As he sat in the four-wheeled carriage returning from Saint-Semarville Church to Berkland Street, hearing the layered, ethereal cries of supplication, he could only make the most tentative judgment about the woman—she wasn’t particularly urgent—and thus couldn’t immediately respond to her from the gray mist above. Glancing at the gas streetlamps dispelling the darkness outside, he turned his gaze back, lifted a white porcelain tea cup with gold trim, and took a gentle sip. Richardstone, to his side, stepped forward with courage: “Mr. Kline, I’ve now come to understand what you said—indeed, everyone grows from being inexperienced, often from having little experience. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to grow.” Once he confirmed that Godopas and his companions were dead, he no longer felt anxious and began to think about his own career. For a servant, changing employers so frequently in a short span was a significant flaw; and once he resigned from Doun. Thantès, Richardstone believed it would be very difficult for him to continue as a personal servant. To him, this would be a significant blow. It's not merely because the personal servant's annual salary, at a minimum of 25 pounds, is comparable to that of the housekeeper and exceeds that of other non-managing positions. More importantly, personal servants—both male and female—are the most likely to rise to the position of housekeeper among the staff. By accompanying the master or mistress, attending to their daily needs, serving as their liaison, and acting as their assistants, they develop their capabilities, gain a comprehensive understanding of the skills required of a housekeeper, and build strong personal relationships with their employers. With the right opportunities, they can relatively easily transition into roles such as steward, housekeeper's assistant, or deputy housekeeper, steadily advancing toward the position of head housekeeper. Richardson indeed longed for a tranquil life, yet this did not mean he was content to remain a servant forever. He was firmly determined to earn a higher salary and achieve greater status through his own efforts, with the ultimate goal of becoming a housekeeper in a wealthy household. Now it is clear—too late. Klein smiled and nodded, allowing Richardson to stay. Upon returning to 160 Berkland Street, he instructed his housekeeper, Tania, to prepare a late-night snack at 11:30 and then ascended to the third floor, removing his coat and entering the bathroom. The bathtub had already been filled with warm water at the right temperature, as arranged by the maid five minutes earlier. Klein didn't immediately plunge in; instead, he stepped into the gray mist, trying to determine who had just been praying. "Mr. X... the traveler... the efficiency of the 'magician' lady is quite impressive... she's grown so much without even realizing it." Klein murmured to himself. After careful consideration, he materialized "The World," Germain Sparo, and had the dummy pray within the swirling gray mist: "Give me time, place, and more information—only then can I act." Klein's idea was simple: the abilities of a "Traveler" were quite useful, but Doun Tangtze found it difficult to stay away from Berkland Street for long or remain confined to his room. If the "Magician" could provide detailed and reliable updates, a single assassination would not pose a significant problem. However, if the "World" had to gradually gather information from the periphery, it would certainly be impossible—such an effort would interfere with the "World's" more pressing matters. Soon, the "Magician," Furse, responded: "I will gather the information as quickly as possible." Since Mr. X's gathering had not yet been scheduled in terms of time or location, she could only patiently wait. Once this matter was settled, Klein returned to the real world, removed his clothes, and lay down in the bathtub. The warm水流 enveloped him, and he closed his eyes comfortably, feeling his physical and mental fatigue being gradually washed away. He has already attended several sessions at Saint Samuel's Church, listening to Bishop Elektra's explanations of "The Revelation of the Night," and has thus gained a clear impression of the two internal wardens. Yet, since no pattern has yet repeated, he still cannot determine the regular rotation schedule of the wardens. This behavior, too, brings its own complications. Klein opened his eyes, gazing upward at the mist, and silently sighed, "The first review is likely coming soon." Anyone who frequently visits the internal areas of Saint Samuel's Church is likely to be examined by the night wardens—something that becomes almost certain when one's background remains unclear. If no such review takes place, it would constitute a serious lapse for the wardens themselves. Klein exhaled slowly. ........ The underground of Saint Samuel's Church, Leonard stepped quietly out of a room so serene that it seemed silent. Her emerald eyes now seemed stained with a strange black water, countless phantom bubbles and ripples appearing and vanishing. "Well, that's impressive—becoming a 'Soulweaver' so quickly, almost catching up with me," Dely Simonne said, standing in the corridor, her tone both teasing and self-deprecating. She still wore her black cloak with the hood, blue eyeshadow and blush, exuding an otherworldly beauty. When Leonard saw her, he noticed a subtle chill in her presence—her aura seemed layered with countless shadows, deep and cool. "Clearly, I still have a long way to go. Given your current state, you should be ready to advance to the rank of 'Gatekeeper' by now," Leonard said, more formal than usual, his tone serious. He knew that if he tried to lighten it up, it would be him who ended up blushing and embarrassed, not her. —'Gatekeeper' is the fifth rank in the 'Death Ward' path. It could have been achieved two months ago. "Dai Li didn't hide her words, her expression slightly distorted. Leonard probably understood the reason and nodded slightly: "Not quite enough merit yet?" Dai Li immediately pursed her lips. "Exactly. "It's like you've already made it to the bed, everything is ready, only to discover there's no condom at home, and it's nighttime—most stores in the neighborhood have already closed!" A remarkable analogy... Leonard found himself at a loss for words and could only smile. "You could take on more responsibilities proactively." Without giving Dai Li a chance to speak, he pointed toward the other end of the corridor. "Captain Sostre is still waiting for my report on my promotion." Dai Li said nothing, merely watched him go. Only when the man's silhouette disappeared around the corner did the woman's expression momentarily soften, and she murmured softly: "Captain Sostre..." Inside the temporary quarters of the Red Glove team, where Leonard had just been promoted to "Spirit Warden," Sostre, the newly appointed captain, casually tossed a document to his relaxed subordinate. "Well, you've been promoted. I'll congratulate you later—first, conduct a dream review of your target." It was already deep night, yet for the "Night Watch" team, composed largely of "Insomniacs," the difference from daytime was minimal; in fact, they felt stronger than ever. "Isn't this the local Night Watch's responsibility?" Leonard caught the document and asked casually. "They've been swamped lately—short on personnel—so we're stepping in to help." Sostre explained matter-of-factly. Leonard didn't press further and immediately bent down to begin reviewing the document. The first thing that caught his eye was a photograph, and the middle-aged gentleman on it left a particularly strong impression. "Dawne Thantès…" Leonard's pupils suddenly narrowed. He recognized the man, knew he was an immortal creature surviving from the Fourth Age—a saint-level being, if not even stronger. Moreover, he knew his secret, knew the identity of the old man. Leonard instinctively reached up and rubbed his temple. "Captain Sostre, I've just been promoted, and my spiritual energy is still a bit unsteady." "Ah, yes…" Sostre realized he had made a mistake and quickly turned to the other man with the red gloves. "Albe, come here." Albe was a man in his thirties, with slightly yellow hair, pale skin, and a somewhat frail build. Leonard exhaled in relief and handed the file over to him. At that moment, his heart suddenly skipped a beat: might Alber be negatively affected by entering that immortality monster's dream? Now he felt a bit regretful, thinking he should have done it himself—at least he understood the risks and had already interacted with the person, so he wouldn't have inadvertently offended him. Daven Thantès would surely not do anything harmful to Alber... If he reacted strongly, causing Alber to experience abnormalities, that issue would immediately come to light. With the Church's strength and Beckland's current condition, Daven simply couldn't survive and leave the city. Leonard soon calmed down, believing Daven Thantès would handle the dream review with greater gentleness. He pulled out a chair and sat beside Alber, appearing casually reading the newspaper, but remained fully attentive, keeping a watchful eye to prevent any unforeseen incidents. Klein suddenly woke up in his dream, sensing the presence of strangers. "A night watch review?" he murmured, glancing around and realizing he was in that semi-open room. Then he heard a steady knocking at the door. "Come in..." Klein struggled to keep his voice soft, as if still dreaming. He turned the handle, and the door opened. A slender, medium-height man in a black coat with golden hair stepped in—none other than Albe of the red gloves. "From the Beckland Police Department," Albe casually presented his credentials and sat across from Klein. "What can I do for you, officer?" Klein settled into his composure. He knew that under the influence of his "nightmare" ability, he should now appear composed and steady. Albert unfolded a stack of papers and spoke in a low, steady voice: “Dawn Thénardier, male, from the region of Dijon…” He summarized the information he had gathered thus far, and finally asked, “Is this information accurate?” “Partially true, partially false,” replied the Klein in his dream, speaking honestly. The only truly accurate points were probably “male” and “no female companion.”… Meanwhile, he quietly chuckled to himself. Seeing that progress was being made, Albert felt a quiet sense of satisfaction and straightened his expression, asking, “What parts are false?” Klein had anticipated this question and feigned thoughtfulness, recalling, “My wealth does not stem from mineral resources, but rather from my adventures across the southern continent.” Drawing upon Anderson’s description of Xibran, he crafted a narrative of a commoner who, through eloquence, intelligence, experience, and boldness, accumulated wealth in a region where the kingdoms of Roon and Intis frequently clashed. The story is not detailed—it's more of an outline. Its primary purpose is to convince the night watchmen that D'Artagnan is a regular, adventurous ordinary person, rather than someone extraordinary—like the tales of rising to wealth, which are numerous and common in Ruin.