Hearing the familiar scene described, Audrey was almost certain it was the work of the Sir of the Fool. She instantly felt a strong sense of identification, involvement, and pride. There was a man, covered in blood and stained with guilt—a human trafficker—whose "Judgment" card signified a just trial, resulting in execution by hanging, beheading, or burning. The "Emperor" card represented identity—was this the one who had infiltrated the royal museum and stolen the "Black Emperor" card? In that moment, Audrey found herself filled with vivid imaginings. She had intended to ask for more details and a more thorough account, but from the countenance, tone, and emotional hue of her father, Lord Horbury, she realized he was still unaware of what had truly transpired. With that, she set aside her questions and curiosity, and decided to seek information from her friend, Konst. Lierson, of MI9. Although it would be quite in character for me to directly approach Constance with questions, such a directness would still feel somewhat abrupt and slightly at odds with my noble status. Hmm... Let me have Anne prepare several afternoon tea invitations, to be sent to Glayntr, Constance, Murray, Kristin, and Jane. Most of them are enthusiasts of the esoteric arts, and the title of the daring rogue, "Black Emperor," will surely resonate with them. Under my guidance, they will be able to ask me questions that I myself would find awkward to raise. That’s settled. Audrey shifts her attention and sips her breakfast slowly. She believes the followers of the "Knight of the Fool" would not purely seek to punish evil in order to target Capin—this would not align with his established character. Of course, if this were several months ago, when Audrey had only recently joined the Tarot Circle, she would have readily accepted such an explanation. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have chosen the "Justice" card as her personal emblem. And after several gatherings, going through numerous events, she felt herself had matured greatly, no longer so naive. She believed there must be deeper, more essential factors at play—such as which demon deity was involved with Karpin, or which secret organization—within this matter. She hoped Konst would provide useful information... Audrey thought of it with growing anticipation. ... At No. 15 Minsk Street, Cline was eating white bread with fruit jam while flipping through today's newspaper. "What? The safe?" He nearly choked, almost suffocating as he stared at the page. No, I didn't, I didn't—Cline immediately mentally rejected the idea of having stolen all the contents from the safe in a three-part denial. The situation had been urgent. To gather clues, he had indeed found the safe and only entered to check for any important documents or evidence. He had not taken anything, and had quickly left, moving on to another room. Of course, Klein, in his ethereal state, had also sustained injuries during the explosion caused by the gas leak, which reduced the total weight of items he could carry. The safe in Carpino’s apartment contained only gold bars, jewelry, deeds for land and property, and antiques—items either cumbersome to remove or difficult to sell. Perhaps there was a dedicated cash storage area, but I hadn’t encountered it, nor did I have time to search for it. Klein murmured quietly, confirming that subsequent investigators had finalized the division of the safe’s contents. He glanced at the newspaper, sipped a cup of Sibert tea, exhaled slowly, and smiled to himself: “The daring thief, ‘Black Emperor’—I quite like that title.” After breakfast, Klein donned a heavy double-breasted formal suit, took up a half-high silk hat and a black, sturdy walking cane, and opened the door of Minsk Street, heading toward the broken axe alley at the edge of the eastern district—where Daisy had gone missing. After finalizing the plan yesterday, he deliberately made a special trip to the Broken Axe Lane, carefully searching for subtle clues and knocking on the doors of several nearby homes, asking if anyone had seen a girl resembling Daisy. Although Klein believed that the official extraordinary agents he was taking on would likely find it unlikely that a less affluent household could afford a "thief" with at least a sequence-6 rank, and thus would probably focus their investigation on the hidden aspects connected to Karpin, supplemented by inquiries such as "Who has recently asked about Karpin?", he still decided cautiously to fully commit to the performance from the very beginning—just in case any enforcement officer suddenly had a fit and decided to conduct an initial investigation in this area. Some families may still have savings and be able to afford other detectives. As a kind newcomer I only took over yesterday, my chances of being questioned are quite low—provided I’m not scrutinized, I won’t be compared against my performance in the last Lanerous case. Moreover, in the previous case, the night-watchers had been dispatched, supported by a special military unit. This time, in the Joewood district, the on-site investigators would likely be the enforcers—their coordination wouldn’t be as smooth. Hmm, Kate and Parker belong to the "arbitrators" pathway; it’s unclear whether the military might intervene. As a former night-watcher, Cline has a solid understanding of the operational patterns, working styles, and