After a moment's reflection, Klein—already equipped with a corresponding contingency plan—clearly organized his thoughts and settled on the next steps. *Crack!* He shook the letter paper with his right hand, and as the crimson flame rose, he looked up at Renette Tiniel across the table, ready to pull out a Ruin coin from his pocket to pay the postage. But the messenger had already departed, and his seat was now empty. "No charge?" Klein was momentarily taken aback, then began to wonder—perhaps Renette Tiniel, accustomed to collecting coins from non-contracted parties, had unexpectedly requested payment. Maybe the messenger had said nothing at all, simply leaving the four heads and eight eyes fixed on Leonard, waiting for him to pay, only for Leonard to fail to grasp the situation and, in his attempt to end the summoning, have his neck crushed. Klein exhaled sharply, and in the meantime, used the very coin he had just drawn from his pocket for a divination, which revealed that Leonard Mitchell was doing quite well. He exhaled a long breath, tucked away the gold coins, and called out from the doorway: "Richardson." The partially open door to the room swung back silently, and his personal servant, Richardson, stepped in promptly, bowing politely and asking, "Mr. President, how may I assist you?" "Please have the housekeeper come over," Klein instructed, silently reflecting on how thoroughly his luxurious lifestyle had eroded his own initiative—now, even when seeking someone within the house, he couldn't move an inch, and had to rely entirely on his personal servant. Hmm, this was part of the performance—his thoughts flowed silently. A few minutes later, Walter, wearing white gloves, ascended to the third floor, his arms naturally hanging at his sides, standing at a standard posture just in front of Dowen Tangtze, awaiting the employer's words. Klein had carefully prepared his words, speaking calmly and evenly: "Go to the home of Mr. Mahert and inform him that I have already arranged the initial funds." "Also, have the carriage ready—I'm going to the 'Charitable Education Fund' in the morning and returning midday. If Senator Mahert doesn't require me to stay until afternoon, then you'll also drop by Dr. Allen Cris's house and let him know I'll be making a visit that afternoon." Of course, this isn't exactly a major issue—many wealthy individuals coming to Beckland from outside, especially from the Dizzy Gulf and the Mediterranean County, always bring large amounts of cash in boxes as a precaution. 22 Pasefirth Street, Headquarters of the Roon Charitable Scholarship Fund. Caine entered through the main door, ascended to the second floor, and found the reception room reserved for the board members. —As a titular board member who only occasionally participates in certain affairs, he doesn't have an office here, but he does have access to the reception room. He clenched his right fist against his mouth, cleared his throat deliberately twice, and then stepped into the reception room, taking a seat on a sofa. After a brief wait, he rose again and addressed his personal servant, Richard, who stood beside him: "I'll go to the restroom." Buttoning his coat, Caine stepped out of the reception room and just happened to see Audrey of Justice exiting her own office. The noble lady's dress today was rather simple—white with deep green accents, featuring ruffled edges at the sleeves and collar, and a layered lace bow at the front. She hadn't worn any jewelry, merely a belt that seemed neither good nor poor, and as the wind gently brushed her garments against her skin on her left arm, a subtle rise appeared. "Good morning, Miss Audry," said Cline, feigning surprise at having encountered her. Audry glanced at the well-kept, slightly silver-haired Dowen Thénardier and smiled lightly. "Good morning, Mr. Thénardier," she replied. She had intended to say something lively—perhaps "long time no see"—to tease him for not visiting the charitable education fund since the ceremony, but considering their relationship was merely one of acquaintance, she restrained herself. Cline then gently rubbed his temple, shaking his head with a wry smile. "I'm sorry—I only came today." "I've been absolutely swamped lately, and I can foresee that things will only get busier—I might have to head down to the Southern Continent to handle certain matters." He had特意 come to personally inform Miss Justice of his intention to be away from Beckland for an extended period, in order to demonstrate his sincerity and to hope that the noble young lady would help ensure the foundation runs smoothly. To Caine, it was truly heartfelt that this "charitable scholarship fund" could assist even more of the struggling