Chapter 235: The Busy Monday

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 frock coat 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," Jurgen 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 Roselle 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.