"The royal family..." Klein muttered to himself as he looked at the letter sent by
He looked up and saw the drizzling rain falling outside the window, the gas street lamps emitting halo after halo of quiet light.
Inside the living room, the coffee table was tidy, several stacks of newspapers sat in a corner, and there was no sound at all.
Klein sat on the sofa, leaning forward slightly, and was silent for a long time.
After nearly ten minutes, he let out a turbid breath, shook his head, and slowly but heavily tossed the letter in his hand into the trash bin.
He slowly stood up and walked expressionlessly toward the second floor.
In the trash bin, the letter from Isengard Stanton silently caught fire, quickly curled up, and turned into black ash.
............
Monday morning, Klein stood before the washroom mirror, pressing his right thumb and middle finger against his temples on both sides, rubbing them with a bit of force.
Having done that, he turned on the faucet, bent down, cupped cold tap water, and splashed it on his face, finishing his wash with a shiver.
Refreshed, he hung up his towel, walked to the first floor, and simply made a sunny-side-up fried egg paired with buttered toast.
Of course, a cup of black tea with some lemon slices was both thirst-quenching and grease-cutting.
After finishing breakfast, as he leisurely flipped through the remaining newspapers, Klein suddenly heard the doorbell ring with a jingling sound.
"Who is it? A new commission? Could the 'Mechanical Heart' have already finished exploring the
As he grasped the doorknob, the image of the visitor outside the door naturally emerged in his mind: It was an impeccably dressed middle-aged or elderly gentleman. His shirt was snow-white and crisp, a thick grayish-blue vest perfectly contained his stomach, and the long-tailed tailcoat had sharp, clean lines without a single flaw.
He wore a pair of shiny leather shoes that showed no trace of having walked through rain and mud.
He wore a pair of white knitted gloves. A few silver strands were mixed in at his temples. His nasolabial folds were deep, and his light brown eyes were so serious they didn't contain a hint of a smile.
I don't know him... Klein muttered and opened the door.
"Excuse me, who are you looking for?" he asked politely.
The middle-aged or elderly gentleman took off his hat, pressed it to his chest, and bowed in the most standard manner: "I am a butler, and I have come on behalf of my master to invite you, Mr. Sherlock Moriarty."
"Do I know your master? What does he want to see me about?" Klein was utterly baffled.
But at this moment, he had already noticed a carriage parked across the cement road. The body was thick and dark, and the windows had curtains on the inside — it was clearly no ordinary vehicle.
Low-key yet luxurious... Klein focused his gaze and suddenly spotted a crest in a prominent position on the carriage.
The crest featured a sword pointing straight down, with a red crown at its hilt.
This... the "Sword of Judgment"... The "Sword of Judgment" representing the Augustus royal family! Klein's heart tightened, and he roughly understood the butler's origin.
He might also be a rather powerful Beyonder... Klein speculated inwardly.
The professional and meticulous butler didn't mind his scrutiny and showed a polite smile: "You haven't met my master, but you can be said to be acquainted. You have been providing him with clues about the organization symbolized by Tarot cards, and he has paid you the money you needed."
As expected, the big shot Tallym mentioned. I've been using plausible but false information to scam money from him, even transferring
"Yes, Tallym was his friend. He is saddened and confused by his death, and he heard that you were present at the scene," the old butler said with clear articulation.
No, I wasn't... Klein instinctively wanted to deny it, but in the end could only nod: "Yes, I watched Tallym die before my eyes."
"Truly a sad and regrettable matter," the old butler said in a sincere tone. "Would you be willing to accept my master's invitation?"
Do I even have a reason to refuse? That would look extremely suspicious! I might even get killed on the spot by you... Klein looked at him and said: "I happen to have nothing to do this morning."
"Very well, Mr. Moriarty, please." The old butler bent slightly, extending his right hand in a white glove toward the carriage across the cement road.
Sigh, I've always avoided contact with big shots, and yet in the end, Tallym's death forces me to face the person behind him... I wonder if this will draw attention or more in-depth background checks... I need to make plans in advance, ready to abandon this hideout and this identity at any moment... Also, I need to get the Human-skinned Shadow characteristic and the Deep Sea Naga hair as quickly as possible, to advance to "Faceless" as soon as possible! That way, my ability to resist risks will more than double! Klein put on his coat and hat, and as he walked toward the carriage with the royal crest, he had already thought through some subsequent matters.