Turning onto one of the two main streets, Klein, having changed his appearance, hurried directly toward the green mailbox, pulling out a letter he had prepared in advance. It was a "Death Notification" he had written in the official format of the police bureau, addressed to the chief of police in the coastal town of Ximim, announcing that Wint, a local resident, had suddenly fallen ill and passed away in Bayam. When he had decided to make this impersonation, Klein had already devised a well-thought-out plan to ensure the entire episode unfolded smoothly, staying true to the course of events without causing any irreversible harm to the girl, Rini. His strategy was to use the "Sleeper Spell" to make the genuine performance appear as if it were a dream. Thus, if Rini did not have a romantic attachment to Wint and simply rejected his advances, she would not feel guilty upon hearing the news of his death—she would merely feel afraid, a state that could be effectively eased through a visit to the church for prayer and confession. If Rui Ni also reciprocates Wen Te's affection, the dream becomes a convenient excuse for Kline to escape, and the subsequent news of Wen Te's death can then sever Rui Ni's expectations, minimizing any negative impact on her future life. "Still, it feels a bit cruel. Regardless of the woman, hearing that her beloved boy expresses his love in a dream after his death—surely that would leave her heartbroken, deeply affected for a long time. "Ah... If nothing is done and simply wait for the official news of Wen Te's passing, Rui Ni will undoubtedly be deeply saddened, though perhaps not as severely. Still, the lingering sense of unresolved longing may remain forever—she will always wonder whether Wen Te's adventures abroad were driven by a genuine desire for their shared future, or whether he simply didn't care for her. "In this way, the story concludes quite well. Once she has healed from her sorrow, she will carry with her the gentle warmth of having been truly loved, and go on to embrace her future life with that enduring grace. "Oh well, no matter what, to fulfill one's role, one has to intrude upon others' lives, affecting the innocent—even with a noble intention like achieving one's own desires—this isn't truly kind. Indeed, as Roscel said, the more one ventures along the extraordinary path, the more it feels twisted and strange. The 'role-playing' method might very well act as a catalyst. I can only do my best to minimize this impact." If it were certain "faceless ones," perhaps they would seal the news of Winter's death for this role, promise Renée's affection, and spend one to two years loving, marrying, and raising a family with her—then, free from the web of obligations tied to their identity, remember who they truly are, and depart with cold resolve. During this process, if they never revealed themselves, the potion would likely be fully absorbed. But I simply can't do it! I simply can't pass my own test—I can only manage half-measures. Kline sighed, feeling an unexpected sense of apprehension. He shook his head, silently self-mocking: "The extraordinary must constantly battle not only danger and madness, but also a myriad of inner vices and the subtle pull toward decline that can easily overwhelm them if they're not vigilant. Even so, in the end, they might still be tainted by the Abyss and become precisely the kind of 'monsters' they swore to eradicate. Ah..." Gathering himself, Kline stepped into the inn and addressed the owner behind the counter: "A standard room, please." The lean owner looked up and said, "A valid form of identification." How could I have forgotten my face, which I just pressed into shape? Klein stammered, "I forgot to bring it." "Then you'll have to be turned away—this is our town's rule," the owner said, once again lowering his head to calculate today's income and expenses. Klein produced a one-souler note and pushed it across the counter with calm indifference. The owner instantly widened his eyes, "No, no! Put it back! I don't want the constable to have me arrested!" "Out! Out! You dirty, unidentifiable creature!" Klein was abruptly sent out of the inn, stunned that the all-powerful currency had just lost its effectiveness. After a moment's pause, he stepped into a quiet alley and resumed his more distinguished appearance as Germain Spaloff. Klein returned to the inn, lightly tapped the counter surface, and in his Beckett accent, said in Roonese, "A room, please." The manager looked up, immediately set down the items he was holding, stood up, and nodded with a smile. "Good, good. Would you like a room with a view of the sea, or one that's quieter?" He switched to his awkward, strongly flavored Runen dialect, and never mentioned the identification documents again. This truly was a practical world... Clain murmured under his breath, politely responding, "Quiet." "Yes, yes, good," the manager replied repeatedly. Then he called for the waiter to attend the counter, took the key himself, and led Clain up to the second floor. "Mr. Guest, how many nights would you like to stay? That's five sols and five deniers per night." "Just tonight," Clain said, a bit overwhelmed by the enthusiasm, keeping his response concise. At the "Blue Wind" inn, where he and Daniz had a luxurious suite, the nightly rate was five sols. Undoubtedly, the room chosen by the owner was clean and well-kept, with the usual dampness common to port hotels largely absent. Crain surveyed the space and nodded in satisfaction. "Very good." "It's my pleasure," the