Sir Desh肖? Mr. Hibbert Hall? I'm completely lost—don't recognize either of them...Cline pretended not to be puzzled, half-jokingly saying, "I hope they'll bring clear skies and sunshine to Beckland." "Indeed, while each person is free—by right, under the law—to burn whatever they like in their own hearth, clear skies and sunshine are things we truly aspire to." Luke Summer, a member of the Smoke Reduction Association, added with a sentiment, pointing toward the rented horse lane, "We should move on—Mary urgently needs some help." Stellin Summer, meanwhile, remained composed, adding, "Perhaps some members of the legislature will come, from the Beckland region, or even the kingdom." "It's quite conceivable that the dinner will be a grand affair," Cline said politely, watching the Summer couple get into their carriage and drive off. As he turned his body to head toward the postbox at the end of the street, a mail carrier in a deep green uniform arrived on horseback and delivered a letter into the mailbox at his door. "My letter?" asked Kline, pulling out a chain of keys and casually selecting one with a rustic design, its hue nearly brass. Click! "The Universal Key" smoothly opened the mailbox. From now on, he could simply carry just this one key out of the house... Kline mumbled, then took out his subscription newspapers and the letter just delivered. The letter came from Esengard-Stanton. Yesterday, he had reviewed the old, undisturbed cases of the serial murders, identified several particularly suspicious ones, and, through the police department, had initially verified the current status of the corresponding suspects, and thus wrote to private detectives like Kline and Kaslanna, who were interested in this direction, to share his findings. Among these cases were precisely the two that Kline had been particularly focused on. The renowned detective agreed. "Well, then, I've just wasted my letter," Klein remarked to himself, and returned to the living room. If there's no cremation, I'd definitely go dig up the graves to verify—Klein seriously considered the possibility that the others might be faking their deaths. Among the remaining three suspects, one has moved homes several times over the past few years, and the police now have little grasp on his current situation, requiring more time to pursue him; another went through bankruptcy and relocated from the northern district to the eastern district; the third has remained unchanged, still running his grocery store on the original street. Klein pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, first outlining the relevant details, then asked the recipient to quietly observe the two suspects with specific addresses. He emphasized: "The killer in the series of murders is cruel, aggressive, and highly assertive—please be cautious. Maintain a safe distance, observing them as if you were just a regular neighbor." "The information I need is their current mental state—specifically, whether they've become irritable, whether they tend to stay indoors, communicate infrequently with others, or have ever physically assaulted someone." This is also the information he received from "the Sun." After each murder, "the Demon" follows the prescribed ritual, consuming the victim's internal organs and remaining in a bloodthirsty, agitated state, eager to harm others, until a new victim appears. After reemphasizing the need to safeguard his own safety, Caine folded the letter, placed it into a fresh envelope, and affixed a black stamp on the surface. Then, he penned the recipient's name: "Stuart Detective." ……… In the opulent manor of the Count Holst, in Queens. Suzy was perched in a corner of the study, seemingly idly observing the surroundings. The Count Holst, his abdomen slightly distended, drew on his pipe and addressed his eldest son: "Hubert, do you know why I specifically want you to join the Air Pollution Investigation Committee?" Hubert Holst responded thoughtfully: "Because you hope to influence the formulation of relevant laws and policies?" "No, although I am the second-largest shareholder of the Conston Coal and Steel Consortium, I don't particularly care about this issue—my team has already been pushing them to make the necessary adjustments. Improving air quality is an inevitable trend, and I have no doubt about that." "Hibert, although our family holds a guaranteed seat in the Upper House, you will eventually become a member of the Upper House. But why, among other peers in the Upper House, do some nobles enjoy greater influence than others?" Hibert paused and replied, "Titles, wealth, commercial standing, and connections within the government and military?" "This is only part of it. There's also your inherent ability to handle affairs. People naturally trust those who have extensive experience and have been involved in numerous matters. If you wish to make a mark in politics, beyond simply inheriting a seat, you must actively participate in various tasks, demonstrate