The Kingdom of Rouen, capital of the eastern county of Chester, Stone City. After attending to the noble youths at the manor and sending a servant to the Bavat Bank to retrieve cash, Audrey no longer needed to worry—she could now easily settle the 2,000 pounds owed to the Lord of the "Fool" and pay the 1,800 pounds due to the Lord of the "World," stemming from the "psychologist" trait. A minute later, Audrey opened the door to her bedroom, glanced at her personal maid Anne, who was overseeing the servants nearby, and then looked down at the golden retriever crouched by the wall. With a smile, she lowered her voice and said with bright eyes, "Susie, you'll receive a gift shortly—excited, aren't you?" In past years, Audrey would have simply said, "Susie, your gift is here," which would have allowed the golden retriever to notice that she had personally received tangible items in the room—something that would easily lead Susie, who had recently been studying the fundamentals of mysticism, to speculate about ritual magic. Once rephrased, the situation becomes that Audrey receives a mysterious letter/message in her bedroom, confirming that the gift is on its way—opening up countless possibilities. Suzy sensed Audrey's genuine joy and heartfelt enthusiasm, instinctively reaching for her mouth to vibrate the air and speak, asking what the gift might be. But she noticed with sharp awareness that Audrey's personal maid, Anne, had moved closer, so she remained cautious and abandoned her initial impulse. Returning to her ordinary dog state, she gently wagged her tail to express her contentment and anticipation. After deliberately excusing herself to walk around outside, Audrey entered her dedicated "chemistry laboratory," arranging the "psychologist's" traits and supporting materials neatly on the long table. "Suzy, do you remember the steps we followed last time when preparing the potion?" she cleared her throat, straightened her posture, and playfully assumed the role of a teacher. "Woof! I remember!" "Suzy had already realized what her gift was, and she was thrilled, letting out a joyful 'Woof!' Audrey simply replied, 'Try preparing it yourself.' Suzy looked down at her paws and suddenly went silent. Audrey was momentarily startled, then also fell into a brief silence. After a few seconds, she gently smiled, stepping in before the golden retriever could speak, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened: 'Alright, Suzy, no need to speak—I know exactly what you'd like to say. You'd like to express that you're just a dog, unable to prepare potions, wouldn't you?' How awkward! How awkward! Meanwhile, in her heart, the graceful and poised Audrey covered her face. 'Woof!' Suzy nodded firmly. Taking this moment, Audrey turned around and quickly prepared the 'Psychologist's' potion. She had previously asked Suzy and learned that by Wednesday this week, Suzy had fully absorbed the potion. This has barely been less than two months... Well, a significant reason is that Suzy isn't particularly noticed—she can wander freely between the manor and the villa, eavesdropping on private conversations, "reading" the genuine thoughts of the maids... That's quite good; she always shares these insights with me. Without her, I wouldn't have known that so many people harbor such dark thoughts, yet remain normally kind and good during everyday interactions. Odile pours the potion into the bowl and sets it on the ground. As Suzy walks past, beginning to lick it, Odile feels a quiet anticipation stirring within her: "Suzy might experience some emotional instability due to the potion. That's quite alright, though—Miss Odile, the 'psychologist,' is already ready to 'console' at any moment! Well, I actually prefer the term 'psychodynamic analysis'; it sounds more professional. Audrey's beautiful, emerald-eyed gaze fixed on the golden-haired dog, Suzy, and noticed that the dog's pupils were gradually lightening and rising, as if subtle, deep golden scales were emerging beneath her thick fur. Suzy's spirit was steadily spreading outward, intertwining with the very space of the entire villa. Calming her slightly nervous emotions, Audrey focused intently on Suzy's condition, ready to immediately deploy her exceptional ability of "spiritual analysis" should any anomaly arise. Suddenly, Suzy's voice resonated softly in Audrey's ear: "Audrey, I've done it!" "...” Audrey paused, momentarily at a loss for words. At that moment, she heard a steady knocking at the door. She turned to see the visitor was a young man dressed in a black-and-white checked uniform. The officer had dark hair and bright eyes, his features slightly blurred, holding a notebook and a pen, and asked, "In the case of Cardin, besides what you've already mentioned, is there anything else you haven't shared?" "Those were rather unimportant matters," Daisy replied, somewhat dazed. The handsome officer looked down at his notebook and said, "That's fine—I'm happy to listen." Daisy glanced back at the clothes hanging on the wall, feeling as though she had forgotten to mention something. She then described the minor details in a straightforward manner, concluding, "…After I was kidnapped, my mother and sister had hired a private investigator to search for me. His name is Sherlock Moriarty." "He's a good man. Though he didn't find me directly, he later contacted the reporters and helped secure compensation from the foundation..." The officer with black hair and bright