Klein's gaze then shifted from Mrs. Verma Glatz to the desserts nearby—the carrot cake, cream scones—and to the dishes close by: roasted chicken, slow-cooked lamb, seared eye-of-beef steak, and Dizzy's specialty baked fish. He took a small, deliberate swallow of saliva, forced his eyes back to Mrs. Glatz, and prepared to invite Mrs. Mary to dance the second waltz. ——As the host, he couldn't miss the first three dances, so he had to temporarily set aside his hunger, forget the delicious fare over there. At that moment, however, his stomach was clearly evident as Mrs. Verma Glatz moved toward the section with cupped ice cream, extended her hand, then withdrew it. "Would you like some?" Her husband, Dr. Allen, had not yet danced the first waltz and remained close to his pregnant wife. Mrs. Verma Glatz shook her head seriously: "No, I don't want any. I'm pregnant. I don't think ice cream is good for me." "But the little one in there seems to want to try a little, just a little," Dr. Allen nodded slightly. "Then have a little—give the rest to me." Vilma instantly broke into a smile that couldn't be contained. "You're simply spoiling the child!" She didn't hesitate, watching her husband lift a spherical ice cream cup from among the ice blocks. After sipping two small mouthfuls, Vilma closed her eyes and quickly turned her gaze away, now looking toward several ladies who had not yet danced the first waltz. They were speaking softly, smiling warmly, their expressions both engaging and slightly shy, occasionally covering their mouths with their hands and chuckling. What were they talking about? Vilma felt a growing curiosity. She waved to her husband and walked over. But the ladies soon dispersed, as if waiting for the second dance. Vilma felt a bit let down, and turned to the only lady who remained in place. "Did you hear what they were saying just now?" "I'm not particularly interested in what they're talking about," said Hae-your, glancing at the pregnant lady beside her. She didn't feel the need to criticize the ladies' somewhat impersonal demeanor, as it was common for pregnant women to enjoy certain privileges. It was only then that Vilmara noticed Hae-your, with her deep green hair, holding a glass of champagne, seemingly reluctant to be invited to dance. There was an innate dignity about her—basic courtesy when she looked at the Viscountess, yet it was a consistency that made her feel distant to everyone. It was a pleasant quality, but the issue was that she maintained this distance with all of them, and it was rather cold. Perhaps she was in what Emperor Rosel had described as the "period of rebellion"? As a schoolteacher, Vilmara found herself quietly assessing Hae-your in her mind, then gracefully stepped away to engage in conversation with more familiar ladies and gentlemen. After the three initial dances, Cline finally found a brief moment of respite, able to take a bite of food and sip a refreshing, chilled sweet iced tea—specifically prepared by the kitchen to be served in the style of Dese. Due to the influence of the "Hour of the Bell" revolver, he had drunk a bit more than usual and, after only a few casual exchanges with Bishop Elektra, apologized and excused himself, heading toward the restroom. In truth, he could still hold at least three dances, but he felt that the sudden arrival of "Fate's Serpent" Will Aunseit—perhaps with something specific to share—had prompted him to actively seek out a quiet, undisturbed setting. Though He was still a fetus, arriving passively, if He wished to avoid seeing him, there were surely a hundred ways to prevent His mother from leaving. For now, he would give it a try. While murmuring to himself, Caine entered the restroom and locked the door behind him. As he hesitated—whether to first address his distended abdomen or to wait a couple of minutes—he suddenly had an inspiration and turned to the mirror. There, the mirror now reflected a black stroller, its interior shadowed and details blurred, so that only a child wrapped in silver silk could be discerned. The child spoke in a clear voice: "Your fate has shifted slightly." "What happened?" Klein's spirit instantly tightened. Wil. Aonsedt, in infant form, chuckled and said: "That must be something you discover yourself! "All I know is that you encountered an angel." Klein suddenly recalled the events on the primitive island and his own speculations, pondered for a few seconds, and furrowed his brow, asking: "Can an angel perceive the special qualities within me? "I've seen the golden light. He told me that only a few high-ranking spiritual beings, as well as certain uniquely endowed deities and extraordinary figures representing fate, can detect this to varying degrees—and only through close, personal contact." Wil. Aonsedt, in the stroller, drew in his thumb and smiled: "It's likely not the case—because you're not in any danger." "Moreover, besides your uniqueness, some of your belongings and your companions might also possess special qualities that could capture his