After returning from the industrial district to Minsk Street, Crane had a simple lunch and then fell asleep, waking naturally only as the light grew dim and evening approached. Even then, he still felt deeply tired—truly, profoundly tired. He stood in contemplation for a while, then descended to the first floor, lit the gas lamp, and prepared to sit on the sofa to read today’s newspaper. But as soon as he glanced around, he noticed a card placed on the coffee table. He was momentarily startled, then remembered—it was a dinner invitation sent a few days earlier by Mrs. Staline Summer, delivered by her maid. "I almost forgot about this… a kind of informal matchmaking dinner…" Crane set the card down and walked toward the first-floor bathroom, rinsing his face with cold water to freshen up and appear more alert. Compared to when he first arrived in Bakersland, he now had a denser, shorter black beard around his lips and across his jaw, which hadn't entirely erased his scholarly air but had certainly made him seem more mature and rugged. Someone not a true acquaintance couldn't recognize him face-to-face anymore. Klein silently exhaled, wiped his face clean, and adjusted his gold-framed glasses onto his nose. He took a brief rest, donned a crisp, straight-buttoned shirt, paired it with a black tailcoat, and then formally donned a half-high silk hat, holding his cane and invitation as he stepped out toward the adjacent room. With the sound of the doorbell chiming, he saw the serving maid Julian opening the door, and noticed Staline, with her golden hair neatly coiffed and silver accents at her earlobes. Klein removed his hat, bowed politely, and offered his compliments: "Mrs. Summer, you look absolutely stunning today." Though his words carried a strong sense of courtesy and routine, Staline looked notably more beautiful today than she usually did—her skills in styling herself seemed to have undergone a breakthrough. It appeared that the incident involving the revelation had truly solidified her bond with Lady Mary as genuine "best friends." And since Lady Mary was a wealthy man with an estate worth several thousand pounds, currently serving on the Royal Committee for Air Pollution Investigation and thus acquainted with many aristocrats, she undoubtedly possessed refined knowledge in matters of makeup, attire, and accessories. Klein nodded thoughtfully in quiet realization. Staline's lips couldn't help but rise into a smile. "These are the earrings I just purchased—they cost me a full eight soules." Your style hasn't changed at all, madam... Klein smiled as he handed the maid his hat, cane, and coat. The warmth from the hearth and pipes gave the room a pleasant, early-summer feel, and the dresses of many of the ladies and young women appeared notably more relaxed and less formal. "Luke is chatting with a few friends about business, so I'd like to apologize on his behalf," Stella said, fulfilling her role as hostess. "You have the meal first—I'll introduce you to several well-mannered young ladies later." In truth, there was no need for all that—just let me eat in peace would be sufficient... "I can already smell the food," Klein smiled. With over twenty guests, the dinner was served buffet-style. Klein carried his plate around, noticing that the food this time was even more abundant than before: cold salmon, chicken pastries, peas stewed with lamb, cured beef, curry dishes, roasted beef, boiled turkey, beef tongue pies, ham, salads, and a cream cake... The wine remained a mix of champagne and red wine. This suited a meat-loving palate well. Klein picked up a large plate, avoided lingering conversations, and settled into a corner, savoring his meal slowly. "There isn't a chef at the Crag Club who does it better..." he often murmured to himself. Finally, when he went to fetch his second course, he was spotted by Stella Summer. Meanwhile, standing beside this lady, he noticed a familiar face—Jurgen, the serious-looking lawyer. Indeed, Jurgen was also single... Clain smiled and approached him, warmly greeting, "How is Doris doing these days?" Jurgen, slightly uncomfortable, adjusted his tie. "She'll be discharged next week." "That's wonderful," Clain sincerely remarked. At that moment, Stella had brought over a few young ladies and introduced them: "This is Jurgen Cooper, a senior transactional lawyer, earning at least three pounds weekly, plus case fees—his annual income is certainly over two hundred pounds. He's young and promising, and will likely rise to become a leading lawyer." "This is Mr. Sherlock Moriarty, the well-known detective, whose income is not very stable, though each payment is substantial—such as ten pounds, fifty pounds." Madam, this introduction was far too direct... Cain couldn't help muttering under his breath. Meanwhile, Jurgen beside him clearly frowned. Staline, completely unconcerned, continued smoothly: "Miss Sarah Taylor, whose parents are both staff members at a grammar school..." "Miss Angela Watson, whose father is a clerical officer at the Beckland Police Department..."... Cain smiled mechanically, offering greetings to each lady in turn. When Staline finished, Jurgen spoke quietly: "Mrs. Summer, it's not polite to mention someone's income face-to-face." Staline remained calm and responded seriously: "No, quite the contrary—it's absolutely essential." "If you're to grow fond of one another and build a family, a stable income is fundamental." "Think of it—every day you need meat, vegetables, fruit, milk, white bread, cream, butter, and so on. At a minimum, that costs you one pound and five shillings a week, not counting wine. You also need to rent a decent house, which adds nearly another pound a week. And then there’s water, gas, coal, soap, and the cost of travel—adding up to about ten shillings altogether." "This is the basic household expenditure—how can you not take your wife to concerts or plays?" "Doesn’t every household need to buy new clothes each year? Madam, I believe a family must spend at least thirty pounds annually just to be considered respectable." "Besides that, there are the housemaid’s wages, the children’s education, medical expenses set aside for emergencies, and the cost of essential furnishings." "Only with an annual income exceeding two hundred pounds can these needs be met—and