After arriving at the southern bank of the Tassok River by steam subway, Crane hired a hired carriage to go to the Aston Cemetery in the outskirts of the southern district, which is managed by the Church of the Gods of Steam and Mechanics. In the dim evening light, the trees surrounding the cemetery stood out like creatures with outstretched limbs, blocking out the light as if they were monsters lurking in the night. After receiving the 4 sols Crane paid, the driver glanced at the cemetery and murmured, "Shall I wait for you here?" "No, I don't need to wait. I'm coming to visit a friend." Crane offered a casual excuse, only to notice the driver's expression suddenly shift. This was the cemetery... visiting a friend... it was already dark... the driver could hear the steady thump of his own heartbeat. Only then did Crane realize what had happened, and smiled, adding, "He's the cemetery's caretaker." The driver exhaled in relief, yet dared not linger, quickly urging the horses to move and hastening away. Klein walked around the cemetery for nearly half a circle until the night truly set in. After dark, the emissions of dust diminished considerably, and the brisk wind blew the fog in the sky thinner—though the stars remained out of sight, the crimson moon emerged faintly, casting a soft, gauzy glow over the ground. Klein pressed four times in a clockwise motion on his chest, drawing the image of the crimson moon, then donned his gloves, pressing down and pushing upward to翻 over the iron fence and enter the cemetery. He scanned the surroundings with heightened alertness, settled into a quiet corner, and drew forth the Azk copper whistle, holding it gently in his palm. Nearby, there stood a tombstone whose photograph had grown soiled and whose inscription appeared blurred under the moonlight. After studying it for several seconds, Klein finally made out what was written: "Dear passerby, please give me a hand—thank you!" A most gentlemanly remark... quite fitting for you! Klein stopped and leaned against the trees shielding the tomb from sunlight and rain, patiently waiting through the cold, still night. He lifted the Azk copper whistle, caught it steadily, lifted it again, caught it once more—repeating this routine until twenty minutes had passed. No signs of corpse transformation... Klein clicked his watch shut, surveyed the surroundings, and confirmed the result. "I'll come back here in a couple of days to check for any additional changes. If there are none, it means the Azk gentleman's copper whistle has no effect on corpses that have received the priest's funeral rites." Klein murmured this silently, then tucked the ancient, delicate whistle back into his coat pocket. In the Kingdom of Roon, burial is generally divided into three categories. The first involves both a coffin and a preserved body, suitable for the more affluent middle and upper classes. The second involves no body at all—individuals are cremated and their ashes placed in an urn for burial. This choice is made by lower-middle-class professionals and technical workers who can afford cremation costs but find coffins excessive. However, religious and governmental factors sometimes influence this pattern: for instance, followers of the Eternal Sun are predominantly cremated, and recipients of government aid among the poor are all cremated, with only minimal fees charged. The third category is reserved for the poor—those who cannot afford coffins and are unwilling to undergo cremation, so they are simply wrapped in whatever materials are available and buried as such. Earlier, Klein had already determined from the style of the tombstones and burial chambers that his experimental subject belonged to the first category—those with both a coffin and a preserved body. If the Azk copper whistle truly induces bodily transformation in the subject, even if the body has already decomposed into white bones, it would not remain entirely inert. Even if the coffin lid, covered with thick soil and stone slabs, cannot be lifted, at least some dull Taking a step forward toward the fence, Caine suddenly recalled an oversight in the earlier experiment: "Hmm, we need to categorize—this is a corpse that has been buried for a long time, and we also need to find one that was just buried today." "Only then can we make the most accurate judgment." Afterwards, Caine and the cemetery attendant played hide-and-seek and eventually located a grave that had been recently consecrated during the day. This time, he waited for half an hour, yet still observed no unusual phenomena. "Phew—basically, we can conclude that Mr. Azk's copper whistle has no effect on corpses that have undergone the anointing ritual. That's rather weak, actually. No—wait, that's not right. The whistle wasn't designed to cause corpse transformation in the first place. Its function is to summon messengers. Any effect on the corpse is a negative side effect!" Caine tightened the double-breasted formal suit and walked toward the iron fence. He intended to return home and change into a different outfit for the second experiment. The second experiment would focus on corpses that had not undergone the anointing ritual and had only recently passed away. Such goals often reside in hospital morgues! Clearing the fence, Kline stepped steadily southward through the quiet, profound night, the surrounding area still and serene, only the evergreen trees dusted with powder gently swaying. It brought him back to the night he had come back to life—when he too had walked from the cemetery toward the city. Ah… Kline sighed, suddenly starting to run, as if trying to甩 off that lingering melancholy. Half an hour and thirty minutes later, he hired a rented carriage in the southern district, bound for the nearest steam subway station. The steam subway wouldn’t cease operations until nearly an hour later, which would save him quite a bit of money. ………… At dawn, Kline changed into a gray-blue worker’s uniform, wearing a baseball cap, and made a detour to Saint Aethelstine Hospital in the Beckland Bridge area. This was a charitable hospital belonging to the Church of the Gods of Steam and Mechanism. Many poor patients died here due to illness, and since their