On a misty morning, Klein sat at his dining table, breaking up the oat bread he had specially bought and soaking it in milk, trying a new way of eating it.
Although his body had long since changed, his pursuit and dedication to food remained etched in his soul. He was completely unable to adapt to the monotonous and repetitive breakfast style of the Kingdom of Loen, so he could only try as many things as possible, not sticking to toast, bread, bacon, sausage, butter and cream, and striving to expand the boundaries and enrich the ways of eating. For example, he added to his recipes the pork pies popular in the South, Feynapotter pasta, and baked corn tortillas.
"The caviar from the Feynapotter Empire is also good, but it's too expensive and only suitable for formal meals..." Klein scooped up a small piece of softened oat bread with a soup spoon, put it in his mouth, and after just a few chews, he could feel the milk full of wheat aroma flowing out, and the aftertaste of the bread became even sweeter.
After finishing breakfast, Klein put down his fork and spoon, and instead of cleaning up, picked up the newspapers that had just been delivered and leisurely began to read.
Later, I'll do Divination. If nothing else happens, I'll visit Mr. Leppard on Saki Street in the St. George Borough to see if his new mode of transportation is worth investing in... Backlund is really big; each district is almost the same size as Tingen City, and the East Borough is especially exaggerated, at least twice the size... The most convenient and cheapest way to get around is still to take the Steam subway and then take another train, but it's a bit of a waste of time... Klein's thoughts wandered aimlessly.
Backlund's public carriage system is similar to Tingen's, with similar pricing. The only problem is that a large portion of them are limited to a single district, requiring several transfers to get from Cherwood to St. George, which naturally increases the price.
This situation makes the prospects for new types of transportation very attractive.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Just then, a loud, hammer-like knocking sound echoed through the room and reached Klein's ears.
Who is it...? Don't they know how to ring the doorbell...? He muttered a couple of times, straightened his collar, went to the door, and reached out to open it.
The person standing before him was a familiar face—the same highland man who had chased little Ian on the Steam subway earlier, the one with dark skin, deep-set eyes, and a lean, wiry build.
According to Klein's " Spirit Channeling readings," his name is Meursault, the "executioner" of the Zmanger Gang, a high-ranking leader.
"Excuse me, who are you looking for? Do you have something you'd like to ask me to do?" Klein deliberately feigned some confusion.
Meursault wore a black coat and an extravagant silk top hat, but he didn't look like a gentleman at all.
He gave Klein a cold look and asked in return in Loenese, which had a strong highland accent:
"You're Sherlock Moriarty?"
"Yes," Klein replied succinctly.
Meursault nodded stiffly:
"I'd like to ask you to find someone."
"We'll discuss the specifics once we're inside." Klein didn't let himself show the slightest abnormality.
Meursault shook his head dismissively:
"Unnecessary."
After he finished speaking, his eyes suddenly sharpened:
"The person I'm looking for is named Ian, Ian Wright. He has bright red eyes, is about fifteen or sixteen years old, and likes to wear an old brown coat and a matching Round Tower hat. I think you should know him."
Klein chuckled and said:
I don't understand what you're saying.
Meursault seemed not to hear the other's denial. "He's a thief who stole something very important from me. You'll get at least 10 pounds if you find him."
"You've provided too few clues," Klein casually offered an excuse.
"30 pounds," Meursault offered a new bid.
Klein glanced at him and said:
"No, that goes against my principles of confidentiality."
"50 pounds," Meursault replied coldly.
"I'm sorry, I won't accept this mission." Klein hesitated for two seconds before finally choosing to refuse.
Meursault slowly and intently scrutinized him for several seconds, his gaze gradually turning cold and fierce.
He didn't offer any further quotes, nor did he politely say goodbye. He abruptly turned around and strode quickly towards the end of the street.
This gang's intelligence network is pretty good... They even knew Ian had come to see me before... Klein thought to himself, without feeling too much worry or fear.
After all, I've faced the offspring of an evil god directly, even though there's a layer of skin between us... As he thought about it, his smile suddenly brightened, and he started flipping a coin to decide whether to go out today.
The answer is yes.
St. George Borough, Saki Street.
Klein, having traveled from a horse-drawn carriage to Steam subway and then to a trolleyless carriage, finally arrived at his destination, having spent a total of 11 pence.
As soon as he stepped out of the carriage, he noticed a light drizzle starting outside, and he hadn't brought an umbrella.
"According to newspapers and magazines, this is a daily routine in Backlund. Hats are popular because ladies and gentlemen don't always carry umbrellas..." Klein adjusted his half-high silk hat, then scurried to the outside of house number 9, using the eaves to shield himself from the rain.
He brushed off the obvious water droplets from his clothes and rang the doorbell.
But he didn't hear the cuckoo's call, nor did he notice any clanging or tinkling sounds.
"Is the doorbell broken?" Klein was about to raise his hand to knock when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching.
The image of the visitor naturally came to mind: a tall, thin man in his thirties with black hair and Blue Eyes, dressed in gray-blue worker's clothes, but appearing refined and cultured.
The door creaked open, and the gentleman rubbed his temples, saying:
Who are you looking for? What can I do for you?
