11-15

11

Klein didn't have to wait long before he heard the sound of footsteps. Looking up from a spot on the ground, Klein kept a calm expression as he looked at his visitor–

Crestet Cesimir, one of the nine high-ranking deacons of the Evernight Church, also known as the Goddess' Sword, and the person who examined Klein when he applied to advance to Sequence 8!

And following right behind him was the Nighthawk Captain, Dunn Smith!

Klein watched the two approach him with a slightly confused expression. 

"Hello, Your Grace." Klein stood up and bowed politely. "Captain…" He turned to look at Dunn. "I-"

Crestet Cesimir raised a hand to stop Klein's words. "You don't have to explain anything." Unlike the last time they had met, the deacon had a serious and slightly complicated look as he stared at Klein.

Klein paused as Crestet stepped to the side and Dunn unlocked the cell door. "Klein, you can come out now."

Klein searched the piercing gray eyes in front of him. There was no suspicion, no betrayal–instead, there was a mixture of slight confusion, worry, and even guilt…

…Captain is such a great person! 

Klein walked out of Chanis Gate, escorted by Dunn and Crestet. He was led to one of the empty offices that were still in relatively good shape, where a fidgety Leonard was waiting.

"Take a seat." Crestet gestured to an open chair. 

Bewildered, Klein slowly sat down. Even if I won't be treated like a criminal, surely they're acting too normal?

Dunn sat to the side as Cesimir took the chair behind the table, facing Klein and Leonard.

"Klein Moretti," the high-ranking deacon started, "I want you to be completely honest when you answer my questions."

Klein nodded seriously.

"What Sequence are you currently?"

Leonard cast a worried glance at Klein. The latter betrayed no nervousness on his face and simply replied after a brief hesitation.

"...Sequence 6."

Dunn's lips twitched imperceptibly. 

Crestet nodded, his expression solemn. "And how did you obtain the formula as well as the ingredients?"

"Be completely honest." He emphasized.

"The Goddess bestowed them to me." Klein responded with the definite truth! Well, it's up to him to believe me or not, he lampooned.

However, Crestet didn't seem surprised. Instead, he just sighed, as if something was confirmed. 

Leaning back in the chair and relaxing slightly, the deacon lost some of his seriousness. "The Goddess has recently sent an Oracle down, and I have been tasked to deliver it."

"Klein Moretti, you have been designated as an Honorary Archbishop of the Evernight Church. Your orders are to immediately report to Backlund to take up your post. The Goddess praises you for your good work so far and hopes you will continue to do your best."

"All information about Klein Moretti in the Church will be kept strictly confidential, and will not be divulged to anyone who isn't an archbishop or high-ranking deacon."

Klein's eyes widened. Leonard whipped his head around to stare at Klein as Dunn was in complete disbelief. 

"Hey, the Goddess favors you this much?" Leonard leaned over and whispered in Klein's ear, sounding a bit jealous.

Klein shifted away from Leonard's ticklish breath and rubbed his ear. "...'She' is indeed a bit too favorable towards me…" Ahem, maybe Amanises was really impressed by me preventing the descent of the True Creator's Spawn, with no casualties or significant losses as well…

Crestet continued speaking with a blank expression. "...And Leonard Mitchell will be immediately given the Sequence 7 Potion of the Darkness pathway as a reward for his feats. He will be transferred to the Red Gloves team, if he agrees, and will travel to Backlund as soon as possible with Klein Moretti."

"Dunn Smith and other Nighthawks will receive the rewards and recognitions for their achievements separately."

With that said, Crestet stood up and, taking his violin case, bowed slightly to the three Nighthawks. "I will leave for Backlund in three days' time. Please make your preparations, Mr. Moretti, Mr. Mitchell." The high-ranking deacon swiftly left the room, and Klein felt as if he could see a bit of incredibility from his departing back.

As Crestet left the Blackthorn Security Company to settle in a nearby hotel, he muttered to himself. "Blessed of Evernight…huh…"

In the spare office at the Blackthorn Security Company, Klein was once again in an awkward situation as he, Leonard, and Dunn looked at each other in silence.

"...Huh? Why am I involved?" Leonard doubtfully pointed towards himself.

Klein gave him a nasty side-eye. "The Goddess probably just added you as a side thought. I recommend you hurry up and promote to Sequence 7 as soon as possible."

Dunn looked at his two subordinates conspiring behind his back and his face darkened. "Klein, please explain yourself!"

Klein smiled awkwardly at his Captain and responded, "It's a bit complicated. I somehow drew the Goddess' attention and…I suppose I could count as 'Her' Blessed? I was in contact with Mr. Azik because he was my history professor, but he turned out to be a Senior Beyonder…I didn't report him to the Church because he didn't have any bad intentions and wasn't doing anything risky." Not risky to him, at least . Klein added in his mind.

Seeing Dunn nod thoughtfully, Klein continued. "After Mr. Azik left for Backlund, I kept in contact with him through letter. He mentioned to me that he felt Tingen was under the control of a strange force, so by connecting the strange coincidences thus far and some other clues, I theorized that there would be a disastrous incident in Tingen."