only then can a family truly be happy." "So, to avoid wasting your time and to prevent any misunderstanding, I think it's necessary to introduce this matter in advance." As a lawyer, Jürgen momentarily found himself at a loss for words, especially since he had only ever been serious and composed. What a straightforward person! Nevertheless, I fully understand why you, Mrs. Sommer, have chosen to introduce this face-to-face—basic etiquette would normally call for private communication between the two parties. "Indeed, income is very important," Klein said with a smile. "Only with an annual income exceeding 400 pounds can one afford such a dinner and ensure that one's wife has elegant dresses and fine earrings." Stella raised her chin slightly, striving to suppress a smile. "430 pounds, I mean—additionally, I need some savings each year, for unforeseen expenses or for investing in stocks and bonds." That was roughly the annual income of her husband. After helping the strangers find common ground, she moved on, greeting other guests. Clearly, Clare noticed that the ladies—Sara, Angela, and the others—were more interested in Juror Ergen, who looked quite appealing and had a solid, stable career and income. As for the private detective, whose very presence might soon lead him to the police station, he wasn't a top priority for middle-class women. Moreover, Clare now had a bit of a rugged look with his beard, which made the young women a little hesitant. After chatting casually for a few minutes, he excused himself and stepped away, retreating to a corner where he enjoyed his meal while observing Ergen's growing discomfort and helplessness. At such moments, Clare's legal prowess seemed to have vanished entirely. A few minutes later, the two children from the Sommer family ran past Clare, stopping to notice the gentleman hiding in the corner. They stared at him curiously, asking, "Mr. Moriaty, I heard you're a detective?" "Yes," Clare replied with a smile. The little girl spoke天真ly, "Could you tell us about the cases you've solved?" Her twin brother nodded enthusiastically. "Cases I've solved?" He thought for a moment. "Not ones involving restless spirits, secret figures, demon dogs, or cat-related scandals—really, I can't think of any that would suit children." With a warm smile, he said, "Well, then, how about a story about treasure? A retired officer from East Baryan was suddenly murdered..." Though he had mostly forgotten the detective novels he'd read in his past life, he only recalled vague impressions and improvised as he went along. The two children didn't care whether the plot made sense—they listened intently and even began asking, "What happens next?" Unconsciously, Klein felt more at ease. As the dinner drew near its close, he was about to excuse himself when he noticed Staline's face beaming with delight. "Is there something joyful happening?" Klein asked casually. Stalin lifted her head slightly, answering with a composed smile: "Mary has been invited by Mr. Herbert Hall, Chief Secretary of the Air Pollution Investigation Committee, to attend a luncheon at his home on Monday." "Mr. Hall is the eldest son of the Earl of Hall—a true noble—and he has invited all members of the Committee, allowing each of them to bring two or three friends." Stalin paused and added, "Mary just invited me and Luke." Luke shook his head with a smile. "My dear, you're overthinking it." "You don't need to worry at all—nobility is just about living in a larger house and enjoying better meals. We're not really that different." Staline nodded continuously, as if regaining her old confidence. Upon entering the villa, they were greeted by magnificent crystal chandeliers, a spacious hall suitable for dancing, and an array of delicious dishes—foie gras, seared lamb bones, baked lobster—paired with Aurlim red wine and Misty Champagne. Everything matched the descriptions in the magazines. Staline watched the food with curiosity, wondering whether even with their modest household budget, they could manage such a meal during holidays or New Year's. Except for the Aurlim red wine and Misty Champagne—she added that thought to her mind at the end. Just then, her gaze suddenly fixed, as a young girl in a soft off-white court gown approached slowly. The young woman had golden hair and bright blue eyes, exceptionally beautiful, wearing a pair of white silk gloves and delicate green gemstone earrings that added to her pure and refined grace. Truly, she looked like an angel... Even though she had always been proud of her own appearance, Staline found herself unexpectedly struck by admiration, feeling a quiet sense of inferiority. "Good afternoon," she said, offering a somewhat awkward greeting using the formalities she had just learned. "Good afternoon," the young woman replied with elegant courtesy. After passing each other, Staline accompanied her husband and Mary in introducing them to one distinguished guest after another, eventually meeting the noble Mr. Hibert Hall. Later, she went alone to the balcony, hoping to ease her mood, only to find the angelic young woman there by surprise. She was gazing out at the view, with a golden retriever sitting patiently and obediently at the side of her ribboned rose shoes. "Such a lovely dog," Staline remarked, seeking a topic of conversation. The young woman smiled gently and replied, "I'm grateful to you for your kind words." Staline suddenly felt that she too should have a pet similar to the beautiful young woman and the golden-haired large dog. Only then could the dignity of the Summer family be truly reflected. Carefully asking, she said, "I've heard that noble families often keep several hunting dogs—is this one of them?" "Yes." The young woman with sparkling eyes, more enchanting than the earring gem, nodded gracefully. "How much would it cost to purchase one?" Staline smiled and inquired. The pure and elegant young woman looked down at the golden-haired dog, smiled gently, and replied with quiet indifference, "Four hundred and fifty pounds." PS: Since I have to head out for another meeting tomorrow, there won't be a three-act update—only an early update to maintain daily operations. I'll update earlier in the morning. After the 25th, once this month's busy schedule concludes, there will be additional updates.