The Beckland Bridge district, The Brave One tavern. Crane adjusted the baseball cap on his head, carefully shielding the wallet tucked in the inner pocket of his gray-blue work shirt, weaving past the patrons gathered around the boxing ring and making his way directly to the bar. En route, he scanned the room and didn't spot the Black Market arms merchant, Kaspar Kallin. Either playing cards or playing pool... Crane nodded to himself, took a seat at the bar, and said to the bartender, "Half and half." He remembered the last time he'd tasted such an alcoholic drink, and thought it should suit his palate well. At least better than plain barley beer... Crane thought to himself, comparing it. The bartender looked up. "Which two wines would you like? Different combinations have different prices." "Just regular, regular—anything standard will do." Crane recalled the last person who had ordered this blend had used the lowest-grade options, and had paid two and a half pence for the entire "half and half." "Four and a half pence." The bartender only turned to mix the drink after seeing Caine arrange the bronze-colored coins on the counter, and casually added, "You're back to see Kasparas? He's not here anymore—his business has been taken over." "Ah?" Caine hadn't expected such a response. Before the bartender could reply, a man with a protruding mouth chuckled and said, "Yes, Kasparas has been pushed out!" "Hmm, how on earth can a lame old man like him run such a business?" "Come on, whatever you'd like, just find our boss." Black gang rivalry? That thought came to Caine instinctively, and he was about to decline the offer. Yet then, another possibility struck him: "Could this be a deliberate move by the Rose School to pressure Kasparas through the black gangs, thus forcing out his allies—Marich and Miss Sharon—and making them step into the trap willingly?" "Well, the chances are quite high. Kasparas has been operating as a black-market arms merchant here for a long time—he's definitely not someone who can be pushed aside merely by someone else's claims. Recently, due to a series of consecutive murders, the atmosphere across Bekland has been tense. The Rose School, or perhaps some other hidden faction, has been targeting Marić and Miss Sharon—certainly not willing to carry out sudden, decisive killings. They're clearly only suspecting certain individuals and still haven't confirmed who has the means to communicate with Miss Sharon and Marić. Before he could bring up this point, Klein swallowed it and instead asked: 'Can we first learn the price, and then decide whether to proceed with the purchase?' He intended to observe the civilian faction that has been dominating the black-market transactions at the Hero's Tavern. If any issues emerged, he could use that as leverage to negotiate a favorable position for Kasparas, Sharon, and Marić." Klein didn't intend to create any conflict—his only plan was to follow the standard procedures and conduct a thorough review, so there was no risk involved. "Agreed," the man said, lifting his hand and making a zipper-like motion before the protruding mouth. "Understood," Klein replied, only to see at that moment that "half and half" was now placed before him, while the copper penny was taken by the bartender. Following his principle of not wasting anything, he took several sips, his brow gradually furrowing. It's not what I expected—the alcohol is too strong, and the grape flavor is quite weak. Klein set down his glass and followed the man toward the third billiards room, where Kasparas used to often stay. As he approached the door, he suddenly remembered something else: "As someone with limited information, I can already suspect this is a trap. I wonder if Miss Sharon, who has been pursued for so long, and Marič would be any less aware of that?" They certainly won't step in... "However, Kaspar knows several exceptional individuals, and he maintains connections with several circles of the exceptional. Perhaps he'll enlist other allies—then things will become quite complicated." At that moment, the man with a protruding mouth paused at the doorway of the pool room, nearly causing Caine to collide with him. He pointed inside and said: "Don't speak haphazardly—our boss has a rather temperamental disposition." "Everyone throughout the entire Beckland Bridge district and the eastern region knows this." "Understood," Caine nodded lightly. The man with the protruding mouth turned satisfied, pushed open the door of the pool room. As the door swung fully open, Caine saw a figure suspended in midair, gently swaying. It was a large man with a full beard. A rope was tightly cinched around his neck, the tension so firm it seemed almost immovable. His feet were no longer touching the ground, his tongue protruding, his face bluish-purple, his expression profoundly distorted. "Boss..." The man with a protruding mouth shouted in disbelief. The tension in Beckland had just begun to ease when someone already took action. Klein glanced at the man's bodyguards and solemnly drew a triangular holy emblem on his chest: "May the gods grant him peace." "I hope his temper improves as a result." But the man with the protruding mouth paid no attention to what Klein was saying. Suddenly, he burst out: "Boss!" "Someone's been killed!" "The boss is dead!" The loud, piercing voice sent Klein staggering back two steps. He opened his spiritual sight and scanned the room. There were no