Dead? Will Ongsaitin is dead? And apparently, dead for some time now! Could this be a fabrication? Caine was both stunned and puzzled by the small child's body, his mind suddenly brimming with a host of thoughts. In his perception, Will Ongsaitin was a child endowed with special qualities, possibly connected to the "Monster" path's Sequence 1, "Mercury Serpent." The divination games he played—just a casual remark like, "Doctor, your luck will worsen!"—had plagued Allen for a long time; the paper cranes he folded could locate Allen's spirit body in the spiritual realm and infuse it with artificially created revelations; even his movements, though visible to Caine from above the gray mist, remained only partially observable, leaving him unable to draw firm conclusions. How could such a child suddenly and inexplicably die? Die even before Allen's doctor's dream began? And where were his family members? Klein narrowed his eyes, suppressing a strong sense of nausea as he carefully examined the highly decayed corpse, noticing several torn Tarot cards scattered in the surrounding soil. His spiritual intuition told him that the body before him was almost certainly Wil. Aonsedt. Truly astonishing and perplexing... He should go back to the gray mist to verify whether Wil. Aonsedt had indeed faked his death... Wait—what did this have to do with him? He had already decided to step back and remain uninvolved, to avoid being entangled by whatever "Mercury Serpent" was at play, which might even be more terrifying than the seal object "0–08." Klein suddenly snapped back to awareness, shouting to the stunned caretaker and the doctor, who was nearly collapsing with fear: "Call the police!" "Yes, yes!" The caretaker first stared in surprise, then responded repeatedly. Holding his iron spade, he turned and rushed toward the forest's edge, moving with such speed that it seemed as though a living corpse were chasing him. Indeed, he was just an ordinary man—far from cautious. Under these circumstances, shouldn't he have been on guard against potential treachery from those around him? Exposing yourself to the back is so easy to be smacked by a single shovel—ah, Klein glanced at the guard's silhouette and sighed, shaking his head. During his time with the Night Watch team in Tingen, he had reviewed numerous case files and noticed that many victims were betrayed and undermined by their own colleagues. Thinking of this, Klein walked over to Dr. Allen, bent down, and reached out. "There's nothing to be afraid of—he's already dead." "…It's precisely because he's dead that it feels frightening," Allen replied calmly, refusing Klein's offer of support and rising on his own. His black formal suit was now stained with soil, which made Klein feel unexpectedly pained. I simply can't bear it when valuable things are damaged… he thought to himself. Seeing that Allen was still a bit shaken, Klein smiled gently. "Praying to your trusted deity at this moment is quite effective." "Is it?" Alan paused, then gently traced a clockwise motion four times over his chest, murmuring softly, "O Night Goddess more noble than the stars, more enduring than eternity, we, your devoted servant, humbly implore your grace..." As he repeated these words, he gradually calmed, no longer as frightened as he had been earlier. Meanwhile, Caine casually drew a triangular holy emblem on his chest and whispered silently, "O God of Steam and Machinery, even though I am not particularly devout, I now humbly seek your favor..." As he spoke, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself, wondering if he might be struck by lightning right then and there. Yet, lightning and thunder belong to the Lord of Storms, not within the domain of the God of Steam and Machinery—Caine thought with a sense of ease. Twenty-some minutes later, the two of them settled into the interrogation room of the nearby police station. When taking statements, Caine calmly informed the police that he was merely a private detective hired to investigate, and had no clear understanding of what had transpired. Allen doctor, on the other hand, provided a detailed account of his dreams and explained how his observations had led to the discovery of the body. Caine could see that the police were initially unconvinced. However, after they had gone out and made a few rounds, their attitude changed immediately—they now expressed no suspicion toward either Doctor Allen or Detective Moriaty, and simply required a signature on the statement for the two to be released. Allen was quite surprised by this turn of events, while Caine found it entirely unsurprising. It was clearly the intervention of a night watchman who had stepped in. The benefit of having the doctor visit the Bishop at the Star Church beforehand had clearly been realized. As he was leaving the police station, Caine saw a figure he recognized well—this was the night watchman who had previously entered his dreams. The night watcher who might be the captain still wore his gray coat, clearly more resistant to the cold than Caine. With a single glance of his blue eyes, he smoothly shifted his gaze away from Caine's face, as if he were merely an ordinary senior inspector. Caine, pretending to be just another private detective, adjusted his glasses, donned his half-high silk hat, and joined Dr. Allen in leaving the police