Leonard Mitchell clasped his hands and leaned slightly forward, saying, "We've reconstructed the scene that Calon saw just before he died. It doesn't directly reveal the murderer's appearance, but the glass of the convex window happens to capture the silhouette of Baron Sindras." Pausing for a moment, he added, "This seems too simple, too unconvincing. A nobleman of Baron Sindras' stature—a major banker—wouldn't typically be willing to personally commit a murder or even attend the scene unless he had a particular passion for it. "As you know, there are countless ways to create a similar scene, whether through illusion or staging." As he spoke of staging, he slightly raised his head and glanced at Doane Thantès, as if to say: "Your current appearance is likely not your true self, much like Germán Spalro or Sherlock Moriarty." It's truly a straightforward and forceful frame-up—making one wonder if the real culprit even intends to falsely implicate Baron Sindralas... Well, let me go over this again from the beginning. Let's assume that my response, that of Dowen Tantez, is no different from that of an ordinary person. After all, I won't state my conclusions outright; instead, I'll guide the thinking through questions. If the final answer turns out wrong, then it must be that my poetry companion misunderstood my cues and failed to grasp my subtle hints. Kline smiled, lifted a bone china cup, and sipped his红茶. "Let's set this issue aside for now. If I weren't involved, how would the situation have unfolded?" Leonard's clasped hands slightly raised, his index finger gently tapping as he said: "Baron Sindralas was detained as a suspect by the police, but his butler, servants, neighbors, and friends all confirmed that he had no contact with the Carlon family. This created a significant contradiction between the two accounts, leaving the police unable to resolve it. They thus requested the intervention of the 'Night Watch'." "Through spirit communication, we obtained the scenes that Baron Sindralas saw just before his suicide, from which we have extracted his figure..." As he spoke, Leonard suddenly fell silent. After several seconds, he continued, under the attentive, smiling gaze of Daven Tan-Tsai: "Regardless of how strange or overly simple this lead may seem—how difficult it might be to believe—we will proceed according to protocol, make contact with him, and initiate the necessary investigations. And as a result, will we begin to notice certain issues in him? 'Does Baron Sindralas already have concerns involving the extraordinary, issues that would not withstand a thorough inquiry by the Night Watchers?' Leonard grew more and more certain with each sentence, as if he had already grasped the planner's intent. They, or he, didn't care whether their trap was uncovered—as long as it prompted the "Night Watch" to conduct a routine investigation of Sir Sindralas, the objective would be achieved, since Sir Sindralas himself harbored serious, easily detectable issues! Yes, that's precisely my thought—more of a formal complaint, actually, but softened to appear as a trap, compelling the "Night Watch" to investigate while simultaneously concealing their own presence. Of course, I won't directly confirm your speculation; should we be wrong at the end, wouldn't that be awkward? Caine lifted his right foot and rested it on his left leg, smiling. "With the Sir Sindralas now alert, there's no doubt about it." Leonard nodded slowly, offering an explanatory remark. "This Sir Sindralas has an extraordinarily remarkable career—several times on the brink of bankruptcy, only to recover and rise to new heights." "Perhaps on one occasion, he had already been utterly defeated, with no other options left, and thus sold his soul to a malevolent deity, demon, or some other hidden entity?" That story makes quite good sense... Caine didn't say whether Leonard's speculation was right or wrong, but instead asked: "On the other hand, what do you think about the true culprit behind Karon's suicide?" Leonard temporarily set aside his earlier judgment and thought through it under the premise of 'normal development,' saying: "The trap was too crude—the hints, the guidance, and the implantation of memory were not subtle or gentle enough to go unnoticed. Therefore, it wasn't likely carried out by a mid-to-high-tier member of the 'audience' pathway. It seems more like a feat orchestrated by a非凡者 from another pathway, using the corresponding magical artifacts to disguise their actions..." Before he could finish, Leonard fell silent again, as though recalling something. Klein maintained a faint, understated smile, gazing at the other with calm composure, as if everything were under his control—yet I simply wouldn't say anything, leaving it entirely to you to grasp the depth of your own understanding. This aligned well with the elder's earlier remarks... Was it truly the hand of a mid-to-high sequence "observer"? His seemingly hasty and flawed arrangements had, in fact, been meticulously calibrated to anticipate the natural reactions of individuals, the rhythms of human behavior—only to have miscalculated Donatien Tholozan's experience and wisdom? Leonard felt as though he now had a clear grasp of the entire sequence. Standing straight, he cleared his throat and said, "Thank