"The royal family..." Klein held the letter sent by Esengard-Stanton, murmuring it silently. He looked up and saw the rain tapping steadily against the window, the gas streetlamps casting quiet, concentric circles of light. Inside the living room, the tea table was neat, a stack of newspapers resting in one corner, and there was not a single sound. Klein sat on the sofa, slightly leaning forward, remaining silent for a long time. After nearly ten minutes, he exhaled heavily, shook his head, and with a slow, deliberate motion, tossed the letter into the trash can. He then rose slowly, without expression, and walked toward the second floor. Meanwhile, the letter from Esengard-Stanton in the trash can burned silently, quickly curling and turning into dark ashes. After completing all this, he turned on the tap, leaned forward, and splashed the cold tap water over his face, rinsing it thoroughly as a shiver ran through him. With renewed energy, he hung his towel and headed downstairs, preparing a simple single-side fried egg with buttered toast. Of course, a cup of tea with a few slices of lemon provided both refreshment and a pleasant balance. While sipping his breakfast and leisurely flipping through the remaining newspapers, Kline suddenly heard the doorbell chiming softly. "Who is it? A new commission? Has the 'Heart of Mechanism' already explored the Amun family's tomb? No, not quite yet..." Kline murmured, setting down his napkin and newspaper, and slowly made his way to the front door. As he grasped the handle, a clear image of the visitor formed naturally in his mind: a well-dressed middle-aged to elderly gentleman, wearing a crisp white shirt, a thick gray-blue waistcoat perfectly tucking in his waist, and a long, tailored tailcoat with no single imperfection. The gentleman wore a pair of polished leather shoes, completely unmarred by the traces of rain or mud. He held a pair of white linen gloves, with a few strands of silver hair intermingled in his temples, and his face bore deep lines of expression, his warm brown eyes serious, devoid of any trace of smile. "I don't recognize you," Clain murmured, and opened the door. "May I ask who you're looking for?" he politely inquired. The middle-aged gentleman removed his hat and placed it gently against his chest, performing the most formal bow. "I am a butler, here to invite you, Mr. Sherlock Moriarty, on behalf of my master." "Do I know your master? What is it that he wishes from me?" Clain was utterly at a loss. Yet at that moment, he had noticed a carriage parked across the cement road, its body black and substantial, with curtains drawn on the windows—clearly no ordinary vehicle. Subtle yet refined... Clain glanced closely and suddenly spotted a crest prominently displayed on the carriage's side. The emblem features a sword pointing vertically downward, with a red crown on the hilt. This... "The Sword of Judgment"... is precisely the "Sword of Judgment" of the imperial Augustan family! Klein was struck, and now had a clear understanding of the butler's origins. Perhaps he was, after all, a fairly powerful extraordinary being—Klein conjectured in his mind. The professional and meticulous butler did not notice Klein's scrutiny, and with a polite smile said, "Though you have never formally met my master, you may well be considered acquainted. You have consistently provided him with clues from the organization symbolized by the Tarot cards, and he has paid you the sums you required." Indeed, it was the prominent figure Talim had mentioned. I had been deceiving the funding committee with vague, half-true updates, even transferring the expenses that needed reimbursement from old Kole to Talim himself... Now, it would be difficult to refuse the invitation, especially since Talim has passed away. Klein paused for two seconds before saying, "Has your lord come to me specifically about Talim's death?" "Yes," the butler said clearly, "Talim was one of his close friends. He is both saddened and puzzled by Talim's passing. He heard that you were present at the scene." No, I wasn't... Klein instinctively wanted to deny it, but ultimately nodded instead. "Yes, I watched Talim die right before my eyes." "What a truly sorrowful and regrettable event," the butler said sincerely. "Would you accept your lord's invitation?" What further reason could I possibly have to refuse? That would seem highly suspicious! Perhaps he'll be dealt with right here and now. Klein looked at the man and said, "I actually had nothing to do this morning." "Very well, Mr. Moriaty. Please." The butler slightly inclined his body and extended his right hand, wearing a white glove, pointing toward the carriage on the opposite side of the concrete road. Oh, it's been my consistent effort to avoid large figures—yet now, due to Talim's death, I'm compelled to face the one behind him. I'm not sure whether this will draw attention or trigger more thorough background investigations. I need to prepare contingency plans and be ready to abandon this post and this identity at any moment. Also, I must quickly secure the unique properties of the human skin shadow and the hair of the deep-sea Naiad, so I can advance to the rank of 'The Faceless.' That way, my resilience against risks will multiply far beyond what it is now! As Klein donned his