Upon hearing Geremar Spalro's words, Dacwell's first instinct was to fully disclose the matter of the unusual die, striving to ensure that the adventurer—hired at great cost—to grasp the root of the problem and thereby secure his personal safety. Yet he immediately recalled his teacher's instructions, and thought of the die as possibly a significant seal within the scholarly order. Should he accurately inform Geremar Spalro, it might spark his ambition, potentially worsening the situation. It was no uncommon tale at sea—adventurers killing their patrons for greater profit—though he had no personal knowledge of Geremar Spalro, nor of his character. He therefore felt compelled to remain cautious and vigilant. Moreover, the die had only just turned to two, indicating neither the worst nor the most desperate circumstances; there remained hope and time. After a few seconds of hesitation, Dacwell made his decision: he would first sidestep the core issue and speak only of the surface phenomena. Subconsciously avoiding Gelman Sparrow's seemingly calm gaze, he said, "It's this: I and my teacher belong to a secret organization. Our escape has been prompted by a traitor within. They possess pathways related to fate—ways to make themselves fortunate and to bring misfortune upon their targets. Perhaps I myself have been cursed, which is why I've been so unlucky—just struck by lightning moments ago." After delivering this explanation, he forced himself to mask the nervousness within, waiting for Gelman Sparrow's response. Would he not believe him? After all, such a powerful and experienced adventurer should be difficult to deceive. If he discovered that I was lying, he would likely sink me right to the sea floor. Dacwell stood there, uneasy, as if a student called upon to the lectern by his teacher. Indeed, the Life School— the "Monster" pathway—made sense. "Understood," Klein thought, nodding. "I'll keep you as still as possible, and I'll consider how best to counteract this misfortune." “Well… Dacquell was momentarily stunned, unable to believe that Geremar Sparo had so easily accepted his hastily constructed excuse. He forced a smile, thanked him repeatedly, and then returned to his own room, leaning against the doorframe, pulling out the box of rings. *Clack!* With a slightly trembling hand, he opened the lid and discovered that the milky-white die had somehow rotated mysteriously, now showing six on top. This meant that he had been lucky enough to successfully deceive Geremar Sparo, he thought with a growing sense of clarity. The owl, Mr. Harry, settled down again, but instead of landing on the plump pharmacist’s shoulder, as if still uneasy about the near-miss of being struck. It stood on the wooden table, its eyes round and fixed ahead, saying, “Dacquell, you’re quite nervous.” “That doesn’t need you to tell me,” Dacquell replied, annoyed. The owl spread its wings and added, “Well, then, let me rephrase that.” "I think I must consider the possibility of changing my host. Germán Sparo seems like a good choice." "...And what about me?" Dacwell asked in surprise, momentarily forgetting to be upset. The owl, Mr. Harry, gave a dismissive hum: "Didn't you feel your inner anxieties and fears? You yourself doubt you'll see the sun rise tomorrow—how truly dangerous that odd die is!" "If I were you, I'd simply toss it right out the window, into the sea, and let your teacher's teacher retrieve it themselves." "...How do you know about my teacher's teacher?" Dacwell asked, surprised. Mr. Harry lifted his head with pride: "Don't doubt an owl's vision." Dacwell had already begun to reflect and paid little attention to his reply: "No, that won't work. Tossing the die into the sea won't solve all the problems." "According to the old man's previous account, even if it were buried by the sea, after a few days it would still attract the major figures to gather around and retrieve it—thus truly lost. How foolish of you! You lack the necessary esoteric knowledge to understand that these important seals are much like the most popular courtesans in the Red Theater, always drawing the eager men." "The same goes for you," the owl Herry replied calmly. "As for your lack of esoteric knowledge, I believe there's a well-known saying that can explain it: Emperor Roscel said that if children didn't receive a good education, it was the father's fault. This saying also applies to the relationship between pets and their owners. Well, Dacwell, no matter what, I firmly believe you must speak with Germain Spalro about the dice matter—otherwise, things will become even more dangerous." "I'll look into it, I'll look into it—perhaps it will settle on six..." Dacwell said hesitantly. He sat down by the edge of the bed and lay down. At this moment, the violent storm that had raged for a while began to subside, and the sky gradually cleared. The passenger ship sounded its departure horn. In the first-class lounge, Crane gazed out the window at the hazy rainbow emerging after the rain, his mind far from as calm as it appeared