The East District, in a corner. Gene, drunk, faced the wall, unbuttoned his pants, and luxuriated in the moss. Then, suddenly, his shoulders were tapped. Gene jolted, hurriedly straightened his pants, half-turned, and saw a short boy in a canvas jacket and a baseball cap. The boy lifted his head, revealing a face though dirty, yet soft and refined. "Hugh? How have you ended up like this?" Gene stammered in surprise. Hugh raised a finger to his lips, signaling silence. Then, she lowered her voice: "I ask, you answer—quietly." Under that authority, Gene could only nod. "Among the people Williamms knows, who else has died in the past two days?" Hugh asked in a steady tone. Gene, with his alcohol-soaked mind, recalled carefully: "Gavin! Gavin was found drowned in the Tassok River this morning!" "He should have fallen off yesterday—he was so pitifully bad at swimming, and especially loved to stroll by the river after getting drunk." Hugh's gaze suddenly sharpened, and without hesitation he asked, "Did Gavyn accept Williams' commission to locate the fugitive, Larnulus?" "Of course—we all received that commission from Williams. After all, it wasn't anything particularly difficult. All we needed to do was show the portrait to everyone we knew, ask them to keep an eye out for someone similar. That's all. Oh, Williams—he also said, if any leads came up, he'd have me drink wine and eat meat for three days straight! What a pity—this poor man died in a gas explosion. So, I firmly refused to have the gas lines installed in the apartment. Oh, that was months ago now. I can only afford to stay in budget hotels." Gene rambled on. "So, what area is Gavyn responsible for?" "What did he mention to you?" Hu turned his head toward the side, pressed his lips together, then fixed his gaze on Gene's face. "He usually goes to the eastern Baylant shipyard area. He saw me yesterday evening there, saying he'd gone to the workers' union tavern to spread the news about Larnuus and had shown the portrait of Larnuus to the people present." Gene belched softly. "Becland has many docks, most of which are grouped into the dock district and named variously as 'shipyards.'" "What happened afterward? Did Gaven mention what he planned to do next?" Hu frowned, asking again. "Of course! Of course—he's going to drink! He intends to have a good meal and then find a place to sleep! Oh, what a pity—this poor fellow must have been so hot from drinking that he wanted to take a bath in the river, only to forget he doesn't swim at all, and it's nearly winter now!" Gene sighed once more, expressing his regret. That… Coveren found nothing at all. He simply distributed flyers seeking Larnulus at the workers' union tavern in Dong Bailang, and then was murdered—Williamms was also involved. The killer’s reaction goes far beyond outrage; it’s downright insane. If I were Larnulus, my simplest and safest course of action would be to immediately relocate, avoid detection, unless he was deeply entangled in something that would keep him tied in place for a long time. But he isn’t the only one searching for him—there are numerous bounty hunters. Can he really kill Williamms and so many others? If he has the strength, let him go after the very people who issued the warrants and wipe them out completely. You simply can’t comprehend this situation, just as you couldn’t accept Williamms’s death. In the end, she decided to first report her difficulties to Miss Audrey, then dress up and go to the workers' union tavern at East Bowland, observing quietly without asking any questions, looking for anyone suspicious. ………… Jowood District, Lese Police Station. Once again, Kline found himself squeezed among the thieves and drunkards on a backless long bench. What a pity—hadn't he managed to change his route in time, just as the police inspection arrived! He cursed the very person responsible, thinking through how to conceal the talismans on his body and the inexplicable herbal powder, thus avoiding the upcoming search. He tried to keep everything inside his black gloves, planning to find a way to stash them in a hidden spot within this police station and retrieve them when he left. At that moment, his eyes lit up as he spotted the young lawyer, Jurgen Cooper, neatly groomed and dressed formally as if attending a banquet, walking toward him accompanied by an officer. "You just need to sign here and then you're all set," Yurgen said with his usual serious and formal expression. "That's it?" Kline was surprised to ask. Yurgen nodded slightly. "Yes, they know you're a well-known detective." What could that possibly be? Kline didn't dare ask further, and immediately rose, following Yurgen—who wore a black wool suit—out of the office at a steady, unhurried pace. The weather was different from the time he had been led out of the police station previously—no rain, only thick clouds veiling the red moon and the stars, and the streets were lit only by gas lamps on either side. "Thank you so much! I'm truly grateful—once again, I've had to trouble you!" Kline hurried a few steps to reach Yurgen's side. Yurgen glanced at him with his unsmiling, composed demeanor. "No need for thanks. That's part of my profession." "Two pounds." "...?" Kline studied Yurgen carefully and smiled. "Alright." His wallet was recently quite full, and he immediately produced two one-pound banknotes. Jurgen didn't hesitate, took the payment, and said: "If you're willing to establish a formal working relationship, then each time you come to the police station afterward, I'll charge you just one pound—of course, this doesn't apply to cases that are particularly serious; you must understand that a significant portion of my fees will be passed on to the firm." It sounded as though I'd be regularly invited to have tea at the police station... Pah, they never even serve tea—never mind water! Before Klein could respond, Jurgen added: "For a private detective, visiting the police station periodically is part of the profession." "Yes, I'm very aware of that—every private detective faces issues such as illegal firearm possession and unauthorized entry into private homes." "You handled this exceptionally well. The police can't gather sufficient evidence to prove you're illegally carrying a firearm, and your explanation about the powder residue is quite convincing. The name 'Crag Club' alone should reassure them. Otherwise, you'd likely end up in a summary court hearing." "So you're not a suspect at all—you're a model citizen, someone who found the gun and proactively turned it in, someone who doesn't need to be searched again." Well... but I lost a revolver and the corresponding ammunition—several pounds, plus legal fees...