investigative habits of the various official bodies. In short, I possess strong anti-detection capabilities. Cline chuckled to himself and boarded the carriage. He would continue investigating the case of Daisy’s disappearance. After all, he is still an ordinary private detective who has not yet confirmed a connection between Daisy’s disappearance and Captain Cappin. At nine in the morning, Daisy returned to her run-down apartment, accompanied by the police officer responsible for the surrounding neighborhood. The previous night, she had been housed along with other similarly unfortunate young women in various churches within the Chorlton district, where she had undergone a series of interviews—about the scenes of their escapes, what they saw when they looked back, where each of them lived, their family backgrounds, whether they knew any friends who stood out as particularly ordinary, and so on. Still shaken and apprehensive, Daisy answered the questions truthfully. After that, no one sought her out again. She slept through the night and was then transported in the early morning to the eastern district, where she was handed over to the stern police officer she had frequently encountered. Throughout the journey, Daisy remained silent, slightly nervous, until she entered the building where her own apartment stood, when she finally felt at ease. As soon as she stepped into the room, before she could even scan the hanging wet clothes to find her mother and sister, she heard a scream: "Daisy!" Freya set down her work, like a swift deer, darting over clothes half in the air and clutter on the floor, and rushed quickly to the door, embracing her sister tightly. Then, she released her hold, gazing up and down at Daisy with tears in her eyes, a mix of joy and concern: "Are you all right? Thank goodness—you're finally back!" Livi rose from behind the washing basin, wiped her hands on her clothes, and dabbed at her eyes: "Daisy, where have you been these past days?" At that moment, the police officer interjected: "She was kidnapped—we rescued her." "Thank you so much! Thank you so much! You're absolutely wonderful!" Livi cried, using a flurry of adjectives. The officer cleared his throat gently: "That's our duty... Have you noticed any unusual people recently?" Liv froze for a moment, sticking to her principle of doing one thing at a time and not adding unnecessary trouble, and said, "No, truly, nothing at all." The police officer waved his hand and said, "Just be more careful from now on—avoid the quieter, less-traveled paths!" He couldn't stand the humidity and the blend of various odors here, and turned right away. Liv looked again at her little daughter, walked over to her, wiped her hands on her side, and then embraced Daisy tightly. "Good, good—back safely," she murmured, her eyes glistening, without asking whether Daisy had been hurt. Daisy immediately relaxed and began to cry. Freya, beside them, also started to weep, reaching out her arms to embrace both her mother and sister. The three of them cried for a while, then gradually released each other. Liv wiped her eyes once more and said, "First, wash the clothes—there are still many to do." Daisy, just rescued, nodded and quickly got into the work. It wasn't until lunchtime, when they were chewing on dark bread and drinking water that could hardly be called tea, that Liv had a moment to ask, "Daisy, did you get hurt?" Daisy shook her head. "They just gave me a few punches." "That's wonderful! Were the police able to rescue you? Yesterday, a kind detective offered to help locate you free of charge, and now you're back today—ah, your vocabulary notebook is still with him." Freya mentioned casually. Liv, well prepared, added, "I'll ask old Koller to retrieve it and let that detective know you've returned home, so he won't have to keep working on it. In any case, we'll have to thank him again." Daisy set aside her concerns and answered her sister's questions: "No, not the police. Suddenly, there was an explosion, and our door, which had been locked, was mysteriously opened—we just ran out, but we saw a man—or a woman—standing on the roof." "He wore black armor, a crown-shaped helmet, and a cloak, simply gazing at us, those villains not one of them coming to stop or pursue us." As a "scholar-in-training" at the free school, Daisy's vocabulary was noticeably richer than her mother, Livia's. "A person who simply wears armor—saved you?" Livia asked in surprise, while Freya waited curiously for the answer. Daisy nodded seriously: "Yes, he was just like the one described in the minstrels' songs—like a hero!" Hero... Freya mused over the word, her eyes bright as stars. "It's certain that the two incidents were carried out by two different individuals, with clearly distinct capabilities and strengths. While this could be due to an increase in their sequence levels, the killer in the Cardan case is a spirit of resentment—specifically, one capable of shifting between physical forms—which is not common." This analysis was widely accepted. Thus, the convenor concluded: "Two separate cases, two different people, both of whom have scattered Tarot cards. It's possible that the second one is imitating the first, allowing us to narrow our focus to those who were involved in the Lan'urus case. Alternatively, there may be an organization at play! 'An organization symbolized by the Tarot cards!'"