Late at night, 7 Pine Street. Leonard Mitchell sat down in his chair, lifted his feet, and placed them on the edge of the desk. Then he leaned back, pressing against the wooden joints with a creaking sound, and his breathing gradually became deep and slow. After some time, his eyelids drooped, covering his eyes. At this moment, Leonard's spirit had arrived in a hazy world, though the place remained his own bedroom. He floated to the window and saw a thick gray mist enveloping the nearby streets, stretching outward as if to encompass the entire Berkland. The streetlamps with their gas lights and the warm glow from the homes within now appeared dim, illuminating only small areas around them and tinged with a soft blur. Meanwhile, clusters of ethereal, elliptical light orbs appeared and disappeared, overlapping and hovering over various houses, as though they were the very source of their presence. This was the city as seen through the eyes of the nightmares. Leonard leapt out of the window in his "nightmare" form, heading toward 17 Minsk Street in the Joewood district, as he had investigated previously. Instead of rushing straight in, he landed gently at the door amid the thick fog and politely rang the bell. "Cuckoo," "cuckoo," the sound of the bell echoed. Starring Summer, dressed in a nightgown, opened the door, holding her silver court fan in front of her chest, half-dazed and puzzled. "May I ask which of the residents you're looking for?" She was the landlady from when Crane had portrayed Sherlock Holmes Moriarty—a thirty-something blonde with blue eyes. By now, Leonard had donned the black-and-white check uniform of the Roon police and casually presented his credentials. "Do you know Sherlock Holmes Moriarty?" Starring reacted slowly, still in the midst of her dream, and it took several seconds before she replied, "Has anything happened to him?" At the same time, inspired by Leonard, she naturally materialized in her mind's eye the image of Sherlock Moriarty: wearing a half-high silk hat, a tailored long suit with double-breasted buttons, gold-framed glasses on his nose, and a full beard around his mouth. This image matched exactly with what Leonard had previously described, so she had no doubts and simply said: "He's involved in a case and is currently under investigation. We hope you can assist us." "Of course," Stella intended to raise her chin, but for some reason, she felt a bit afraid instead. Leonard paused for a moment and asked: "When did he move into the apartment?" "Early September last year," Stella recalled. Leonard then continued: "What do you know about him? Or, in your mind, how would you describe him?" "Speaking of this, Staline seemed as if she had already decided on the answer: "He's from the County of Mianhai, with that regional accent. He's a capable detective who once helped Mary resolve her husband's infidelity. However, his income isn't high—he can't afford a full-time housekeeper, so he only hires my maid part-time. My children told me he's an excellent storyteller, especially when it comes to detective tales, which might be one reason he chose this profession..." Without giving Leonard a chance to interrupt, she continued fluently: "He's not as rough as most detectives. He attended a grammar school and studied history. What's most admirable is that he's received Mary's gratitude and joined the Crag Club—a society of well-established, distinguished members. I've visited there a few times. "Later on, he gained recognition within the detective circles and has been approached by private detectives quite frequently..." Leonard listened with growing impatience, and couldn't help but raise his hand to rub his temple. From Mrs. Staline, he gleaned little useful information beyond the facts that Sherlock Moriaty was financially strained and skilled at telling detective stories—details already known to him from prior investigations. He even learned that Sherlock Moriaty had a good relationship with Easington Stanton. Next, he would begin his inquiries with several members of the Crags Club who were particularly close to Sherlock Moriaty. Patiently listening to Mrs. Staline’s ramblings, Leonard thanked her warmly and then departed into her world of dreams. According to Walter, she was born into a noble family, received a solid education from an early age, and later entered the court as a lady-in-waiting, serving until her marriage. Since her family had declined and her husband's financial situation was average, she chose to become a household teacher specializing in etiquette, frequently visiting various noble and affluent families to instruct their children. Although the housekeeper didn't explicitly state it, Caine knew that he couldn't perform too poorly in front of this lady's presence, or else his reputation would be in serious jeopardy. ——One of the primary ways to learn about someone among the aristocracy, the wealthy, and the upper echelons of society is through shared acquaintances. At times, interactions among servants also carry this significance. With light, graceful steps and a slight sway of her body, Wahanah, her dark hair gently gathered, nodded in approval: "Mr. Dantès, it's truly hard to imagine that you had never learned this kind of dance before. In less than two hours, you've mastered it so well that you seem as though you've always