Set aside the glass bottle that had undergone change, Caine produced his gold-case pocket watch, opened it, and glanced at the time, noting it down. He would need to return here three hours later to separate the "Cross of No Shadow" from the "Bottle of Subjugation"—only then would he gain the individual "Master of Manipulation" extraordinary trait, rather than a composite of all the preceding sequence traits. "There's a certain experimental feel to this..." Caine nodded slightly, closed the watch, and returned to the real world, finally beginning his midday rest. At four o'clock in the afternoon, the personal servant Enyuni, under the watchful eye of the butler Walter, knocked on the employer's door. "What's the matter?" D'Artagnan Tanghès, dressed in pajamas and rubbing his temple, opened the bedroom door. Enyuni bowed and said, "Sir, you were invited by Madame Lian for afternoon tea last night, and the invitation is still valid today." "Very well, give me fifteen minutes to prepare," Caine said to the butler Walter. Then he instructed his personal servant, Eunui: "Come in and help me change my clothes." Once the room was left just between himself and his secret doppelgänger, Craine continuously manipulated the latter to bring out attire suitable for afternoon tea, occasionally glancing at the wall clock. After approximately ten minutes, having tied his tie and donned his coat, he took four steps backward in place, stepping into the gray mist. It had now been exactly three hours since his last entry. The mutated glass bottle, originally positioned at the very top of the bronze long table and held firmly in place by the power of the gray mist along with the "Cross of No Darkness," had lost its previous appearance of a network of shimmering grids, as though it had instantly transformed from an artwork into a common household item found on city streets. And at the base of the glass bottle, a substantial amount of gray-white substance had precipitated, flowing with life of its own, coalescing into a heart-shaped object the size of a child's fist. It bore numerous folds and cracks that opened like eyes. The intricate, three-dimensional patterns, symbols, and markings that extended inward and penetrated into the void were nearly identical to those克莱恩 had previously observed when he first encountered the extraordinary qualities of Herwin Lambis. Only slightly different... After releasing the pressure of the gray mist and withdrawing the "Cross of No Darkness" from the bottle's mouth, the precipitated object fully separated from the mutated glass vessel, becoming complete and independent. With his left hand,克莱恩 picked up this object—resembling both a brain and a heart—examined it for several seconds, then set it aside among the clutter, where it was soon enveloped once more by the gray mist. At this moment, within the变异 glass bottle, a voice once again echoed, yet it was frail: "You... this... devil..." Klein did not respond. He reinserted the "Cross of No Darkness" in his right hand and pressed it firmly against the glass, relying on the strength of the gray mist. Thus, the ancient palace once again settled into quiet. Returning to the real world, Klein donned his hat, held his cane, and departed from No. 160 Berkland Street, boarding a carriage to head toward the mansion of Senator Mahert, located at No. 39 in the same neighborhood. ........ In the elegantly furnished living room of Senator Mahert's home, several guests sat around a refined three-tiered tray, each holding a cup of invitingly colored tea. Klein took a small cucumber sandwich, bit into it lightly, and half-jokingly expressed his genuine thoughts: "The dessert presentations today seem quite distinctive—whether it's the carrot cake or the cream scone." "Machet, with a hearty laugh, said, 'Dawn, your observation is truly sharp.' That has nothing to do with observation—anyone with sight could see it, the way it's so odd... In his mind, Kline muttered under his breath, 'It sounds like a promising affair.' 'Of course, this was personally crafted by Haiyur. You'll all be able to taste it shortly. Though she still struggles to control its form effectively, the flavor is truly excellent,' Machet said, with a touch of pride. On the other side, Professor Portland Monmote, the dean of Beckettland Technical University, immediately chuckled, 'This doesn't quite resemble the Haiyur I know.' Machet glanced at Lady Liyan, satisfied, and added, 'Everyone grows, doesn't they?' "Hai Rui'er has truly matured recently. She no longer resists the courses previously so reluctant to attend—those focused on social and marital preparation. She occasionally makes pastries, plays a piece of music for us, and regularly takes the initiative to accompany her mother to concerts, horse races, department stores, and various salons and banquets, quietly listening and observing." According to Miss Justice, Hai Rui'er's treatment has now reached a stage where she can recall the profound shock and distress she once experienced, even though this remains an intuitive emotional sensation rather than a detailed account of specific events. Yet it is enough to cause Hai Rui'er to occasionally dream of losing her parents and most of her close relatives—prompting her to begin cherishing her family, thus subtly transforming her in some ways. Klein nodded thoughtfully and smiled. "That's a good thing." "Indeed." "Member Mahert responded with deep feeling, saying, 'I