The recognized "Sun" Driek stood still for two seconds, his sense of embarrassment momentarily easing. "I'll investigate this matter further," he said, somewhat shyly. "I'll aim to bring in two more, no, just one, friend by the next Tarot gathering—Driek quickly set a new personal goal in his mind. Seeing this, Kline prompted the low, resonant voice of "World" Germain Sparo: "Should it involve the Domain of Death, feel free to consult me." And I can certainly consult Mr. Azk— he silently added to himself. As for Frank Lee's new mushrooms, he decided not to pass them on to the young "Sun" yet, since they were still only half-finished and the final "fruit" held toxicity and wild frenzy. "Thank you, Mr. World," Driek warmly replied. After exchanging a few more topics, the Tarot gathering moved into its "Learning" phase and continued until its conclusion. Back in the real world, Caine immediately set about resolving the matter of the "thief" demi-god. Yet he quickly encountered difficulties even at the very beginning of his plan—he had no idea where to find Leonard Mitchell and his grandfather living within him! Saint Samuel's Church? Leonard was likely down there in the church's underground, but I simply can't get in... He visits the church only once or twice a week, and never at the same time—how am I supposed to go three times a day, seven days a week, just to meet him once? What kind of plot is this? Is it really "waiting for Leonard to show up"? Even if I do that, it might not work—Leonard, as the "Red Glove," may have already left Beckland by now. Caine complained while deeply regretting his earlier overemphasis on verbal guidance, his constant focus on persuading Leonard Mitchell, and his failure to ask how he could reach him. I should have told Leonard at the time, "I'll let Klein Moretti know that my identity has been revealed, and if he has anything to say, I'll pass it on," thus establishing a private means of communication—yet Klein had only resorted to his last option: to ask the "Mirror!" After sketching a symbol that blended "observation" and "secrecy" on the page, Klein turned his gaze to the full-length mirror, where ripples of water shimmered and a succession of pale Runes emerged: "Most Great, Most High, Most Noble Lord, your humble, modest, and trembling servant Arōdes appears at your call. Before answering your questions, I must say: 'I was wrong! I was wrong!' Klein raised an eyebrow and asked, "Why now, suddenly, do I make this mistake?" On the mirror's surface, the pale Runeswift text twisted and flowed, transforming into something new: "After all, I was wrong..." A series of ellipses gave way to the pale words trembling into shape: "Recently, many people have been inquiring about your situation, and the reputation you've gained as the current identity of yours...?" So, the image of Doun Tangtse—charming and accepting of anyone beautiful—has spread, even reaching the ears of the 'Justice' herself? Well, I've used a public persona; there are several followers playing Doun Tangtse, and their diverse interests can easily explain it... Hey, look at this—this mirror is even pale in fear! Klein felt a sudden clarity, smiled softly, and then said: "It's your turn to ask." The words on the mirror remained pale, forming a new message: "Have you forgiven me?" "Not exactly," he replied, "but would you like to see how I perform moving forward?" "This attitude...克莱恩心中不住赞叹，表面却沉稳地说道： 'Then go and make an effort.' 'Yes, Great Master!' The words on the mirror's surface swiftly glowed silver. 'Did you call me here to test me, Master?'克莱恩点了点头： 'Yes. Where will Leonard Mitchell be staying over the coming days?' The silver traces swiftly twisted and rearranged into new text: '7 Prestwick Street.' Beneath the text, ripples spread across the mirror's surface, coalescing into a scene: a row house bearing the number 7, a young man with black hair and green eyes reaching for his key. Still the same place—no change at all... If I were to visit Leonard directly, it would undermine the image he holds of Davenant Tholos, lowering my own standing... Then, should I send Emlyn White? Anyway, the poet colleague must have already found out that this vampire has connections with Sherlock Moriarty, that is, with Kleen Moretti. The current issue lies in the difficulty of determining the elder's stance. Without a clear understanding of his true intentions, presenting a grand gift to him in his current condition might not be appropriate—it could even pose a significant danger to Leonard. Since my personal involvement is not at stake, my consultations from the gray mist might not yield effective insights. Kleen found his thoughts shifting, and began to consider altering his plan: Instead of directly informing the elder within Leonard about the semi-divine "theft" figure, it would be wiser and safer to use the names of Parès Zoroastre or Amun to issue a warning, urging the target to step away from this neighborhood. Of course, this hinges on not revealing my own identity. Kleen paused for a few seconds, then asked, "Where is the semi-divine figure currently located in relation to Hayour Mahert?" On the surface of the mirror, ripples of light spread out in layers, transforming the scene: upon a thick carpet embroidered with elaborate patterns stood a set of leather armchairs. Among them, a single armchair was covered by a dense, finely woven cushion of pure white fur. At the center of the cushion lay a gray mouse, whose eyes were a deeper, almost dark red compared to those of its kind. The mouse... had the semi-divine "theft-ster" now living within it? And yet, it was sleeping so grandly in Haiyuer's room, occupying a cushion that looked quite expensive—was this because I had disrupted his plans, forcing him to take this form? Kline was first stunned, then found himself wanting to smile. The scene stabilized, and a line of silver-white words emerged clearly: "Great Master, what further instructions do you have?" "Quite perceptive... Cain." He nodded. "Use the mirrors in the room to alert the half-god. Tell him that in this district, a 'thief' angel lacking goodwill is making its rounds, and that the 'profane' Amon may arrive at any moment." "Understood, Master. I'll take care of it right away!" The words on the mirrors shimmered with luminous grace. The words, as though still flowing, slowly diffused into new text: "There is a need for a 'Theif's Path' angel currently circulating in the surrounding area—this path is under threat from all high-sequence adversaries, 'The渎神者' Amun, who is en route. I mention this to you not so that they may benefit." The gray mouse gave a low, hoarse query: "Who exactly are you?" He was now deeply frustrated, frustrated that the strength he had accumulated over time had always been forced to waste, otherwise he could have used his 'Astrology' to verify the situation. On the once-dim mirror, the blood-red words suddenly vanished and reappeared with fresh content: "I have answered your question. By principle of reciprocity, it is now my turn to ask." Immediately, a fresh row of blood-red text appeared below: "After you swiftly寄ened within a mouse's body, you have likely been influenced by its physical structure and hormonal changes. The current objects of your mating desire are: 'human females, human males, mother mice, father mice, or all of them?' Please respond." At this moment, Hai Rui opened a narrow crack in the door, while the gray mouse inside remained unaware of anything amiss. The door opened slightly further, and Hai Rui noticed the half-god, half-human who had claimed to dwell in legend, now gazing呆ly at the mirror, seemingly enchanted by her current appearance—a gray mouse. Hmm... Hai Rui furrowed her brows slightly, instinctively pausing her action of opening the door. Then, she saw the gray mouse trembling all over, with a clear aura of menace radiating from its red eyes. "Stop playing games with me!" the gray mouse roared, its voice low and hoarse. He turned to leave the room, but suddenly his mouse body was caught by an invisible chain! This force he had never feared when in peak condition, yet now, his reserves had been drained again and again—most recently, during a vision he had given to his exceptional guardian, Doun Tangtse. Crack! A thick, silvery lightning bolt descended suddenly, striking the gray mouse's head. For a moment, Hai Yuel's eyes blazed white, filling the world with pure light—then they cleared, and he saw the gray mouse lying on the ground, its fur blackened, its four limbs twitching rhythmically.