Responsible for the Minsk district and surrounding neighborhoods. Crane shook hands with the officer who had escorted him out. "This intimidation case is definitely connected to the previous series of murders. The organizer back then, Mr. Ainsworth Stanton, the great detective, has been attacked today in the afternoon!" "Please take this seriously," said the officer, returning his hand. "Mr. Moriaty, rest assured—we will certainly not overlook your suggestion and will immediately report it upward." "Thank you so much." Crane put on his hat and stepped out the door. Upon seeing the two intimidation letters and the defiant remarks from the suspected demon dog owner, he promptly filed a report with the nearest police station, carrying the evidence, and quietly hoped the matter would be swiftly transferred to either the Enforcer or the Mechanism Heart unit, placing himself under the protection of official power. Though he now had no definite reason to retain his identity as a detective and could fully abandon his residence at 15 Minsk Street, move to a new place, and assume a new identity, he suspected this might precisely be the purpose of the threatening letter writer: by exploiting the wild, exceptional detective's reluctance to come forward, to compel him to transfer under the cover of night, and then seize the opportunity to strike during that process. Indeed, my own journey to report the incident was equally favorable for an attack—so was my time at home before that—there was clearly more to this person's intentions. Thus,克莱恩 felt both puzzled and cautious as he returned to 15 Minsk Street. As soon as he stepped down from the carriage, he spotted a figure lingering at his doorstep under the gas lamp, slightly damp from the rain. 克莱恩 was initially startled, then reassured, recognizing the visitor. It was Stuart, the private detective with a full beard and of medium, slightly slender build—his own admired protégé. Nor could he afford to be careless... What if the "Demon" had abilities similar to the "Faceless Man"? Klein gripped his staff, took slow, steady steps forward, and then called out试探ly. Caine pointed to the front door. "Let's go in and talk then." Once inside the living room, he excused himself to the bathroom, where he quickly performed two divinations—first to confirm that Stuart was indeed himself, and second to inquire whether there were any significant dangers tonight. The results were all affirmative. That is, Stuart was not an impostor, and there were indeed notable risks tonight. Of course, those risks might not materialize directly before Caine; they might be neutralized unnoticed by someone else. This is the inherent limitation of divination—it offers certain insights but cannot provide comprehensive or precise answers. Such limitations in the realm of the mysterious cannot be resolved through methods like elimination or binary division. Returning to the real world, Caine pressed the mechanical button on the toilet flusher. As the sound of running water filled the room, he opened the door to the hallway. "Stuart," he asked calmly, "would you like coffee or tea?" Stuart stood up and shook his head. "No, we should discuss the issues first. Although I've received several threatening letters in the past, none have compared to today's—definitely written in blood! My instinct tells me he'll act, and that he has the ability to do so. By the way, was it he who attacked Mr. Stanton?" "I believe so," said Caine calmly, then sat down. "This should be connected to the previous series of murders. Our only point of intersection—yours, mine, and Mr. Stanton's—is this case." Stuart's reaction had been a bit overthe-top... frightened by Mr. Stanton's attack? At the same time, Caine observed him carefully. Influenced by Stuarts' demeanor, he calmed down and sat back, reflecting. "It seems to be true..." As he finished speaking, a series of tinkling sounds suddenly echoed through the room. The doorbell rang. Stuart jolted as if startled by a sudden arrow. Caine frowned slightly and glanced at him before standing to go toward the door. As soon as he grasped the handle, the scene outside had already come vividly to life in his mind. There stood Caslanne, the detective, in a gray wool coat, accompanied by her red-haired assistant Lydia, and several other men who looked rather familiar. All of them were the private detectives summoned by Mr. Stanton—indeed, so it was. Caine recalled their faces with only a brief thought and recognized them immediately. He pushed the door open with force, stepping back two paces. Caslanne, with dense brows and slightly drooping facial muscles, looked steadily at Caine and Stuart without any small talk, stating directly, “We’ve all received identical threatening letters—have you, too?” “Indeed,” Caine replied seriously. Caslanne exhaled a stream of white vapor, saying, "We've all been summoned by Mr. Stanton to participate in the investigation of that series of murders—this is the only point of commonality." "I agree," said Kline, gesturing toward the room. "Let's discuss this once everyone's here." As the six private detectives entered one by one, Kline quickly assessed the motives of the demon dog's owner: By making such a spectacle, he would surely draw intense attention from the official extraordinary organizations. Perhaps even half-divine, half-human champions would be stationed nearby. How could he then mount his revenge? Was he simply making a show of defiance, forcing the military and the three