families had no place to store the bodies, the corpses were left in the hospital morgue, awaiting either government cremation or donation to the medical school. This situation was especially common in summer, while in the cooler fall and winter months it became less frequent. However, in an era without air conditioning or refrigeration, the hospital morgue did not keep bodies for long—those willing to donate were promptly treated for preservation, and those scheduled for burial were cleared out the following day. This was a summer rule; in fall and winter, the process was much more relaxed, so during these months, the morgue still hosted several bodies each night. The morgue of Saint Aistin Hospital was located on the first underground level, and even in summer it remained quite cool, becoming especially cold and damp in fall and winter. Using the agility and balance learned from the night shift team, and drawing on the clown's skill, Kline skillfully slipped through, avoiding the on-duty doctors and nurses, and reached the first underground level. Before he even reached the mortuary, he felt a cold, eerie atmosphere surrounding him. He quickly glanced into the gatekeeper's room, then pulled out a wire, skillfully unlocking the mortuary door. That's one of the techniques of stealth and tracking! With his right hand, gloved in black, he pushed the large mortuary door open slowly and silently, at the same time extending his spiritual presence to envelop the Azk copper whistle, checking whether this method could eliminate any negative effects. The temperature inside the mortuary seemed even colder than that of the corridor. Most of the deceased were placed in body bags within various iron cabinets around the room, while only a few lay on long tables in the central open space, as if awaiting inspection. As a Sequence 8 "Clown," Klein had grown accustomed to such scenes, though he still felt a subtle discomfort, instinctively. He remained cautious, carefully closing the door and circling the long tables repeatedly. After several minutes, Klein exhaled a stream of cold breath, confirming that none of the bodies had shown any signs of change. It was about time... He pulled out his gold-case pocket watch, opened it, and glanced at the time. After settling in, Caine withdrew his spiritual essence and no longer used it to envelop the Azkian copper whistle. For some reason—perhaps psychological—he suddenly felt the surroundings grow more hushed. As a seer, he trusted his intuition deeply. He stopped pacing and stepped back toward the entrance. Time passed, and Caine estimated it had been about two minutes. Then, suddenly, a corpse on the long table sat up! Thump! Thump! Thump! Dense rhythmic sounds followed, emanating from the iron cabinets around, as though something were about to hatch! Thump! Thump! Thump! Listening to these sounds, watching the corpses rise one by one, Caine suddenly spoke in a low tone: "Red!" Immediately, he poured his spiritual essence into the "Hymn of Mourning" and cast it forth. A serene, ice-blue flame burned steadily, and a calm, soothing black spread out, causing the bodies to lie down once more, the rhythmic tapping from within the iron cabinets ceasing abruptly. Klein, who had witnessed similar scenes before, did not relax. He cast a second "funeral incantation," and, for added safety, used a third one as well, exhausting all the reserves on his person. "Indeed... it's clearly affecting only those bodies that haven't undergone a funeral rite—those that have just passed, including the undead—so long as spiritual energy is applied, this effect can be neutralized," Klein thought with a smile. Seeing no further unusual reactions from the bodies, he prepared to open the door and leave. At that moment, however, he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from outside, and noticed a faint glow seeping in. The elderly watchman, drawn by the tapping sounds inside the mortuary, carried his lantern and came closer! Klein surveyed the room, placed his hand on the door, and skillfully leapt and climbed, settling himself in the space between the door and the ceiling. His fingers gripping the ridges and gaps, he maintained an excellent balance. Clink! The gatekeeper turned the key and opened the door, stepping into the mortuary. He took a few steps forward, raised his lantern, and examined the iron cabinets and long tables, studying each corpse in turn. Behind him, Caine light-footed leapt down, landing silently. Seizing the opportunity, Caine swiftly escaped the mortuary, first seeking shelter in the gatekeeper's small room for several seconds before carefully retracing his steps up to the upper level. The gatekeeper inspected everything thoroughly and found nothing out of the ordinary. He murmured a bit nervously about the corpses and hurried off, locking the door and leaving without further delay. Back in the guard room, he pulled on a thin blanket and took several minutes to calm his rapid heartbeat, then quietly chuckled to himself: "Those old fellows always tell me about the odd occurrences in the mortuary—trying to scare me. That strange sound just now should have counted too. But really, nothing much happened. The corpses didn’t come back to life, did they?" "Stuff like zombies and vengeful spirits? Pah!" At the same time, Caine was strolling comfortably along the quiet, serene streets, delighted to have resolved a long-standing concern. He glanced at the elegant gas lamps lining both sides of the street, eagerly anticipating the upcoming gathering of the extraordinary beings. As long as he could secure a weapon with a special effect, he would gain one of the primary materials needed to become a Magician! Well, although he didn't have much cash at the moment, he did possess several valuable assets to trade—such as the recipe for the "Mind-Reader" potion, the recipes for the "Song-Singer" and the "Light-Prayer" specialist—and his progress on the "Clown" potion, which had been accelerated significantly due to a series of events and his deepened mastery of performance, was now nearing completion. As he walked through the streets of Beckland under the night sky, Caine allowed his thoughts to drift freely.