Lord of the Mysteries

Klein was in no hurry to confirm his general assumptions. He pretended that nothing had happened and turned the page so that it faced him.

The information he wrote about Ian Wright was completely true. He would still get a positive answer even if he used divination techniques to confirm. Therefore, he believed that the people under the ambassador’s charge would follow this investigations trail and gain something in return. It was unlikely that they would have the motivation to seek revenge on him for the time being.

Similarly, he would continue to spread the paper out on his desk for the military’s special department who were monitoring him. It would direct their attention away from him as they shifted their focus to Ian Wright. It would then be a race against time to find him before the ambassador.

This way, Klein would be even safer.

It feels like I’m walking on a tightrope. Is this a Clown’s special trick? He shook his head in amusement. He opened the oriel window, hoping to take in the fresh morning air, but there was thick, choking smog outside that made him quietly close the windows.

Pressing down the paper with Ian’s information with an ink bottle, Klein went to the closest bathroom and quickly washed up. He then picked up the black double-breasted suit and the half top hat that hung from the rack and walked all the way to the first floor.

He had an appointment with Lawyer Jurgen for breakfast today.

Pulling his black silver inlaid cane from the umbrella stand in the foyer, Klein walked along the edge of the street in a thick fog that provided visibility of no more than ten meters until he reached 58 Minsk Street. He rang the doorbell of the dark house.

As the clanging sound echoed, a black green-eyed cat with a raised tail suddenly appeared in his mind.

Brody the black cat walked straight to the door. After preparing itself for two seconds, it leaped up and grabbed the handle of the door.

Then, it inevitably fell and twisted the handle with its weight, and opened the door.

With a creak, the morning wind blew in, and the door slowly opened.

Brody the black cat glanced at Klein haughtily as it walked to the side.

“What a clever cat,” Klein praised as he faced the old lady, Doris, in her white apron.

Doris laughed as her wrinkles eased.

“It depends on its mood. Most of the time it acts stupid, as though it doesn’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, I’ve prepared my best bean turnip soup for you. Eat it with bread.”

Bean turnip soup… Sounds like something randomly mashed together… Klein smiled.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

The lawyer came out of the bathroom. Even at home, regardless if he had just woken up, he was dressed to the nines. His white shirt was ironed and his brownish-yellow vest was tightly fitted, the lines of his trousers appearing to be freshly ironed.

“The contract you wanted is complete. Check to see if there are any omissions.” Jurgen’s blue eyes swept over. He didn’t make small talk as he went straight to the point.

His brown hair was neatly combed back, and the sheen from the pomade was unmistakable.

“Alright.” Klein leaned his cane, took off his hat and coat, and followed Jurgen into the study on the first floor, where he received a thick contract.

He stood there, casually flipping through it. The more he read, the more his head hurt. In the end, he only skimmed through the key clauses.

I hope that everything that’s needed is in there, as well as the previously omitted clauses, such as the establishment of the three instances that will determine how much money is to be supplied to Leppard based on his progress, rather than a lump sum payment of 100 pounds. The first instance involves 50 pounds… Yes, that way I won’t have to go to the Backlund Bank for the time being and take out the remaining hundred pounds from my anonymous account. What I have on me is enough…

Klein closed the document, smiled at Jurgen, and said, “I’m satisfied. Your professional skills are better than I imagined.”

As he said that, he took out two one-pound notes that he had prepared.

Jurgen took the money, gave Klein the remaining contracts, and said in a serious tone, “If an error is made during the signing, there are two extra copies. Remember to shred the remaining contracts when everything is over.”

The current iteration of shredding machines was a hand-cranked mechanical shredder.

Klein was about to nod his head, when Mrs. Doris suddenly shouted from the dining room, “Good lads, it’s time for breakfast!”

“My grandmother’s hearing has deteriorated,” Jurgen explained as he invited Klein with a hand gesture.

Klein followed him into the dining room and saw that Mrs. Doris had scooped out a spoonful of yellow and green liquid from a black pot and poured it onto the corresponding plate.

“Here, try the bean turnip soup. Here’s your bread.” Mrs. Doris smiled and pointed to the suspicious pile of food.

Klein looked at Jurgen who looked even more serious than before. His heart skipped a beat.

Forcing himself to sit, Klein broke off a piece of white bread, dipped it in the yellow-green soup, and stuffed it into his mouth with the spirit of an adventurer.

“…” He was surprised to find that the flavor was actually quite good. The faint salty taste had a sweet tang to it that stimulated his appetite. It also perfectly brought out the soft, fragrant flavor of the bread.

“My grandmother was once an excellent cook,” Jugen said casually as he slowly savored his breakfast.

… Then why do you have to keep a straight face… I really don’t have any appetite watching you eat… Klein lampooned silently before immersing himself into the relaxed and happy feelings brought by the delicacy.

After leaving the Jurgens, he made three transfers to Sird Street in St. George Borough, where he made a formal agreement and paid Leppard the first fifty pound. The second sum of thirty pounds would be paid in two weeks’ time, depending on Leppard’s progress.

