Klein asked, "What should we do, then?"
Priscilla thought for a moment, then held out her small, fair hand. "Give it to me. I'm not afraid of danger."
"..."
Why do I feel like you're messing with me again?
"Forget it if you won't."
Her little feet moved rapidly as she turned and walked away.
A somewhat peculiar smile appeared on Klein's greasepaint-covered face. "Good night, Miss Death."
Priscilla stumbled, then looked back at Klein in shock. "Huh?! You, you..."
Klein turned to the bald man, Kopusti. "About this copper whistle..."
"I don't want it!" He hastily waved his hands. "It's yours."
"All right. I'll deal with it properly."
Klein put the copper whistle away. "I suggest you forget everything that happened tonight, and don't try that spirit dance again... otherwise, sooner or later, you'll die because of something bizarre."
"I-I understand."
His face pale, he nodded repeatedly.
"Good night, Miss Death."
Klein snapped his fingers and vanished in a burst of flames. Priscilla chased after him for a few steps, shouting, "Hey, you haven't told me who you are! Hey!"
Seeing the bald man looking at her in confusion, she glared at him. "What are you looking at?! This is all your fault!"
The bald man said, "..." Whatever you say.
With that, she turned around and hurried away, her legs moving rapidly.
Meanwhile, Klein first returned to the jeweler's house. Once he had confirmed that everything was all right, he went home to divine the copper whistle's origins above the gray fog.
Ah, what a busy night.
The night deepened. Even the crimson full moon quietly sank in the west, and the world was about to enter the darkest hours before dawn.
In the Sanguine's dim, spacious gray hall.
A powerful yet decaying aura occasionally seeped through