major churches to assign extraordinary agents to protect these private detectives—thus dispersing their resources, exhausting their efforts, and making them unable to afford oversight? That would be his form of retribution for the primary targets who had acted at the time? During this process, there might even be opportunities to eliminate a few official extraordinary beings... The private detectives' actions will be launched much later, once the defenses have relaxed... Of course, if such probing efforts present any opportunities, he will certainly seize them. For demons capable of anticipating threats, this approach is highly advantageous in showcasing their unique strengths. Yet, with the three major churches, the military, and the royal family—each boasting numerous powerful entities, numerous seals, and even half-divine, half-human figures, including many '0' and '1' level seals—the demon dog's master is surely confident that none among them possess the means or the item capable of countering his particular strengths? No, he is absolutely certain that no such capability exists. The official extraordinary forces—especially the Night Watchers, the Sentinels, and the Mechanical Heart—have long been engaged in the struggle against demons, and throughout the Fourth Age, and even further back into the Third Age, such experiences and records are abundant. The master of that demon hound is at best a Sequence 5. As long as anything goes wrong—or even if everything goes smoothly—he could easily be torn apart by a half-deity or some terrifying seal. So why would he dare make such a bold attempt? Or perhaps he's simply playing games with the official organizations, taking no real action, again and again... There's another possibility—he's using the threatening letters to gather more than half of his targets together, exploiting the formal organizations' inherent tendencies toward balance, procedure, and bureaucracy, creating a time lag... The incident involving Mr. Esgarrouth Stanton has certainly been transferred to the mechanical heart's team handling supernatural matters in the Hillsdown district, but the night watchmen were primarily responsible for the last demon dog's demise, so they likely won't exchange very detailed information on certain specifics... Perhaps it's based on Mr. Stanton's personal beliefs—on which deity does he place his faith? I've always been unaware of this, and never noticed it clearly... In any case, coordinating among so many private detectives, each residing in different districts, each with distinct beliefs and overlapping jurisdictions, is a constant headache, and achieving joint operations isn't easy. At this very moment, what's currently taking over and quietly safeguarding us consists of only two to three official extraordinary beings—perhaps up to the level of stewards—at most—and they haven't activated any particularly powerful, dangerous seals, nor have the high-tier, half-divine, half-human figures swiftly turned their attention toward us. This gives the demon-dog's owner a crucial opportunity. While three to four official extraordinary beings could absolutely encircle and even secure one, or even multiple, sequence-5 individuals, as long as the right timing is maintained, the owner still has a solid chance of escaping unscathed. Within just twenty to thirty seconds, Caine had already deduced two or three possible scenarios and offered preliminary assessments for each. Reflecting on the significant risks indicated by the divination results tonight, Caine nodded thoughtfully, closed the door, entered the living room, and addressed the detectives who were either seated or standing: "Have any of you called the police?" Here, roughly half of the participants from the earlier discussion had gathered. He glanced around, silently murmuring to himself. Caslanne stepped in to answer on behalf of the others: "Some of us called the police, others tried to locate Mr. Stanton or someone familiar to them, and eventually we gathered here, discussing our visit to you, the great detective." Klein nodded gently, deliberately saying: "Don't worry too much—those sending the threatening letters are likely seeking revenge against the serial killer. But he's only one person, perhaps with one or two associates at most. We have eight detectives here, all skilled in combat and marksmanship. Why should we fear him?" "Moreover, at the time Mr. Stanton gathered us, there were certainly others beyond ourselves who received the threatening letters. They probably also received them, but simply didn't encounter you or come to visit me." Hearing these words, Caslanne and her assistant, Lydia, exchanged expressions of cautious doubt, as though something had now become uncertain. Another detective took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Moriaty, perhaps as you've said, we needn't fear him. 'But he is a venomous snake in the dark—no one knows when he will strike, and we can never be prepared. Moreover, he might harm our own family.' 'Family?' 'Oh, my wife!' 'No, my little angel!' The detectives reacted with intense emotional upheaval, their responses somewhat exaggerated. Stuart, standing behind Crane, grew visibly trembling, filled with both fear and fury. 'No, I don't want this...' he murmured, his emotions nearing collapse. While Crane and Kaslana tried to calm them, Stuart suddenly drew his gun and aimed it squarely at Crane's back of the head. His eyes were glazed over, and his emotions had completely erupted.