"You may pay after confirming." The "Eye of Wisdom," draped in a long cloak with a hood, stepped directly in front of Caine and handed him the dark golden pin. Quite impressive indeed... As Caine reached out to take it, still without having time to examine it closely, he immediately felt the surroundings grow hot—so hot that even the breeze seemed scorched, carrying a searing warmth that spread from his nose to his lungs upon inhalation. In that instant, he felt as though he had left the cool, damp city of Bakersland and now stood in the heart of the northern continent's desert and wilderness, beneath a sun radiating endless light and heat, surrounded by endless, intensely dry yellow sands. Ah, now I'm craving ice cream... Caine's forehead slowly glistened with sweat, yet the moisture could not easily drip down under the tight press of the iron mask, instead clinging and pooling in place. Through direct contact, he sensed a pure, radiating warmth emanating outward, while the other extraordinary beings remained completely unaffected. After securing the brooch in the correct position, Crane expanded his spiritual awareness and immersed it into the dark golden surface. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a cascade of pure golden light points, receiving a wealth of information. Among this information was the method for using certain "Solar" domain spells with the brooch—crucially dependent on specific spiritual infusion techniques and accompanying incantations! Specifically, maintaining a continuous spiritual infusion for two seconds would summon a divine, descending beam of light that purifies undead creatures and inflicts damage on other types of targets. Sustaining the spiritual infusion for five seconds while simultaneously reciting the word "Sun" in ancient Hermes tongue would generate a small amount of "Solar Holy Water," effective in banishing spirits, dispelling cold, and purifying wraiths. With variations in intensity and duration, the other spells were also duly activated. "The Radiant Flame" is a golden, sacred, dense fire that appears spontaneously; "Divine Slash" is an effective strike against spirits and wraiths, capable of being attached to bullets; "Immunity to Fear" enables the wearer to no longer feel afraid; "Sacred Oath" grants a temporary boost in strength, agility, fire damage, or holy damage through the recitation of specific ancient Hermes words. "Solar Aura" benefits allies within a twenty-meter radius, enhancing their courage and purifying the malevolent forces within them. It feels quite good—only slightly lacking in the eerie aspect, and otherwise flawlessly complementary to my "Magician" abilities... just a bit warm. In his mind, Klein's imagination was filled with images of himself in a short tunic and sleeves. He rolled up his robe and drew out a stack of cash from an inner pocket, adding the 900 pounds he had received from the woman behind him, who had been the "Craftsman," and counted out a total of 2,000 pounds in cash to the attendant of "The Eye of Wisdom." He counted it three times, finally confirming the accuracy. With a look at the wallet, now noticeably deflated, he felt both joyful and nostalgic. His carefully saved funds had dwindled down to just 574 pounds in banknotes and five gold coins. Yet, he had also acquired his second magical item—a truly outstanding one, with a clear advantage over the all-purpose key, though with a noticeable drawback: it was simply too hot. He reached out to touch his iron mask, nearly removing it to fan himself. The amount of money returned to his earlier self, who no longer considered purchasing additional items, sat quietly, listening attentively until the end. Inspired by the large transaction of 2,000 pounds, the evening gathering was notably more lively—such as the whip woven from the feathers of the sacred sun bird, which sold for 850 pounds, and the "Eye of Wisdom," which made two consecutive purchases: a rare book and a special material. When it was over, "The Eye of Wisdom" glanced around, turned to Caine, and smiled softly, "You were the first to leave." Afraid I'd be robbed, she thought... Caine sincerely thanked her, then, under the guide of a waiter, stepped out of the sitting room and eagerly shed his long cloak with hood, removing his iron mask. He had already tried to use spiritual envelopment and sealing to block the continuous purification effect of the "Sun Breastpin," thus concealing its presence from other extraordinary beings; however, the negative effects could not be mitigated unless he removed it altogether. For his mental well-being, he would need to use it only when necessary—otherwise, the "purification bullets" and "exorcism bullets" would suffice. Caine then left the gathering, took a long detour, and arrived outside the Hall of the Brave. He entered, circled around, stepped out again, and hired a carriage. No surprise—soon he spotted a figure outlined against the opposite seat, dressed in a black court gown. Sharon’s appearance remained unchanged, and she spoke with a lightly ethereal tone, asking, “Ready?” “Ready,” said Kline, calmly nodding. “You can now choose your positions and timing. Once you’ve settled on them, let me know.” Sharon looked at him and replied, “Good.” As she was about to fade, Kline added, “Have Caspar prepare a box of explosives, scattered at various points across the designated