At this point, Klein was left with only 21 pounds 8 soli.

Then, he returned to Cherwood Borough and went to the public library to read the Tussock Times of the past year in search of news regarding the Intis ambassador to the Loen Kingdom.

When it was almost noon, he finally saw the black-and-white photo and confirmed that it was the one he had seen in his dream divination.

“Bakerland Jean Madan,” Klein recited the Intis Republic’s ambassador’s name silently. He left the library and found a small restaurant for lunch.

…

At ten minutes to three, Klein pretended to take a nap. He drew the curtains, took four steps in the counterclockwise direction, and arrived above the gray fog.

He first divined if the military’s special department had relaxed their surveillance on him and received a positive result. He then wrote a divination statement that he had thought of in the morning: “The infiltrator from last night.”

Leaning back in his chair, he muttered the sentence. Klein’s eyelids drooped as he fell asleep.

His bedroom came into view in a world of illusion, separation, and obscurity.

At that moment, Klein saw a black shadow squirming in the crack at the bottom of the door!

A slender, iron-black threadworm drilled its way into the room. It arched at the center and then flattened itself, constantly repeating it as it proceeded towards the desk.

Its movements were extremely stiff, as though it had broken down a series of slow motions, making it appear quite odd.

The black threadworm crept to the front of the desk and crawled to the top, leaving a trail of quickly evaporating mucus behind.

It stopped at the written piece regarding Ian Wright. Its head lifted up as the middle of its body rose, leaving only the tail to support the body.

At this moment, it was just like a human!

After examining it for a moment, the black-iron threadworm turned the paper around and disappeared back the way it came from.

So that was the case… That is to say, it wasn’t that the infiltrator didn’t want to take revenge on me last night; he simply didn’t have the ability to do so… Unless this iron-black threadworm is highly venomous… Klein nodded in enlightenment, he then used divination and obtained confirmation that the Beyonder who manipulated the black-iron threadworm had done so under Ambassador Bakerland’s orders.

After doing all of this, he completely covered the paper bag in the corner with gray fog and sent a message to The Sun, Derrick.

When the hands of the pocket watch were in place, Klein pulled in Justice, The Hanged Man, and The Sun at the same time.

This week’s Tarot Club happened as scheduled!

…

The familiar gray fog and blurry human silhouettes appeared. Audrey, who had successfully advanced to Sequence 8, half stood up, lifted her skirt, and happily greeted them, “Good afternoon, Mr. Fool~ Good afternoon, Mr. Hanged Man! Good afternoon, Mr. Sun!”

Klein, who had activated his Spirit Vision earlier, noticed the change in the surface layer of the Astral Projection in the depths of Miss Justice’s Ether Body with the help of the gray fog’s uniqueness. With a chuckle, he said, “Welcome, our ‘Miss Telepathist.'”

Audrey smiled reservedly and said a few words of humility before turning to face the person across her.

“Mr. Hanged Man, you should be handing this week’s six pages.”

Perhaps, when Mr. Fool reads it, he will think of something and shares with us a little more of his “general knowledge”… The corners of her mouth curled up in anticipation.

Alger nodded and began to produce the six pages of Roselle’s diary with Klein’s help.

Previously, he had thought about consulting The Fool about whether he should directly submit the rest of the diary via a sacrifice. However, seeing that The Fool didn’t seem too interested or take the initiative to mention it, he gave up on this idea.

And this was in line with his understanding of The Fool. Roselle’s diary had a certain effect on the godlike-man—Mr. Fool—but it wasn’t that great. He would collect it, but he definitely wasn’t in a rush.

The six pages of the diary were completed very quickly. As Alger was about to offer it to The Fool who sat at the end of the long bronze table, he suddenly remembered something. He hurriedly said respectfully, “Mr. Fool, I have obtained a piece of information related to the Secret Order.”

There was no obstruction of information on the ocean; it just wasn’t timely enough.

The pirates also valued intelligence and often sent people to the colonial island to exchange information that they had gathered. It was through these channels that Alger learned something about the Secret Order.

“Very good.” Klein nodded his head slightly, giving his permission to The Hanged Man to recount what he knew. He didn’t stop the presence of Miss Justice and The Sun from letting him speak.

This would help the former gather more information about the Secret Order, while the latter understood nothing.

At the same time, he allowed the six-page diary to appear in his hands.

The Hanged Man said unhurriedly, “The Secret Order has some connection with the Intis Republic.”

The Intis Republic. Yes, Emperor Republic was from Intis, and Zaratul had sought him out in Trier, the capital of Intis… The Secret Order was also involved in the famous incident at Intis… Well, it’s not too surprising that the Secret Order still has some connection with the Intis Republic today… After validating this new piece of information with what he knew, Klein confirmed that the information provided by The Hanged Man was true.

Heh, just in time, I’m going to deal with the ambassador of the Intis Republic… Klein was in no hurry to read Roselle’s diary. He looked up at the three members.