unusual signs—only the pool table, scattered and disheveled. Had it been Caspian's extraordinary ones who set the trap? What would the forces who had laid the trap do now? If such a trap indeed existed... Before the several bodyguards from the crime syndicate reached him, Klein subtly shifted his position and blended into the crowd. He glanced at the kitchen of the Courageous Tavern, thoughtfully walked past it, and smoothly made his way to the back door. As soon as he pushed open the not particularly heavy wooden door, a cold wind rushed in, making him shiver. Mixed in the wind was a faint scent of blood. He listened closely, but heard no movement. Then he pulled out a one-penny coin and flicked it upward. The crisp sound was muffled by the wind, and upon looking down, he checked that the copper coin, now resting in his palm, showed the king's head facing up. Gathering the coin, he took careful, steady steps, moving slowly in the direction his intuition had indicated. Only when he reached a dim, shadowed corner, far from any streetlights, did the scent of blood suddenly grow strong. With the weak moonlight piercing through the clouds, he looked closely and nearly gasped. On the ground, human parts—bloody thighs and calves, boots on feet, ribs, hearts, arms, and eyes—were scattered haphazardly. Against the wall hung a section of intestine, bright white amid its red hue, with the background dominated by vast swaths of fresh red, streaked with faintly milky spots. To Klein, this scene resembled a slaughterhouse—specifically, one designed for humans. "They must be afraid the night-watchers and the substitute punishers are too idle, making such a spectacle. The police will surely take the case right away," he murmured to himself, to counteract the discomfort the scene induced. He stepped around the bloodied areas and approached the opposite wall, only to be startled by several deep gouges there. They looked exactly like the marks left by the claws of a large, sharp, powerful creature—very much like the claws of the demon dog that had previously grown larger. Was there another one? Had it not yet perished? No, no, no—I know what’s going on now… Caine suddenly realized: the deceased must have been a remarkable one who killed the black-market boss inside the bar, one who had been set up with a trap. Based on the description provided by the small "Sun," I've always suspected that this power was from the "Rose School," since they control the "Prisoner" path—also known as the "Outsider" path. And one of the "Outsiders" is the werewolf! This matches perfectly with the evidence at the scene. It thus indirectly confirms that Miss Sharon and Marič are the defectors from the "Rose School." Caine calmly stepped back, retreating step by step from the scene. During this process, he verified that no extraordinary properties were present—though it's possible they had not yet manifested. Then, he turned and walked toward another street, intending to find someone to call the police, so as not to overwhelm the ordinary citizens with such a scene and make them suspect that something fierce, like a wild beast, had infiltrated Beckland. — Driven by the psychological principle that one should not become entangled in trouble out of mere greed, Kline did not wait for any extraordinary qualities to emerge. As he reached the exit of the alley, he suddenly saw a brown carriage drawing slowly toward him in the night. Unlike other carriages that would have passed by, this one halted—coming to a stop right before Kline! Kline narrowed his eyes, readied himself for battle, yet neither the intuitive sense of the Seer nor the combat instinct of the Clown signaled any imminent danger. Then, the carriage window opened, revealing a pale face tinged with a touch of frenzy, and brown eyes that seemed to hold deep malice. Mariq—Kline recognized him. That was Mariq, the one who controlled the undead, the companion of Miss Sharon! Dressed only in a white shirt and black jacket, seemingly unafraid of the cold, Mariq pointed toward the carriage, indicating for Kline to enter. Klein hesitated for a moment, considering taking out the oracle at once to make a divination. At that very instant, a figure emerged from behind Mariachi—dressed in an elaborate black court gown, wearing a matching, delicate soft hat—none other than Miss Sharon, with her light golden hair and blue eyes. If she intended to harm me, she could have easily moved with a simple gesture, stepping directly out from the wall behind me. Klein thought this over, then composed himself, took two steps forward, opened the carriage door, and stepped out. Once he settled in, the carriage began to move slowly, its destination unknown. "Why did you come?" Sharon asked simply. Klein replied straightforwardly: "I wanted to reach out to you and inquire whether you have any books on the occult—preferably more in-depth ones. As you know, I lack knowledge in this area." Marich gazed at him with those eyes always holding malice, his voice slightly hoarse and low. "We indeed possess a considerable amount of esoteric knowledge—such as the Karalam King's *Book of Secrets*—but what can you offer in return?" "The King? Which path? Which sequence?" thought Clarein, carefully modulating his tone. "I can offer gold pounds." "Or do you require something else?" The pale yet refined Sharon looked at him, her expression calm and unflinching. "Assistance." "In exchange for one act of assistance."