A detective? Indeed, a colleague... But the fact that he's able to assist the police with such a serious case indicates he's a truly renowned detective—at least well-known within the Westvillas field. Hmm, a series of murders tied to demon worship—shouldn't that have been handed over to the Night Watch, the Sentencers, or the Mechanic Heart? The police should have been sufficient with just some assistants. Why then would they need to hire a private detective? Well, the consecutive eleven murders must have made quite a stir. The Westvillas field is undoubtedly under immense pressure and unwilling to simply endure the wait. Klein instantly went through a series of thoughts, yet maintained a smile on his face. "Very well," he said. He boarded the carriage hired by Esingh-Stein, noticing a well-dressed, brown-haired young man seated inside. "This is my assistant," Esingh introduced, with a lean, sharp-featured face. "Please sit." He did not close the carriage door nor ask the driver to move the horses, indicating that he harbored no ill will. Carefully settling into his seat with a touch of unease, Caine asked, "Mr. Stanton, what would you like to discuss with me?" Aesing reached for a dark pipe and said, "I'd like to know what you've learned about Mrs. Lopez—anything you've heard or discovered?" "This... I'm also a detective, and you should know that confidentiality is a standard in our profession." Caine responded with deliberate hesitation. "I'm speaking on behalf of the Westvillas estate, and that has nothing to do with confidentiality," Aesing said, running his thumb along the pipe. "One pound, how about two?" Having learned from the lessons of the Mersch case and realizing that confidentiality was no longer necessary, Caine immediately replied, "Agreed." "Excellent," Aesing smiled, withdrawing two one-pound notes from his coat pocket. Klein gestured as if recalling, speaking with calm assurance. "We only heard one sentence. Mrs. Lopez had sent a subordinate to tell Capin that he should stop sending people over lately." "Capin?" Aethelgir nodded slightly, seeming to come to a realization. "Ah, now I understand." "Do you know Capin?" Klein couldn't conceal his astonishment. Aethelgir handed over the cash, offering a quiet smile. "He's a wealthy figure in the Joewood district, one who has long been the subject of controversy. In Beckett, it's not uncommon for young, naive girls to vanish from quiet, unremarkable streets—only to be discovered years later, sometimes in various legitimate or illicit brothels. A great deal of rumor has pointed squarely at Capin, accusing him of being a bloodstained, disheveled mastermind of crimes. Yet, without sufficient evidence, he remains free, and has even cultivated strong connections with several prominent figures." "If that's true, he deserves to die a thousand times over... Kline nodded, sighed, "This is Ruin. This is Beckland, Mr. Stanton. I must be off now." "Thank you for your cooperation," Esing said politely, half rising to see him off. "By the way, your combat skills are quite impressive. Perhaps we'll have the opportunity to work together again. How shall I address you?" "Sherlock Moriarty," Kline replied simply, and stepped down from the carriage. Only after he had boarded the newly arrived streetcar did Esing Stanton ask his assistant to close the door and instruct the driver to head for the Hillsborough district. Glancing out the window, the middle-aged gentleman with silver hair settled his dark pipe, then drew out a bronze accessory from his coat pocket, holding it gently between his fingers, running his thumb over it in a slow, steady motion. The bronze accessory was a small, open book, with a vertical eye set at its center. "The way the Mr. Moriaty just now looked and was dressed seemed somewhat incongruous—he wore quite refined gold-framed spectacles, yet deliberately grew a beard around his mouth, appearing coarse and rustic. This didn't quite align with what one would expect in this era, when people who wear gold-framed spectacles typically place great emphasis on their image, projecting an intellectual and refined demeanor. Perhaps he is deliberately concealing something... Of course, he might simply be a gentleman with a distinct, atypical aesthetic." Esgarrouth spoke as if to himself, yet as if instructing an assistant. "For an ordinary person, it's difficult to maintain such a sustained state unless they're deeply focused on solving a complex problem—other emotional hues inevitably emerge; the only difference is how long they linger." "Hmm... either Esingston Stanton, the detective, is a truly observant and deductive talent born with exceptional gifts, or perhaps he is, in fact, extraordinary?" The streetcar, carrying over forty passengers, moved steadily toward the Beckland Bridge area, and Caine gradually pulled his thoughts back, turning his gaze outward to admire the various buildings ranging from two to three stories across the street. Occasionally, he spotted brown houses rising five or six stories high, signaling Beckland's latest trends and the kingdom's most advanced architectural