the corresponding capabilities, and gradually become visible to your fellow members of parliament and ministers—so that they begin to see you as someone they can rely on. This is the influence that stems from you personally." "Look at the Inthys Republic, look at the current situation of its nobility, and you'll understand that over time and as society evolves, formal privileges will gradually erode, and titles of nobility will become increasingly symbolic—what matters most will be your standing and influence in the commercial sector." Count Hall explained in detail. "What if you encounter something you're not particularly skilled at?" Hiberth mused. "Then, simply pretend you can manage it." Don't worry about whether money will be wasted—build a professional team, listen to their advice, and make decisions based on that. Everyone has many areas they're not strong in; only money is universal," Lord Holbein added. "I understand, Dad," Herbert replied, with a sudden clarity. At that moment, Suzy yawned listlessly by the side. After everything had concluded, she slipped into Audrey's studio, recounted everything she had heard, and finally mumbled, "I still don't understand what they were talking about." Audrey listened thoughtfully and smiled gently. "That's good news—it means you won't have to endure those strong odors anymore," she said. "Oh?" Suzy asked, somewhat puzzled. Audrey didn't reply, but thought of something else. She had originally planned to quietly guide the members of parliament to focus on the poor conditions in the eastern district, the industrial areas, and the docks, but recently, at two social gatherings, she found herself unable to find an opportunity to do so. The nobles, the members of parliament, the senior government officials—they simply wouldn't talk about such things, and there was no way to steer them! ………… It was once again a Monday afternoon when Cline leisurely returned to No. 15 Minsk Street from the Crag Club. Since the Stuart side had not yet provided an initial investigation report, he had no suitable candidate to cultivate as a pharmacist at the moment, so he had nothing pressing to attend to yesterday or today. Thus, he simply went to the Crag Club to practice shooting, read books, and, of course, to have meals there. During this time, he met several new members of the club. That was the source of his future business—Cline mused to himself, then stepped back four paces and entered the realm above the gray mist. He proceeded methodically with his preparations: first, he materialized the dummy figure "World" to become familiar with the operational techniques of the "Eye of All Black," then sent a message to "Sun" informing him that the Tarot gathering was about to begin. Having accomplished all this, Caine waited for three o'clock to arrive, then reached out to touch the deep red stars corresponding to each member—once a stable connection was established, the "Magician" also gained his own celestial star. Vorst Wal found a pretext to focus on her creative work and sent away Tho. At that moment, she felt a sudden hazy blur, and saw a surge of gray and white mist rise before her. In the blink of an eye, she found herself standing atop that mysterious, profound mist, within a majestic and imposing palace. Before her stood an ancient bronze long table, and around her, figures veiled in fog, their forms blurred and indistinct. A series of figures? A series of figures! These were the gathering members the "Fool" had spoken of? Vorst watched all this with cautious alertness, sensing that the members able to participate in such a secret gathering were all exceptionally powerful extraordinary beings. Except me... she thought, feeling both uneasy and afraid. Yet, viewed from another angle, since I—a Sequence 9—can join, it's far from certain that the other members are particularly outstanding. Clearly, the gathering's criterion isn't strength of ability, but rather a connection established with the "Jester" himself. Folshe swiftly revised her earlier assessment and relaxed slightly. Meanwhile, "Justice" Audrey also noticed a new arrival at today's gathering. A woman—was it Houx, or Folshe? Had she been reviewed and approved? Or someone else entirely? Audrey almost forgot to greet the "Jester" personally, instead focusing intently on observing the characteristics of the new member. Even if the figure remained somewhat indistinct, she could still discern the hair color and silhouette, and pick up on the accent and habitual phrases! Well… I should pay attention—the Baron of the Tower first recognized me as a nobleman based on my particular pronunciation of certain words and my habitual use of specific phrases. Audrey stood up, gently lifting her skirt, and addressed the man seated at the head of the bronze table: "Good afternoon, Sir Fool." After exchanging greetings, she couldn't conceal her curiosity, glanced at the new member seated beside her, and smiled, asking, "And who is this?"