In the hazy, dim crimson moonlight, Caine掀开了被子，坐了起来. For a seer, valuing dreams is the most fundamental quality, and that dream just now absolutely cannot be explained as a mere nightmare. Dressed in comfortable clothing, he approached the full-length mirror and said softly, "I dreamed of the blood-stained door within that room." The figure of the guard girl slowly emerged in the mirror, expression neutral, responding, "The influence of the malevolent spirits." "It will gradually fade until it disappears." Ah, so it is. Caine nodded slightly, returned to the bed, picked up his gold-encased pocket watch, and opened it to check the time. Seeing that it was still early, he lay back down to sleep again—this time, his dreams were fragmented, and he no longer experienced the earlier encounter. On the following Sunday morning, Caine woke refreshed and prepared himself a soft-boiled egg, served with creamed bread. In the Kingdom of Roon, or indeed across the northern lands, it is a matter of course for gentlemen to read the newspaper at breakfast—something that Caine himself follows. He spreads out his subscriptions: *The Tassok Gazette*, *The Beckland Post*, and *The Beckland Morning*. "But this is highly advantageous for Bensen. He's prepared two months ahead of others, and while he may not match the graduates who are considered elite, he will certainly outperform the majority of the competition. Moreover, the positions those elites are seeking won't overlap with his." "He should have no issues..." Klein had intended to tap his chest four times, drawing a red moon to invoke the goddess's protection, but remembering that the bodyguard was nearby, he suppressed the impulse. After all, his declared faith was in the Gods of Steam and Machinery. Having finished his last bite of bread, he turned back to the newspaper: "Both houses have passed the resolution to establish the 'Royal Commission on Atmospheric Pollution,' authorizing the government to create this body. The coming month will be critical as various parties vie for committee positions." "...The position of Chief Prosecutor for the Alkali Industry has been approved, targeting factories involved in the production of acids and alkalis, with the aim of minimizing their pollution impact." "...There's no advertisement in the fifth edition about Ernst & Co. acquiring goods, and I don't need to make arrangements for the gathering of the extraordinary people tomorrow night..."... Tingen, 2 Waterlily Street. Bansen read the news repeatedly from the newspaper, completely forgetting the bread in his plate. "Has the Unified Examination Act passed?" Melissa, wearing a black dress, glanced at her unusually attentive brother. The newspapers over the past few days had been gradually building up anticipation for this legislative passage. Bansen finally set down the newspaper, combed his black hair, and slowly exhaled, "Yes." At that moment, both of them fell into silence, the house grew quiet—so quiet that even the sound of cutlery clinking against the plates faded away. The unspoken atmosphere was broken by Bella, the housemaid coming from the kitchen, who smiled and said, "This was predictable. In fact, what's more significant is an earlier news item." "Hmm?" Melissa's expression remained calm and composed. Bansen took a bite of bread and smiled. "The news that the Beckland Technical College is being upgraded to a university." "It will officially begin enrolling students next year, without requiring exams in literature or classical studies, focusing instead on technical subjects—perfect for graduates and current students from technical schools across the region." "Melissa, I think you should give it a try." "But..." Melissa instinctively objected. Banser interrupted her, smiling warmly. "The tuition will be half the cost of universities like Tingen, Perth, Hoy, and Beckland—equal to that of the Conston Polytechnic in the Intersea Region—and there are more scholarship opportunities available. Melissa, don't you love mechanics, steam technology, and related fields? This is your best chance to engage with more advanced and in-depth knowledge." "Why don't you give it a try?" Don't worry about wasting money. Yes, that sum could allow us to maintain our current lifestyle without working at all. But we're still young—we can't simply define our lives that way. Look, compared to a few months ago, my grammar has improved considerably. "Hmm... perhaps a change of environment would be better." "I know you're reluctant to leave Tübingen, reluctant to leave here. Yes, we'll eventually return—but not when we're young." Melissa turned her head to gaze at the various parts scattered on the coffee table, then hesitated, saying, "What about Bella then?" After Klein's passing, she had originally intended not to hire a part-time housekeeper. But thinking about Bella's potential hardship after losing her job, she had changed her mind. After all, an extra weekly expense of five sou, for a family like the Moretti, whose annual pension income is at least three hundred pounds, is hardly significant. On this, Bensen shook his head and smiled. "There's still several months ahead. We can have Bella start looking for a new job in the meantime. Until then, we'll continue paying her, provide her with a bedroom, and her cooking has improved significantly—she's certainly qualified to apply for a position as a home chef. Unfortunately... well, of course, all this hinges on your passing the entrance examination at Beckland Technical University." He had originally intended to mention how briefly Bella had studied cooking, but seeing Melissa's subdued expression, he changed the subject on the