been part of the noble tradition." "It's all thanks to you," Klein smiled modestly, his expression warm and unassuming. With the balanced grace of a clown, dancing came naturally to him. Wahana lowered her head, offered a soft laugh, and said, "You're a gentleman who truly delights ladies." Her hazel eyes then lifted, scanning Daven Tan-Tsai's silver-streaked hair and his deep blue gaze. "That's the finest praise I've heard today," Klein replied, smiling as he continued to move without pausing, gently turning Wahana in a smooth circle. Nearby, the musicians kept the elegant melodies flowing through the hall. He had wanted to get to know Wahana not only to enhance his reputation, but because she had once served as a court lady. After correcting Doun Tangtse on a minor detail, Wahana said, "Inviting a lady to dance is not merely about dancing—it requires essential conversation. You shouldn't behave like two dolls, unless both of you are completely immersed in the music and the rhythm of the dance, so much so that you don't wish to speak. Of course, even that is a form of communication—a communication of the soul. When conversing, always be subtle. Here, we are in Luun, not in Yintis. In short, avoid directness, avoid rudeness—let your demeanor reflect grace. For instance, if you wish to praise the lady's perfume, don't simply say how pleasant the scent is, nor ask what kind of perfume it is and then offer praise. Instead, think of more subtle implications and mention it indirectly. You might say, 'It feels as though I've arrived in the countryside in spring.' Of course, this must align with the character of the perfume. Isn't it rather lacking in literary flair to say, 'The moonlight tonight is so beautiful'?" Klein offered a subtle, understated remark with a touch of self-deprecating humor, smiling to himself: "Thank you for not saying my compliments lacked grace earlier." Wahana's smile deepened immediately. "Mr. Tancred, do you know what kind of gentleman is particularly well received by women in social settings?" "Not really," Klein shook his head honestly. Wahana smiled warmly and continued: "The second most admired is the man who makes women feel intelligent." "Then what's first?" Klein asked in kind. Wahana glanced at him and replied: "The most admired is the man who makes women feel as if they themselves are intelligent." With that, she smiled gently and fell silent. At once, Klein understood the quiet praise she had embedded in her words. That's the understatement typical of Roon... Unlike in Inthes, where everyone seems to be rushing toward the lower half of the body... Well, these are all reports from newspapers and magazines—what the actual Inthes social scene looks like remains uncertain. After all, the two nations have always been engaged in mutual criticism. During the time of the Great Emperor, however, it all fit that description perfectly. Klein nodded with a sudden realization. Klein knew the name of the company and the specific fragrance because the butler had informed him in advance, so that when Lady Wahana asked, he wouldn't appear unprepared or uncommitted. From these details, he deeply appreciated the role of an excellent butler. Watching Lady Wahana Heisen leave satisfied, Klein resisted the urge to rub his temple, and sincerely remarked within himself: "This is more exhausting than fighting against extraordinary beings—every movement and word must be carefully considered... I must rest now." At that moment, Walter, wearing white gloves, stepped forward. "Sir, since you're making such rapid progress in etiquette, we can now advance the other courses." "Which courses?" Klein felt a wave of headache. "History, international politics, philosophy, music, and general knowledge of sports such as golf, horse racing, and hunting..." Walter responded with meticulous precision. "Philosophy?" "Klein was slightly taken aback and asked in query. Valde pointed: "This is one of the most frequently discussed topics among the upper class. You don't need an in-depth study of it, but at the very least, you should know what others are talking about—know that the roots of practical philosophy lie in Conscience, Mared, and Patterson, not in the Great Emperor Roscelin, and know that it was Lurim who first proposed 'man is born free.' " "Many wealthy individuals, when first entering the upper circles, often make this mistake—they tend to attribute unfamiliar topics and philosophies to Roscelin." Klein grew increasingly puzzled, forcing a smile and saying: "I haven't been particularly busy lately, aside from napping and attending church. You may schedule your lectures at any time." ………… In a dimly lit room, an envelope floated upward, opened itself, and spilled out its papers. Beside it, the outline of Sharon's slender, soft-hat silhouette appeared as she held the sheet, reading it carefully. She immediately composed a reply, arranged the ceremony, and began summoning the messenger of Sherlock Moriarty. Throughout this process, she never forgot to place a gold coin. Soon, Sharon finished the incantation and watched as the candle flames swelled, taking on a deep green hue. Four figures with golden hair and bright eyes emerged from the candlelight and materialized before Sharon. Sharon's face, previously expressionless, suddenly underwent a surge of emotion. She gasped, "Teacher!"