used to be very concerned about Hayour's temperament. I feared she would never secure a happy marriage, would struggle to interact naturally with people in this circle, and when difficulties arose after our passing, would find no one to help her. Now, I am finally at ease.' Mahert smiled sincerely—a rare revelation of his past concerns—and then raised his arm, sweeping it gracefully with a bold, resolute tone: 'Why should I fight against this relentless smog and pollution? Why do we fight for colonial interests—competing with Fasak in the East Bay and Inthis in the West Bay—when it's all to ensure our descendants enjoy a better life, with fewer worries? "Hayour's maturity means more to me than any achievements I've made in establishing our presence in the East Bay or in my struggles in the Lower House." Clerk Kline listened quietly and couldn't help but glance toward the window. The sky outside was overcast, with the sun completely hidden. At this point, Portland Monment responded lightly to Member Machet: "No, those things are also about making our own lives better." Turning to Cline, he said, "Dowen, have you decided? Would you like to invest in my mechanical laboratory?" Cline smiled and replied, "Mr. President, why are you still so eager, as if you were a young man? I've gone through the materials you provided and have a good sense of the ownership rights and returns available through investment. To be honest, I'm very interested—particularly in how this mechanical laboratory can help talented young people develop. That's where the real investment should be. What's most valuable in today's age? Talent!" "That's exactly what Emperor Roscel said," Portland Monment chuckled. "So, how much would you like to invest?" Cline lifted his porcelain tea cup and sipped his红茶. "My initial plan is ten thousand pounds." "Indeed, it's no surprise that you're one of Beckland's most prominent magnates—my mind simply can't grasp the extent of your assets. You've already donated shares worth over ten thousand pounds, purchased the Mugel estate for twenty thousand pounds, and now you're investing a full ten thousand pounds in the mechanical laboratory in Portland..." Lady Liaina couldn't help but marvel aloud. In Portland, Montague nodded with a thumbs-up. "True vision of an investor," he remarked. Klein smiled. "Still, I'll first assemble a team of lawyers and accountants to verify the details and draft the terms. Professional matters deserve professional handling. Moreover, I need to decide whether to make a direct investment or establish a company or fund through which to carry out the investment. Hmm, Portland—I believe you've overlooked something crucial. This important laboratory seems to lack any protective measures! Don't you worry about commercial espionage or infiltration and sabotage by foreign interests?" Portland. Mommont paused, then nodded slowly: "That makes sense... I've been overlooking this issue." With the objective achieved, Cline let the topic drop and deliberately asked: "Has there been any word from Rear Admiral Qunnas Colg?" The Member of Parliament sighed: "Not yet. The west side of Siviras has searched thoroughly—every corner of the Moge manor and its surrounding areas—yet found not a single clue." As he spoke, the lower house member lowered his voice: "I suspect the admiral has encountered an unforeseen incident while carrying out a secret mission. The atmosphere upstairs has been rather unusual lately..." In a sense, you're absolutely right. Cline added with a sigh: "I hope nothing serious has happened." During the afternoon tea, Cline timed his visit carefully and went to the restroom, where he placed the extraordinary trait of "Dream Walker" extracted from the mutated bottle among the miscellaneous items. By the time the gathering concluded, when he returned to 160 Berkley Street, the sky had truly darkened, the gas lamps along the streets lit in advance, and a light drizzle tapped gently at the windows of his car. "Now all the issues center on what the 'Emperor of Blood''s ruins are concealing. As long as the three major churches can promptly identify these problems, they can prevent many things from escalating." Kline gazed out at the blurred lights through the rain-streaked windows, reflecting on the current situation. "In the near term, unless I can apprehend Caterina, I won't be able to contribute much. And the goddess is currently absorbing or grasping the uniqueness of 'Death'—she may not yet be capable of responding at this level." "To solve this dilemma, either we need to dispatch targeted 'Level 0' sealing items from the Hall, or we rely on the Storm or Steam Church—seeing which of the two true gods will respond. 'Level 0' sealing items might not suffice, after all, since they involve the Archangel, and within both churches, there may well be traitors. The distance from No. 39 to No. 160 on Berkland Street isn't far, yet before克莱恩 had fully settled his thoughts, he had already stepped down from the carriage upon returning home. While ascending to the third floor to change his clothes, an inspiration struck him, and he saw Renette Tiniel pulling four golden-haired, blue-eyed heads materializing from the void. 'Sharon's?'克莱恩 guessed, reaching out to take the letter. 'Yes,' replied one of the heads she was holding. 克莱恩 said nothing further, opened the envelope, unfolded the paper, and found only a single line of words: 'Proceed with action at 10 p.m. tonight.'"