Storn University... Associate Professor Michelle... notes from the Twenty-Year War... Audrey extracted key phrases from the text, glanced at Suzy joyfully galloping ahead of the mare, and directly asked: "Ms. Stmin, what exactly is this collection of notes?" "We aren't certain. We only know it dates from the Twenty-Year War and belongs to Associate Professor Michelle. Its distinguishing feature is that the pattern on the cover subtly forms the outline of a great dragon." Stmin offered no concealment, simply presenting all the information she had gathered. Audrey, listening quietly, simultaneously guided the chestnut mare and began mentally formulating her plan: "Visiting Associate Professor Michelle, touring his collection, and making a purchase request for one of the items—this isn't particularly difficult." "Though I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, considering everything, it's unlikely that he'd refuse me. Well, Audrey, don't rely too much on this... The biggest issue with this approach is that it feels abrupt—I hadn't even met Professor Michel before, so it's hard to explain why I suddenly want to visit him. Moreover, I'm not entirely sure what significance his notes hold, and making a hasty request to purchase them might make him cautious and alert. ...James is studying at Stornoway University, and during the last gathering, he showed a strong inclination toward storytelling and discussion. If I invite both James and his sister again for afternoon tea and steer the conversation toward history, archaeology, and collections, he should naturally mention Professor Michel. After all, within a university setting, it's not common to find someone regarded as a true collector." "With this opening, I can send someone to visit Associate Professor Michèle, requesting a tour of the collection, and during the first visit, I'll try to keep my needs discreet, observing the host's behavior to uncover his most genuine reactions—this will help me make the right request at the right time, using the right approach..." After settling on this strategy, Audrey gave a slight nod to the female priest, Sister Smyn, and smiled softly. "I'll do my best, though I can't guarantee success." As soon as she finished speaking, she tightened her legs, gently urged her horse, and shot forward like an arrow, heading toward a red-brown fox darting and weaving within the hunting enclosure. In the captain's cabin, Algier Wilson floated by the window, gazing at the waves that rose like mountains and peaks outside, with the strong wind flowing silently around him. After an indeterminate length of time, he settled down, his feet landing on the carpet. "The 'Wind-Keen' truly is a sequence that can be simply embodied by name—only issue is, one must occasionally grow restless and turbulent to match the nature of the wind..." Algier murmured to himself, without any expression of delight. Over the past two months, he had not been able to secure the recipe for the 'Sea-Singer' through his own channels or via transactions within the Tarot Circle. After all, it belonged to Sequence 5—the level closest to demigod status—and the recipes had become scarce, trading at a premium despite ample funds and willingness to pay a significant markup. Typically, joining the corresponding church or organization is the most effective way to obtain such recipes. Yet as the Archbishop of the Storm Church, Aljer cannot rely on this path, as certain secrets must remain hidden—masking his own strength—to secure both operational freedom and a weakened surveillance presence, so that he may eventually reach a destination and fulfill a long-anticipated objective with confidence. To his relief, he has not wasted these two months—the progress of the "Wind-Keen" potion has been quite satisfactory. "The 'Wind-Keen' is straightforward; the 'Sea-Singer' is said to present considerable challenges… Does one have to sing frequently?" Aljer couldn't help turning his head toward the deck. Though separated by several rooms, he could still hear the enthusiastic, drunken sailors there singing passionately, creating a noise capable of countering the storm's roar. Aljer unconsciously furrowed his brow. ………… Beckland, Joewood District, Cindis Circus. "Madam, you're not a magician, are you? Then why are you dressed like this?" a young man asked the woman who wore a dark pointed hat and a long dress of the same color. I don't know why I've ended up dressed this way either—perhaps it started the very first time, when the cold weather froze my head, and since then it's just remained this way... Folshe touched the red and yellow paint on her face and smiled in reply. "In ancient times, magic was often mistaken for witchcraft." But that has nothing to do with why I'm dressed this way... She picked one of the three large ceramic cups in front of her and inverted the small white ball onto its base. Then, she swiftly rearranged the positions of the cups and smiled at the young man who had just asked the question. "Guess which cup the ball is now in." "Isn't this one of the gambling methods invented by King Rosel?" "The young man said with genuine interest, 'But you're not the croupier—you're the master of this circus's magic tricks, so I bet you've already swapped the small ball and now all the cups are empty!'" "Unfortunately, I had already