eyes looked up at Daisy, smiled warmly, and said, "Very good—your answer satisfies me. Do you remember the private detective's appearance?" Daisy nodded. She was not surprised to see Sherlock Moriarty standing beside her. The distinguished detective had a full beard and wore gold-rimmed glasses, exactly as she remembered. The officer with dark hair and bright eyes studied her intently. Daisy didn't know when he had left, nor did she understand why her mother and sister suddenly disappeared from the room. She ran through the eastern wing, searching for familiar figures, and finally woke up in a state of strong disappointment and sorrow, gazing blankly at the dim ceiling of the school dormitory for several seconds. Daisy remained silent, turned her body slightly, and buried most of her face into the pillow. Moist traces gradually spread at the edges of the pillow. It was Leonard Mitchell who entered Daisy's dreams. Though his investigation into the two cases had merely aimed to carve out time for his own pursuits, he hadn't entirely forgotten his surface-level courtesy—indeed, he had uncovered something significant. "In both the Laneruus and Capin cases, the private detective named Sherlock Moriarty and his friend, journalist Mike Joseph, appeared—though they only lingered on the periphery, they still pointed in a direction of inquiry. Hmm, Sherlock Moriarty feels familiar. Could he be one of the fugitives?" Leonard recalled the details from his dream, donned his red gloves, and descended into the lower level of Saint Samuel's Church. Just after greeting the team captain, Sostre, he spotted a colleague approaching, handing him two thin sheets of paper. "All the information about the red-eyed man from the Harvest Church is here," the colleague said. "Thank you. Would you like to have lunch together?" "Leonard smiled and asked. The night watchman shrugged. "No, as long as you don't make me nightmares anymore." "Deal," Leonard said, taking the documents with a smile. Standing there, he didn't hurry to sit, simply flipping through them casually: "Emlyn White, a vampire, currently affiliated with the Church of the Earth Mother... He went missing for a while; his parents hired a private detective to search for him. According to Mr. Stuart, the case was eventually solved by the great detective Sherlock Moriarty." Leonard's smile gradually settled, becoming quite serious. "Sherlock Moriarty?" he repeated the name silently. ...... Klein didn't immediately seek out the moment to step into the spotlight. Instead, he wandered through the port cities of Orlavi Island, maintaining the posture of a traveler, seeking brief moments of relaxation amidst his busy, unrelenting life. The city is primarily populated by newcomers from Ruin, and its culinary style is quite similar to that of the eastern coast of the kingdom, with the main difference being the presence of fresh, less common fruits and a variety of seafood—adding a distinctive touch. Rich in natural resources and located at a crucial point on a safe trade route, life here is generally stable, even for farmers in the countryside who can accumulate savings through their orchards. This doesn't mean there are no poor or lower-class residents—indeed, such people exist—but they are largely composed of the former slaves, whose status has been formally abolished by the Ruin Parliament. Sipping on the juicy, sweet fruit flesh, Caine glanced at the darkening sky, turned the corner, and entered a bar named "Sweet Lemon." One of the most renowned gathering spots for adventurers in Orlavi, Caine intended to complete his collection of the two remaining auxiliary materials—the more common dragon-vein tree bark and the Sunya Golden Spring water—here. At this moment, the bar was bustling. Several people near the boxing ring were holding cups and cheering loudly, while at the tables, a group of individuals resembling adventurers were whispering and exchanging various rumors. As Caine prepared to push through toward the bar, he suddenly heard his name called. "…I'm Germain Spalro, you should know who I am. I've obtained a map to a treasure, and I need to hire some assistants. It's not that I'm afraid—I simply can't carry all this wealth myself." A mid-thirties man with green eyes, holding half a glass of spirits, spoke to the two men and two women seated in the corner, who appeared to be either merchants or adventurers. Are you also Germain Spalro? A treasure map… but it sounds more like a scam. I heard about my encounter with the 'Master of Words' from Bayam all the way here. Well, it must have been through telegrams and word-of-mouth, so many people now know my name and my story, yet remain unfamiliar with my appearance... Then, opportunistic fraudsters seized upon this gap and pretended to be me, deceiving others. Klein nodded thoughtfully and stepped closer. The man with green eyes had just stumbled to the ground when sparks erupted from the surface beneath him, causing the fierce words nearly ready to spill from his lips to retreat instantly. He rolled and scrambled away from the bar, barely able to keep his balance. No further words were needed—his evident vulnerability proved beyond doubt that he was not Germán Sparrow. Klein paid no attention to the stunned, deceived victim, merely gave a polite puff of air over the muzzle and slid the revolver back into his armpit. Then, amid the quiet that had settled after the gunshot, he walked steadily toward the bar counter.