Klein didn't respond whether it was right or wrong, paused mid-step toward the bedroom, and said calmly: "That's the issue." "Exactly, exactly—the issue! An issue entirely baseless and amounting to slander! And I've already given a negative response." Daniz responded with delight, emphasizing that he had never acknowledged it. Klein nodded gently: "I'll clarify that with your captain." Clarify... Daniz first stared blankly, then opened his mouth halfway, his expression distorting. Even as a seasoned observer, he no longer tried to defend or argue, instead forcing a smile: "What can I do for you?" Klein took a quiet breath, using the "clown's" ability to control his facial expression: "Just listen carefully." "Yes, of course!" Daniz eagerly agreed. As Germaine Sparrow turned toward the bedroom door, he couldn't help but ask again: "Won't you be going back to your captain to clarify anything further?" Klein turned the handle, responded without expression: "Listen carefully." Then he pushed the door open and closed it behind him before the corner of his mouth had had a chance to lift. — He did not come immediately to bury the girl, who should have lived like a human being, because, affected by recent events, Bayam's night patrols had been exceptionally strict, and the cemetery only opened when dawn broke. He pulled out a small metal bottle, poured a bit of "Crag's Oil" onto his hands, and gently applied it to his nose. The strong, irritating sensation seeped into his mind, mingling with the fresh, minty scent of disinfectant, filling his senses so completely that he felt as if he had just plunged into a sea floating with ice blocks—no longer disturbed by any other odors. Returning the metal bottle to his pocket, he donned his gloves and stepped forward, crouching beside the body. First, he unfolded the shroud, slowly rolling the body into it, then with gentle care, placed the corpse into the coffin bag. Carrying the bag, he deliberately passed through Bayam’s most bustling streets, eventually reaching the outskirts of the city, and climbed halfway up the coastal mountain along a narrow path not suitable for horse-drawn carriages. Here, the Storm Church and the Governor's Office have dedicated cemeteries specially prepared for the local indigenous peoples. On the other side of Bayam, facing the forest, lie the cemeteries for foreign settlers—Runeans, Intissians, Fenneports, and others who came to trade, adventure, or settle. Kline ascended step by step into this cemetery without even a name, where he found the caretaker dozing off. " How would you like to bury him?" the caretaker pointed to the body bag. "If you'd like it free, you'll have to wait a few days until the mortuary has accumulated enough bodies to be burned together and interred in the same burial plot. Of course, a priest will visit beforehand to comfort the spirits. Five sul, and he'll receive his own ashes and a designated space. Two pounds, and you'll get the urn, the burial plot, and a stone marker. If you prefer burial in a coffin instead of cremation, you can choose one at the mortuary—different wood types, different prices." Kline thought for a moment, then produced a five-sul bill and handed it over. "What name shall we inscribe?" The caretaker counted the bills, picked up a steel pen dipped in water, and asked with a pleasant demeanor. He actually didn't know how to write words—he only drew symbols to aid his memory. Kline paused for a moment and said: "Budie." "Budie..." the caretaker repeated softly, drawing a symbol. He didn't look up, continuing: "She can have a epitaph on the grid." Budie was a typical female name from the Rossmore Islands, so the caretaker didn't hesitate on gender. Kline remained silent for several seconds, then spoke in a low tone: "She's a person." "She's a person? That's quite an unusual epitaph," the caretaker murmured. "Do you have a photograph? I know you don't." Before he finished speaking, he saw the other hand over a photograph. That was a portrait created by Caine through a ritual, perfectly capturing the girl's appearance before she fell ill. To avoid suspicion, he used appropriate paper and applied certain techniques so that the portrait appeared as if it were a genuine photograph. The Keeper was slightly astonished but said nothing, swiftly gathering the documents and joining Caine in carrying the coffin to the small house where the priest lived. Once all the rituals—funeral services, cremation, placement of ashes, photographing, and engraving of the epitaph—were completed, Caine looked at the scene deeply before turning and leaving the cemetery. As he descended the mountain path, he caught a full view of Bayam: the sea, a pale blue nearly green, stretched endlessly; ship sails layered at the harbor, smokestacks rising tall; streets intersecting and bustling with people; numerous estates scattered around, lush with vegetation; and a wide highway and straight railway lines in the distance. It looked like a magnificent oil painting by a master, full of vibrant energy and an indescribable vitality. At the summit of the bell tower attached to the Sea Wave Church, Cardinal of the Storm Church, Senior Prelate Aen Cortman, stood at the edge, gazing out at the refreshing sea and the mountain ranges stretching along the coastline into the distance. ——Bayam’s pollution levels are quite low, as mining and metallurgy industries are concentrated in the other cities on the island; here, the backbone of the economy is spice trade, brothels, casinos, and the aggregation and transit of goods—there