ministers' intentions." The Earl pointed to his son. Audrey listened intently as her father and brother discussed the matter,怔怔 for a long time before finally coming to her senses: Beckett had been assassinated? Mr. A had succeeded? He was indeed a member of the Aurora Circle? He had deliberately exposed himself—intentionally making it appear as though the Aurora Circle had orchestrated the event—to prove that the matter had been accomplished by him, not merely to deceive the final payment? How swift and efficient this was! She had only paid the first installment yesterday afternoon, and now, this morning, she already knew the outcome—what a splendid result! Amid her astonishment, a profound joy surged, yet beneath that joy, an instinctive sense of apprehension remained. It's truly a source of delight that the task entrusted to the gentleman known as the "Dullard" has been so effortlessly and simply accomplished. Yet, the strength and determination displayed by Mr. A and his powerful backing—the Lumière Circle—have left Audrey unconsciously feeling apprehensive. Well, thank goodness I've already coordinated with Glétrin yesterday and secured a loan agreement; as a viscount, he must have quietly arranged it without drawing attention. I'll settle the final installment to Mr. A in the coming days. Through Houx and Forth, I absolutely must not step in personally—nor can I attend any of Mr. A's gatherings for the next few months. Fortunately, I still have other circles to draw from. Audrey calmly bit into a soft slice of bread spread with jam. As the breakfast drew to a close, a small cake with cream, cherries, and strawberries was placed before her. And suddenly, as she regained her composure, she felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. The Sir of the Pendulum still wishes to participate in this task, though he may only now have completed his initial assignment... The matter is now concluded... He was at sea, after all~ Audrey enjoyed her dessert, her expression bright and smiling. Forsyth remained silent for a few seconds, then sighed deeply. "Whether or not it was Mr. A who did it, we'll have to hand over the remaining 8,000 pounds to him. At this point, no one can prove otherwise. If we want to stay in this circle, we can't simply walk away!" "After all, it's not our money—we still have a fee of 500 pounds!" As he spoke, Hugh grew more cheerful. "The problem is, I keep feeling that going back to Mr. A might be risky," Forsyth mused, "So I'll go myself when the final payment is due. That will be better for both of us." "But..." Hugh felt instinctively uneasy. "You'll interfere with my escape." Forsyth waved dismissively at the bracelet on his wrist. "Well," Hugh ran a hand through his rough, golden hair, and sighed in resignation. Just as Hu and Forse were anxiously awaiting news, a new message from Mr. A arrived through a confidential channel—informing them that they need not seek him out at all; they simply needed to deposit the remaining balance into several anonymous accounts at different banks. Ah… Both Hu and Forse exhaled in relief. In a spacious underground chamber, vast and echoing like a temple, Mr. A wore a long black robe with a hood and sat knee-deep in the dim light, speaking softly and reverently. Before him stood a statue nearly three meters tall: a figure suspended upside down, his legs bound by chains extending upward. This figure—the inverted one—had the vertical, single eye characteristic of a giant, his arms stretched horizontally, forming a cross. At that moment, a man in a black robe entered, humble and respectful, and reported, “Mr. A, I have delivered the message.” “Excellent,” Mr. A replied, without turning his head. The man dressed in black hesitated and asked, "Why shouldn't we investigate who commissioned this task?" Mr. A, his head bowed, spoke in a calm, detached tone: "We don't need to." "You must remember, this is a critical period." "We intend to create chaos across the continent. We wish to draw as much attention as possible, so that we may welcome the Master's return!" "Hah! Hah! Hah..." Mr. A suddenly laughed, then began to cough violently, collapsing to the ground. "Ah! Ah!" He coughed up clumps of blood-colored fragments, which, upon landing, continued to writhe as if alive. The man in black immediately lowered his head, as though he had seen nothing. After a long while, Mr. A finally regained his composure. He crawled forward, pressing his mouth to the ground, and gently licked each of the blood-colored fragments back into his mouth. ... 126 New Year Road, Hillsdon District. Klein, feeling at ease this time, decided not to follow Doraguel, but instead chose his mistress, Erika Taylor, as his target—after all, infidelity requires two people. The striking blonde, beautifully made up, had already arrived early by hired carriage at the Crag Club, where Klein followed, carrying a leather suitcase containing his portable camera and various disguises. "Do you still have any rooms available?" he asked the elegant maid who was currently on duty, wearing the Club's white frost insignia on her chest. The maid, dressed in a black-and-white dress, smiled politely. "Yes, simply follow this steward up to the upper floor." Klein nodded gently and, under the guidance of the red-vested steward, ascended the stairs step by step, just in time to see Erika Taylor enter a lounge situated along the street. "Would you like to watch the pedestrians on the street, or the tennis courts behind?" the red-vested steward asked warmly. "The one along the street," Klein replied casually. Under the arrangement of the red-jacketed waiter, his room was separated from Erica Taylor's by two rooms, offering the same view of the street outside the club entrance. How should he take the photos next? Should he sneak in, hide inside the room, or climb through the window and onto the external pipes? Neither option could conceal the dramatic flash, but the latter could be disguised as a passerby taking a spontaneous shot—thus avoiding suspicion and potential expulsion. Still, both approaches would likely be noticed by Dolora and Erica. Could he use a spell to make them fall asleep? No way—this would make the photos lack sufficient persuasiveness. It has to be images from the process itself… Only one chance, and it must be captured perfectly… This isn’t really my forte. I’m not an art master, after all… Neil would certainly attempt to construct a new ritual magic, specifically designed to mask the camera’s flash—though, of course, the goddess might not respond to it. While contemplating his next move, Kline noticed the image of the bodyguard lady appearing on a silver mirror within the room. She remained in her black Gothic court gown, wearing a matching small soft hat, her hair a soft golden hue, her face pale, her features refined. "Do you have any way to conceal the camera’s flash?" Kline asked casually. Before he finished speaking, ripples spread across the silver mirror’s surface, and a slightly translucent hand suddenly extended. The bodyguard lady emerged ghost-like from within the mirror, walked toward Kline, and nodded gently. "Yes, I can." She bent down, leaning forward, gradually blending into the camera's lens, one step at a time! Klein's mouth hung slightly open, stunned by the eerie scene, and only after a while did he regain his composure. He reached for his portable camera and took a test shot in his private sitting room. The results exceeded his expectations—the flash was confined to the lens area, and the image quality was excellent. Perhaps it was now truly a "mysterious camera," he mused internally, holding the camera and making his way to the window, patiently waiting. Not long after, he saw Dolag Gail arrive by carriage. On the other side, Erika Taylor also spotted her lover and hurried out of the sitting room to meet him at the first floor. Klein seized the opportunity, using the tarot cards to gain access to the room, then carefully slipped into the cabinet where extra bed linens and blankets were stored. The surrounding darkness reminded him of last night—the strange and terrifying "Master of Secret Figures," Rosagho. Last night was fraught with danger, yet today he shows up to catch him in the act—what a奇妙 life this is! While making this observation, Caine heard the sound of the door opening.