As they stepped down from the lord's luxurious carriage, Luke was chatting with Mrs. Mary about the distinguished guests who had just arrived—such as the Chair of the Air Pollution Investigation Committee, the Director of the National Meteorological Service, and Sir Desh Shaw; the Committee's Member, the President of the Royal Meteorological Society, and the Member of Parliament, Mr. Caffrey; and the Health and Medical Director of the Intake County, the renowned physician, Mr. Hoxley. All of them were influential figures within the government, royal household, or Parliament, and their final report would serve as the cornerstone of the upcoming *Air Pollution Act* and the *Emission Reduction from Smoke Act*. Coym's company, which championed anthracite coal and charcoal, was determined to drive and accelerate this progress, ensuring that its older, more established competitors would not have time to adapt. "They won't be sparing a single pound; they'll certainly lobby the senior MPs to disrupt our investigation. We must have a clear, well-defined response—just as Mr. Hibbert Hall said—we need to command the public opinion, consistently highlighting the terrifying impact of air pollution through newspapers and magazines." Luke was a senior manager at Coyum and a key aide to the major shareholder, Mary, as well as a capable executive in his own right. During a casual conversation, Luke suddenly noticed that his wife sat quietly beside him, seemingly detached, as though she had lost her spirit. "Staelyn, what's wrong?" he asked with concern. Staelyn regained her composure and managed a smile. "Nothing much—just feeling a bit tired." "Indeed, meeting so many prominent figures must have kept you on high alert all along. Now you finally have a chance to relax. It's quite normal to feel tired. In fact, I feel the same way," Luke added with a smile. Stalin didn't respond; instead, she stared blankly out the window, toward the park with its lake. The words of the noblewoman from earlier still echoed in her ears: "Four hundred and fifty pounds." "A well-trained hound, priced between four hundred and fifty and seven hundred pounds." ... Until the guard brings him the next meal and medicine, he will remain in true darkness. At that moment, a gray mist suddenly fills his vision, and a low voice—belonging to the "Knave"—echoes in his ears: "Prepare for the gathering." This change fades swiftly, and Deryck regains his focus, subconsciously counting his heartbeats. Yet he soon realizes this is unnecessary, as his current state is one of solitude, requiring no avoidance of others. Deryck, no longer counting his heartbeats, soon finds himself pondering a question: Is he currently within the protective seal of the magical artifact at the base of the circular tower? Might the "Knave"’s subsequent actions of drawing others into the gray mist be noticed or detected? After all, this is one of only two magical artifacts that, through several near-disasters, have prevented the complete destruction of Silver City! Derek, trembling and uneasy, still unable to make a decision, saw an endless surge of deep red light rising from the void, rushing forward and engulfing him. Silence reigned within the narrow, enclosed room, so quiet that even the breaths were barely audible. Suddenly, the metal wall separating Derek from the former exploration team leader emitted a soft, clear "tap." This was their unspoken signal for conversation. "Tap!" The person across the room raised their finger and tapped again. The expected third tap, however, did not follow immediately. After a while, the "tap" sound came again, hesitant, and then both rooms fell into stillness, with no further movement. …… After concluding the lunch gathering, Audrey practiced a few pieces on the piano and made her way back to her bedroom on time. As she passed by her father, Lord Holberg’s study, she noticed the door slightly ajar, with a stack of thick files resting on the table. "There hasn't been anything like this before..." Audrey's curiosity piqued, she slowed her pace and gave a subtle signal to the golden retriever, Susie. As an observer, Susie often understood her owner's intentions with just a small hint—though occasionally, she would pretend not to grasp it, simply choosing to lie there motionless. Receiving the signal, Susie moved silently, slipping into the study and then extending her front legs to rest on the edge of the table, standing upright. She quickly glanced at the first page of the stack of documents, then returned to Audrey beside her, speaking softly, "A survey on the living conditions of various social strata in the East District, the Port District, and the Industrial District." "What does that mean, Audrey?" A survey on the living conditions of various social strata in the East District, the Port District, and the Industrial District? Why did Dad suddenly decide to conduct this survey? I remember I never mentioned anything like this to him... Audrey was puzzled and didn't have time to answer Susie's question. She glanced around and noticed the servants each attending to their own duties, paying her no special attention. With a subtle lift of her head, she composed herself and turned calmly into the Earl of Hall's study. At the desk, Audrey looked