She’s not dead? She escaped? She’s actually still determined to avenge the Prince of Edessa? At the very moment she appeared,克莱恩, standing behind the curtains of the master bedroom, nearly lost control of his expression. Though he had already formed some hunches based on the earlier conversation, the reality before him still surpassed his expectations. Even without relying on dream divination, he could still recall certain conversations he’d shared with Trist with Trist before the great smog crisis in Beckland—then, she had been eager to break free from the Prince’s control and from the unseen forces manipulating her fate, finding everyday life deeply painful. Could a female mage, originally a man, willingly sell her soul to a demon simply to avenge the Prince of Edessa? What a clichéd romance novel plot! Klein's mouth twitched slightly, "seeing" the butler Walter toss a bag of food to Trist, "hearing" him give a few instructions before turning and heading out through the hidden passage. At that moment, within Klein's own perspective, a figure emerged from the Mahert议员's home, moving swiftly along the street's shadows toward the sewer entrance—none other than Helyr, who possessed the "Thief's" path to magical items. This encounter with Walter... how could this be a sewer entrance? This was clearly the main gate of a bustling market! Klein gazed downward, nearly reaching out with his right hand to cover his face. Upon reaching the sewer entrance, Helyr scanned her surroundings cautiously for several seconds before smoothly lifting the manhole cover and descending, the entire process seamless and fluid. Stepping onto the slightly slippery ground, she moved purposefully and swiftly along the rusted iron pipes and the slowly flowing wastewater stream. Suddenly, she felt a coldness spreading down her back, a chill running through her spine, each hair on her body standing upright. Then, Hairel seemed to have plunged into a river whose surface was frozen, feeling an overwhelming wave of cold swiftly filling her body. Terrified, she watched herself stepping in a direction opposite to her intention—straight toward the wall lined with iron pipes—without any control over her own will! Fear rushed into her mind, quickly dissolving the stiffness of her thoughts, and she poured all the spiritual energy she could command into the necklace at her neck. The necklace was strung with seven translucent green stones, evenly spaced, with a ring of small diamonds set around them, still emitting a delicate glow even in the most absolute darkness. Suddenly, one of the stones brightened, its vibrant green light casting a pale, eerie glow over Hairel’s beautiful face. Her movement toward the wall paused instantly, and her feet awkwardly stepped forward, then hesitated and retreated in turn. At that instant, Hai Ryour felt her inner cold momentarily stall. Without hesitation, she once again activated the spiritual essence in another translucent, emerald stone, lifting her right hand toward herself and sharply twisting her wrist. Simultaneously, mysterious symbols and patterns appeared in her mind, and her spirit and vocal cords underwent temporary changes. She had successfully acquired the extraordinary ability, "Sorrowful Soul's Howl!" As she reached for her mouth to unleash it with all her might, she felt her hands lose control once more, tightly, firmly, and swiftly pressing against her lips. Her howl transformed into a mere moan confined within her mouth. With light, graceful steps, she moved to the wall, turned down a side passage, and then knelt into pure darkness. Despite her strenuous efforts, she remained powerless—unable even to re-activate the necklace at her neck. Hai Rui'er's deep brown eyes were wide open, filled with fear and determination, as two clear tears began to slide slowly down her cheeks. At that moment, Walter emerged from another side path, returned to the subway entrance, and climbed up with agility. When he silently entered the Doane Thautes mansion at 160 Berkland Street, Hai Rui'er suddenly regained control over her body, and the dreadful cold vanished entirely. First, she raised her hands in surprise, using her night vision to take a glance, then looked around in alarm, as if countless unknown monsters were hidden in the darkness of the subway. Hai Rui'er then gently touched the necklace in front of her with her right hand, stood up carefully, and moved steadily toward the entrance. She did not panic and rush wildly, always on guard against potential attacks from the depths of the darkness. At last, she returned to Berkland Street, where the iron-black gas lamp posts emitted a soft glow, illuminating the road still streaked with residual rain. Only then did Haygur hasten her pace toward her own home. Halfway there, she suddenly turned back, nervously and hurriedly shifting the manhole cover into place. After completing this, she walked along the shadowed street, reaching her garden and entering the bedroom balcony via the gas and water pipes. It was only then that she truly gained a renewed sense of clarity, her eyes widening as she instinctively glanced left and right, her body beginning to tremble noticeably. She raised her left arm, intending to wipe her face with her clothing, but paused midway, instead reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief. ........ Haygur still possessed fundamental coping abilities—far from a complete novice. In the sewer, Senior emerged, wearing a triangular hat and a dark red coat, and murmured silently to himself. Then, under Klein's guidance, he once again faded from sight and entered the concealed side passage where Trist was located. As the "Spirit of Malice" approached, Trist, dressed in a black gown, lifted her head and offered a smile that blended fragility with determination: "It seems you have no ill intent." "She's quite fortunate," Trist remarked, having noticed the matter involving Haihur—she had indeed detected the "Spirit of Malice"! At once, Senior's figure emerged clearly, and he chuckled: "Perhaps killing her will prove to be a greater challenge." To be honest, he really wanted to report Trist, because he was fully aware of all the wrongs she had committed—he knew exactly how she had incited the passengers and crew of the "Alfalfa" to turn on one another at sea, how she had caused countless innocent lives to expire prematurely. Yet, after discovering Trist's involvement in unraveling the mystery of Prince Edsack's death, Caine had a new plan: to drive this witch to work with him, on a limited basis. The mystery of Prince Edsack's death was almost equivalent to the truth behind the great smog event in Beckland! Investigating this would be extremely dangerous, and involving others would make him feel guilty, afraid that they might suffer harm—or even die. But if Trist herself took on the investigation, he would have no such emotional burden—her crimes had long deserved her to be condemned to hell. The only issue is that she might simply be using her investigation into the mystery of Prince Edsack's death as a means to advance her own agenda—something that must be kept vigilant against, lest she be exploited and the consequences disastrous... While thinking this through, Caine prompted Senior to take another two steps forward. Tris gazed steadily at the middle-aged man ahead, a soft smile playing on her lips, and said, "Since you have ill intentions, then go ahead and act, Senior." At that moment, within the sensory realm of the secret mirror, countless invisible threads shimmered and swayed around Tris, while she herself sat pale and dressed in deep black at the center, like a spider resting at the heart of a web—yet radiating a quiet charm that was both endearing and compelling. "Do you know me?" the mirror paused at that point. Tris responded with a slightly dazed and uncertain expression, "I once spent a memorable period at sea." At that time, you were still a man... Klein muttered under his breath, then smiled and asked, "Why are you investigating the Prince of Edessa's death? Wasn't it a suicide?" Tris suddenly lifted her head, her face now showing clear irritation: "Suicide and suicide are different—some are voluntary, others are forced." Really? She seems genuinely concerned about the Prince's death... Miss, have you forgotten that you used to be a man? Have you forgotten your earlier expressions of pain? Could it be the Stockholm syndrome—after being pressured for so long, even small displays of kindness from the other person are met with several or even tenfold gratitude and attachment? Well, I'm not just an observer; I can't be sure whether her current behavior is genuine or staged... Klein smiled gently at Senior and said, "So, you believe the Prince was forced into suicide? That's why you're seeking William Sikes?" Tristess's anger faded, and a poignant, beautiful smile emerged: "Yes. It was he who forced Edsack to die—using bullets that could extinguish a person's spirit. Yet, he too had been acting on someone else's orders. Indeed, in pursuit of his final pleasure, he had revealed everything. Hah! Even so, I still never let him truly touch me. I showed him old photographs of me, and he died with great suffering and despair..." It was hard to imagine what William had endured... Tristess's soul remained as twisted as ever. The magic women in the stage of "pleasure" truly possessed an enchanting allure—each expression and gesture could captivate a person. Yet, clearly, Tristess had well mastered the art of restraint, using these charms only when necessary. Had she ascended? Or was it love that had brought about this transformation? While Klein murmured these thoughts to himself, he asked Senior, "Who?" When she spoke those words, Caine hadn't expected an answer—yet Tristram smiled lightly and said, "Viscount Stedford. The Royal Court's Master of the Horse." P.S.: Slightly shorter than intended. Will revise later.