interest." My belongings, my companions... As克莱恩 thought about it, he realized he had perhaps been subtly hinted at earlier, and indeed hadn't considered it before—so he had overlooked one key point: during the exploration of the primordial island, he had carried with him *The Travels of Grolse*! This was a book crafted by the ancient deity, the "Dragon of Imagination," Angerwid! If the primordial island truly holds a connection to the Twilight Hermit, whether the angels in the church—those arriving via the 'Audience' path bringing materials from the 'Storm' path, or vice versa—would naturally be drawn to this volume. After all, the organization's leader is likely the "Dragon of Imagination" deity, the divine son Adam. It was precisely because of this book that he had allowed me to take the "King" card and had prevented me from further exploring with the "Hanged Man" gentleman? Caine spoke hesitantly, "How should we handle this?" "Actually, it doesn't need to be solved at all—over the long term, this should prove beneficial, though there will certainly be considerable difficulties in the interim," said Will. Aonsedt, his voice clear and bright. "And you've already been carrying a heavy load. Adding one more thing won't make much difference. I'm merely reminding you to keep an eye out, so you don't get overwhelmed by the challenges." ...That makes sense. More debt means less worry—perhaps even opportunities arise, with creditors vying against each other. After a moment of reflection, Caine silently agreed with this thought. He then asked, "My friend who wishes to obtain a drop of mythical creature's blood would like to know exactly what you need." "What do I need?" Will. Aonsedt chuckled again. "I need quite a few things—such as a way to accommodate the 'Dice of Probability,' or to eliminate Ulorius himself. If we can manage that, then how many vials of blood you'd like to draw, we can draw that many! But can we really manage it?" "If we can manage it, why take the risk of eliminating Ulric? Why not simply deal with your frail 'Snake of Fate' directly? Kline muttered this to himself while firmly shaking his head. 'We can't.' "If you have an urgent matter, just come visit my father! Wouldn't you have to wait a long time even with the thousand paper cranes?" "Alright, as a fetus yet to be born, I should now go back to sleep. I'll address anything else later." Cain had to nod. "Should you have no other matters," said Will. Auntsington's form, about to fade, suddenly paused, and after a two-second pause, added, "There's one more thing." "What is it?" Cain's focus immediately sharpened. Will cleared his throat. "Your chef's ice cream is too sweet..." Ah? Cain momentarily failed to grasp what the other was saying. It wasn't until the black stroller disappeared into the bathroom mirror that he finally caught on, his mouth twitching slightly. After resolving the discomfort in his abdomen, he washed his hands and stepped out, finding his personal servant Richard, and instructed, "Go to the kitchen and ask them to reduce the sweetness of the subsequent ice cream servings." Richardson didn’t ask why—he simply went ahead and did as instructed, only pausing just before entering the kitchen to wonder: why hadn’t Mr. D’Olivier Tanghese tasted the ice cream at all, yet he seemed to know it was slightly sweet? Richardson immediately had an answer: he believed that one of the guests had sampled the ice cream and then informed their own host. Though a bit uncivilized, such occurrences were not uncommon, especially among close friends, who would often gently and kindly remind the host to maintain their reputation. At that moment, since the previous dance was still in progress, Cline didn’t feel the urgency to choose a partner and instead walked over to a long table near the edge, intending to make the most of the time to enjoy some more food. He had just selected a piece of Dizzy’s baked fish with few bones when he noticed Wilma Glattis approaching, taking a cup of sweet iced tea. The lady nodded politely to the host and smiled, saying, “This drink is quite excellent—I’ve never had it before.” "Tea with a touch of sweetness from the south," Klein smiled, casually glancing at the other's abdomen. "He seems quite well-behaved, though—perhaps she is the one?" Vilma chuckled. "Mostly so, though she occasionally gets restless in the middle of the night." Midnight... occasionally... wouldn't that be when she answered my questions? Klein suddenly felt a little embarrassed, feigning surprise and redirecting his attention back to his plate. Vilma sipped her sweet iced tea and returned to where they had been conversing. As the next dance was about to begin, Klein handed his plate and cup to a nearby waiter, glanced toward Hayourel's position, and walked over with a gentle smile, bowing. "Madam, would it be my pleasure to invite you to dance?" Hayourel remained silent for a few seconds, placing her glass of champagne on the waiter's tray, and responded politely, "And it would be my pleasure as well."