克莱恩勉强挤出一个笑容说道: "I see, Jurgen. Let's establish a formal working relationship." Jurgen smiled with a very professional air, extending his hand. "Looking forward to a long and pleasant collaboration." "I truly hope to see you only infrequently at the police station." That's not something I can control...克莱恩自嘲地笑了笑。 ... Back at 15 Minsk Street,克莱恩 took a hot bath to calm himself down. Yet at that moment, he heard once again the layered, ethereal voices of supplication, faintly emanating from a woman. "Lady Justice?" Had there finally been a breakthrough in the matter concerning Lan'urus? Suddenly, Caine leapt out of the bathtub, quickly dried off, and donned his clothes, and thus stepped into the gray mist. Gazing at the deep red star that expanded and contracted continuously, he extended his spiritual awareness and chose to listen: "Ah, the fool out of this age..." "Esteemed Sir Fool, the investigation into Lan'urus has encountered difficulties..." For some reason, Lady Justice, dressed in a white coat, recounted the explosion on Dharavi Street in the East District and the incident in which Gavyn drowned, verbatim. As a seasoned "mind-reader," she refrained from adding her own interpretations, wishing not to influence Sir Fool's judgment. After listening intently, Caine furrowed his brows, struck by the unexpectedly intense and impassioned response of the perpetrator. That's different from Zilings, the "storm-wind" figure. As a con artist, Larnuus's professional instinct is to move immediately when things shift—when the wind blows, he's already gone. There's no reason for him to reverse course and pursue, let alone kill those seeking him. By this standard, eighty percent of the Eastern District's bounty hunters would have to die—something that would generate a major stir and hand the case over to the night watch, the substitute penitents, or the Mechanized Heart squad! Hmm... The benefits Larnuus gained during the ritual of seeking offspring from the "True Maker" have driven him mad? That fits perfectly with the "True Maker's" style. But the issue is, a madman is hard to conceal—especially if one is truly mad. Klein pondered, not rushing to respond to the "Justice" lady. He had read the newspapers and was aware of the explosion incident, so he recalled the details through dream divination. Immediately afterward, he wrote down a new divinatory statement: "The clues from the Dharavi Street explosion." As he silently murmured, he leaned against the chairback and entered a dream, seeing a three-story gray-blue apartment. On the third floor, rooms had lost their windows and half of the wall had collapsed, covered in traces of explosion damage. The scene quickly fragmented, and Caine awoke, lightly tapping the edge of the long table, speaking softly to himself: "Are the clues at the scene of the incident?" "...Perhaps the implication is that the murderer is still watching the scene, hoping to solve the mystery and prevent anyone from investigating." "Hmm... then he has the opportunity to identify those recently awarded the Larnus bounty." "I'll go there in disguise, touring the area without entering the scene itself, looking for any signs of the murderer. Even if he's not directly connected to Larnus, he must have some link that will allow me to trace him back to Larnus." "Yet he's surely hiding well. How can I find him without drawing his attention?" In an instant, Kline's gaze turned to the black eye resting on the bronze table—a remarkable trait bequeathed by the "Master of Secret Figures" Rosago. In the real world, he couldn't manipulate those strange threads with this object, as the residual spirit pollution of the true creators would cause irreversible harm with prolonged contact. However, for brief use—such as finding hidden individuals through the threads—he could endure, just as he had done previously to verify whether the bodyguard had arrived. Kline narrowed his eyes, removed the pendulum, and performed a risky divination for the journey. The answer was affirmative, though the rotation was modest and the pace slow. "Acceptable," he murmured, silent for several seconds, before returning to the real world. Then, using the same method he had employed to summon himself, he placed the black eye into an iron cigarette box and carried it back to his bedroom. Klein, dressed in fresh clothes, with a full beard in place and all preparations complete, stood before the dressing mirror, examining himself. The subtle scent of books had been entirely masked by the beard covering his face, and his brown eyes now resembled ancient pools, as if deep secrets and seals lay hidden within. Compared to the time in Tinggen, he almost didn't recognize himself. He extended his fingers one by one, then clenched them tightly into fists, and spoke to the mirror in a low, rough voice: "Captain, this is the first step toward avenging you." As he finished speaking, he saw his reflection smile brightly, revealing a radiant smile.