Klein removed his top hat and bowed slightly, saying:
"I'm here to see Mr. Leppard; I'm somewhat interested in his new mode of transportation."
The gentleman's eyes suddenly lit up:
"I am Leppard, please come in."
He stepped aside to let Klein in, but there was no coat rack in the foyer.
Klein, relying on his cane, followed Leppard into the living room without taking off his coat.
It must be said that this gentleman's home was extremely messy; the coffee table in the living room alone contained many mechanical items, such as wrenches, bearings, and screwdrivers.
"How much do you want to invest? Oh, right, would you like coffee or black tea? Um... I think we're out of black tea..." Leppard blurted out.
This gentleman is a bit blunt, and doesn't seem to be very good at interpersonal communication... Klein had a sudden thought and changed his prepared remarks, answering directly:
"I need to see your new mode of transportation before I can make a decision."
I cannot make a promise without knowing anything about it.
As he spoke, he looked around and saw the triangular holy emblem hanging on the wall.
This is a symbol of the God of Steam and Machinery, a solid triangle filled with symbols such as Steam, gears, and levers.
Leppard was not offended by Klein's direct approach and immediately said:
"I'll take you to see it."
He had barely finished speaking when he slapped his forehead, "I almost forgot, we have to sign a confidentiality agreement first to ensure you don't Stealing my invention."
Mr. Leppard, your memory isn't so good either... Klein chuckled.
"No problem."
After signing the simple contract, Leppard led Klein into what appeared to be a living room. He had connected this room with the adjacent guest room and basement, making it much more spacious and open.
Numerous parts were scattered haphazardly on the ground, and a rough object, about half a person's height and resembling a horse-drawn carriage, stood in the center.
In addition, the doorbell cord is also connected here and cleverly arranged so that whenever someone pulls the cord, a mechanical device will eject a steel ball, which will roll along a special track and strike the object in the center, producing a clanging sound.
The sound wasn't loud, but it was enough to wake Leppard, who was engrossed in his machine.
"Is that the new mode of transportation you invented?" Klein asked, pointing to the rough object in the center.
"Yes, I invented it based on the imagination of Emperor Roselle!" Leppard replied with a fervent look in his eyes.
" Emperor Roselle's imagination?" Klein asked in astonishment.
Leppard explained in an adoring tone:
" Emperor Roselle left behind a manuscript containing his imagination of various future mechanical devices. He was truly a remarkable genius—no, Planeswalker! Many of his ideas have become reality! Haha, this manuscript is kept in the Church of Steam and Machinery; only devout believers can borrow it."
... Your Majesty, are you even leaving any way out for others...? Klein's lips twitched, and he almost couldn't maintain his smile.
"Let me give you a more detailed introduction," he changed the subject.
Leppard led Klein to the rough metal object and swung the Door Opening:
This is a mode of transportation that doesn't require horses.
"The driver sat on the front left and kept pressing the pedals, connecting the four wheels through levers and chains, making them roll forward. I used inflatable rubber on the wheels to make the ride smoother."
So, it's basically a rickshaw? Klein couldn't help but mutter a sarcastic remark.
He said carefully:
"With such a large cargo box, accommodating at least four passengers, it probably couldn't travel very far on foot alone."
"That's exactly my next goal: to reduce the weight and increase the leverage! But my financial situation isn't looking good enough to support more attempts." Leppard looked hopefully at Klein.
"Why not consider other methods? For example, using Steam as a power source?" Klein slowly organized his thoughts.
Leppard shook his head. "Someone has already invented it, but it's so big that it's causing problems driving on many streets."
Klein was waiting for this very sentence:
"Then why don't you make something simpler, like one with only two wheels, that can only carry one person, and without a shell?"
"You mean bicycles?" Leppard asked, as if deep in thought.
Roselle's manuscript contained...? Klein nodded heavily:
"Yes."
"The bicycles that other people have invented aren't very practical... Simplifying this... seems like it could really work, it's definitely different... But who would buy it?" Leppard muttered to himself.
Klein gave the direction without hesitation:
"Postmen, working-class people with some savings, merchants who don't need much prestige but can still make money... there are many of these in Backlund."
Leppard thought for a moment, then nodded slightly and said:
"... I can try, but I don't have the money to buy the parts..."
"I'll invest 100 gold pounds in you, and with my suggestion just now, I'll have a total of..." Klein hesitated, wondering whether to say 10% or 15%, since 100 pounds wasn't really that much.
"You can take 35 percent of the shares! But only for the bicycle project you described!" Leppard said preemptively, afraid that the other party would make too high a demand.
"Deal!" Klein immediately laughed. "Let's draft a simple contract first to finalize this. I'll then have Lawyer draft the formal contract, adding some detailed clauses, such as requiring my prior consent before any further investment."
"No problem," Leppard replied eagerly, wanting to buy the parts as soon as possible.
In the dim light brought by the continuous drizzle, Klein returned to Minsk Street in the Cherwood Borough.
He entered the house, went straight to the first-floor bathroom, and comfortably relieved himself of his bloated stomach.
Splash!
As the sound of water echoed, Klein bent down to wash his hands.
Just then, a scene suddenly appeared in his mind:
The bathroom mirror reflected his head down, the dim lighting, and a pair of eyes positioned to the side.
A pair of eyes!