Watching streaks of lightning illuminate the darkening sky, Dric Berg didn't immediately go to knock on the doors of a few acquaintances. Instead, he walked along the widest avenue all the way to the training grounds at the edge of Silver City. After each exploration party returns, they stay here for a while—both to exchange information about their encounters deep in the darkness and to facilitate communication, and also as a form of isolation, guarding against strange phenomena that might attach themselves to one of the members and then erupt suddenly after a period of time. This has been the experience and refinement of Silver City over two millennia—simple yet highly effective. As soon as Dric Berg entered the training grounds, his back still bearing the "Galeaxe," he was suddenly struck by a bright sight: there stood Loivya, the elder, radiant and seemingly only in her thirties, and two other familiar faces of similar age. — The city of Silver is not very large, constrained by its environment, so its population has grown only modestly over the years. To people of a certain age, it may seem small, yet not entirely so; Drik isn't certain he knows everyone personally, though he's seen most of them, and has even shared several years of classroom studies and training sessions with some of them. Among the exploration team, Drik is most familiar with Dac Regins, who once served as his patrol team partner. Dac is of average height, slightly built, strong in physical strength, optimistic and outgoing, often smiling warmly and approachably. He is currently a Sequence 8 "Pugilist" in the Path of the Giants. At this moment, the two are separated by a semi-transparent yet steel-hard wall, preventing effective interaction—direct contact can only occur once all members of the exploration team have confirmed there are no issues. After his parents' passing, Drik had grown more reserved and quiet. Now, he waves to Dac, offering a greeting. The "gladiator" had noticed and turned his head toward them. "Dak, how's it going? Any danger?" Dariq called out. The black wall was made of a material from near the Silver City, known as "Dusky Amber"—hard as steel yet transparent with excellent acoustic properties, so Dariq's voice passed through it with little obstruction. In Dariq's mind, Dak would surely beam with a bright smile and gesture enthusiastically, as always: "Look, I'm unharmed—so you know we've avoided serious trouble. It's all just minor issues!" Hearing his voice, Dak took a few steps and approached the wall, smiling in reply. "Nothing at all. Everything has gone smoothly." Watching that flawless, composed smile, Dariq suddenly felt a chill run through him—like staying overnight on the roof of an abandoned tower or in the ruins of a fallen city, where the world around him was dark, and the currents of silence gathered deep within. ...At the Crags Club, Klein and Dr. Allen agreed on a fee: two pounds! No doubt, doctors' earnings are quite reliable—when I used to take on such commissions, I'd typically receive only ten sou. Reflecting on this, Klein murmured to himself, especially since he had once heard from "The Undertaker" Fret, during his time with the Night Watch team, that renowned doctors commanded high salaries. At the time, Dr. Leonard Mithel, a poet himself, had remarked that, in his experience, if one wished to buy a house in the bustling districts of Beckland and convert it into a medical practice, it would be the fastest way to break even. They had arranged to visit Dr. Willy O'Conner's home after dinner, but it was still only just past three in the afternoon, so the equestrian instructor Talim invited the three of them to gather around a table and play a game of "Rising," the game invented by the great Emperor Roscel. I had imagined playing tennis, practicing shooting, and browsing through the books in the library—what a healthy life that would be... Yet, why has it turned out this way? Between rounds of cards, Klein mused. Honestly, with his current mastery of "magic," he could easily wipe out Dr. Allen, journalist Mike, and Talim, leaving them with nothing. But I'm a honest man—I trust my skills and my luck. While the red-vested waiter was shuffling the cards, Klein picked up a cream puff, took a slow bite, and savored it. He genuinely exclaimed: "That's life!" During the game, Klein noticed one thing: Talim, the equestrian instructor, no longer seemed to frequently space out or fret as he used to. Had his friend's unrequited love been resolved? Klein sipped his Earl Grey tea, curious but mindful not to voice it aloud. As a detective, he knew he shouldn't bring it up in front of others, so he held his thoughts and focused on the game. By five o'clock, Michael Joseph had to return to the office, so the four-player game came to a temporary halt, and Klein won five sulers. His luck has truly been outstanding lately... With a satisfied and appreciative smile, Klein noticed Dr. Allen leaving his seat to go to the restroom, and thus lowered his voice, speaking softly: "Tarlim, has your friend's matter been resolved?" Tarlim was about to set his cards down in the center of the table when he paused, startled, and then sighed, smiling. "Sort of," he replied, with a sense of eager engagement. "Actually, it's not that serious—just that I was overthinking it at the time. To put it simply, a young gentleman of high standing fell in love with a common woman. You know, for a man of his status, he must marry a noble lady—well, even a daughter of a wealthy family wouldn't do." "Ah, so it is... I've been imagining all sorts of dramatic, far-fetched stories—falling in love with a man, with a monster, with someone whose social standing made it impossible—well, I'm quite disappointed and can't help but chuckle. 