station, boarding the carriage. After instructing his driver to head first to Minsk Street, Dr. Allen turned to Caine. "Sherlock, do you think the matter will end here?" "If that body is indeed William Ainsworth, you should no longer be troubled." Caine paused. "Allen, have you noticed anything unusual during this time—anything at all, in any matter?" Dr. Allen thought seriously and shook his head. "No." "That's something to celebrate!" Caine exhaled, smiling. To him, it was best that the matter of Will O'Connell simply came to an end, even though the thousand-paper crane folded by Klein atop the gray mist wouldn't reveal much, and the subsequent divination had been solid—still, he remained somewhat concerned that perhaps a night watchman, inspired by a sudden idea, might find some clues. Now, with Will O'Connell's death, the case might soon fade into obscurity, archived and officially closed, with no further developments drawing renewed attention. Allen relaxed and asked with growing curiosity, "Honestly speaking, I don't think my statement carried very strong weight. Why did the police ultimately decide to believe it?" "I don't know," Klein deliberately feigned ignorance. "I thought I'd have to have my lawyer pick me up, no—secure my release and bring me home." Allen, rarely, gave a slight smile. "Sherlock, it seems you have considerable experience in matters concerning the police station." Klein smiled and replied solemnly, "This is the fate of every private detective." ... As Klein and Allen were being escorted into the police station near Green Cemetery, Furse Woll entered the somewhat quiet cemetery in a graceful black gown, wearing a soft black hat with a delicate net veil drooping from its brim. She found the grave belonging to Mrs. Anelisa. An hour earlier, she and Hugh had visited the Viscount of Glayntrit in Queens and had learned that he was willing to lend them 400 pounds at no interest. The Viscount's only condition was that the two extraordinary individuals accompany him to the gathering that Mr. Glayntrit would host tonight, ensuring his safety, as he urgently needed to collect the "crystallized toxin of the Crown Medusa" to complete the preparation of the "Pharmacist's" elixir. — The horn of the mature unicorne has been retrieved by Odile from the family's treasury, secured under the pretext of a biological experiment, effectively settling part of her debts. She has also added a condition: through Lord Glyntrite's connections with the children of Duke Negan, she wishes to verify whether the giant dragon specimen in the Duke's collection belongs to the Many-Faced Hunter and whether there are still flickers of light within it. After securing the loan, Fotherst didn't immediately turn to the "Fool" for further requests, as such a swift follow-up might have prompted Sir Hugh's instinct to question the authenticity of the transaction. In the meantime, Fotherst changed her attire and rented a carriage to visit Green Cemetery, located just outside the western district. Now, having come to understand the principles of impermanence and conservation, Fotherst realizes that the primary essence enabling her to become a "student" is the extraordinary property bequeathed by Mrs. Anelisa—essentially, she has inherited her strength. So she found herself unable to resist coming here once, to place a bouquet at the grave of Mrs. Anelisa and say thank you. It was now early winter, and most of the flowers had already faded, but Folsie managed to secure a fresh, simple bunch. These were flowers grown in the glass greenhouses, quite expensive. Thanking the Emperor Roscel, she thought sincerely within herself. As far as she knew, the flowers used by the nobility at winter banquets mostly came from the glass greenhouses, with a smaller number arriving directly from the warm southern regions via airships—thus exceeding the reach of ordinary middle-class households. Standing before the black tombstone, Folsie gazed deeply at the photograph of Mrs. Anelisa, bent down to lay the bouquet, and softly said, "Thank you." Then she straightened up, closed her eyes, and quietly recalled the past. At that moment, she heard a slightly aged voice: "You are truly a kind and generous lady." Furse opened her eyes and turned her head to see Mr. Lawrence from the Abraham family having appeared here at some point, holding a similarly delicate bouquet of fresh flowers. "No, this is not kindness or generosity," Furse said sincerely. "Mrs. Annelisa once brought me a deeply cherished, warm period of time when I had lost my mother." Her eyes suddenly glistened with moisture. Mr. Lawrence, whose eyes held a few fine lines, set down the bouquet and sighed: "That shows you value friendship." After a few casual exchanges, Furse prepared to leave, but as Mr. Lawrence waved her farewell, he suddenly began to cough violently. Cough! Cough! Cough! He coughed so hard that his legs gave way, and he fell to the ground, as if he might suffocate at any moment. As a doctor graduated from a formal medical college, Furse immediately turned back, knelt down, and began her emergency care. After a busy period, Lawrence's condition finally stabilized. He wiped away the saliva at the corner of his mouth and smiled at Fothergill, saying, "Madam, would you mind taking me back to the hotel?" "Of course not," Fothergill replied, helping him rise.