At the sound of Crane's question, Emlyn White was startled and studied him carefully. "You're wealthier than I expected," he said. Originally, he had thought it would take Sherlock Moriarty at least a week to raise 2,450 pounds. "I've been saving for a long time," Crane sighed in reply. Emlyn nodded thoughtfully. "Doing private detective work this well? That's quite a source of income." "It's merely a convenient identity. Without major cases, I only earn two or three hundred pounds a year," Crane said openly. Emlyn glanced at him and asked casually, "So, what exactly do you actually do? Military supplies smuggling? Robbing wealthy families' vaults? For sequence 7 and below, it's not common to accumulate over two thousand pounds quickly—most of them operate right on the edge of legal violations." You, a vampire, talking about legal violations? It seems you're quite eager to make quick money, eh...? Klein smiled and said, "Take on some more risky assignments—if you're not afraid of dying, you might find it worthwhile." Emlin fell silent, and only after a while managed to reply, "Come find me in the evening; I'll take you to the seller." What a genuine vampire he is... Klein was about to agree when he suddenly felt a sense of unease. What if the seller grew ambitious once he saw the profit? What if the seller simply lacked the necessary extraordinary materials and intended to lure him there only to ambush and kill him? Emlin White could be trusted, but the seller he recommended might not... He'd need an excuse to make a divination visit to the Gray Mists to assess the risk. Still, it didn't have to be that complicated—there was a better solution. As his thoughts raced, Klein turned to Emlin and said, "No, you go yourself." "I'll advance you 1,000 pounds. Once you bring those two materials to St. Harvest Church and we verify them, I'll pay the balance. I believe the seller will accept this arrangement—it demonstrates the creditworthiness of a noble bloodline." With such praise, Emlyn found himself unconsciously lifting his chin. "This mode of transaction is perfectly sound," he said. Then he chuckled. "Are you worried the other side won't be reliable? At St. Harvest Church, you'll be at ease, won't you?" "Of course," said Kline, smiling and pointing to Father Utzlovski. "With a大地 mother goddess devotee standing there—over two meters tall, with exceptionally solid muscles—everyone would feel secure. Who could possibly care about a few thousand pounds?" Emlyn's expression darkened. He huffed. "Won't you be concerned that I might pocket the 1,000-pound advance?" Kline looked calmly ahead. "Why should I be worried?" "You'll come back here every day—easy to locate—and even if a living vampire is disassembled and sold, he won't fetch less than a thousand pounds." Emelyn was struck to the core, speaking with growing irritation: "The vampire race! Do you understand? The vampire race! And furthermore, don't use the word 'only'!" Klein chuckled softly, said nothing, and waited for Emelyn to calm down. "Then, as you requested, let's proceed with the transaction." Finally, Emelyn reached up and rubbed his temple. Klein immediately produced the envelope he had just received earlier that morning, and handed it to Emelyn along with the thick stack of one thousand pounds in cash: "See you here at eight o'clock in the evening." Emelyn counted the bills, verified the amount, and then glanced cautiously at Father Utzofsky. Lowering his voice, he asked: "Private detective, someone who regularly receives and processes various intelligence and news—have you ever heard of a deity known as 'The Fool'?" The word 'divine'... the word 'divine'... Klein nearly snapped his fingers in frustration. He replied calmly: "Recently, many people have been seeking followers of 'The Fool,' and you too wish to join their ranks and claim your reward, correct?" Emlin sighed, "No, I'm merely considering whether to appeal to this evil deity—or perhaps evil spirit—for help in overcoming the psychological suggestion affecting me. As you know, there are specific names associated with Him; if these are translated into Hermesian or Ancient Hermesian, a response may be elicited. Do you know anything about Him? What kind of harm might He bring to His followers? Would He compel changes in their beliefs?" Although the focus is on me, I still feel compelled to say, vampire classmate—this is quite desperate and hasty of you...克莱恩 said, feeling deeply complex. "The Fool is quite enigmatic. To date, beyond what you already know, no one has a clear understanding of His specific domains or the corresponding prayer rituals." "What puzzles me is, under these circumstances, why you haven't considered your bloodline's primordial ancestor, the ancient deity Lilith? As long as the ritual is properly performed and the offering is appropriate, she should be able to help lift the psychological suggestion affecting you." Emlin leaned back slightly, gazing straight ahead, remaining silent for several seconds. He seemed to have grown more profound in that moment. After a brief pause, he spoke softly: "Prior to the Great Cataclysm, the Primordial Ancestor had grown increasingly unresponsive to prayers—only in rare, specific cases could she be summoned for assistance, and even then, lifting psychological suggestions