Saint George district, Sachy Street. As Crane and Jurgen stepped down from the carriage, they saw a massive vehicle parked at the inventor Repad's door. The entire body was iron black, featuring three groups of twelve wheels, and a tall, ship-like stack of chimneys rising at the top, still drifting with residual smoke. This was a steam-powered vehicle Crane had seen in magazines and on the streets—described by the public as an iron warship walking on land, with an impressively grand scale. If the streets hadn't been recently built or restored, this vehicle would have blocked the entire roadway, leaving no room for carriages, and thus could only be seen in certain areas and locations. At that moment, the heavy carriage doors with glass windows were opened, and two figures stepped out. One of them was Franmi Kaech, the steam-powered vehicle magnate whom Klein had previously met. Kaech had a quarter of the Fsaq Empire blood, with a pale blue gaze, tall and now slightly overweight, always holding a pipe in his mouth. Beside him stood a man dressed in a thick black wool coat, wrapped in a gray scarf, with an unremarkable appearance—ordinary black hair and brown eyes—but exuded an unexpected warmth. "Hi, Moriati detective, you're just on time. This is my lawyer and business partner, Pacheco Doun." As he spoke, two broad-shouldered, sturdy men stepped down from the steam vehicle—clearly Franmi's bodyguards. How unprofessional, Klein thought—didn't they usually step down first and then help the boss open the door? He murmured a comment, smiled and greeted them, then introduced his own lawyer, Jurgens. While waiting for Reppard to open the door, he casually remarked, "Mr. Kaech, how popular are these steam-powered vehicles?" Will there be many people who like it?" Franmi Keche chuckled. "Those who consider themselves refined often complain it's too wild, too rough, and ordinary people simply can't afford it—only enthusiasts like myself, who are passionate about machinery and steam, are willing to buy." "Mainly, many streets are simply too narrow," Kline added reassuringly. Franmi Keche was the investor he had personally recruited, not a result of Raypard's efforts. While playing cards at the Crag Club, he had deliberately brought up this matter, and the equestrian teacher Talim immediately remarked that Franmi appreciated similar inventions and offered to introduce everyone to meet him. Kline was deeply moved: the club truly was an excellent place for building networks—members who truly engaged valued far more than free food, drinks, or event spaces. "Haha, that's indeed a key point," Kline said. "As the population grows and cities expand, horse-drawn carriages will inevitably be phased out—they're simply too slow. Efficiency is what this world now demands!" "Franmi spoke with great confidence. He then smiled and added, "Moreover, I've already secured an order from the military. They'd like certain improvements—exactly as mentioned in the Roscel document—such as adding armored, bullet-resistant plating, extending coverage to the tracks for better performance on rough terrain, and mounting a large, new gun barrel. This will make it a truly revolutionary weapon in warfare." The Roscel document... Klein sighed silently, momentarily at a loss for words, until Raphad finally opened the door. During the ensuing discussions, Jurgen and Pacheco were the main points of contention, frequently debating with one another or negotiating terms with their clients. Raphad, the inventor, remained seated, often lost in thought, only offering his input when specifically asked. In the end, an agreement was reached: Franmi invested 1,000 pounds for a 20% share, while Klein's and Raphad's shares were proportionally reduced—Klein to 28% and Raphad to 52%. At the same time, Franmee will acquire an additional 18% of shares from Kline at a premium, paying 1,000 pounds—net of taxes. Likewise, he will purchase 9% of shares from Repard for a net price of 500 pounds. As a result of these transactions, Franmee becomes the largest shareholder of the newly established Beckland Bicycle Company, holding 47% of the shares. He will be responsible for the subsequent factory production and marketing efforts, and the company will have on its books the 1,000 pounds he invested—this serving as the initial working capital. Repard becomes the second-largest shareholder with 43% of the shares, tasked with assisting in achieving large-scale, streamlined production. Kline retains only 10% of the shares, representing a purely financial investment. And the 1,000 pounds he received from selling his shares boosted his personal wealth to 2,235 pounds—enough to confidently purchase one of the primary materials of the "Faceless Man." As a private detective, he had been continuously taking on new cases over the past month, so his daily expenses required no draw from his savings. He still needed to pay his lawyer, Jurgen, 50 pounds, leaving him with 2,185 pounds. Then, he thought of thanking Yurgen again at Tallyrim. A thought struck him, and he promptly