This scene immediately reminded克莱恩 of a romance story Talim Dumont once told him: his noble friend fell deeply in love with a commoner, and would not marry anyone else—something utterly unacceptable in the highest circles of the nobility. Talim was deeply troubled, even considering hiring someone to kill his friend, but ultimately convinced the woman to leave her friend willingly. Could it be that Edsack Augustus is the protagonist of this very story? The circumstances fit perfectly. As a prince marrying a commoner in this era is nothing short of revolutionary—since the founding of Luon, the spouses of the direct lineage of the Augustus family have always been noblewomen. And according to what he just said, Edsack has now brought the commoner back, even imposing a house arrest on her? True love indeed. In that instant, a vivid image of a determined prince and a pitiful, helpless young woman formed in克莱恩's mind. He gazed blankly ahead, appreciating the winter landscape stretching before him. "Right now, it's not quite its true form. By spring, when the grass begins to grow, you'll see a golf course of the highest caliber," Prince Edsack said, sending away the maid and raising his whip to point around him. "Golf?" Clary asked, already formulating the answer in his mind. Prince Edsack invited the guards and attendants to step back, keeping only the elderly housekeeper and Clary close. As he strolled across the barren plain, he chuckled warmly: "Yes, golf—this is truly the sport of the nobility. Most owners of magazines and newspapers rarely get the chance to participate. "Though I don't particularly admire Roscel, I must admit that his imaginative vision has given us a world that's both fascinating and engaging. If you can unravel the mystery of Talem's death, this place will be open to you at all times." Indeed, it was Roscel... Clary exhaled softly. Seeing that he offered no response, Prince Edsack continued his reflections on his own: "Rossel is worthy of admiration in many ways, but his attitude toward emotions leaves me deeply displeased. Of course, this is a shared trait and style among most Intis nobles—it is precisely what underlies their obsession with luxury and their lives of indulgence and decline." Edsack gazed ahead at the small stream flowing gently and slowly, speaking with a maturity that surpassed his years: "Nine十九 out of every hundred people are not geniuses like Rossel. To achieve success and build a great career, one must first understand what one truly desires, be willing to pay the corresponding price, and then steadfastly pursue it without ever turning back." "Having said that, his tone softened, and he chuckled with a touch of self-mockery: 'Until this year, I always believed I deeply admired the Countess of Hall. She possessed perfect beauty, graceful manners, substantial wealth, an illustrious family, and a father of considerable influence—a truly impeccable match for a prince. Yet now I realize what truly captivates me, what keeps me dreaming of her—something unique in her character, a depth of soul cultivated through life's experiences. Indeed, I'm not saying the Countess of Hall lacks grace or charm, but it is not the kind of grace I seek, admire, or love.' Your tone, demeanor, and expression, Your Highness, are remarkably similar to those of Talim in life... Do not, please, suddenly pass away before me—then I shall be utterly at fault, even if I plunge into the River Tassok to clear my name. Moreover, with such incidents recurring, one is likely to be silenced. Are you attempting to mount me as your chariot, then? Klein finds himself unexpectedly uneasy." He cleared his throat and changed the subject: "Your Highness, with your status and position, you must have an abundance of subordinates—there are surely many willing to investigate the death of Talim. So why specifically do you need me?" Edsack shook his head and chuckled lightly. "As a prince, the more power I hold, the more constrained I am. There are many things I simply cannot delegate to those around me—too many eyes are upon me. You are a capable and astute detective, and you have a strong rapport with Talim. You were also present at the scene. I believe no one else is more suited to this task. Rest assured, if any issues arise, I will certainly ensure your safety." This assurance felt much like the paper towel in the restroom—something taken for granted, yet always there. Kline couldn't help but mutter a quiet critique. Prince Edessa had already spoken so clearly that he felt, if he refused further, he would likely be unable to leave Red Rose Manor. With a sigh, he said, "Like you, I am equally furious about Talim's death, but reality has compelled me to remain calm." Edessa smiled gently and asked, "What specific assistance do you need?" "Talim's hair or his flesh—whichever you prefer—and his personal belongings," Caine requested. "Very well," Prince Edessa replied promptly, "I'll have them delivered to your home. Then, I wonder—only these?" Caine was not hesitant: "Until I have a clearer sense of direction, I won't know what kind of assistance I need. Your Highness, I'd appreciate a private means of contact. Otherwise, my constant visits to this manor will surely raise suspicion." "Edesack nodded, speaking with readiness: 'I'll arrange for your house across the way—13 Minsk Street—to be quietly rented. When you need to reach me, simply write a letter about visiting your new neighbor and drop it in the mailbox. As for compensation, you know I'm not one to be stingy. Even if the matter doesn't conclude successfully, as long as you've made an effort and taken on the risks, you'll receive a return. Should you ultimately uncover the truth, I'll provide you with a sum sufficient for a comfortable retirement.' How brisk the Prince is! Retirement—well, that's at least three thousand pounds! Klein silently remarked. 