"I prayed to the Goddess and she provided me with materials to advance and a few charms. I gave one to Leonard on the way." Klein smoothly spun a story out of half-truths and half-lies. 

Leonard narrowed his eyes as he glared at Klein. Do you lie to everyone else, including me, like this??

Klein ignored Leonard's stare, sweating slightly. However, this seemed to escape Dunn's notice as he nodded slowly, believing the story.

"I see." Dunn relaxed and then frowned. "Was there a special reason you couldn't tell anyone else?"

As expected of Captain! Klein took a second to praise Dunn's intelligence before he answered. "Captain, at that time the less people who knew about it the better, since the Sealed Artifact used by Ince Zangwill has a special characteristic." Klein purposefully didn't go into much detail– after all, the more you knew about 0-08, the more it knew about you.

And he hoped to help Dunn Smith, if just a little.

Dunn nodded in acknowledgment and sighed, patting Klein on the shoulder. "It's been hard on you. Good job." He praised.

"Leonard, you stay behind and prepare to promote. Klein, you should go home for now and come back in three day's time to leave for Backlund. You deserve a break. "

"Understood." Leonard straightened up.

"Thank you, Captain!" Klein gratefully looked at Dunn before he left the office, waving to Rozanne and the other Nighthawks as he left the security company.

"It's a good thing they're all safe…" Rozanne muttered to herself from behind the receptionist desk as she watched the young man leave. 

Even though the building was a little wrecked and would need renovations, as long as the people were fine, all was well.

12

As Klein rode in the public carriage back to the Moretti's house, he thought to himself. Kenley's and Captain's deaths have been prevented. Since he knows the acting method now, Captain's state should stabilize and the likelihood of being in a lethal situation will decrease…

If today is Monday, then I'm set to depart for Backlund on Thursday…This is three days earlier than when I originally arrived at Backlund, which was on a Sunday. 

Well, this gives me some extra leg room to prepare for events before they happen… Klein paused as he recalled what happened during his time as Sherlock Moriarty. Yes, the most notable event is the Great Smog of Backlund.

That will be the next event I want to change! 

After all, George III didn't succeed in his advancement before I time traveled and I certainly won't let him this time, so what's the point in his preparations? Klein lampooned to himself.

Satisfied with his game plan, Klein snapped out of his thoughts as the carriage screeched to a halt at Daffodil Street.

...

Standing in front of 2 Daffodil Street, Klein patted his pockets and realized that sometime during the fight against Megose and later Ince Zangwill, the key to his house had been lost.

He simply flipped a coin to divine whether someone was home and received an affirmative response. Klein stepped up to his door and rang the doorbell.

Inside, Melissa sat on the sofa, worriedly talking to Benson. Three tickets to a play lay on a side table, abandoned.

"But we haven't seen Klein for almost 24 hours now. What if something happened to him?"

Benson nodded, concerned. "From when we came back yesterday afternoon to now, he hasn't returned home. Maybe we should go to his work and ask?"

Melissa opened her mouth and was just about to respond when the sudden ringing of the doorbell interrupted her.

She furrowed her brow and glanced at the busy maid, Bella. It isn't Bella at the door, and Klein has a key. So who? For some reason, Melissa had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as she stood up and opened the door.

She froze for a moment as she saw their visitor. "Klein!" She exclaimed. "Where were you? Did you lose your key? And–"

Melissa paused as she caught sight of her brother's appearance. "What happened to you??"

Klein laughed awkwardly as he looked down at himself. He obviously hadn't had the time to change locked behind Chanis Gate, and afterwards he went straight to what remained of the Blackthorn Security Company and then back home. 

Thus, his clothes were tattered and stained with blood–Klein had borrowed Leonard's windbreaker before he left and covered up the huge hole in his clothes from when he was stabbed through the chest, so Melissa didn't see the worst of the damage.

But the windbreaker wasn't in great condition either, thus the alarm. "Oh, Goddess–" Melissa covered her mouth.

Benson also came over to look at the excitement and his eyes widened. "Klein, you–were you caught up in a terrorist attack? Are you injured?"

Klein was helplessly swept into the house and raised his hands in defense. "It's complicated, I'll explain later. But I'm not injured."

"That's good," Melissa visibly relaxed but then shot a stern glare at her second oldest brother. "Hurry up and change! Then tell us what happened!"

Klein smiled at his siblings, his heart warm. Ever since he returned to eight years ago, he treasured every moment with his siblings– after all, he hadn't seen them in five years, and hadn't appeared before them as "Klein" for even longer.

Once upstairs, he quickly took a shower and changed into new clothes. Good thing I didn't wear an expensive suit yesterday. Klein praised his foresight. He looked into the mirror and resisted testing out his Faceless abilities before going back to the living area.

...

"So, what happened?" Benson and Melissa patiently waited for Klein to finish a simple breakfast before asking, politely sending away Bella as well.

Klein smiled embarrassedly. "Well, something important came up at work after you left so I went to the company…Then, uh, a deranged criminal broke in seeking revenge! I wasn't injured and the criminal was restrained very quickly, but my clothes became a little messy from running around."

