Could it be that you know me? Does it mean that Mr. Estergan-Stanton has frequently mentioned me to his colleagues, or has the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom become aware of my involvement in the great smog incident in Bekland? Clary smiled gently, remaining composed and nodded. "Yes, I am Sherlock Moriarty." The young man with gray-blue eyes immediately stepped aside, warmly gesturing with a smile. "Mr. Estergan-Stanton has been deeply concerned about you, fearing some unforeseen mishap. Now he can finally rest easy." As Clary handed the umbrella to the guest, he removed his hat and coat and stepped into the hall. At that moment, Estergan-Stanton, now becoming aware of the exchange, set down his newspaper and pipe, rose from his armchair, and walked a few steps forward to meet him. "Oh, Sherlock, you've finally returned! It's been a long time, my friend," the slender, silver-haired man said, smiling and approaching warmly, extending his arms in a gesture of friendly embrace. Caine was not accustomed to such male-to-male etiquette, and only managed a polite response, smiling and saying, "Mr. Stanton, this is not something a wise believer should do." The priests and bishops of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom always carried an innate sense of pride, rarely embracing. In fact, outside of the rugged Fyssak Empire and the open kingdom of Intis, such a gesture was uncommon—only among very close friends did it appear. Esgarret stepped back slightly, chuckling, "No, Sherlock—when it comes to truly wise friends, we are always generous in our respect and warmth. In my mind, you're one of the top five detectives in Bekland." That's exactly what I like to hear! Caine smiled quietly, responded with a light, humorous question: "So you'd place me among the top three?" To be praised by a Sequence-7 devotee of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom as truly wise—indeed, it was a pleasure. "I hope that's how you see it," Esgaroth replied skillfully and gently, then invited Caine into the living room and seated him on the sofa. He himself leaned back in the armchair, picked up his pipe, took a deep draw, and slowly exhaled: "I'm glad you didn't encounter any unexpected difficulties—your physical and mental condition is excellent. How was your time at Dicsy Bay?" Caine had already prepared his response, and smiled calmly: "In fact, I didn't go to Dicsy Bay. After circling the area, I headed straight to Conston—ah, I had some complications in Becland that required me to take a break and find a place to hide." It was quite natural for Mr. Sherlock Moriaty, a man from the Mid-Sea County with a somewhat subtle accent, to have encountered difficulties and returned to his hometown—Conston was the capital city of the Mid-Sea County. "I know," Esgaroth responded quietly. He didn't ask Sherlock what trouble he had gotten into, but instead smiled and said, "Well, welcome back to Beckett. If you need anything at all, just come to me." Klein didn't hesitate and immediately added, "I've come to visit you for two reasons—first, it's been a long time since we last met; second, I'd like you to represent me in selling your shares in the Beckett Bicycle Company. Honestly, all the documentation is complete—no further formalities are needed." To appear as a mysterious, wealthy patron and to repay the messenger girl's debt of ten thousand gold coins, he not only intended to sell off his less-used possessions but also planned to give up his 10% stake in the Beckett Bicycle Company, since Sherlock Moriarty wouldn't be able to appear publicly for some time. "Really selling it?" "Erathis poked at his pipe," "Though I've never been a merchant myself, I can clearly see that bicycles are a highly valuable product with tremendous potential for widespread adoption. Their commercial prospects are as bright as the rising sun—far from reaching their peak. If you sell now, you'll surely lose a significant amount of money." "So the buyer will certainly be willing to pay a substantial premium for this very expectation," said Kline with a light smile. "I believe there are many people who can recognize the true value and potential of bicycles. And certainly, Franmi and Raphad won't be willing to give up even a single share at this stage. My 10% selling at three to four times the current value isn't an issue at all, Erathis. The pricing of equity transactions isn't just about today's situation—it must also reflect the future." It's absolutely essential to tell buyers or investors a compelling story and paint a beautiful vision of the future! Of course, the value and prospects of bicycles don’t need any further elaboration—any business-savvy person could see that. The only issue lies in the output of natural rubber… Klein silently added two more thoughts to himself. “The valuation of equity transactions not only considers the present, but also the future…” Eichinger softly repeated Klein’s words, pausing before offering a heartfelt admiration. “Holmes, perhaps you should have pursued a career in business. Still, the future always holds many surprises.” “Courage in taking risks is the chivalry of the business world. Well, I’ll admit—I’ve recently needed a substantial cash infusion.” Klein responded with a smile. Eichinger took a satisfied draw on his pipe. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll engage specialized lawyers and accountants to determine the current value of the Beckland Bicycle Company, then add a sufficient premium to sell you your 10% stake, deducting all associated fees and taxes from the proceeds received. “Hmm… How shall I reach you?” The lease on the house on Minsk Street seems to have expired long ago," said Kline, naturally concealing his current identity and speaking with preparedness. "You can publish separate announcements in newspapers such as *Tassoke*, *Bekland Daily*, and others to inform a broader audience of the share transfer—competition brings better bargaining power. Once the shares are sold, you can issue a final notice declaring the transaction complete, and then we can move on. When I see that notice, I'll come directly to visit you." Eisinger, familiar with the practice of communicating through newspaper advertisements, nodded in agreement. "No problem at all—of course, all expenses will be deducted from the final proceeds." With his primary objective achieved, Kline stood up and extended his hand. "Thank you for your help, Eisinger. I should be going. There are some matters I'll address later." Eisinger did not offer to keep him, and accompanied him all the way to the door. Klein walked to nearby streets, took a hired carriage, and enjoyed the night view of Beckland while the sparse rain fell, en route to "The Courageous Pub." He intended to reestablish his connection with Sherlock Moriaty's information and resource channels tonight! Upon entering the bustling, chaotic pub, he didn't go to the bar to order a drink or inquire—instead, he circled the boxing ring once and then prepared to leave, heading out to wait on the carriage for Miss Sharon's arrival. At that moment, the door to the billiards room creaked open, and Ian, dressed in an old coat, stepped out with a newspaper. With a casual glance, his bright red eyes suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure. He opened his mouth, but didn't immediately name the person, simply exclaiming with delight, "Good evening, sir. Can I assist you with anything?" "Not at the moment. I'm simply here to see an old friend," Klein smiled warmly. As he spoke, he noticed that the newspaper Ian was holding was The Maritime News, and the headline peeking out was quite eye-catching: "Shocking! The Bold Adventurer Has Suddenly Become a Wanted Man!" The bold adventurer...克莱恩 instinctively felt this was about himself. Ian sensed his gaze and smiled, raising the newspaper higher. "This is a rare timely report by The Maritime News, as reward notices have now appeared all over the land. The bold adventurer, Germaine Sparrow, has orchestrated an incident threatening the 'City of Generosity,' and has been confirmed as a member of a malevolent organization. Thanks to the protection of the Storm Church and the royal military, Bayam sustained no casualties—though the 'General of Blood,' Senyore, who was involved, has gone missing, and it's now suspected that he was killed by Germaine Sparrow. How much did they offer Germaine Sparrow as a reward? Fifty thousand pounds! That exceeds even the General of Blood—nearly matching the rank of the General of Hell!" "Five thousand pounds... Kline felt his heart stir with excitement. He smoothed out the ripple of emotion and smiled, saying, 'Unfortunately, such a sum is rarely claimed.' He pointed toward the bar's main door. 'Come back to me at your convenience.' 'Very well,' Ian didn't press further, but added, 'Is Mr. White of the Harvest Church one of your friends?' Emlyn's actually made the effort to leave the city? For the followers of the original moons? Kline nodded. 'Yes.' Then he pushed through the crowd and stepped out of the 'Brave Ones' Bar. As he boarded a hired carriage, he turned his gaze to the window, waiting for Miss Sharon to appear. Of course, he couldn't guarantee she'd still be here—after several months, Miss Sharon and Mariachi might have moved on to new venues." In the quiet stillness, Crane's inspiration suddenly stirred. He turned his head toward the window and saw a clear reflection on the glass, now aglow with the night's light—a young lady wearing a delicate black hat and a Gothic court gown. Turning back, Crane found Miss Sharren seated across from him, her light golden hair, blue eyes, and pale complexion unchanged from before. "Good evening," Crane said, without needing to adopt the persona of Germain Spalro. Miss Sharren slightly rose, lifted her skirt, and returned the greeting. Having thought of the possibility that she might have already read the *Maritime News*, and finding himself momentarily at a loss for conversation, Crane cleared his throat and said directly, "I killed Senior." "Hmm," Sharren nodded slightly, indicating she had heard. Klein smiled and continued, "If Mariichi still requires one more exceptional trait from a 'ghostly soul,' he can wait and accumulate funds—once I find a suitable replacement, I'll sell Senior to him." Sharon didn't ask what the 'replacement' meant; she simply replied, "Since seeing that news item, he's been waiting for you to return." "Good," Klein chuckled, reaching to his collar and drawing out a silver necklace. "Senior's lucky charm—do you know anything about it?" Sharon nodded in response, waiting for Klein to proceed. "It goes along with one of the items in the 'biological toxin vials.' I intend to sell it—do you or your circle have any interest?" Klein asked proactively.