techniques. After transferring once, Caine stepped off the streetcar at Iron Gate Street, alighting opposite the Courageous Tavern. Since it wasn't yet the busiest time at the bar, as soon as he stepped in, he spotted Kaspar seated at the bar, sipping his drink. The elderly man with a flushed nose had ordered a robust brandy, savoring the malty aroma and the warming, throat-tingling intensity, his eyes closing contentedly. Kain approached, tapped the bar, and smiled, asking, "Is Marič here?" At the same time, he tucked one hand into his pocket, holding the Auzk copper whistle, shielding it from any negative influence. But as he spoke, he suddenly felt a gaze sweeping over him, deliberate and assessing. When he finished his question, that gaze shifted, now directed toward Kaspar. The older man, whose face bore a prominent scar, blinked and saw it was Kain, then said with some irritation, "He's not here—nor yesterday." Not here... Kain immediately exhaled, no longer needing to shield the Auzk copper whistle. When I mentioned Marič earlier, someone was looking at me... Their gaze shifted again once I made clear that I was inquiring about Marič's whereabouts... Clearly, someone was searching for Marič. Klein suppressed the urge to turn and glance back, instead analyzing the anomaly in his mind. Combined with his original suspicion, he now felt that the issue had come into focus. I was quite puzzled last week—why should a guard lady of Sequence 5 take on a three-day protection assignment for just 1,000 pounds? It wasn’t that the price was low. In fact, someone of that level was already considered strong. Within the Church of the Goddess, such a person could serve as a night watch steward or even a parish bishop. If they also gained the favor of a "Sacred Object," they might even compete for the positions of archbishop or senior steward. In various secret organizations and intelligence agencies, a Sequence 5 designation typically meant a regional leader or one of the top two or three figures in the area. Even among unorganized, naturally gifted extraordinary individuals, someone of that caliber could establish their own small organization. No matter which angle you looked at, the guard lady should have been able to enjoy the loyalty and dedication of her subordinates—there was no need for her to personally take on assignments. At the time, I thought the most likely possibility was that they’d secured a Sequence 6, someone capable of holding their own against the stronger forces sent by Beckland, offering me a temporary window of opportunity as a security liaison. Who knew—turns out, the guard lady was far stronger than I Hearing this clearly at odds with the other man's usual style, Kaspar immediately became alert, and instead of glancing around, smiled warmly and said, "I'll be hosting a card game this evening—Texas hold 'em. Would you like to join me?" "No, I'd rather play right through to dinner. Honestly, I think I'll just go home now." Kline sighed, didn't order a drink, and left the "Brave Ones" bar. He had originally intended to ask Kaspar about the gatherings of other extraordinary individuals, but after this incident, he decided cautiously to drop the idea. In fact, he could have gone to the card room—a more private setting—and discussed the matters with Kaspar, but for safety's sake, he decided to wait until next time. Kline also didn't rush home; instead, he went to his one-bedroom apartment in the East District, performed a divination at the Gray Mist, and confirmed that he wasn't being followed. Once reassured, he arrived at Minsk Street just before darkness fell and found the mailbox overflowing with subscriptions to various newspapers. "Today I was rushing out, didn't even get a chance to look. At the Crag Club, I practiced shooting, enjoyed a good meal, dozed off for a while, then Talim pulled me into several rounds of tennis—well, my technique isn't up to par, but my physical condition makes up for it..." Klein murmured quietly, opened the door, and turned the gas valve. Holding the several newspapers, he entered the living room, sat on the sofa, lit the table lamp, and began to flip through them casually. First, he turned to the *Becaland Morning Herald*, directly moving to the fifth section, where he spotted an advertisement—Ernst & Co.'s notice for the acquisition of goods!" The prices were 7 pence per liter for flour, 1 sou per pound for butter, 6 pence per pound for lard, 1 sou 3 pence per pound for cream, and 8 sou per pound for Earl Tea leaves... That is, there will be an extraordinary gathering at the old venue at eight o'clock tomorrow evening, with the entrance code being seven sharp knocks followed by one light knock, with intervals of six long and one short knock, in sequence... The numbers three and eight hold no significance. Klein deciphered the message, leaned back against the sofa, and began to look forward to the gathering tomorrow evening. He intended to sell some of his recipes and see if he could secure the corresponding ingredients or items! PS: Monday request for a recommendation ticket and a monthly pass!