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "Klein, I think your job is too dangerous. Even though it has good pay, it's not worth putting your life at risk!"

Benson nodded. "I agree with Melissa. Your safety is number one, and your job has you running around everywhere. Yesterday was supposed to be your day off, right?"

Klein coughed and caught sight of the three tickets on the side table. "Oh, you bought the tickets for the play? When is it?"

"Today at 7 p.m. Don't change the subject, Klein." Klein sheepishly looked away from his younger sister's piercing stare.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to quit my job. It's really not that dangerous, today was just a one in a million exception–and I wasn't hurt." He calmly explained.

"Plus," Klein hesitated for a second, "I recently got a promotion."

"Again?" Benson was shocked. "It hasn't been a month since your last promotion! Looks like you're doing pretty well in the company, huh?"

Klein smiled. "Naturally, it comes with a pay raise as well. However, I'm being transferred to Backlund."

Melissa's eyes widened. "Wait, B-Backlund? All of a sudden? Are you going to move there? But–"

"I'll temporarily rent a room there. After Benson passes the upcoming civil servant examinations, he can definitely get a job in Backlund, and you two can move to Backlund as well." Klein smoothly introduced his plan. "My job has given me enough money to travel and live there, and I'll send back money every month too."

Both Melissa and Benson had nothing to say. After thinking for a while, Benson was the first to express his approval. "If this is what you want to do, Klein, I won't oppose you. Just stay safe!"

Melissa sighed and agreed after some contemplation. "But Klein, when are you leaving?" She asked curiously.

"In three days."

"In three– three days?" Melissa choked on her words.

Klein smiled. "Three days."

Speechless, Melissa felt faint.

Since it was Monday, Benson and Melissa had to go to work and school respectively. Shooing his siblings out of the house, Klein sat back and relaxed. A new beginning… He lampooned to himself. I'm a bit curious how much the future will change due to my meddling…And I need to take precautions against anyone who tries to use my siblings as leverage over me in the future. Hmm, this isn't an urgent matter right now, since 'Klein Moretti' will be replaced with 'Sherlock Moriarty,' and the people I encountered at this time aren't powerful enough to find the truth.

Lazing around for a couple more minutes, Klein got up and entered his bedroom, building a spiritual wall. He set up a ritual and prayed to the Evernight Goddess, thanking 'Her' for her help.

All of a sudden, Klein found himself with nothing to do. Hm, I should sign a contract with a messenger ahead of time…But I'd prefer to have Reinette Tinekker as my messenger, because that was how I first made contact with 'Her.' However, the reason she responded to my summoning in the first place was because I wandered the Spirit World and gained her attention.

Perhaps it's too early right now…when I was Sequence 6 in the previous timeline, I used the Black Emperor Card to become more corporeal. Currently, I don't have an item at that level…

Sighing, Klein decided to think about it again once he arrived at Backlund and obtained the Card of Blasphemy. 

That night, Klein dressed in his nicest suit and looked at his similarly well-dressed siblings with a smile.

"Shall we leave?" Benson offered. The three siblings left on a public carriage and soon arrived at the only theater in Tingen. 

The Return of the Count… Klein tilted his head thoughtfully as he looked at the bright sign inside. This sounds a bit familiar. Return of the Count, the Count of Monte Cristo? Don't tell me this is written by Roselle!

Klein grabbed a brochure and flipped past the cast member's names, before settling on the words "Based on the original work by Emperor Roselle." Sure enough! Roselle, you really have no shame in plagiarizing everything! Klein shook his head.

Already knowing the entire plot beforehand diminished some of the initial excitement, but sitting in the theater as the lights dimmed, Klein watched Benson and Melissa openly show their awe and felt it wasn't so bad.

13

Two days later.

Klein arrived at the Blackthorn Security Company, holding a small, boxy suitcase. He glanced down Zouteland Street and saw that they were beginning construction, repairing the broken windows and, most importantly, the crumbling security company. 

I wonder how they explained it to the residents… Klein thought to himself as he entered the door. Thankfully, that was still standing. 

Inside, at the reception room, was the high-ranking deacon Crestet Cesimir with his violin case and Leonard Mitchell, with a similar suitcase to Klein.

"Good morning, Your Grace, Leonard." Klein politely greeted the two. Since he had nothing to do yesterday, he had paid a visit to Leonard and had a long conversation with him about the future.

Leonard turned to look at Klein and smiled. "Good morning." His expression betrayed nothing of what they talked about yesterday. 

I just realized this, but Leonard's a pretty good actor… Klein lampooned to himself as Crestet acknowledged Klein's arrival.

"Are you ready to depart?" 

"Yes, but I would like to say goodbye to my colleagues first." Klein spoke.

Crestet nodded, understanding, and Klein walked around the company, explaining that he was leaving and thanking them for taking care of him.

Finally, he stopped outside the Captain's office. The door handle had partially fallen off, and there was a crack in the name plaque, but the overall condition was fine.

Klein had just raised his hand to knock when a voice said, "Come in."

