"The Moon Puppet"... Folshe's mind stirred, and she drew her attention back, turning her head toward the member who had just spoken. The gentleman wearing a dark iron mask had now produced a small puppet and displayed it to the group. "A friend of mine discovered a small burial site deep in the Pas Valley of the Southern Continent," he said. "This puppet was found inserted into the right eye socket of one of the deceased." Folshe and the other members examined the puppet carefully, noting that it was slender in form—more like a compact wooden post carved with curved eyes and a mouth, set with dried grasses and flowers. It looked unremarkable, she thought internally, yet her inspiration remained unkindled; her steel pen still hovered above a copper-green notebook. The gentleman wearing a dark black mask continued: "Neither I nor my friend have been able to determine the purpose of this puppet—our only suspicion is that it's far more than it seems, perhaps even concealing a significant secret. 'Sixty pounds,' that's all it will take to purchase it—very reasonable. Even if it has no connection to the mysterious realm, it would be a fine antique, worth forty to fifty pounds. 'So, ten pounds for the chance of a surprise—just a small outlay for you, isn't it?' Most persuasive indeed. This gentleman clearly has the makings of a successful salesman. Yet, I don't even have ten pounds myself... With a self-deprecating smile, Furse thought that no one in the room would be willing to commit to a puppet whose origin and function remained unclear. Her thought had just formed when a deliberately lowered female voice interrupted: 'Fifty pounds.' Was she particularly well-off, willing to take a chance on luck? Forsyth instinctively turned his head to look at the member of the gathering who had spoken, and there she was, the lady dressed in a long cloak with a hood, her face hidden in shadow. At that moment, the owner of the "Moon Puppet" chuckled and said, "Then I'd rather keep it myself—perhaps one day I'll discover its special qualities." As he spoke, he noticed no one else had raised their bid, so he shifted his tone and added, "Of course, as a gentleman, since you've expressed a desire and the price is quite reasonable, I'm happy to fulfill your wish." "Deal," the lady with the hood replied in a steady voice. Soon, the host's waiter completed the transaction, and Forsyth noticed that when the lady received the "Moon Puppet," her hands trembled slightly. She truly values this item... perhaps she actually knows the special significance of the puppet—the moon puppet—moon-related, originating from the Southern Continent. Vorths suddenly made a connection and recalled the "original moon" devotees that the "Moon" gentleman had hoped to find. She found herself slightly doubtful whether the lady with the hooded cloak was one of them, or even connected in some way. Of course, she had no evidence, and her reasoning seemed rather weak. Huff—Vorths exhaled silently, deciding to find a way to verify it. She casually flipped through her hardbound notebook, revealing a page of brownish sheepskin paper. The paper bore various patterns, deep or light, forming an enigmatic and ancient, mysterious image. This was one of the pages from the "Leymano Travel Notes," documenting an extraordinary ability. It wasn't one of the pages she later recorded during her subsequent visits, but rather one of the original five pages. Forsyth lifted her head, feigning attention to others' transactions, and took in every detail of the woman wearing the hooded cloak. She noticed a deep brown spot on the wall, a faint mark of a mosquito, and an unknown insect crawling slowly across the floor. Her fingers naturally and lightly traced the dark patterns on the yellow-brown vellum page, and within her mind a complex symbol swiftly took shape. Without a sound or any noticeable change, she felt as though she had "read" the spotted brown mosquito, her own thoughts merging seamlessly with the creature's. The mosquito rose, flying low. It circled beneath the woman in the hood and gently settled at her front. The spotted brown mosquito's vision differed from that of humans, presenting to Forth's mind an initially incomprehensible scene. But it quickly dissolved and reformed, coalescing into a clear, normal image: the woman in the hooded cloak had softer contours, a deeper complexion, long eyebrows, and a more downturned mouth. Forth instantly recognized her—she was precisely the "Primitive Moon" devotee that Mr. Moon had been seeking, Wensley Bellin! A reward of one hundred pounds for a valid lead, directly securing five hundred pounds! Forth recalled the details of the reward, her heart warming with excitement. Her first instinct was to command the spotted brown mosquito to bite Wensley Bellin normally, drawing blood from her. Thus, afterward, she could use "astrology" to directly track her movements. But after struggling for a while, she ultimately gave up the idea, as it was the very thing most frowned upon at the gathering of the extraordinary—once discovered, she would surely be besieged and overwhelmed by all the attendees. The organizers of such gatherings invariably