signed the document, sealed it, and then rose to shake hands with Franmi and Raphad: "Good cooperation." Franmi checked his golden watch and smiled warmly. "Normally, we'd go for lunch together to celebrate the agreement, but a prominent figure is awaiting me—my apologies, there will be many more opportunities ahead." A prominent figure, another prominent figure... Was it the one behind Tallyrim? The one I had reimbursed with several fabricated reports pointing toward the Aurora Society? Klein suddenly felt a bit uneasy and quickly smiled, saying there was nothing to worry about. After leaving Rapad's house and getting into a carriage, Jurgen suddenly furrowed his brows. "Sherlock, you agreed too readily," he remarked. "Why do you say that?" Klein asked, puzzled. He didn't even know which matter Jurgen's lawyer was referring to. Jurgen spoke seriously. "When we discussed the share transfer. "Based on your description and Franmi's performance, I can envision the bright market potential for the bicycle business—though it's still just an invention now, the overall valuation won't be very high. A price of five thousand pounds is quite reasonable. However, you should retain more shares to secure better returns in the future. "I had expected you to sell only 8%, and be confident of securing five hundred pounds. Instead, you agreed to sell 18%. Even if that amounts to only five hundred pounds, you've already returned several times your initial investment. That seems rather hasty." "Because I needed the money urgently... Though just now I did agree too readily, with hardly any hesitation at all—this is a substantial transaction, and it doesn't quite feel like my usual self. Klein recalled the scene from earlier, his mind gradually growing more puzzled. Could it be that I've been subtly influenced by either Franmi or that Pacheco lawyer? Is one of them a remarkable person? Good thing the price remains fairly standard... While pondering this, Klein turned to Jurgen, who was still awaiting an explanation, and said: "It's nearly New Year's..." He hadn't quite figured out how to explain it, so he simply picked this as a starting point. A thoughtful person would naturally follow this lead, drawing their own conclusions and completing the reasoning without needing Klein to elaborate further. Of course, this is a strategy tailored for the intelligent. A more ordinary person, on the other hand, would ask, "So what?" "What exactly?" or "What happened?" Jurgen, the lawyer, clearly a thoughtful individual, nodded after a brief silence: "I understand." "What did you figure out? I haven't quite settled on it myself yet..." Caine pointed toward the steam-powered subway station ahead. "I'm getting off here to find a contact." He removed his scarf, took off his hat, sat across from him, and produced a stack of one-sou paper notes, handing them over: "The activity budget for next week plus the reward from our last update—totaling one pound." He had been quite generous with his rewards recently, as he had already identified a reimbursement recipient. The older Kole's complexion had noticeably brightened, and with some embarrassment, he accepted the cash: "My last message might not have been very significant..." "No," said Kline, smiling, "whether something is important depends on who's viewing it. Many things you consider trivial might actually be the very foundation of someone else's income." He then asked, "What's been happening this week?" Kole held the stack of notes, inserting them into his pocket while thinking: "It's the same as before—many people are still searching for followers of 'The Fool.' Ha! How could anyone possibly believe in 'The Fool'? Isn't that a rather unimpressive title?" ...Kline's lips slightly moved as he said: "Have they made any progress?" "The Aurora Society truly persists, doesn't it?" Caine thought with a sigh. "No, there's absolutely no one like that," Old Kole shook his head and replied. "Recently, there's been a wave of strikes—several times I've been approached by people demanding more reasonable working hours and compensation." This is entirely normal these days, yet it can lead to serious consequences... Caine mused. "Keep an eye on who's leading these efforts, but don't rush—safety comes first." "Understood," Old Kole cleared his throat. "Over the past few days, many members of the crime syndicates and bounty hunters have been searching for one person. For some reason, someone has issued a reward." "For whom?" Caine felt the weather growing cold and took a sip of his coffee. The warm liquid slid down his throat, warming his stomach. After a moment, Old Kole said, "A man named Azk Egers." "Azk. Egos... Azk. Egos? Kline lifted his gaze from his coffee cup and turned to the older Kole across the table. Wasn't that Mr. Egos's full name? How had he suddenly been put on notice? Inz. Zangewell? Kline, relying on the "Clown's" ability, asked casually, "Have they described him in any detail?" The older Kole recalled, "He seemed to have a Baylan lineage—once a university lecturer."