coat, put on his hat, and walked toward the carriage bearing the royal crest, he had already thought through several subsequent steps. At that moment, the servant carried by the butler opened the carriage door for him. Stepping on the thick, warm-brown carpet, gazing at the wooden cabinets housing red wine, white wine, champagne, claret, and blackland, along with the crystal glasses, Klein felt a bit reserved and settled at a window seat. ——Claret refers to a strong, distilled spirit made from pure barley malt, with various types available, such as the "brisk claret" favored by sailors; the bottles currently on display in the cabinet clearly represent the premium grade. Blackland, on the other hand, is a strong, distilled spirit fermented with a blend of other grains, similar to claret, and both are characteristic of Roon. As the carriage passed through the wet streets, Klein casually asked, "Is our destination the Queens district?" "No, my lord," the butler replied without hesitation, "Your host awaits you at the Red Rose Estate, just outside the Queens district." So it was a royal estate... Klein paused, then smiled and asked, "Now would you be so kind as to tell me your host's identity?" The butler's already straight posture grew even more upright, his chin slightly raised: "He is the descendant of the Founders and Protectors. He is a member of the strong-line royal family. He is the fifth child of His Majesty the King, Lord Lestin, Prince Edsack of Edessa." Indeed, he was the third prince—second from the youngest—though he seemed to be in his early twenties now... Claryn recalled his observations at the Crags Club and the occasional mentions in newspapers and magazines. The carriage wound through the streets, veering northwest past the areas with man-made lakes, taking over an hour to finally arrive at a vast estate. At the estate's entrance, Claryn underwent inspection by two soldiers dressed in white trousers and red military uniforms, openly displaying his gun satchel beneath his arm and his revolver on his left. He believed that someone close to Prince Edsack would surely notice his armed presence; attempting to conceal it with mere illusions would likely prove clumsy. Anyway, the prince knows I'm a private detective, so his staff won't have the audacity to arrest guests for me holding my gun illegally. Klein watches as the soldiers take away the gun bag and the revolver, and is told to collect them upon leaving. After two more inspections, Klein follows the elderly housekeeper past the main house to a broad area featuring rolling hills and flowing water. The only drawback is that the vegetation has long since withered from the winter, leaving everything barren. Tapping, tapping, tapping—several horses come galloping from the distance and stop ahead. A young man in white long pants, tall black boots, a tailored shirt, and a dark riding jacket dismounts gracefully and walks toward Klein, with the others following close behind. He removes his helmet-like cap and smiles at Klein: "At last, I've met you, Moriarty detective." Seeing him, Crayton felt a sudden spark of recognition—not because he was particularly handsome, but because he resembled Henry Augustus I, as depicted on the five-pound banknote. Edsack Augustus had a round face and narrow eyes, yet he was neither serious nor stern; instead, he always carried a warm, cheerful expression, youthful and full of energy. "I didn’t know you were the Prince殿下 himself who had entrusted me with this commission," Crayton bowed slightly. Edsack held his horsewhip in his palm, weighing it thoughtfully, and chuckled. "I’ve heard about your crucial role in both the 'Serial Killer' and the 'Daimon of Desire' cases—Talim’s recommendation was indeed spot on. Who would have thought, though, that just a few days ago, the very man I raced with on horseback—now gone, off to the realm of Storm and Lightning?" Since the kingdom’s founding, the Augustus family has always held the belief in the Sovereign of the Storm. Before Kline could speak, he沉ened his expression and said, "The investigation into the death of Talim has not gone through me, Mr. Moriaty. I hope you can help me uncover the truth." What have the other members of the royal family concluded? Your two brothers? This level of discord from the very beginning—I can't bear it anymore... And, Prince Edsack, your style is truly direct. Kline sighed, "Though it's regrettable, I still wish to state that Talim died from a sudden cardiac condition." "Indeed? We've received a message from the 'Curse-Bearer,' indicating that a renowned detective named Sherlock Moriaty has identified traces of a curse on Talim's body." Prince Edsack chuckled. Kline could only offer a wry smile in response. "Prince Edsack, you should know my principles—I still hope to live another fifty years." "Isn't Talim one of your friends?" Prince Edsack asked immediately. Klein was at a loss for words when suddenly a maid came from the main house, approached the prince swiftly, and whispered a few sentences to him. Edsak immediately stiffened: "Tell her she cannot go out!" After that, he paced a few steps, and his serious expression softened, with a touch of tenderness and resignation appearing in his blue eyes: "But I allow her to leave the room and wander freely throughout the estate."