down at the investigation report and found the title indeed matched what Suzy had described. It was a typed document, prepared by a journalist named Michael Joseph, with the goddess's sacred emblem beneath it... Had the church commissioned this? But why send it to her father? After all, her father was a devoted follower of the goddess, and perhaps the church wished to secure his support in this matter. That was certainly a positive development. Audrey made an initial assessment. She had originally considered arranging a similar investigation herself, yet felt it might contradict her own subtle influence and easily draw attention, making it harder for her to remain unnoticed among the other nobles. Thus, she had hesitated and never pursued it. Audrey flipped through the files and discovered that not only did Mike Joseph have a report on the East District, the Port District, and the Factory District, but several others had conducted on-site investigations from different perspectives. Among them, several even mentioned the spread of cults and alliances between certain extraordinary individuals and the crime syndicates. Hmm. Audrey glanced at the clock on the wall in the study; it was nearly three o’clock, so she decided to set aside the detailed reading and returned the files to their original state. Before leaving, she casually took a book and used it to conceal her true purpose. At exactly three o’clock, as the chime of the clock still echoed, Audrey had already appeared within the majestic palace, standing beside the ancient long table, bathed in that deep, ethereal glow. She smiled, rose, and bowed to the highest seat: "Good afternoon, Sir Fool~" After receiving a gentle nod, she greeted the others—Sir Temperance, Sir World, Sir Magician, and so on—and keenly noticed that Sir Sun seemed a bit uneasy. "What are you worried about?" Audrey asked. This allowed Caine, who had also observed the younger Sir Sun's unusual state, to refrain from speaking further. Having entered this mysterious space earlier, he had slightly arranged the items on the desk, placing the Azk copper whistle, the biological toxin vials, and the灵教团 copper whistle in the corner, and then completely concealed them with a dense gray mist. Now, the only thing covering the surface of the desk before him was the "Emperor of Black" card—something perfectly befitting the stature of Sir Fool! Derek "The Sun" didn't hide his move—he immediately succeeded in convincing everyone he was ill and had been transferred to isolation treatment at the base of the Tower. At the end, he asked: "Respected Sir Fool, will that magical object detect my attendance at the Tarot gathering?" I don't know... I'm not even sure what it is. But, for now, there's no strange or powerful force attempting to intrude. Well, neither the "Eternal Sun" nor the "True Maker" has found us here. Clary lightly tapped the edge of the bronze long table, responding with calm assurance: "Normally, it won't detect you." "But certain magical objects possess unique effects." Upon hearing Sir Fool's affirmative response, Derek immediately felt reassured. He nodded and said: "I'm not entirely sure what those unique effects are either." This is one of the Silver City's greatest secrets. "With that, he suddenly remembered something the former exploration team leader had mentioned and asked immediately, 'Have any of you heard of a man named Amun?' Amun? Klein paused briefly, recalling the sense of familiarity. But instead of answering right away, he directed his gaze toward 'The Hangman.' He was certain that this mid-level member of the Storm Church was also well acquainted with Amun, possibly knowing more than himself. Likewise, 'Justice' Audrey turned to 'The Hangman' as well, since it was precisely from him that she last heard the name. 'The Magician' Folsen listened with growing bewilderment, feeling that the topic at hand lay outside his area of knowledge. 'The Hangman' Aljere, meanwhile, furrowed his brows and asked with genuine curiosity, 'Did any of you, in your explorations of the surrounding regions from Silver City, encounter someone who claimed to be Amun? Or, have you come across any similar records?' "Sol" Deric nodded seriously. "Yes, forty-two years ago, an exploration party encountered a man who called himself Amen deep in the darkness. Upon returning to the City of Silver, they all gradually went mad and lost control—only one remained, confined at the base of the Round Tower, right next to my own room." "Perhaps he has gone mad, and 'Amen' is merely a figment of his imagination," suggested "The Magician" Vorths, drawing upon his rich experience in novel writing. "The Hanged Man" Aljer glanced at "The Fool" at the very top, who remained calm and composed, making no gesture. With a quiet courage, he then said, "Imagination is a possibility, but it would be unlikely to have simply conjured up the name 'Amen' without cause." He turned to "Sol," saying, "In the Fourth Age—indeed, over a thousand years ago, or even further back—in our nation, there once existed a family renowned for their strange powers. They belonged to the Tudor dynasty, and their very surname was Amen." "Even in that era, when so many powerful figures held high ranks, the family's surname remained a taboo."