Bekkan, outside the steam train station. Furse stands at the entrance hall of the subway station, wearing a soft black lace hat with blue blooms, waiting for her teacher, Dorian Gray. The fine drizzle on the streets and the cool breeze from beneath the ground make the young writer shiver, realizing she has underestimated Bekkan's spring. "I can't believe how Thew manages to stay outdoors all year round. Indeed, she used to stay in bed at home, hardly getting up—only to go to the bathroom—having her meals and everything delivered to her room. Now, she rises early every day, returns home only in the evenings, and maintains this routine regardless of rain or fog, completing one commission after another, capturing one fugitive after another." Furse finds herself increasingly impressed by Thew. By last week, this "constable" had not only paid off her debts but had even saved 200 pounds in deposits! Undoubtedly, the role of "Sheriff" is the most exceptional for a bounty hunter—though the selection pool is limited to lower-tier officers. As Firth's thoughts were just beginning to drift off into the distance, her gaze suddenly caught a familiar figure outside. It was a man of average height, dressed in the most fashionable black business suit from Luon, wearing a half-high silk hat, with shoulders unusually broad—almost exaggerated. This was precisely Firth's teacher, one of the remaining members of the Abraham family, Dorian Gray Abraham. Firth's heart leapt with joy, and she immediately raised her umbrella to meet him. Even before fully approaching, as their eyes met, she noticed her teacher raising his right hand, clenched into a fist, pressing it against the first button of his black suit. There—it was... danger! Forsythe maintained his expression, smiled gently, and turned his gaze toward a younger gentleman standing further back. Then, as if nothing had happened, he passed directly past Domian Gray and moved forward. An ancient family had accumulated resources far beyond what ordinary people could imagine; Domian Gray and Forsythe had long established a series of signals and gestures for emergencies. The simple gesture just executed meant: withdraw, do not approach! The young man was momentarily struck by the composed, mature woman, and instinctively straightened his clothes and adjusted his hat. Just as he finished these movements, Forsythe had already passed him and continued on her way. The rain persisted without interruption. Forsythe circled around and boarded a hired carriage, heading directly to The Hat Trick Inn, located at 22 Hope Road in the Joewood district—Domian Gray's pre-arranged residence. After years of navigating the esoteric circles and accumulating numerous experiences, Furse calmly chose a room facing the street and stood by the window, observing the guests arriving at the inn. Finally, she saw Dorian Gray step down from the carriage and enter the main door. Furse quickly turned and moved to the stair corner, discreetly watching as her teacher was guided to a room by a waiter. After a moment's wait, she removed her hat, slightly tousled her hair, and then approached the door of room 2016, tapping gently on it with her fingertips. Her plan was simple: if the teacher's response was normal, she would enter the room to speak with him; if it seemed unusual, she would feign having gone to the wrong room or pretending to be a street-waiting female guest seeking clients. With a soft creak, the door opened slowly. Dorian glanced at the student before him and then at the hall walls. Then he raised his right arm, spread his fingers, and pressed them gently on the second button of his suit jacket—indicating that he was no longer under control, that the disturbance had passed. Furse breathed out silently and stepped smoothly into the room. "Teacher, what happened just now?" she asked, showing concern and worry. Dorian closed the door and offered a wistful smile. "I saw a familiar face." He sighed, adding, "A foe." He referred to one of his former students who had defected with the traveler Butis, leading to nearly the complete destruction of the upper echelons of the Abraham family. According to Dorian's knowledge, his student had joined the Aurora Circle—likely one of the twenty-two divine messengers. "What did he do? Is he particularly impressive?" Folsie asked curiously. Dorian remained silent for a few seconds, sharing a little more: "I, Lawrence, Labro, and Anelisa—all belong to the same organization. It has suffered severe setbacks due to betrayals by certain individuals. The one I just saw is one of those betrayers." He deliberately omitted mention of the family and the tensions between bloodline members and his disciples and students, to avoid unnecessary emotional engagement from Folsie. "Indeed, quite frustrating!" "Villette suddenly remembered Mrs. Anelisa, who had been so kind to her, and Mr. Lawrence, who had been so friendly and warm-hearted. "Well, let's put aside these uncomfortable matters," Dorian said, withdrawing a folded piece of paper from his inner pocket and handing it to Villette. "The recipe for the 'Astrologer's' potion has exceeded my expectations—not only in your understanding of the 'Master of Illusions' and the 'Apprentice,' but also in the way you've handled it. This is my greatest surprise in the past decade." "I actually went to the circus specifically." Villette didn't hesitate to share this, even feeling it was something worth boasting about. As she unfolded the paper to begin reading through the recipe for the 'Astrologer's' potion, Dorian nodded with satisfaction. "I'm sorry, though, due to the recent losses, I currently don't have the primary ingredient for the 'Astrologer's' potion. So, consider this your final challenge. "But I have also prepared a gift for you." He