is no established industrial base, and heating coal is used sparingly due to the mild climate. As soon as Prelate Aen Cortman turned his gaze away, he saw a Prelate of the "Accomplice" racing up the spiral staircase. "Cortman, we have new intelligence," the Prelate said, striking his left chest with his right fist. "What?" Aen Cortman, a robust man, turned to ask. The "designated bearer" handed over the slip of paper: "Messages from within the resistance indicate they've received a response from Kavitova and are now shaping a new statue." "Another statue?" Ayn Cortman unfolded the slip and scanned it quickly. He then turned toward the dense jungle-covered Blue Island, deep within the archipelago, and after a moment's reflection said: "Look for anomalies in the coastal waters of the archipelago." From this intelligence, he had confirmed one key point: the mysterious figure who took over Kavitova's inherited traits had not departed the Rosted archipelago waters—this could be clearly deduced from the fact that the figure could convincingly impersonate Kavitova's response to her followers. Moreover, Ayn Cortman was certain that the extraordinary traits left behind by Kavitova, who had died fully delirious, would inevitably produce significant negative effects regardless of whether they manifested as tangible objects. These effects would necessarily cause disturbances in the surrounding areas. He believed it would be no easy task for the mysterious figure to find the correct sealing method. Even when found, the response to requests proves uncontrollable, revealing the issue. That's the clue! "Yes, Mr. Cortman, the storm is with you!" The "Penalty-Bearer" bowed again. ........... Upon entering the city of Bayam, Caine, taking advantage of a moment when no one was paying attention, deactivated the abilities of the "Faceless One" and returned to the "Blue Wind" inn by carriage. As soon as he opened the door, he noticed Daniz sitting before the radio receiver, his expression both strange and serious. "Any progress?" Caine asked in a low tone. "No, not yet," Daniz raised his right hand and waved the newspaper in his grasp. "My bounty, my bounty—raised to 5,500 pounds..." This now rivals even "Steel" McVitt! It's forced him to stay indoors, unable to go out for a drink or a quiet moment, merely listening to the signals. The pace of this increase is truly impressive. Caine found himself at a loss for what expression to adopt, and simply responded without any emotion: "This is only the beginning." "Mr. Ten Pounds." ……Good heavens! Daniz mentally cursed, though he dared not show the slightest lack of courtesy on his face. It was all Germán Sparo's doing—how had his own reward increased? Storm Church, Kingdom's military—those harpies! He forced a smile, shaking his head, his facial muscles slightly strained. Klein suppressed a chuckle, paid no attention to him, and returned to his bedroom to catch some more rest. At that moment, he noticed a letter suddenly appear, drifting down from the air and landing precisely before him. Klein raised his right hand and caught the letter. The messenger had made no appearance at all—just vanished without a word? Klein gave a short exhalation, opened the letter casually and began reading: "…There are two ways to obtain a messenger. The first is to clearly envision the desired description, perform a ritual, summon the corresponding spirit-being, and enter into a necromantic pact with it. The second is to directly enter the spirit realm, locate the desired messenger, secure its consent, enter into a pact with it, and record its precise description so that it may be used in the future." "The first method is simpler but quite dangerous, as the beings or spirits described might be powerful or strange—each time you summon, you can never be certain what will appear, which is precisely the risk that divination cannot fully anticipate. The second method carries its own dangers: it can be difficult to find a suitable messenger, and there's a risk that the messenger might become lost in the spirit realm. Unless you're a traveler, I wouldn't recommend the second method. For the first, I can provide some well-tested descriptions—so long as the process is followed accurately, the danger is quite low, though it may not be exactly what you'd find satisfactory. Additionally, the contract requires the power of the necromantic domain, which you can provide through my bronze whistle. The format includes the following sections... Of course, if you don't mind, I can gift you a messenger and have it enter into a covenant with you... Gifted to me? That explains why the messenger didn't dare to show its face just now...克莱恩 seemed to suddenly understand. Considering that the last courier he assigned had been accidentally dispatched by Mr. A, leading to the subsequent couriers becoming increasingly disrespectful toward him, he initially politely declined the gesture of transferring the gift. "Between the first and second methods? The first one is prone to complications—perhaps the on-call reserve courier will even knock the current one senseless. The usual descriptions lack distinction, and the couriers' capabilities seem underwhelming. As for the second method? I'm not afraid of getting lost—I can simply return to the Haze Above directly. In my ethereal state, I can summon the 'Poseidon's Staff,' and spiritual beings won't be drained of their vitality. Indeed, the ritual should take place beyond the archipelago, otherwise the prayers will be distracting." Kline quickly made up his mind.