160 Berkland Street, second-floor dining room. Klein had just taken a bite of toast, buttered by a servant, when the butler entered. Walter bowed and said, "Mr. Klein, an unknown person rang our bell last night. As it was already quite late, I did not wake you, but instead had the servants take double-barreled hunting guns and take turns guarding the house all night. If you allow me, I will visit the local police station today and request they increase nighttime patrols in this neighborhood." A butler like this—besides being expensive, there's nothing else to complain about... Klein nodded gently, sipped the fresh milk just brought to him, and said, "Very good." Lianya chuckled: "Someone rang the doorbell at唐泰斯's house last night at midnight." "An inside joke?" Héyuel found a seat. "Nobody knows—indeed,唐泰斯's butler went specifically to the police station this morning," Lianya said, recounting what she learned from the servants. Héyuel nodded slightly: "Having the police involved is the best course of action." "But that hasn't helped at all, since no one knows who rang the bell, and apparently, no one was present at the scene." Lianya shook her head and smiled. Héyuel paused, then asked aloud: "No one at the scene?" "Yes. It seems唐泰斯's butler merely asked the police to increase night patrols in our neighborhood—good initiative," Lianya added. As the wife of a member of the lower house and the daughter of a prominent lawyer, Lianya had strong connections with the police department. "No one at all..." Héyuel repeated softly, falling into silence. After a while, she left the living room and headed back up to the third floor. On the way, she couldn't help but clench her fists and wave them forward several times, as if testing something, her brows and expression clearly marked with curiosity. In the quiet stillness, Renette Tynicol, holding four golden-haired, red-eyed heads, appeared at the side ahead. "Madam, this is the first payment, totaling 4,013 pounds," said Caine, drawing his gaze from the pile of gold coins and turning to the messenger. He couldn't help but wonder how the messenger managed to carry away such a large quantity of coins—he remembered her always biting them when receiving the letters. "Very well..." said Renette Tynicol, one head after another. "Still to go... Five thousand... Nine hundred... Eighty... Seven..." No need for me to remind you, Caine smiled. "I'll make arrangements as soon as possible." Renette Tynicol remained silent. One of the heads strained to open her mouth. Suddenly, darkness and depth enveloped her front, and all the coins, like a flowing stream drawn by a vortex, surged forward, eager and in unison. In just a few seconds, the entire pile of coins vanished. Renee Tynicol nodded simultaneously with all four of her heads, then returned to the spiritual realm. She still had £8,156 in cash and five Ruun gold coins—barely a wealthy man, but certainly a man of means. If there were any investment opportunities where she could actually commit funds, not just raise prices or make promises over the course of conversation, then she wouldn't be suspected of being a fraud in the short term. Ah, optimistically speaking, perhaps future investments would allow her to recover the earlier expenses—money generating money is always swift. Klein exhaled silently, then turned his gaze toward the window, forcing himself to appreciate the streets veiled in light mist. Rest didn’t immediately knock according to the agreed-upon signal; instead, she first lowered her gaze to examine her attire. Unlike usual, today she wore a pair of boots. Though the boots themselves seemed unremarkable, Rest knew well that their thick soles, padded with numerous items, could lift a person noticeably—effectively concealing her most defining trait. She ran her fingers over the hidden triangular spikes, pulled up her hood, and then knocked on the door with a steady rhythm. Soon, she was ushered into the living room and took a seat at a convenient spot. Once most of the attendees had arrived, the host finally stepped in. He was of average height, about 1.75 meters, dressed in a black classical robe, wearing a pointed country mage’s hat, and his face was masked with a bronze-like visage, exuding a timeless and mysterious air. Her skin was a deep tone, not quite brown—like someone from the region around the Bay of Fénétrange… but that wasn't certain; perhaps it was just from sun exposure. Her hair was dark and slightly wavy, which matched the initial impression. Officer Ho approached her with the posture of a law enforcement official. It's no wonder the MI9 officer remarked that the Aurora Circle members were all mad, incomprehensible to normal human logic... Since Mr. A vanished, several incidents have emerged in Beckland where people have been impersonating him or his companions, gathering meetings to advance their own interests—each organizer has been swiftly reported and arrested... Well, perhaps Mr. X isn't actually a member of the Aurora Circle; maybe he's just another like the ones before. Hu withdraws his gaze, quietly observing the gathering. She rarely reports such cases, having once lived through a difficult period as a wild extraordinary person, understanding how hard everyone struggles. Thus, unless something unexpected happens, she won't provide any information to MI9. If, however, it's confirmed that a member of the Aurora Circle is involved, then she will report them—because they are all mad, and they pose a serious threat. Hu thinks this over while watching others exchange information or complete transactions. She didn't deeply engage because there weren't many items or pieces of information that truly captured her interest, and also because she was saving money to purchase the potions for the interrogators. "Well, I've just stared at you for a while," said Thorne, "do you think my eyes can penetrate any obstacles?" "No, no, no—I mean, his overall appearance." Thorne had seen Louis Venner's full-length portrait at his teacher, Dorian Gray's, studio and knew the man's distinctive features. As a "constable," Thorne effortlessly reconstructed Mr. X's image and remarked with some curiosity, "Regardless of whether he has any connection with Mr. A, taking such a name would likely draw complaints—doesn't he find that worrying?" After hearing Thorne's description and seeing the portrait brought to life through her "constable" abilities, Thorne felt a quiet sense of satisfaction, believing Mr. X was very likely the traitor from the Abraham family—Louis Venner himself. His lack of concern about complaints stemmed from his status as a "traveler"—with unexpected circumstances, he could always escape with ease. If the official organization followed the same approach they used against Mr. A, they would indeed be unable to keep him. Furse murmured silently, without further discussion, and shifted to another topic. Once Hugh went to take a shower, she quickly used her astrologer's ability to inquire about her own spiritual insights, overlaying the image of Louis Vienne with that of Mr. X, and received the answer that they were one and the same. "Really!" Furse stood up, pacing excitedly and animatedly throughout the living room. Her first thought was to report this to the various churches, attaching the note that the target possessed the ability of a traveler. Then she remembered her earlier attempt to hire Mr. World to assassinate Louis Vienne. "Regardless, I should first check whether Mr. World is available and whether he would be willing to take on this assignment—we must not offend him." As she thought about Mr. World's actions, Furse involuntarily shivered. After making her decision, she first confirmed that Hugh was still in the bath and wouldn't be coming out for a while, then began praying to the "Knight": "...please inform the 'World' gentleman that the celestial messenger Louis Vien has appeared, likely as the 'Traveler,' designated as Mr. X."