on the surface. He did not fear simple adversaries. On the sea, beyond the Four Kings and the official half-gods, and beyond the pirate generals appearing in fleet formations, no one else posed a real threat to him—given his "craving hunger" and several magical artifacts. Even if his ship were crushed or he were thrown into the sea, the array of divine incantations from the domain of the Sea God would ensure him a path to survival. Yet luck—something truly elusive—remained beyond his grasp, outside the scope of his abilities, and even beyond the reach of any strategy he could devise. Although my title as the Yellow-and-Black King of Good Fortune was conferred through that transfer ritual, its purpose is clearly not to eliminate bad luck altogether. The situation with Dacwel is proving difficult—I’ll have to be more diligent, closely monitoring his condition, and intervene immediately should any serious misfortune arise that could prove fatal. I hope we can make it through these days until we reach Orlavi Island, where the senior physician, the stout pharmacist, should be able to help him achieve a favorable turn. Klein rubbed his temple, feeling no unusual sensations. No, no—definitely not a sudden death in his sleep... Dacwel struggled desperately, yet couldn't wake up; his body grew increasingly weak. At that moment, his mouth was pierced by a sharp object, and a cool liquid poured in, seeping along the lines of his face and dampening his chin and neck. Dacwel's body relaxed instantly, and his eyes finally opened, meeting two bright, golden circles so close they seemed about to touch his own head. Ow, keeping a remarkable pet does make a difference... Dacwel first felt this, then quickly sat up and pulled out the box of rings. At that instant, the dice inside had turned over to the other side. One! Unlucky to nearly die in his sleep? Not quite—this felt more complex. It seemed to amplify certain probabilities—like the chance of dying in his sleep, or being struck by lightning. No, no—this couldn't go on. If this continues, I will surely die! Dacwel thought, filled with growing alarm. Fear overcame him swiftly, driving him to take the box of rings and rush to the door. Perhaps due to the near-fatal shock, he found himself weak, unable to turn the handle. "Help! Help!" cried Mr. Owl Harry in a sharp cry. Thud! The door swung open and struck against Dacwell's head. Had it not been for Cline's deliberate control of his strength, the stout apothecary might have suffered a shattered skull, bleeding profusely. Without bothering to rub the bruise on his forehead, Dacwell stammered, "It's it! It's it! It's this die that's brought me misfortune! It's showing a one now—no matter what I do, everything fails!" He had just decided to inform Germaine Sparrow of the entire matter, hoping the capable adventurer would offer sound advice. As for the possibility that she might have killed him out of greed, he hadn't ruled it out, merely believing that, between two adverse events, he would surely choose the one that was less severe. Telling Germán Spalro that he might die, rather than that he certainly would, was no real choice to make. The dice were lost—so be it. My life matters more! Dakerwell thought with quiet conviction. Then he saw Germán Spalro offer a polite smile. "Thank you for your humor. "That's a decent joke." ……It's not a joke at all… Dakerwell looked down at the ring box, where the vivid red one, like blood, remained unchanged. Could it be that even well-founded persuasion would fail… The plump pharmacist suddenly grew utterly despairing. "Indeed! He's telling the truth!" the owl Hary flapped its wings wildly beside him. With renewed hope, Dakerwell heard Germán Spalro say in a low tone, "Why not just throw it into the sea?" After that, Kline closed the door with courtesy and walked back to the living room. He must be hiding something—nothing short of a clumsy excuse would convince him. Caine settled into the chair, waiting for Dacwell to present more specific, more detailed information. Dacwell sank back into his seat with a sense of resignation, motionless, afraid of failure. He hadn't noticed that the die had changed its upward face once again—this time showing a three. Before lunch, Caine entered the restroom to empty his stomach. After washing his hands, he strolled up to the gray mist, intending to browse through the accumulated prayers of the followers of the Sea God. As he settled into the high-backed chair assigned to the Fool, a sudden flood of details surged into his mind, and his eyes widened in astonishment. "How could I have believed such utterly unconvincing arguments? How could I have thought that die—a mere clumsy excuse?" "Just now, it felt exactly like being blinded by lard—no, not quite. Rather, Dakewell's explanation perfectly matched one of my own speculations, so I instinctively accepted it as true, or as false." Klein thought, his pupils slightly constricted. At this very moment, he had already formed a judgment: "The die truly has something wrong with it!"