wasn't among them." According to the legends of the Silver City, the ancient deity Lilith, who personified the Moon, had been reclaimed by the reawakened Creator, or perhaps had already fallen during an earlier divine conflict... So, then, who occasionally responds to the bloodline's prayers? "Then there's still the 'Primordial Moon' to appeal to," Caine asked deliberately. "Indeed, many underground extraordinary beings incorporate her power into their rituals." This mainly refers to the "Lord of the Witches" and the corresponding beings... Klein added mentally. Emlyn's lips moved, yet he could not speak, his face now expressing an indescribable fear. After a long pause, he said gravely: "I suspect that the 'Primordial Moon' is actually a false deity or a high-ranking demon. Those who pray to it tend to undergo gradual changes—becoming cruel, mad, and driven by an insatiable desire for reproduction. The rest, primarily the bloodline, often lose control instantly and transform into true monsters. 'There once was a powerful bloodline noble who attempted to pray for safety, only to be transformed into a mere mass of flesh that knew only mating and reproduction. She gave birth to offspring with creatures ranging from cows and sheep to horses, mice, even plants and stones—each one establishing a new, unique monster lineage. Fortunately, she was eventually eliminated, and so were her descendants.'" How dangerous is the 'Primordial Moon'? The Book of Secrets never mentioned it at all... The King of Calamann has already been corrupted in mind? Good thing—I've been imitating and adapting, praying to myself. Caine grew anxious, his heart racing at Emlyn White's description. It gave him a profound sense that the hidden powers beyond the Seven were far from reliable. Except me... he sighed. At that moment, Emlyn offered a wistful smile. "If the negative impact of 'The Fool' weren't so significant, praying to Him might be worth considering." The only consequence would be that you'd have to pay a certain price. To preserve his image, Caine gently patted Emlyn on the shoulder and drew the triangular holy sigil on his chest. "Praying to an obscure entity you don't fully understand is extremely risky. If that's the case, then it's better simply to choose one of the Seven that you personally favor—ones that won't disrupt your daily life or compel you to abandon your dolls." "If there's truly no other way..." Emlin found himself unexpectedly calmer than he had anticipated. Kaine didn't linger—he pushed through into the corridor and headed outward toward the Harvest Church. Gazing at the hazy sky outside, he began to consider what steps to take next. Undoubtedly, his current focus remained on accumulating funds and gathering materials. He would need to steady the situation at the small "Sun," ensuring it wasn't again questioned, so that he could later fulfill his promise with the method of eliminating the mental contamination of the unruly ones—thus offsetting the compensation. The nautilus's hair could be entrusted to Mr. The Hangman; the unique properties of the skin-shade shadow would have to be handled personally. There had been no word from Emlin White or the venerable Mr. Stanton of the "Eye of Wisdom" for over a month—time to try a different channel. Well, after all this time, the high-ranking members of the Rose Order probably no longer maintained a close watch on the "Brave One" tavern. He'd make a visit in the late afternoon, see if he could reach out to Miss Sharon and Mariqi. Kaine quickly formed a clear plan. To reach the "Brave Ones" bar, he first had to go to the East District and change into work attire at the one-bedroom apartment he had rented on Black Palms Street. Thinking of this, he walked toward the public railway station across the street. ... Outside the West District, in Green Cemetery. Forsythe Vol, wearing a black hat, walked silently beside Dorian Gray, a member of the Abraham family, accompanying him to pay his respects at the graves of Lawrence, Anissa, and others. As they moved in silence, her thoughts were entirely occupied by the extraordinary material known as the "Spirit-Eating Gastrointestinal Bag." She knew that once she had consumed the "Apprentice" potion, she would be able to become a "Master of Illusions," but she had yet to find any trace of the "Spirit-Eating Gastrointestinal Bag." Her most promising ally, the "Sun," had been hesitant to conduct the ritual and had been unwilling to invite friends to hunt down the "Spirit-Eating Gastrointestinal Bag" due to prior events. In order to accelerate her progress and move further toward breaking the full moon curse, she even sought the aid of the "Knight of Fools," requesting that his followers help her locate the necessary materials. During this process, she revealed to him that her new book was about to be published and that she would soon receive a guaranteed royalty payment—demonstrating her strong purchasing power. She did not worry about her real identity being discovered by the "Knight of Fools," as she believed he was certainly already aware of it. Dorian chuckled to himself, bent down to place the fresh fruit beside the table. Standing up straight, he looked ahead and suddenly said, "Forsyth, do you wish to become an extraordinary one? The kind described in my letter?"