spot. Before Melissa could speak further, Bensen smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm planning to resign tomorrow and focus entirely on preparing for the exam. It seems most of the positions are based in Beckland—this is exactly where I'd like to go. I hope we can both make the move there." Melissa remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. Meanwhile, she placed her knife and fork, picked up her napkin, and wiped her mouth. "I'll go to the restroom." "Alright." Benson watched his sister rise from the table, and the smile that had been plastered on his face vanished quickly. He pulled out the silver pocket watch with the vine pattern, studied it carefully, and sighed softly. ... Throughout the entire Sunday morning, Caine busied himself among several public libraries in the Joewood district, seeking information about the Viscount Pound. However, the Viscount's family had no dedicated biography, and no historian had shown particular interest in them. Their records were scattered across various historical sources, and without the ability to use a search function, Caine, faced with the vast sea of books and scholarly volumes, felt his head pounding in waves. After six hours of poring over numerous materials, he still hadn't gathered any useful information. "We must either hire someone with broad research on noble history, or bribe someone in the police department to obtain Lord Pound's current residence—being a noble, the police certainly have records of him; there aren't many nobles, after all." Returning home, Cline stood before the bathroom mirror, speaking to the air. The mirror quickly outlined the form-fitting Gothic court gown and black soft hat of the bodyguard lady. She gave a barely perceptible nod, as if agreeing with Cline's thoughts. Then, her ethereal voice came forth: "The engagement is concluded." I know—it's been three full days," Cline mused. "If I can gain any leads from the Pound family, would you like to know?" The bodyguard lady didn't reply, but gently nodded. "Ah... through Mariqui?" Cline asked. After another nod, the bodyguard lady bent slightly, lifted her gown, and bowed. Her figure vanished swiftly, and nothing in the mirror seemed any different. Cain surveyed the room, not relaxing, and methodically prepared dinner, filling his stomach. Only when it grew deep into night, upon returning to his bedroom and drawing the curtains, did he reach for the iron cigarette box and touch the "Eye of All Black" left behind by Rosag. Immediately, phantom roars surged through his mind, as if tearing at his spirit and scattering his thoughts. Cain struggled against the agony that felt as though his mind were about to burst, and once again saw black threads spreading from various parts of his body. They were dense, ethereal, and terrifying, stretching out endlessly into the distance. Cain looked around, finding no other black threads, and finally confirmed that the bodyguard had departed. He quickly released his hand, escaping the negative influence, and after pausing for several tens of seconds, regained full composure. "Phew, finally we can go to the Haze Above and verify that inspiration we've been carrying since then..." Klein murmured silently, swiftly setting up the ritual, summoning himself and responding to himself. Then, in his ethereal form, he carried the Azk copper whistle, lifted the iron cigarette box, and returned to the Haze Above. Sitting at the head of the ancient long table, Klein rubbed his fingers to produce a spiritual flame, which he used to burn the stained documents and other items at the corner that were no longer needed. After completing all this, he opened the iron cigarette box, and as expected, found the "Eye of Pure Black" now calm, no longer constantly revealing its frenzy—though the influence and pollution still settled within, merely dormant, as if in winter hibernation. "Indeed, we can't separate it directly..." Klein whispered, and then manifested a man wearing a hooded robe at the chair opposite the ancient long table. Just as when he had previously attempted to create a duplicate, this man appeared stiff and lifeless, clearly not a true human, and thus unable to deceive the members of the Tarot Circle. Yet, Klein now had an inspiration. He reached out and grasped the "Eye of Pure Blackness," and instantly, a quiet stillness settled in his ears, silencing the terrifying howls. Leveraging the gathering nature of this extraordinary ability, he observed that black filaments were also drifting outward from the lines on the artificial figure across from him. Then, with careful precision, Klein allowed his spirit to spread through the "Eye of Pure Blackness," gently touching several of these ethereal threads. Suddenly, he felt as though he were holding them firmly. At that moment, he thought of it, and the artificial figure immediately raised its hand. Indeed! He could now harness the abilities of the "Master of Secret Duplicates" to create a false member of the Tarot Circle! Yet the cost was high—I couldn’t sustain a second one… The symbolic motif on the back of the chair remained unchanged, but the “Justice” lady and the others couldn’t see it. Klein delighted in repeatedly practicing, even mastering the technique of manipulating the other’s throat and mouth to make them speak. When his spiritual energy nearly waned, he smiled and addressed the figure across from him: “Welcome, new member. Which Tarot card would you like to draw?” After speaking, he closed his mouth, and the figure across from him reached up to stroke his chin, then cleared his throat and spoke in a hoarse voice: “World!” “I choose the ‘World’ card.”