He pushed open the door and saw the Nighthawk Captain seated behind his intact desk, busying around with paperwork and sending telegrams. 

"...Captain, I'm leaving now. Thank you for everything."

Dunn Smith looked up, eyes sincere. "No need for thanks, it's what I should have done. And don't act like we'll never meet again, you're free to drop by anytime. The Tingen Nighthawks will welcome you with open arms."

Klein smiled at the words. Yes, 'Klein Moretti' isn't dead. I can openly return to Tingen at any time. "Alright! Don't forget to invite me to your and Daly's wedding." Klein mischievously winked at Dunn as he turned around and left.

"You–How–" Dunn sputtered, at a loss for words. "I don't know what you're talking about!" He finally managed, ears red. But Klein had already left his office.

Hm, Captain didn't seem too resistant towards the idea. Maybe he's already started courting Madam Daly? Heh, or Madam Daly started pursuing him more earnestly… Klein laughed to himself. 

I wish those two the best of luck. Klein met up with Crestet and Leonard again and nodded. "I'm good to go."

Standing outside on Zouteland Street, Klein looked behind him at the Blackthorn Security Company, a mixture of complicated feelings swirling in his chest–

This is not a goodbye, but a promise to meet again.

His heart light, Klein turned around and boarded the public carriage, not looking behind him the entire way to the steam locomotive station.

[END OF ARC 1: TINGEN]

14

In a train compartment of the steam locomotive, Klein sat in silence facing Leonard and Crestet Cesimir.

Praise the Goddess for getting me out of Chanis Gate and even giving me a completely new position, but…will I have to balance detective work as 'Sherlock Moriarty' on top of Nighthawk work as 'Klein Moretti?' Klein felt a headache forming as he thought about it. Perhaps only a Marionettist could do such a thing…

Peeking at the high-ranking deacon of the Church of Evernight, Klein broke the silence hanging over them. "Your Grace, what exactly will my duties be once I arrive at Backlund? I don't recall reading about the position of 'Honorary Archbishop' in the Church before."

Crestet's dark green eyes glanced at Klein. "That's right–the Goddess has specially created a new title for you. And the explicit duties of an Honorary Archbishop are to 'maintain peace and social order' directly under the supervision of the Goddess, with 'limited and concealed cooperation with the Church.'"

Klein thought for a few seconds. …So, I'm basically free to do whatever I want? His lips twitched imperceptibly. In this case, 'Honorary' really means honorary–it's basically an empty title! And limited and concealed cooperation with the Church? Doesn't this suggest just feeding the Church intel as I've done before?

However, Klein didn't betray his inner thoughts outwardly as he nodded solemnly and tapped on his chest four times."Praise the Goddess." Praise Amanises for 'Her' generosity! He added in his head.

Leonard's expression was delicate and slightly disbelieving. Obviously, he could tell that Klein's so-called 'duties' were just total BS. However, he was forced to similarly draw the crimson moon on his chest as Crestet mirrored Klein's actions.

"Praise the Goddess. As for Mr. Mitchell, since you have already been promoted to Sequence 7, after filling out some paperwork and passing a few tests, you are free to directly report to Saint Samuel's Cathedral and begin work as a Red Glove."

In the private environment of the train carriage, Crestet concisely explained Leonard's assignment. "In addition to your work as a Red Glove, you will be assigned the task of assisting Klein Moretti and being the limited contact between him and the Evernight Church. Your achievements will be linked to Mr. Moretti's, which can be exchanged for potion ingredients."

Leonard nodded as the train whistle sounded, muffled by the thick layer of metal. 

The steam locomotive came to a slow stop in the Backlund station, more than twenty carriages linked together.

After leaving the train, Klein stood on the platform, dressed in a tuxedo and a top half, and gazed into the hazy skyline of the Loen Kingdom's capital– Backlund, the Land of Hope!

The visibility is just as bad as I remember… Klein felt a slight pang of nostalgia as he looked at the familiar view. Yes, this is the first time in five years since I laid eyes on Backlund. 

Dull footsteps rang out behind him, and Klein turned to see Crestet disembarking the steam locomotive, Leonard close behind. 

"Mr. Moretti–no, I should refer to you as 'Your Holiness' now– we will part ways here." Crestet Cesimir bowed his head slightly and directly left, leaving Leonard confused about where to go.

"Follow him," Klein told the green-eyed poet helplessly. Looks like His Grace also knows my position is an empty one, and is leaving me to my own devices. "If I want to contact you, I have a way, and you know how to reach me."

Leonard hesitated for a second before he earnestly looked at his friend. "Alright then. Klein, stay safe! And you should ask me for help sometimes!" As he jogged to catch up with the deacon, he waved goodbye at Klein.

Klein nodded with a smile and watched him depart before he turned around and, picking up his small suitcase, entered the nearby men's washroom. 

A few minutes later, a Loenese gentleman wearing a traditional suit walked out, with a pair of gold-framed glasses and slight stubble on his chin. He bore some resemblance to Klein Moretti at first glance, but upon closer look one would find they looked completely different.

Sherlock Moriarty had appeared.