'As far as I know,' I've heard, 'upper-class men don't mind maintaining a mistress outside the official marriage.' Talim took a sip of the highland coffee. "The solution turned out simpler than I expected. I simply found the lady, explained her predicament to her, and she calmly agreed to leave the gentleman, asking me to assist her. 'She is truly thoughtful, kind, refined, and beautiful,' I must say. If I hadn't considered her status, I might have knelt before her and kissed the back of her hand." "Well, then, I suppose I won't be able to help much," said Kline, lifting the white porcelain cup with golden trim containing his green tea. As a visitor from Earth, he had no interest in assignments involving the disruption of couples' love lives. But when it came to gossip, he was quite enthusiastic. ………… After dinner at the Crag Club, savoring the limited-edition Sunya giant lobster, Kline and Dr. Allen took a carriage to the home of Will O'Conning at 66 Dunton Street in the northern district. This address had been firmly etched in Dr. Allen's memory from the beginning—he hadn't gone back to the hospital to check the corresponding medical records, and as Klein speculated, most of the materials related to Will O'Connell had likely been removed by the night staff. As a former night staff member, I'm very familiar with their workflow… Klein sighed and remarked with a wry smile. They rang the doorbell, and after a moment's wait, the door opened to reveal a maid dressed in a black-and-white dress, who looked puzzled. "Mr. and Mrs.?" she asked, "Could I help you find someone?" Seeing that Allen remained as usual—cold and composed, Klein stepped forward. "We're looking for Will O'Connell," he said. "He's our attending physician, and we're here to follow up on his health." "I don't know him at all," the maid replied, "I've only just arrived here. I'll go find my master—please wait a moment." While they waited, Allen suddenly interjected, "Actually, I almost believed your excuse just now." "This is fundamental to being a detective," Klein chuckled. At that moment, an elderly gentleman in his fifties approached the door and spoke in a steady tone: "The Wilton family has moved out—specifically on..." he mentioned a date. Alan quickly calculated and then furrowed his brows: "Just two days after surgery, how could they be so busy moving?" He truly acted as if he were conducting a follow-up visit. Klein, slightly puzzled, asked: "Mr. How do you know so precisely?" Normally, subsequent tenants would move in after some delay. The elderly man replied with impatience: "Several people have already inquired, and I even went to the landlord personally." The night watchmen... Klein, with little hope, asked: "Do you know where the Wilton family relocated?" "No," the gentleman simply said one word. "Did they leave any belongings behind here?" Klein paused and asked further. "There are some," the old man said, drawing a breath, "but they've all gone to the previous group!" It's truly frustrating when you encounter colleagues—always anticipating what you'll think of first... Klein found himself wishing to sigh. With no further leads, Klein and Allen politely bid farewell and left the 66th Street building. "It seems your questions will have to wait a while before being answered," Klein said to Dr. Allen. Allen remained silent for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly: "After what just happened, I'm no longer so troubled. I'm a doctor—I simply need to focus on doing my job. I should attend to my own health, rather than questioning the circumstances or wondering why others aren't kind. What others think or feel, or why they aren't generous, isn't something I should concern myself with. From now on, I'll just maintain the doctor-patient relationship." "That's exactly what I hope for." "Klein genuinely agreed, then casually asked, "What exactly went wrong with Willy Oancey's left leg at that time?" "The doctor recalled, 'A peculiar mass had developed around his left lower leg, forming a ring that severely compressed the blood vessels. Yet the boy showed little discomfort—only some fear. We initially intended to treat him conservatively, but his condition rapidly deteriorated.'" PS: Completed at midnight. Requesting monthly support! All promised additional updates have been delivered.