poor. "To the Southern Continent?" Audrey, sensing Doune Thonard's sincerity, responded with a touch of surprise. "For a business deal," Caine smiled. At that very moment, the first thought that flashed through Audrey's mind was: Another Sequence-5 member about to lose his life? Noticing that Miss Justice seemed to have formed an unfavorable association, Caine added, "We're working with the military, supplying them with essential goods." What did that really mean? Is Dauvien Tantris this identity specifically meant to gather military intelligence? Odile felt a sudden clarity, raised her right hand, and, in a clockwise motion, tapped it four times, her smile clear and bright. "May the goddess bless you with all success." Only after uttering this customary phrase did she notice the incongruity—she was blessing the attendant of a man known as the Fool! This felt more like a curse than a blessing... Would Mr. Gérard Spalro be displeased? No, he is actually a deeply kind-hearted man, and I hadn't intended any ill will at all. Perhaps when I return from the southern continent, the one who will embody Dauvien Tantris will be another attendant—perhaps even a half-god? Odile's thoughts began to drift freely. Then, as if merely passing by on the road, he casually remarked, "Have you been to the schools for promotion lately?" "Yes, I have." Whenever speaking of such matters, Audrey's face seemed to glow with pride and satisfaction at finally doing something tangible. After giving a slight, firm nod, a compassionate expression gradually appeared in her green eyes: "I've visited several public elementary schools. Many of the children there are truly pitiful—they bring their own black bread for lunch and a cup of清水 to save money." As she spoke, she glanced up at D'Artagnan, a touch shyly adding, "I know they won't take me to the evening or Sunday schools just yet. I won't be able to see the worse conditions." "But I can imagine, I can imagine—like those workers who, once they enter the factory, only live for a few years..." This was something that "World" Germán Sparo once told her, revealing to her for the first time the true conditions at the lower levels of Bekland—yet things she had never seen firsthand, still had to be imagined. Klein sighed silently. "It might be worse than you imagine." "Never mind. Just wait until you demonstrate your own abilities—the kind that earn their trust. Then you'll truly become one of them." "Hmm." Audrey nodded, clearly already thinking about how to perform better. Klein didn't linger any longer. After all, they had only met three times before, having exchanged only a few words; now, if they talked too much, it might raise suspicion. He gestured toward the restroom and said a brief apology before stepping forward and walking off. Audrey watched Downe Thantès's back, remained silent for a few seconds, then murmured softly: "What could it possibly be like if it were worse..." Klein smiled and said, "Indeed, I may need to head to the Southern Continent soon. As you know, the climate there is humid and hot, with numerous insects and diseases. I'd like to prepare some medicines in advance to prevent unforeseen issues. Do you have any suggestions? I must admit, I feel rather humble—among the excellent doctors I know, you are the only one." Dr. Allen listened attentively, thought carefully, and began to name the prescribed medications. In the end, after filling a whole sticky note with medication names, Klein invented a reason for a stomachache and went to the restroom on the first floor. There, the mirror suddenly deepened, as if completely enveloped by a dense shadow. Within that shadow, a black baby stroller slowly approached, carrying a blurry infant wrapped in silvery silk. "Another matter?" Wil. O'Conneith asked, his voice clear and sharp. Klein cleared his throat twice and smiled warmly, saying, "You've probably already heard—I'm heading to the Southern Continent." "I don't want to miss your birth, so I'd like to ask—what day have you planned for your birthday?" Will Aungst drew in his thumb. "I don't know." "Can even angels control the exact day of their birth?" Kline asked, slightly astonished. "You don't understand..." Will Aungst hesitated. "I've already seen three birthday dates, each carrying a unique significance in fate, but I still haven't settled on one. It's still a bit blurry—perhaps only when the moment arrives will I suddenly know what to do." That's classic choice paralysis, with a strong touch of mysticism... Kline clasped his hands together, barely brushing his fingers. "Then how can I stay informed and make it back in time to complete the transaction? Oh, and by the way, that crane paper crane is no longer usable."