Klein adjusted his half-top hat as he naturally walked down a nearby street. I placed a new change of clothes, glasses, and even a new suitcase above the gray fog, all to create the appearance that 'Klein Moretti' vanished soon after arriving at Backlund.

Uh, if Amon knew the Sefirah he was coveting is being abused as a 'storage locker,' I wonder what kind of expression he would have… Klein smiled to himself. Well, even after becoming a true Mysterious Lord, I would still use Sefirah Castle as a storage space. So is it really abuse?

As he entertained these weird thoughts, Klein checked into a cheap motel and settled down. Aligning with the previous actions of Sherlock, I'll rent 15 Minsk Street at Cherwood Borough. However, I won't take the metro there until Sunday arrives since it's during the metro ride that I fatefully met Ian Wright. To make sure I meet him under the same circumstances this time around, it's best to wait for now.

Heh, at this time in the previous timeline, I was still comatose six feet below the ground…

In the motel room, which Klein had paid for for three days, he stretched and opened his suitcase. I'll take the free time right now to digest the rest of the Faceless potion and also withdraw some money from what Audrey transferred to me. I'm not completely penniless like I was last time, but it still isn't nearly enough. 

Relaxed and with a comprehensive plan, Klein decided to find a nice restaurant to eat lunch at.

…

He had just finished a complimentary dessert (Intis-styled chocolate truffles) when he heard the illusory sound of a prayer. Klein tilted his head slightly and paid attention to the voice. Familiar, male…but it's not the Hanged Man or the Sun.

Klein furrowed his brow and after a few more seconds, immediately recognized who it was. Leonard's praying to me so soon? It doesn't sound like it's urgent, so he shouldn't have met with any trouble…just checking in?

Regardless, Klein first wiped his mouth and paid for his meal, returning to his motel room. There, he familiarly took four steps counterclockwise, muttering to himself all the while. 

In Sefirah Castle, he noticed that at the end of the ancient bronze table, by the side of the Fool's seat, a clear radiance was rippling out. Touching it, Klein saw the blurred image of a black-haired man in a white shirt praying piously. "The Fool that doesn't belong to this era, the mysterious ruler above the gray fog, the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck…"

"Ahem, Mr. Fool–I've successfully become a Red Glove, and will be temporarily staying at Saint Samuel's Cathedral for a week or two before moving to 7 Pinster Street."

As Klein listened to the prayer, his brows furrowed and he looked closer at Leonard's hazy background. Isn't this…Saint Samuel's Cathedral? He felt a bit of exasperation as the Red Glove's image faded away, the prayer ending. Praying to an 'evil god' in the Church of Evernight as a Red Glove, don't you have any shame??

Klein sighed to himself and then thought of something. Encasing his spirituality around the red star that was now linked to Leonard, he sent him a short reply.

He then cut off his connection with Sefirah Castle and descended back into his real body in the motel room. Then, he picked up a newspaper and began seriously reading it, looking for opportunities to act.

Leonard had just placed his hand on the handle to the door that led out of his temporary quarters when a wave of crimson obscured his vision, revealing an ancient castle above seven lights and, seated at the head of a long, mottled table, a mysterious figure shrouded in gray fog. The Fool, sitting in Sefirah Castle, opened his mouth and said:

 "Next Monday, 3:00 pm Backlund time– Mr. Star, are you coming?"

15

Klein read over the newspaper, paying special attention to advertisements, but found nothing noteworthy. The only notable thing was a family very desperately looking for a lost dog…but then how would I, a Faceless, act? Get on all fours and pretend to be their dog?

He shook his head amusedly as he got up and left the motel, heading for the Backlund Bank. Klein had left most of his money, including some of his secret stash, to Benson and Melissa as living funds–disguising it as benefits given from his company. However, he was still much better off than when he first left Tingen, as this time he managed to obtain his portion of the money for the Madam Sharon case.

Thus, at this moment he had exactly 131 pounds. Thinking of his future expenses, Klein still withdrew over half of the 300 pounds stored in his account, leaving him with around 290 pounds on hand. 

Klein sighed as he carefully counted his money and placed the bills into his wallet. Even though I've returned to eight years ago, I still have money problems…300 pounds is enough for now, especially since the supplementary ingredients for the Marionettist potion aren't too expensive. It's good the main ingredients will be replaced with Rosago's Beyonder characteristic. Ha, I haven't even met him yet, but I'm already thinking of using him as potion materials…

However, just as Klein was about to leave the Backlund Bank, a shrill voice cut through the air. 

"You bastard! " 

Klein turned around to see a pale, middle-aged woman wearing black mourning clothes, pointing accusatorily at a rather good-looking couple at the bank.

Huh? Klein paused in his steps and decided to linger around the bank's entrance a bit longer. This seems like the plot of a melodramatic drama…that young man was caught cheating on this woman's daughter? The older woman is wearing black, perhaps her daughter just died? And her son-in-law immediately finds another woman? Klein instantly cooked up a story in his head.

"You conniving little money-hungry…" The older woman was so angry she choked on her words. "It hasn't even been two days since my mother died, and you've already gotten yourself a new lover! I knew it! You're at the bank, ready to deposit the money my mother left you?!"

