After making a rough guess, Klein wasn't in a hurry to confirm it. He pretended as if nothing had happened and turned the paper around to face him.
The information he wrote about Ian Wright was absolutely true. Even if he used divination techniques to confirm it, he would get a positive answer. Therefore, he believed that the ambassador's men would follow this lead and obtain some results. They wouldn't have the motivation or time to take revenge on him for the time being.
Similarly, he would continue to spread the paper on the desk and let the monitoring personnel of the special department of the military see it. He would guide them to stop paying attention to himself and shift their focus to Ian Wright's direction, racing against time to find him with the ambassador.
This way, Klein would be safer.
It feels like I'm walking on a tightrope. Is this the special physique of a Clown? He shook his head with a laugh and opened the oriel window to take in some fresh morning air, but the thick, choking smog outside made him silently close the window again.
Using an ink bottle to press down the paper with Ian's information, Klein went to the bathroom next door to quickly clean himself up. He then took down the black double-breasted frock coat and half top hat from the coat rack and went all the way to the first floor.
He had an appointment with Lawyer Jurgen for breakfast that day.
Pulling out his black silver-inlaid cane from the umbrella rack in the foyer, Klein walked along the edge of the street in the fog where visibility was less than ten meters. He went all the way to 58 Minsk Street and rang the doorbell of the dark house.
As the jingle echoed, the image of a black, blue-eyed cat with a raised tail suddenly appeared in his mind.
Brody the black cat walked in a straight line and arrived behind the door. After gathering his strength for two seconds, he suddenly leaped up and reached out to grab the doorknob.
After that, he inevitably fell, twisted the doorknob with his weight, and opened the door.
With a creak, the morning wind blew in, and the door slowly retreated.
Brody the black cat gave Klein a haughty look and walked to the side.
"What a smart cat," Klein praised the old lady, Doris, who was wearing a white apron.
Doris smiled until her wrinkles smoothed out.
"It depends on its mood. Most of the time, it will pretend to be stupid, as if it doesn't understand what you're saying. Oh, I've prepared my best bean and turnip soup for you. Eat it with bread."
Bean and turnip soup … The name sounds like a dark cuisine … Klein smiled.
"I look forward to it."
As he spoke, Lawyer Jurgen walked out of the bathroom. Even though he was at home, even though he had just woken up, he was still dressed meticulously. His white shirt was well-ironed, his brownish-yellow vest was tight, and the lines of his trousers seemed to have been ironed.
"The contract you wanted is ready. Take a look and see if there's anything you've missed." Jurgen swept his blue eyes and went straight to the point without any pleasantries.
His brown hair was neatly combed back, and one could clearly see the gloss of his hair oil.
"Alright." Klein leaned on 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 and casually flipped through it. The more he read, the more his head hurt. In the end, he only skimmed through the important clauses.
I hope that everything is in place. The clauses that I had previously neglected have also been added. For example, instead of paying Leppard 100 pounds in one go, there will be three timings that will be paid in installments according to his progress. The first installment will be 50 pounds … Not bad. This way, I don't have to go to Baekeland Bank for the time being and withdraw the remaining 100 pounds from my anonymous account. I can rely on the money I have on me … Klein closed the document and smiled at Jurgen.
"I'm very satisfied. Your professionalism is better than I thought."
As he spoke, he took out two one-pound notes that he had prepared earlier.
Jurgen took the notes and handed the remaining contracts to Klein.
"If there are any mistakes when signing, here are two extra copies. Remember to shred the rest of the contract."
The current shredder is a hand-operated mechanical shredder.
Klein was about to nod when Old Madam Doris in the dining room shouted, "Don't worry.
"Good lads, it's time for breakfast!"
"My grandmother's hearing is a little impaired," Jurgen explained and gestured for them to enter.
Klein followed him into the dining room and saw Old Madam Doris ladle out a spoonful of thick, greenish-yellow liquid from the black soup pot and pour it into the corresponding plate.
"Here, try it. Bean and turnip soup. This is your bread." Mrs. Doris smiled as she pointed at the suspicious pile of food.
Klein glanced at Jurgen and saw that his expression was even more serious than before. His heart skipped a beat.
Forcing himself to sit down, Klein broke off a piece of white bread, dipped it in the yellowish-green soup, and stuffed it into his mouth with the spirit of an adventurer.
"…" He was surprised to find that the taste was quite good. The faint saltiness had a sweetness that stimulated his appetite. It just happened to bring out the soft fragrance of the bread.
"My grandmother used to be an excellent chef," Jurgen said casually as he slowly savored his breakfast.
… Then why do you have to pull a long face … I really have no appetite watching you eat … Klein silently lampooned as he immersed himself in the relaxation and pleasure brought about by the delicacies.