spoke while drawing out a notebook from the left pocket of his coat. The notebook was palm-sized, with a hard, copper-green casing that gave it a notably ancient appearance. It was composed of three different types of paper: one slightly yellowed and rare, one warm brown, resembling vellum, with about ten sheets, and the third being plain, ordinary white paper. On the cover, in ancient Fussac script, were the words: "I come, I see, I record." Folshe's gaze shifted from the potion recipe of the "Astrologer" to the notebook, recognizing it as the very item belonging to the elderly Mr. Lawrence—the one he had personally delivered to his teacher in Prizh Port. Dorian smiled and said, "I'm sure you're familiar with it." After nodding several times, he sighed and said, "This is a quite powerful magical item. Among the ones I've seen, it ranks in the top five—not because it's superior to the ones ranked lower, but because its negative effects are relatively easy to mitigate. Taken together, it proves to be exceptionally valuable." "What's its name? And what are the drawbacks?" Folshe couldn't help but feel both excited and eager. Dori calmly stroked the cover of his notebook. "It's called 'Leymano's Travel Journal,' though we prefer to refer to it as 'Leymano's Magic Book.' "This 'magic book' allows you to witness a remarkable ability and record it simultaneously." "It will be permanently inscribed on one page of the journal and preserved there for the long term. You can use it at any time you need, but remember: once you use it, the corresponding page will become blank again, ready for you to record something new." "That sounds impressive." Vorath felt as though she were dreaming. As long as she saw extraordinary abilities, she could record and use them once—wasn't that another kind of "shepherd"? The shepherd spoken of by the little "Sun"... Well, limited to prepared, one-on-one battles. She wasn't sure whether she could record the extraordinary abilities of a half-divine being. If she could, then even in prepared, one-on-one battles, she'd surpass the "shepherd"! Dorian seemed to have picked up on her thoughts and explained in detail: "Indeed, this corresponds to our 'Apprentice' path's Sequence 6, 'Archivist.' For abilities above this sequence, recording isn't guaranteed—there's a chance of failure. The higher the ability, the greater the chance of failure, and when that happens, the effect is only half as strong. "Based on the experiences of earlier users, facing the extraordinary abilities of Sequence 5, success is likely high; however, by Sequence 4—reaching the half-divine level—the challenge becomes significant, and success may not occur even once in ten attempts. I can think of no half-divine being who would repeatedly demonstrate these abilities to you if they remain your adversaries, having already slain you ten times. 'Do you see this?' The golden-yellow paper is specifically used to record extraordinary abilities influenced by divinity, and there are only three such sheets in total. Even if you are exceptionally fortunate, you can only document three half-divine-level extraordinary abilities, each used once." Although it may sound like there are many limitations that prevent the full potential of this "Travel Journal" from being realized, there are no such barriers for two groups of people: the lucky ones, and those backed by a powerful organization or institution, with a half-god assisting them. For a moment, Folshe even considered asking Mr. The Fool to demonstrate his ability and have him personally record it, only to feel that this was too presumptuous and hurriedly apologize to himself in her mind. Then, she sincerely hoped that the lady currently perceived as the strongest among the Tarot cards—the "Hermit"—would soon become a half-god. Dorian didn't notice Folshe's thoughts drifting away, and continued: "The extraordinary ability to record sequences 5 and 6, on vellum, totaling ten pages, has an effect of about 70 to 80 percent of its original strength; and the remaining abilities to record sequences below 6, totaling twenty-five pages, have an effect close to the original, though still slightly less." "Because of certain things that happened before, there are only five pages in the magic book that record extraordinary abilities—the rest are blank. You'll have to study them yourself." Dorian paused, speaking seriously. "Before I give it to you, I must emphasize something important: it has a negative effect. Each time you use it, you'll find yourself lost—lost in ways that involve various dangers. To counteract this, you must draw your own blood and evenly apply it to the cover. Remember, don't underestimate that sense of being lost; you must address it promptly." "Yes, Teacher," Folshe responded seriously. Dorian then immediately handed Folshe his gift, "The Travels of Leimann." "My teacher is truly kind," Folshe murmured, pressing his lips together. "What is the name of your student who betrayed you? And what does he look like?" "If given the chance, I would like to avenge you and Mr. Lawrence and the others." "No, don't think about it. You're far too weak compared to him. When he betrayed us, he was already a 'Record-keeper,' and now he might even become a 'Traveler.'" Dorian said seriously. "Still, you must remember him—keep an eye out to avoid him. His name is Louis Vain. I'll draw his portrait shortly." "Understood," Folshe nodded. ... "The *Future*," in the pirate restaurant. As soon as Crain stepped in, he encountered Gauthier, the 'Star General,' stepping out. The lady, no longer pale as she had been last night, now wearing her thick glasses, spoke calmly: "Get ready—we'll arrive at that sea region shortly." That quickly? How far had we traveled overnight? Crain was momentarily stunned.