battlefield.” Sharon paused for two seconds, then said, “Steve is also an expert in demolition.” “No,” Kline smiled. “My main purpose isn’t to blow anyone up.” “I just want to create a little smoke,” he added. Sharon gazed at him silently for a few seconds, then simply nodded. Watching her form swiftly dissolve, Kline leaned back against the cabin wall, opened the window, and let the biting cold wind rush in—yet he still felt warm. I've always hated summer on Earth, you know—I love popsicles, ice cream, cold drinks, watermelons... Klein mumbled as he reached into his coat pocket and grasped the "Sun Brooch." It's a magical item worth 2,000 pounds! Back on Minsk Street, Klein walked slowly toward the house at number 15, along the tree-lined road where the trees had already begun to lose their leaves. As he passed by the lawyer's house, he glanced in, noticing the gas lamp glowing with a hint of blue. Someone was there... Klein smiled and sighed, beads of sweat continuously dripping down his forehead. ........ On the following day, Thursday morning. As Klein stepped out of the bathroom with the newspaper, he heard the doorbell ring. Who is it? Oh, Talim mentioned that journalist Mike Joseph would be coming to see me today... With the soft clinking sounds, Klein made his way to the door and extended his hand to grasp the handle. A clear image of the visitor had already formed in his mind: a man in his thirties, wearing a black wool suit and a matching half-crown hat, with sparse eyebrows, captivating blue eyes, a neat pair of small mustaches, though his skin was notably rough—exactly the journalist Michael Joseph from The Daily Observer. "Good morning, Michael, Talim mentioned you," said Klein as he opened the door. The "sun brooch" was undoubtedly lost in the gray mist. Michael Joseph adjusted his tie. "I'm sorry to disturb you so early—I have other commitments shortly after." "I understand," said Klein politely. "Have you had breakfast? Would you like to try my toast?" Michael immediately beamed. "That's really kind of you." "If only we could have a cup of hot coffee—milk would be fine, I see you've arranged for fresh milk." "…Certainly," said Klein, smiling in return. He busied himself with toasting the bread, pouring in the milk, and bringing out the cream tin, then sat down and ate until he was half-full, saying nothing. Mike, on the other hand, enjoyed his breakfast with ease, completely unaware of the quiet atmosphere. Huffing out a breath, Caine set down his cup and said, "Mike, are you hiring me to protect you?" Mike slowly placed his knife and fork, sipped his milk, and replied, "Yes, probably for about two days—Friday and Saturday, maybe even on Sunday morning." "Who do you think might want to harm you?" Caine asked thoughtfully. Mike chuckled. "Not exactly. This is more of an active, proactive form of self-protection." "The editor-in-chief has assigned me to conduct a feature story on the east district, the docks, and the industrial areas. It's said that the project is supported by either a church or a noble family." "You know, the East District is ruled by crime syndicates—full of villains, or people willing to sell their integrity just to get a meal. I need a protector who's skilled in both hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship." "And most private detectives there have established networks in the East, don't they?" I haven't... My cases rely mostly on intuition, no, on reasoning! After a moment's thought, Kline said: "But I might not have the time in the coming days." I'll have to wait for Miss Sharon's actions. Mike cleared his throat quickly and said: "I've already applied. The fee is ten pounds—this protection assignment totals ten pounds, even if nothing goes wrong." Kline smiled and said: "Mike, I'm serious." "Tomorrow at this time, say, after breakfast, I'll see you. If I'm available, I'll take on this assignment. If I'm truly too busy, I'll introduce you to another detective—someone equally skilled in both combat and shooting." For instance, Stuart, for instance, Kaslanne... Two names had already flashed through his mind. Mike finished off the remaining toast and said, "No problem." After breakfast, Caine watched the journalist leave his home and, through the bulging window glass, admired the steady drizzle of freezing rain, the passing carriages and pedestrians, the gloomy sky, and the array of rain umbrellas in various colors. At last, a normal assignment—no extraordinary beings involved, no cat-caught-in-the-act situations... Unfortunately, not a murder case or something of that nature, otherwise I'd truly experience the thrill of being a detective—there's only one truth! Caine's thoughts drifted freely, and he felt an unexpected sense of ease and leisure. If he weren't still thinking about Sharon and Marijch, he'd have planned to truly unwind—visit various museums, buy a ticket to the grand theater, attend several operas and concerts, and fully immerse himself in the diverse culinary offerings of the bustling metropolis of Beckett. Well, I'm just a casual traveler, a solitary food enthusiast... Cain chuckled to himself, turned toward the sofa area, intending to flip through the newspapers he hadn't yet read. Suddenly, he noticed a note had appeared on the coffee table at some point—neat and reserved in handwriting: "Meet me at the back entrance of the Brave One Bar at 10 p.m. tonight."