Klein covered his mouth subconsciously. No way, I was right? Wait, my mother …?

"I told her from the start, that you were just a malicious, wicked gold-digger seducing her so that when she died, she would put you on her will! Despicably tricking old ladies desperate for affection, does your new 'boo' know what you're doing?! Shame on you!"

This! Klein was shocked as he doubled back, looking at the woman wearing black again. She looks to be in her mid 40s… Her mother must be at least 60 or 70 years old!

The way Klein viewed the young man changed. 

On Thursday afternoon, the amount of customers at the bank wasn't large, but it certainly wasn't small either. A few people from the street had gathered to watch the commotion along with the bank's customers.

"What nonsense are you spouting? Madam, this is all a misunderstanding," the young man raised his hands in defense as the girl by his side stepped away from him, an offended and confused look on her face. Slight whispering broke out in the bank entrance, and embarrassed, the girl fled the scene.

"Wait, Jessica–" Distracted, the young man reached for her as she left. 

Suddenly, a crisp pa! rang out at the bank. Stunned, the young man clutched his throbbing cheek as he looked incredulously at Madam Genevieve, her hand raised high in the air after slapping him across the face.

"You dare try to cajole another innocent lady right in front of me?!" The middle-aged woman was furious, flames blazing in her eyes. She grabbed the young man's arm in a vice grip. "Brat, return the money you stole from my mother! Then kneel in front of my mother's grave and apologize to her!"

Shunned by his new girlfriend and hounded by Madam Genevieve, the young man lost all pretense of politeness. Throwing the woman dressed in black off his arm, he spat on the ground and shoved her. "Shut the hell up, you damn hag! I was just being nice to your dumb mother, how would I have known the old bag would've put me in her will? It's not my fault she was about to croak!"

Quiet gasps of shock erupted in the bank. The man cursed and stormed out of the building, kicking the door on the way out.

…What just happened… Klein was astounded but outwardly maintained his composure as he approached Madam Genevieve. 

"Madam, are you alright?" He concernedly asked, offering a hand to the woman on the floor. 

"...Thank you, kind sir." Distraught, Madam Genevieve was helped to her feet. "I-I can't believe the nerve of that man! May the Goddess strike him down!" 

Klein's lips twitched imperceptibly. A kind smile on his face, he replied, "My condolences for the loss of your mother. Truth is, I'm a private detective and I sympathize with your situation. Would you mind sparing some time and telling me the whole story? I may be able to help." He gestured to a cafe across the street.

Stunned, the middle-aged woman looked at the gentleman in front of her for a few seconds. "Oh, yes! Though, I'm afraid I can't pay you too much…"

As they walked into the cafe, Klein smiled warmly. "I'm not looking for payment, just looking to right a wrong in the world." Of course, I'll be repaid in another way– the digestion of the Faceless potion! He added to himself. After understanding the whole situation, I'll divine if it's dangerous or takes too much time. If it's not too troublesome, I can quickly resolve it before departing on Sunday…If not, all I can do is recommend Madam Genevieve a good lawyer.

They sat down, Klein sitting opposite the mourning woman in a relatively private booth. He casually ordered a cup of tea for them both. "Whenever you're ready," he gestured for Madam Genevieve to start speaking.

"Ah…Where do I even begin…" A wistful and melancholy look appeared on her face. "My mother was a great woman, strong, intelligent, and independent. The only thing is that she had bad luck with love– after she divorced my father, she was never able to remarry."

The man wearing gold-rimmed glasses opposite her nodded.

All of a sudden, Madam Genevieve's face contorted into hatred. "But who knew… who knew! That conniving bastard, Bennett White! He approached my mother when she was frail and weak and afraid of death, cozying up to her and saying all these sweet words! I told her that such a young and handsome man definitely had ulterior motives, but she refused to listen!"

She buried her head in her hands. "What do I do? He managed to swindle away most of her assets, leaving me and my younger brother with nothing! I desperately need money right now and my brother was dependent on my mother, but now she's gone!"

…There are quite a few suspicious points in her story, but the overall course of events should be correct, Klein analyzed as he offered Madam Genevieve a handkerchief.

Leaning back, as if seriously thinking about something, Klein furrowed his brow and rolled a coin between his fingers, throwing it into the air and catching it. He glanced down at it for a split second before looking back up at the distraught Madam Genevieve.

"Madam, I'm very sorry for taking up your time, but I won't be able to help you." He pulled out a notepad and scribbled a few names down, ripping off the sheet of paper and handing it to the middle-aged woman. "Here are a few reputable, excellent lawyers I know. If you want to take Mr. White to court, I recommend contacting them."

"Oh…" The woman seemed to deflate slightly before she politely took the note. "Regardless, thank you for hearing my story, Mr…?"

"Moriarty." Klein stood up and bowed slightly to Madam Genevieve. 

"Thank you, Mr. Moriarty." Madam Genevieve nodded and slowly left the cafe.

Watching her depart, Klein turned around and entered the men's washroom. There, he took four steps and appeared in Sefirah Castle.

