The second floor of 69 Rose Street, Backlund.
The landlady, Mrs. Griffin, frowned at the wrecked room before her.
Scorch marks left by black flame still marred the walls, several torn paper figures lay scattered across the floor, and a faint, eerily sweet scent lingered in the air.
She recalled how the intruder had finally fled through the window in a sorry state, tightly wrapped in a mass of transparent threads.
"A Demoness?" Mrs. Griffin murmured, a trace of gravity flashing in her eyes.
"Age really has caught up with me. I've grown a little lax."
She glanced around and sighed.
Under the terms of the contract, this was her fault.
"Little Lorne... just what sort of people have you been provoking out there...?"
Meanwhile, in a gloomy alley a few blocks away.
Klein was being carried by Ilyin in a rather intimate position as she raced across the rooftops. The night wind whistled past his ears, making everything feel somewhat unreal.
"Put me down! I can walk on my own!"
Coming out of his daze, he struggled as he spoke.
Only when his feet were back on solid ground did Klein breathe a sigh of relief. He straightened his slightly disheveled collar and looked at his smiling teammate. "Why are you here?"
"If I hadn't come, you'd have been done for, great Detective." Ilyin folded her arms and looked at him in amusement.
Klein immediately retorted, "If you hadn't suddenly attacked, we wouldn't have fought at all!"
"Oh?" Ilyin raised an eyebrow. "You wanted to persuade that old woman? Do you think she'd believe anything a dangerous intruder like you said?"
"That lady didn't seem unreasonable, and-"
Klein fell silent for a while, then sighed. "If you hadn't attacked, she might have believed me. As a detective, I'm quite