owner replied, with evident deference and a touch of apprehension. Crain set down his luggage, rested a while, then rose again and went back down to the ground floor to address his dinner. Throughout the first floor, aside from the counter, several tables were scattered haphazardly, their surfaces slightly oily. In the corners, the fireplace burned brightly, radiating both light and warmth. In the southern part of the Rose Isles, winter temperatures typically hovered around 10 degrees Celsius, yet for the locals, this still counted as a cold season requiring fireplaces. Crain casually selected a table and ordered a local specialty—roasted meat and thyme mushroom soup, with potato bread for his main course. While waiting, he quietly scanned the guests in the restaurant, his gaze instinctively settling on a woman. The lady had neat, simply tied black hair and striking sea-gray eyes, a face that was inherently appealing and grew more attractive with each glance. She clearly wasn't of local descent, yet wore a man's dress shirt paired with a warm, earth-toned jacket, and held a round, slightly sunken-brimmed hat beside her. This was a typical look for seafaring adventurers—exactly the style worn by the three men seated at the same table, all bearing clear signs of sun and rain exposure. While Clarence never concealed his appreciation for beautiful women, it was not her appearance that first caught his attention. On the high seas, women often faced significant prejudice; those who managed to secure a place of influence among adventurers or pirate crews either possessed exceptional tact and political savvy, or strong personal capabilities—often both—making them individuals who demanded careful attention and vigilance. Fresh mud stains were visible on their boots... they must have just returned from the jungle! Indeed, they were true adventurers. Clarence had drawn this initial conclusion based on subtle clues. If these four adventurers came by boat from Bayam, the dampness and mud they might have stepped on earlier should have dried out long ago. Moreover, the roads within the town have remained clean and well-kept these past two days without any rain, only dusted with a bit of fine powder. Eliminating these two possibilities, the only remaining explanation is that they returned from exploring the outer jungle. Earlier, Kline had heard stories of many adventurers venturing deep into the primitive forests of the colonial islands in search of abandoned or forgotten pagan temples and altars—places once rich in ancient gold and jewels, now buried and forgotten due to various circumstances. Such tales were common in the taverns across the islands, where patrons often spoke of individuals returning from jungle expeditions with immense wealth, having struck it rich overnight. Perhaps there were spirits lingering in those forests... It would be better to hunt pirates, at least, to gain valuable information in advance. Kline shifted his gaze and focused on waiting for the food. The seven churches classified various deities from the indigenous faiths of the colonies as spirits of evil, but Caine believed that a significant portion of them belonged to nature spirits. Soon after, a special grilled meat dish was served, cut into numerous small pieces and skewered on wooden sticks, each generously brushed with a rich, brownish sauce that released a strong aroma and appealing color. It reminded him somewhat of the grilled meats from his previous life—back in Run, the meats were cooked whole and then cut into portions by the chefs after roasting. Here, the method resulted in more flavorful pieces. Caine picked up a skewer, bit into a piece of meat, and felt the juice gently overflow, with a savory taste subtly balanced by a hint of sweetness. This was exactly the kind of food I like! he nodded contentedly. For the meal, Caine was quite satisfied and even tried the local "gurra tree sap," a specialty drink resembling lemonade with a touch of milk. Upon returning to his room, having not slept since the hunting expedition the previous night, he brushed and washed up early, extinguished the fireplace, and settled into bed. Yet if one goes to bed too early, there's inevitably a problem: being woken up in the middle of the night by the urge to urinate. Klein's dream was interrupted, and he opened his eyes, gradually gathering the courage to lift himself out of bed. The temperature in the west wing at midnight was around eight or nine degrees Celsius—already quite chilly in terms of feel. Lying still for a while, Klein extended his arms, then quietly pulled them back. After a few seconds of thought, he reached out again and picked up the "sun brooch" from the bedside table. Though this only offered a sense of summer warmth and didn't actually provide heat, it at least tricked him into feeling less cold. Klein got out of bed and made for the bathroom inside the room. He narrowed his eyes, easing the pressure in his lower abdomen. As he finished, he buttoned his pants and prepared to wash his hands—when suddenly, an inspiration struck him. Klein furrowed his brows, lifting his gaze toward the bathroom's ventilation opening. Then, unexpectedly, a long, dark, slippery thing dropped down and hung there. It was a venomous snake with a Klein was startled, opened his mouth, and made a sound: "Bang!" The venomous snake was struck and split into two. What had happened? Klein gazed for several seconds, seeing no further movement, then stepped out of the bathroom and pulled out a gold coin from his clothing pocket.