you for your guidance." Klein immediately chuckled. "I said nothing at all." Before Leonard could respond, he interjected, "My predecessor asked me to inquire—should he come across any trace of Insang Zangwei, how should he inform you?" Just as Leonard was about to rise to bid farewell, he lifted only half his hips and then settled back, remaining silent for several seconds with a slightly complex expression. "Deliver the message in the form of a letter to 7 Prestwick Street." Does this mean you'll remain in Beckett for a long time, or even if you go elsewhere to carry out tasks, can you still monitor the activities at 7 Prestwick Street and remotely review the contents of the letters? It's more likely the latter—surely an angel who has passed through as a thief must possess a number of unusual techniques, many of which Leonard himself can employ. He cannot ask directly; asking would diminish Donatien Tholozan's stature and disrupt his carefully constructed persona. With a composed demeanor and a steady smile, Klein said, "I'll pass it on." Leonard didn't immediately leave. He opened his mouth, paused, then said, "If I wish to contact him, what should I do?" When he said this, his green eyes were deep and reserved. Kline had anticipated it, and smiled, saying, "Spirits wandering in illusion, and the friendly creatures at their disposal—these are uniquely the messengers of Germain Sparo. As for the specific rituals, if you're unclear about them, you may ask Palis." Leonard knew Germain Sparo was Sherlock Moriaty, and thus, Kline Morieti, so he gave a barely perceptible nod and stood up, saying, "Thank you for the information. Please forgive my impromptu visit." After speaking, he stepped back to the door, opened it, and departed from the dream. Hey, did he just leave that quickly? As a 'nightmare,' or a former 'nightmare,' don't you consider your own memory shortcomings at all? Can you remember just from hearing once? That's rather dismissive! Kline watched Leonard's silhouette fade into the distance and muttered a few thoughts of disbelief. He sighed, shook his head, and ended his nap, then began attending to the affairs of Xibaran. …On the *Golden Dream*, Daniz, finally completing his mission, sipped a chilled light lager as the weather had grown hot lately. If it weren’t for the exceptional skill required to produce ice—of which there was only a limited supply—he would have finished half a barrel in one go. “That’s what it means to enjoy!” Daniz murmured, gulping down the remaining liquid in his glass. At that moment, a grayish mist swirled before his eyes, and the voice of Germain Sparo echoed in his ears: “…Please inform Daniz to immediately proceed to Xibaran, and investigate the current situation of the two native generals—Melsayes and Katami—within their respective domains, especially looking for any traces of the Rose School’s activities…” To Xibaran? Daniz held his glass, repeating in his mind the request from Germain Sparo, slightly stammering. He had once gone there with the crew of the "Golden Dream" in search of treasure, and had obtained detailed intelligence from Captain "Admiral Iceberg" Edwena, thus understanding just how chaotic and perilous Westbrien truly was. And now, it was all happening alone! Daniz pursed his lips, feeling his future dimming. In his mind, images surfaced: a primeval jungle teeming with terrifying creatures, indigenous tribes who all worshipped the Death God yet each with their own peculiar customs, roads strewn with bandits and rebels, villages haunted by spectral ghosts, and cities where gunfights and even feats of extraordinary beings regularly erupted. No, he had to reject Germain Sparo. Reject him—well, at the very least, he needed an assistant sent along! Well… ordinary people can thrive in Xibayang, become wealthy, and even own their own estates—this shows that it’s not as terrifying as I imagined. I’m simply frightening myself. Moreover, Germán Spalro only asked me to gather information; he didn’t ask me to reach out to anyone to set things against one another. Danyz quickly brightened up and asked the "Fool" to convey to Germán Spalro that he would be departing immediately. Then, following Germán Spalro’s instructions, he arranged within his own room a series of requests for the "Fool" to bestow upon him. As the ritual concluded, he saw a shimmering door open, and a dark-gold, sunbird-shaped brooch take flight, landing upon the altar. It was the "Sun Brooch!" In the southern continent, in the realm once ruled by Death, the "Sun" is one of the most valuable extraordinary pathways. "He’s given me such a valuable item—this is certainly a good sign for working under Germán Spalro. Still, it seems he’s saying it’s a loan." Danzig picked up the brooch, and felt the damp heat around him grow a little stronger. ................ After assigning Danzig his tasks, Caine was about to open the door to instruct his personal servant, Richardson, to prepare a glass of iced water for him, when a sudden inspiration struck him. Instantly, with his spiritual vision subtly activated, he saw Miss Renette Tynicor stepping out of the air, one of the golden-haired, blue-eyed heads in her hands clutching a thin letter. Who had sent it? Was it from Leonard? Caine extended his right hand, slightly puzzled.