I previously divined whether Madam Genevieve was lying or not, and the answer was yes! This seemingly simple situation is more complicated than it looks… Klein took out a heavy gold coin and closed his eyes.

There are mysterious forces involved with Madam Genevieve's situation… He repeated the phrase seven times in his head and flipped the coin.

Catching it in his open palm, Klein opened his eyes and looked down.

Yes! Klein frowned and took out his topaz pendulum, divining the amount of danger.

Minimal danger…Yes, from what I've heard about the case so far, even if there's Beyonder forces involved, it should be at the level of Sequence 9, at most Sequence 8. Perhaps…

Klein sat back in the Fool's chair and thought for a few seconds before his eyes flashed. Error? The characteristics are really similar to that of a Swindler, having a strong charm…and it's a bit reminiscent of Lanevus. But seducing an older woman to get her money when she dies…?

There's definitely more to the story!

Klein wrapped his spirituality around himself and descended from Sefirah Castle. Back in the cafe, he straightened his appearance and calmly walked out.

…

On the way back to his cheap motel, Klein paused before he got into the public carriage. Isn't that…Mr. Bennett White? 

A young man with blonde hair was moving down the street. He paused in front of a bar and, after peering through the window, confidently swaggered in.

Klein's eyes narrowed and he flipped a coin, divining if there was any danger. Glancing at the heavy gold coin in his palm, he put it away as he naturally changed his course and followed Bennett White, entering the bar as well.

Pulling his hat a bit lower over his face, Klein chose a secluded corner and watched the young man, ordering a simple glass of Southville beer to not seem suspicious. Even in his remote location, due to his strengthened senses, Klein was able to hear Bennett's every move. 

He was currently throwing back glass after glass of amber-colored alcohol, sitting with another man with brown hair that seemed to be his friend.

"So, you got the money?" Bennett's friend asked him with a deep voice.

Bennet burped. "Yeah, and it was easy too! All thanks to you, brother." He patted a worn suitcase next to him, shooting a conspiratorial grin at the man.

Klein was unable to see Bennett's friend's appearance, as he was seated with his back towards him. 

"And it's not a small sum, either! One hundred pounds!" Bennett proudly thumped his chest, clearly affected by the alcohol. A red flush spread across his face.

Klein raised an eyebrow. Yes, to the average Loenese citizen, one hundred pounds is quite a hefty sum. The fact that a divorced woman was able to save up this much before dying is pretty impressive– it seems Madam Genevieve's praises of her mother weren't false…

However, the brown-haired man didn't seem impressed at all. Instead, he glanced around the mostly empty bar, his gaze briefly passing over Klein, but decided that nothing was out of the normal. He leaned in towards Bennett and whispered.

"Heh, don't flaunt just this amount. It seems like a lot to you now, but in my circle, forget a hundred pounds–deals can go up to thousands of pounds! Plus, with the good stuff I gave you, you'll definitely be able to make a lot more in the future."

A look of awe dawned on Bennett's face as he listened intently.

…So my conjecture was correct… Klein's eyes darkened. Bennett is most likely a Sequence 8 Swindler, and his companion is his connection to the Beyonder world. 

Nursing his drink, Klein patiently waited until Bennett's anonymous companion left to use the restroom. A few seconds later, he naturally got up and walked to the washroom as well.

The intoxicated Bennett didn't pay any mind to the stranger.

…

In the washroom, Klein made quick work of the brown-haired man. He squatted on the ground next to the tied up, unconscious Beyonder and directly ruffled through the man's pockets, finding keys, a crumpled cigarette, and a wallet with an identity card and 50 pounds in it.

"Lawrence Ross?" Klein muttered to himself as he read the name. Lowering the card, he scrutinized Lawrence's facial features as he lay unconscious. I know his speaking mannerisms from his conversation with Bennett just now…This should be doable.

With a blank face, Klein stripped Lawrence of his clothes and changed, sending his old clothes above the gray fog. Sefirah Castle is really just a closet now, Klein lampooned as thin granules appeared all over his body, and he became identical to the unconscious man on the ground. He took a look at himself from an outside perspective and was satisfied. 

Dragging the almost naked Lawrence into an empty stall, Klein threw the keys and wallet on top of him, keeping the 50 pounds. Then, he shook out a paper figurine and burned it to interfere with any future divination.

Swaggering out of the washroom and mimicking Lawrence's gait, Klein calmly left the washroom and returned to the table. 

"Hey, stop drinking already or you're going to blow all of that old lady's money on alcohol." Lawrence knocked on the table, startling the dazed Bennett. Klein's voice was deep, without a bit of distinction from the real Lawrence Ross.

"Ah? Yeah, alright." Bennett drunkenly slammed a few crumpled notes on the table. "Bro, you gotta teach me how to make more money!" He threw an arm around Klein's shoulder as he shuffled out of the bar. 

Klein had observed earlier that although Bennett seemed chummy with the brown-haired man, Lawrence himself looked down on Bennett and seemed to flaunt his extensive 'Beyonder knowledge.' With this in mind, Klein knew how to act accordingly.