possessed strong capabilities, and if they went beyond what was expected, their efforts would inevitably become noticeable. Well, she'd settle for just one hundred pounds for now; she could consider directly securing the more pressing matters later. She needed to leave this gathering soon and smear blood onto the surface of "Leymann's Travel Notes," otherwise she risked getting lost—something that would be very dangerous. Furse suppressed her sense of loss and made her final decision. In fact, her actions earlier had already slightly exceeded the bounds, which was why she didn't wish to stay any longer. Then he busied himself moving the radio receiver back into the real world, dispersing most of its lingering essence. This time, he only waited a few seconds before sensing the room grow dim and eerie, hearing the radio emit a steady tapping sound. Cain stepped closer and saw a fragment of ethereal white paper emerge, inscribed in Runes: "Great Lord, please look to the right!" To the right… Cain found himself both amused and puzzled, turning his head toward the side. Before him, a full-length mirror stood, now deepened and darkened as though coated with ink. As Cain’s thought took shape, the mirror suddenly brightened, and a cascade of ethereal blossoms rose into the air, blooming and descending in a splendid, magnificent display. At the very center of the mirror, a golden Rune inscription appeared: "Welcome home, my great Lord!" At this moment, although the "magic mirror" Arordes remained silent, Caine unexpectedly felt as though it were shouting with all its might. The golden words settled, twisted, and reformed into new text: "Esteemed Lord, my humble and loyal servant Arordes would like to ask—what may I do for you?" Caine had grown accustomed to this exchange and responded smoothly: "Answer my questions." The golden words reorganized once again: "Thank you for your response. Please go ahead and ask." Caine, well-prepared, said: "Where did the spirits of malice from the underground ruins on Williams Street go?" Across the entire mirror surface, the golden words froze for several seconds before gradually fading away. Meanwhile, the background scene within the mirror first blurred, then sharpened, and shifted to a new setting. That scene was an abandoned chapel, overgrown with withering vines, scattered with gray stones and droppings from birds and animals. Klein was quite familiar with this scene—it was precisely where he and Miss Sharon had first spoken to the spirits. As the shot zoomed in, Klein noticed a shallow depression in the partially collapsed corner of the small chapel, with clear traces of fingers having been pressed into the soil. "The magician" had mentioned this detail... As Klein's thoughts flowed, a cold, smiling voice echoed from within the scene: "Well done!" With those words emerging from the earth, the scene blurred and twisted, becoming like disturbed water, and then finally shattered. "Well done"—to whom was the spirit saying this? A hunter's path through an angelic entity could speak with such tone—this counterpart must be of high standing, possibly even at the level of an angel. Yet why use hands to dig a hole? It should have been far easier, more efficient, less time-consuming. Was the angel itself constrained? Indeed, just as the old man within Leonard's body had been. By the way, Leonard was actually in Beckett at that time! That's a lead, but there are still many other possibilities—angelic rank doesn't necessarily mean angelic. Who exactly did the spirit manipulate through Lord Pound connect with? It seems now that both Indis and Fosca's spies were deliberately set up as diversions by the spirit—indeed, no surprise that they're known as "master strategists." Thoughts continued flashing through Caine's mind, and then he turned to the "Mirror," Arodus, and asked, "My second question: I now have three candidates for steward. Who do you think is the most suitable?" Golden Runes one after another appeared in the text: "If we choose Ribak and Walter, there will be additional developments—Asniya is the most specialized, and also the most 'ordinary.' " Ah... Indeed, the two from the Niğen Duke's family and the Conrad Viscount's family do offer further potential. Caine nodded thoughtfully and said, "Now it's your turn to ask." At that moment, a cluster of golden words surged forth: "Great Lord, shall I serve as your butler? As long as you can bring me out of the Steam Church, I can become the finest butler in the world!" ...Klein hesitated for a second, then responded gently: "Not quite suitable at this time." The golden words on the full-length mirror instantly dimmed, then brightened again, pulsing and reorganizing: "Very well. 'Your loyal and humble servant, Arodos, will patiently await your call.'" Immediately afterward, a complex pattern appeared on the mirror, accompanied by explanatory text: "This is a sigil composed of corresponding symbolic signs and magical emblems, Great Lord. As long as you remain in Beklan, simply writing it on paper will notify me of your intention." A symbol embodying both secrecy and observation... Klein identified it with slight reflection: "Excellent."