'May the spirit of Talim find peace in the land of storms and thunder,' he bowed. Edesack gave a gentle nod and instructed the elderly butler: 'Take the Moriarty detective and send him back to Minsk Street.' They're not even leaving me for lunch! Isn't that a bit too formal and aloof for a guest's treatment?" Of course, the main reason is that it's still far from noon—Clayne quietly made a few remarks. He followed the elderly housekeeper, a bit of an outsider, to the entrance of the estate, where he collected the gun satchel, the revolver, and the cartridges. It's very possible. Sending people to secure the entrance first, then gradually gathering the relevant materials with due care—this is a sound strategy. But then, we'd have to wait—ah, we simply can't wait that long! Thoughts swirling,克莱恩 settled on his plan. At 2:45 p.m., he entered the restroom with his newspaper, actively preparing for this week's Tarot gathering. At 3:00 p.m., a deep, ethereal glow rose up, and Audrey Hall, in a pleasant mood, took in the room. Last night, she had finally secured the long-sought-after Sequence 7 "Psychologist" potion formula, and the lingering sense of excitement, enthusiasm, confidence, and calm still remained. The Psychological Alchemy Circle had not required her to make an immediate contribution, calling it a prepayment. They fully believed in Audrey's strong ability to repay. No new members... "Justice" Audrey stood, directing her gaze toward the head of the bronze long table, slightly lifting her skirt as she bowed: "Good afternoon, Sir 'The Fool'~ Good afternoon..." Her bright, cheerful voice broke the timeless stillness hovering above the gray mist, momentarily lifting the external concerns that had been weighing on Caine's spirits. He nodded gently in response to the greetings from the members. When Audrey sat down again, she brought the other members into view, weaving their images into a dynamic scene: The Sir of Temperance, besides offering a bow, glanced subtly at the Sir of Fortitude with a faint curiosity, then turned toward the Sir of World, expressing quiet anticipation. That is, having close ties to the Church of the Storm, he had learned the full details of Duke Negan's assassination, discovered the appearance of the knightly thief, the Black Emperor, and now felt a growing desire to uncover the hidden truth behind the event. The Sir of World's commission to sell the unique qualities of the werewolf—seemingly now realized—had likely yielded results: he may have secured either the properties of the human skin shadow or the hair of the deep-sea Naiad. The Sir of the Sun remained emotionally steady and composed, conveying a sense of ease, indicating that he believed the Silver City's surveillance had been lifted. On what grounds did he reach this conclusion? Was it because he had been re-integrated into the so-called exploration team? Vorth felt relaxed yet slightly depressed... She had passed the test of an Abraham family member and become their student, yet she was forced to accept several unfavorable conditions? Mr. World, as usual, remained cold and deeply introspective... Perhaps only with Sequence 7, or even Sequence 6, could I grasp his emotional shifts and inner thoughts. Hmm, the " Fool" remained as enigmatic, powerful, and utterly unpredictable as ever. A series of thoughts swept through Audrey of Justice. She turned toward the figure veiled in gray mist and said: "Respected Mr. Fool, I have recently obtained three pages from the Rosel diary." These were copies she had requested from the "Psychological Alchemy Circle," and since they were only mentioned last night, the circumstances were somewhat urgent—Island had only managed to deliver three pages. "What would you like in return?" asked Caine with a smile. Audrey answered sincerely: "Shall I consider this as repayment for your earlier answer to my question?" As she said it, she felt an unexpected sense of pride: "You all in the 'Hanged Man' circle have never even heard of the 'Twilight Hermit Society'! Honestly, I'm so envious—how many private challenges must Miss Justice have faced to gain such insight? I'll write to my teacher right away, asking if he has Roscel's journal—no, publicly, I'll say his notes." The moment the words left her lips, the "Magician" Folsom instantly felt a surge of eager anticipation. Under the skeptical gaze of the "Hanged Man," Caine gave a rather casual nod: "That will do." Audrey swiftly materialized three yellow-brown journal pages and passed them to the " Fool." Upon receiving them, Caine glanced at the first page, which read: "January 13th—Steadily re-established contact with the 'Gate' gentleman."