"Heh," Lawrence chuckled, casually throwing off Bennett's arm along the way. "Come, I'll teach you about the craft." He guided them down a dark alley. 

"Your gig this time wasn't bad." Lawrence nodded at the suitcase. "But if you want to make a living in this circle, you have to be more lowkey. I heard there was a ruckus at the Backlund Bank?"

Bennett looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Uh, that was– that damn woman was so naggy! Even kicking up a public fuss! She accused me of 'seducing' her seventy-year-old mom–as if anyone would even do that!"

Klein inwardly raised an eyebrow, but Lawrence remained impassive, even smirking a little. 

Bennett's face flushed with rage and embarrassment. "Acting all high and mighty, as if she wasn't after her old bag's money as well. And–and I actually used my brains this time, I saw that old granny cared about her son a lot, so I told her that I was a really great investor and could double her money if she gave it to me! Then I'd give her son the majority of the profits…as if such a thing could even happen!"

A bit of disgust fermented in Klein's heart, but Lawrence simply scoffed. "What a garbage lie. And she believed you?"

A nod. "Yeah, looks like she used to be all smart but got dumber when she aged. Bro, how do you think I did?" Bennett directed shining eyes toward Klein, completely believing the person in front of him was, in fact, Lawrence Ross.

Klein felt the Faceless potion digest a bit and, having completed his goal, sent a beaming smile at Bennett–completely uncharacteristic of Lawrence.

"I think you're garbage."

…

Klein changed to a mundane face as he walked back to the motel. Along the way, he stopped at a police station and reported two 'thieves' that were subdued by nearby Good Samaritans. He made sure to drop a few phrases that would make the police suspect the thieves were Beyonders, so that members of an official Church would be dispatched.

Then, he switched back to Sherlock Moriarty's face, donning gold-rimmed glasses and burning another paper figurine. Back in the motel, Klein retrieved his clothes from Sefirah Castle and snapped his fingers, sending Lawrence Ross' clothes burning into ashes.

Klein sighed as he sat on the room's sofa. With this little push, I'm almost completely done digesting the Faceless potion. But… He looked at the simple brown suitcase in the corner, filled with exactly one hundred pounds. Where do I find the deceased woman's son?

He decided on dream divination and wrote down a sentence on a blank sheet of paper, leaning back on the sofa and closing his eyes.

An image appeared in his dream. First of Backlund, and then it zoomed in on a street sign that said "Brewer's Lane," showing a small and somewhat run-down apartment.

The dream dispersed and Klein opened his eyes. It's in Backlund, so it shouldn't take too long to travel there… Klein took out his silver pocket watch and glanced at the time. I'll eat dinner and then take the metro there.

…

A few hours later.

Dressed in formal attire, Klein held the worn suitcase and stared at the building identical to what he saw in his dream divination.

This is the one, right? He changed his face to that of Bennett White's and stepped up, knocking on the door.

He didn't have to wait long before a man about 30 years of age answered the door, unkept and with red, puffy eyes as if he had been crying. "Yes, who…?" The man froze as he saw Bennett at the door, his face contorting.

"You…You have the face to come here!" He shook with rage. "Mr. White, if you–"

"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding, Mr. Ainsworth." Klein only knew his name by impolitely rifling through his mail before knocking on the door. "See, your mother briefly entrusted me with the money only because she was worried about how you would fare on your own. I am an investor, but unfortunately I was only able to make a profit of 50 pounds." 

With that said, Klein lifted the suitcase by his side and gave it to the stunned man in front of him. "150 pounds exactly. Before your mother died, she hoped that you would live well." 

On top of the 100 pounds Bennett had scammed from the old woman, Klein added the fifty pounds taken from Lawrence. Consider it compensation for the late Madam Ainsworth for encountering Bennett White and having a money-hungry daughter. 

Klein didn't care about Mr. Ainsworth's baffled reaction and simply tipped his hat, walking away resolutely. 

"Th-Thank you! Mr. White!" Ainsworth called out after the departing figure, clutching the suitcase. Tears formed in his eyes. "Mom, I'll live well…thank you for everything." He quietly spoke to himself.

As Klein took the public carriage back to the motel, he gazed out at the foggy Backlund scenery. Lawrence and Bennett shouldn't come looking for their money anytime soon, since they'll probably be stuck in prison for at least a few years. And once they get out, it's unlikely that they'll pursue this 'measly' sum, so Mr. Ainsworth can live happily believing this small lie. 

Unknowingly, Klein's mood had dimmed. Recalling the man's obvious grief, Klein thought of Benson and Melissa from before he traveled back in time. I wonder, when they were told they would get a bereavement compensation of 6,000 pounds, did they think they would much prefer a living brother instead of money? Could Kenley's fiance and family feel 'compensated' when they saw bills instead of a son, a brother, a lover?

Klein shook his head, discarding his heavy thoughts as he disembarked the carriage, returning to the motel. There's no point in ruminating over the past. Now, everything's different…

Ah, I should write to Benson and Melissa that I've arrived at Backlund. Under the warm light of the gas lamp, Klein gently pressed his pen to the paper.