finalized the 'Master of Illusions' guidelines in early March, and last week I completely absorbed the potion. If it weren't for the contract being signed today, I would have been here long before now... "Although being treated as a Master of Illusions feels wonderful, this doesn't prevent me from aspiring to become a 'Astrologer.' My teacher said she'll be coming this week to give me a recipe, materials, and a gift... What will the gift be? "Ah, the full-moon murmurs are getting more and more terrifying. Without Mr. The Fool, I'd probably have already lost control and turned into a monster..." Folshe extended her right hand to cover her mouth, yawned lazily, and then smiled gently. "Actually, I'm a bestselling novelist. My next book is about a circus, which is why I've come here to apply." "A bestselling novelist?" The circus director's eyes lit up, a mix of concern and anticipation in her tone. "Will you write about things we don't like?" "Are there any things we don't like?" "Over the past two months, I've been very happy," said Fols. Removing her black pointed hat, the circus director smiled sincerely and said, "Wol, Mrs. Wol, could you mention our circus by name in your book? I'll certainly pay you an advertising fee—of course, not very much, as I have so many people to support." How thoughtful! The director certainly had a keen mind. Fols had never before realized that novels could advertise just like newspapers or magazines, in a more subtle and natural way. After two months of volunteering and securing four genuine role-playing opportunities, Klein bid farewell to tasks such as lifting patients, cleaning toilets, and managing vomit, and boarded a ship bound for the Galágaris Islands. At the Tarot gathering in early March, he successfully hired "The Hermit" Géraldine through a one-on-one conversation, to meet her in the capital city of Nás, the "City of White," on the Galágaris Islands, and then join her vessel—a "General of the Stars"—to sail into the nearly mythical, perilous waters of the easternmost part of the Sunia Sea, in search of the wild merfolk inhabiting that region. Géraldine expressed clear interest in meeting real members of the Tarot circle, agreeing to the request of "The World" after only a few seconds of consideration, though she set a relatively high price—3,000 pounds—due to the level of risk involved. Klein's first reaction was to abandon the venture and take the ghost ship operated by the Sir of the Crucified, but considering that the latter sailed with a considerable number of storm church seamen, leaving him less free, and given the indeed high risks associated with reaching the easternmost region of Sunia Sea, he ultimately agreed to the Lady of the Hidden One's request. The latter would await him for one month near the Galgas Islands, beginning in early April, and the partnership would be terminated should the deadline pass. To avoid wasting the deposit of 1,000 pounds, Klein did not wait for the digestion process to fully conclude, but instead set sail from Olavai Island and headed directly for the Galgas Islands. Of course, having already gained insights from the earlier summary and the opportunity to fully embody himself, he was now very close to completing the full digestion of the "Faceless" potion. Even without further role-playing, continuing his activities under the identity of Germán Sparrow would allow him to achieve this within just a few weeks. For this reason, and since the identity of "World" has been firmly linked to Gérard Spalro, Klein, after leaving the hospital, once again became a mad yet powerful adventurer—though with a certain degree of disguise. Gazing out at the undulating sea horizon, Klein finally spotted the port city, whose houses were primarily constructed from white stone—the capital of the Galgas Islands, the easternmost colony of the Fasak Empire, Nás! "Well, finally, I've made it abroad," Klein remarked, watching a fishing boat laden with whale flesh enter the harbor—the rugged sensation felt tangible. At the same time, he noticed several ships flying pirate flags docked in the harbor, with no hesitation or reserve. Indeed, the eastern shores of Orlavi Island were a haven for pirates. Klein adjusted his hat, picked up his luggage, and stepped onto the dock once the passenger ship had come to a halt. After walking a few steps, he observed a group of pirates engaged in a skirmish with a local gang, both sides drawing weapons and clashing vigorously. Klein passed by calmly, with no intention of stopping. At that moment, he saw a man who seemed local pulling out several canned goods from his pocket, opening the lids, and tossing them toward the center of the road. "What on earth is going on?" Klein almost laughed, then suddenly recalled a well-known item from the sea. Salmon canned goods! The salmon cans popular in the eastern coast of Vosak and the Galgas Islands! The thought just formed, and at once, an unmistakable fishy odor filled his nose. His face twitched slightly as he struggled to hold back the discomfort, and he hurried away from the area. The pirate victims who had been struck spat out a few moments, while the rest rushed to drag their companions away, as though suddenly losing all strength. A minute later, in a hidden corner, the adventurous man Germain Sparrow sank to his knees, gasping silently.