After leaving Jurgen's house, he first took a train and then another to Sirach Street in St. George's Borough, where he reached a formal agreement with Leppard and paid the first fifty pounds, with a second thirty pounds to be paid in two weeks, depending on the other party's progress.
At this point, Klein only had twenty-one pounds and eight soli left.
He then returned to Cherwood Borough and went to the public library to flip through the past year's Tussock Times, looking for news related to the Intis ambassador to the Kingdom of Rouen.
When it was almost noon, he finally saw a black-and-white photo of the person and confirmed that it was the one he had seen in his dream divination.
"Bakerland Jean Madan." Silently reciting the name of the Republic of Intis's ambassador, Klein walked out of the library and found a small restaurant to have his lunch.
…
At 2: 50 in the afternoon, Klein pretended to rest, drew the curtains, took four steps counterclockwise, and went above the gray fog.
He first divined if the military's special department's surveillance of him was lax and received a positive answer. Then, he wrote down the divination statement he had thought of in the morning:
"The infiltrator from last night."
Leaning back in his chair and silently reciting the statement, Klein's eyes drooped as he fell into a deep sleep.
In the illusory, fragmented, and hazy World, his bedroom appeared.
At that moment, Klein saw a black shadow squirming at the bottom of the door!
A slender, iron-black threadworm burrowed in, its center arching high before flattening out, constantly circulating towards the desk.
Its movements were very stiff, as though it had been dismantled into a slow-motion motion. It had a strange vibe to it.
The iron-black threadworm wriggled to the desk and climbed to the top, leaving a path of rapidly evaporating mucus along the way.
It stopped in front of the piece of paper with Ian Wright's information written on it. It suddenly raised its head, and the middle part of its body rose up, leaving only its tail supporting its body.
At that moment, it looked like a human!
After examining it for a while, the iron-black threadworm pushed the piece of paper in a different direction, then it returned the way it came and disappeared.
So that's how it is … In other words, it's not that the infiltrator from last night didn't want to take revenge on me, but that he simply didn't have the ability … Unless this iron-black threadworm is highly toxic … Klein nodded in enlightenment and used divination to confirm that the Beyonder controlling the iron-black threadworm was an assignment from Ambassador of Intis, Bakerland Jean Madan.
After doing all of this, he used the gray fog to completely envelop the paper bag in the corner, then sent a message to Sun.
When the pointer of the pocket watch was in place, Klein pulled Justice, The Hanging Man, and Sun in at the same time.
This week's Tarot had arrived as scheduled!
…
The familiar gray fog and hazy silhouettes came into view. Audrey, who had successfully advanced to Sequence 8, stood up halfway, lifted her skirt slightly, and greeted happily.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Fool ~ Good afternoon, Mr. The Hanging Man. Good afternoon, Mr. Sun!"
Klein, who had long activated his Spirit Vision, used the uniqueness above the gray fog to notice that deep within Miss Justice's Ether Body, the surface of her Astral Projection had changed again. The uniform color was much purer.
Hence, he chuckled and said, "Welcome, our Miss Telepathist."
Audrey smiled reservedly and said a few humble words before turning her head to look across.
"Mr. The Hanging Man, it's time for you to submit the six pages of your diary for this week."
Perhaps Mr. Fool will make some connections after seeing it and tell us some common sense … The corners of her mouth curled up in anticipation.
Alger nodded and began to conjure the six pages of Rosell's diary with Klein's help.
Previously, he had thought of asking The Fool if he should use the sacrificial method to directly submit the remaining diary pages, but seeing that The Fool didn't seem too interested and didn't take the initiative to mention it, he gave up on the idea.
And this was in line with his understanding. Rosell's diary pages were of some use to the god-like Mr. Fool, but it wasn't too much. "He" would collect them, but he wouldn't be in a hurry.
The six pages of diary pages were quickly completed. Alger was about to present it to The Fool at the end of the long bronze table when he suddenly thought of something.
He hurriedly said respectfully, "Mr. Fool, I've found some information regarding the Secret Order."
Information wasn't blocked in the vast ocean, but it wasn't timely enough.
Those great pirates also valued information. They would often send people to the colonial islands to exchange information they had gathered. It was through this channel that Alger learned about the Secret Order.
"Very good." Klein nodded slightly, indicating for The Hanging Man to continue. He didn't avoid the presence of Miss Justice and Sun.
This would help the former to gather more information about the Secret Order, while the latter would not understand at all.
At the same time, the six pages of the diary flashed into his palm.
"The Hanging Man" Alger said unhurriedly,
"The Secret Order has a certain connection with the Republic of Intis."
Republic of Intis … That's right. Rosell The Great is from Intis. Zaratul found him in Trier, the capital of Intis … The Secret Order even participated in the famous incident of Intis … Yes, it's not too surprising that the Secret Order still has some connections with the Republic of Intis to this day … Klein confirmed that the information provided by The Hanging Man was true.
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