Inside the nearly abandoned medical school building, Audrey, who had just finished her party and was circling away, suddenly felt a pang of confusion and saw the familiar thick Gray Fog and Gray Fog blurry figure perched high in the center of it.
"This is a clue."
Accompanying Mr. The Fool's deep voice was a scene resembling a photograph, and a photograph at that, in color!
A man, nearly two meters tall but not particularly muscular, dressed in a black priest's robe, stood in the shadows. His light yellow hair was soft and slightly curly, and his deep brown eyes held a coldness that concealed ferocity. His lips were slightly downturned, and he was as aloof as a wolf.
Clues? Clues to the Dharavi Street bombing in the East Borough and the Gavin drowning incident? Is this the killer? Audrey paused, then realized something.
" The Fool " has a clue... He's amazing, no, omnipotent... After thinking to herself, she turned to look at Fors beside her.
As soon as Fors removed her mask and surgical cap and got into the carriage, she noticed Miss Audrey's slightly strange gaze and immediately asked in confusion:
Is there something on my face?
"No." Audrey withdrew her gaze, sat down, and removed her disguise.
Fors recalled the previous gathering and asked with some curiosity:
"Miss Audrey, why didn't you try to buy the ' Spectator ' formula? That way you might have been able to Psychology Alchemists."
She recalled that the generous Miss Audrey remained almost entirely silent, listening most of the time, selling only some Spirituality significant materials and correspondingly purchasing other varieties.
Audrey smiled faintly:
"This is my first gathering in this circle, and I think observation and waiting are more important."
"I'm really looking forward to the Potion recipe, and even more so to the magical items, but I'm telling myself there's no need to rush. Familiarizing myself with the ingredients first is a better strategy."
This is also a "professional habit" of the " Spectator " approach, and there were no extraordinary materials that Mr. "World" wanted, such as the spinal fluid of the Evil-patterned Black Panther or the medullary crystal of the Elf Spring... Audrey added.
Looking at the girl who was not yet eighteen, Fors suddenly felt that she was more mature than ever before.
She suddenly laughed self-deprecatingly:
"If I had been like you back then, I wouldn't have wasted this precious opportunity."
Audrey responded with a reserved smile, then said:
"I'll be asking some special friends tomorrow morning to see if they have any leads on the Dharavi Street bombing. You and Hugh wait for news at the usual spot."
"Okay." Fors nodded without doubt.
Klein didn't return to Minsk Street that night; instead, he slept in a one-bedroom apartment on Black Palm Street in the East Borough.
He feared that the man in the black priest's robes, who was suspected of being the murderer, and his accomplices were searching for him all over the streets.
Although the probability of encountering him was low, and he had disguised himself beforehand so the other party would most likely not recognize him, since the Divination result indicated a certain possibility, Klein decided to be cautious and spent the night in the East Borough.
As dawn broke, he changed into another set of dark blue work clothes, put on a light brown baseball cap, left the room, went down the stairs, and entered the street.
At this moment, a pale yellowish mist filled the surroundings, making the figures of people coming and going indistinct, and the chill of the early morning seeped into their clothes.
Klein kept his head down and hurried along, just like the other early risers around him.
As he walked, he saw a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, with graying temples, wearing a thick jacket, trembling as he paced back and forth, and shakily pulled out a cigarette and a very empty box of matches from the inside pocket of his clothes.
He had just opened the matchbox when his right hand suddenly trembled, and the crumpled cigarette fell to the ground, rolling in front of Klein.
Klein stopped in his tracks, picked it up casually, and handed it to the other person.
"Thank you, thank you! This is my old friend, there are only a few left." The middle-aged man thanked him sincerely and accepted the cigarette.
His face was pale, his beard looked like it hadn't been shaved in a long time, and his exhaustion was evident in his brows and eyes. He sighed and added:
"Another sleepless night. I don't know how many more days I can hold on. I hope God will bless me and allow me to enter the workhouse today."
"These are homeless people being chased away..." Klein asked casually.
Why don't the king and his ministers allow you to sleep in the park?
"Who knows? But in this kind of weather, if you sleep outside, you might never wake up again. It's better during the day so you can find a warmer place. Sigh, this way I won't have the time or energy to look for work." The middle-aged man lit a cigarette and took a satisfying drag.
His energy seemed to have returned somewhat, and he walked alongside Klein, heading towards what seemed to be either the end or the depths of the fog.
Klein had no intention of exchanging pleasantries and intended to get rid of him as quickly as possible, but just then, he suddenly saw the middle-aged man, who spoke clearly and logically, bend down and pick up a dark object from the ground.
This appears to be a cleanly gnawed apple core.
The middle-aged man swallowed hard, stuffed the dirty, mud-covered fruit pit into his mouth, chewed it up with a smack, and then skillfully ate it all without leaving a trace.
Seeing Klein's surprised look, he wiped his mouth, shrugged, and smiled bitterly:
I haven't eaten for almost three days.
These words struck Klein's heart, moving him in ways he couldn't quite describe.
He sighed silently and smiled slightly:
"Excuse me, I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm a reporter, currently working on a story about homeless people. May I interview you? Let's go to that coffee shop up ahead."
The middle-aged man paused for a moment, then laughed:
"No problem, it's much warmer inside than on the street."
"If you could stay a little longer after the interview, so I could sleep for half an hour, no, fifteen minutes, that would be even better."
Klein opened his mouth, but didn't know how to answer, so he simply led his "interviewee" into the cheap café at the street corner in silence.
The tables and chairs in the café were quite greasy, and because there were walls and windows inside, and quite a few customers, the average temperature was indeed much higher than on the street.
The middle-aged man scratched his throat, trying to hide the movement of his Adam's apple caused by the aroma.
Klein gestured for him to sit down, then went to the ordering area and ordered two large cups of tea, a plate of lamb stew with tender peas, two rolls of bread, two slices of toast, a serving of cheap butter, and a serving of margarine, totaling 17.5 pence.
"Eat up, you can only do the interview if you're full." After serving all the food, Klein carried them back to his table.
"For me?" the middle-aged man asked, both expectant and surprised.
"Apart from a piece of toast and a cup of tea, everything else is yours," Klein replied with a smile.
The middle-aged man wiped his eyes and said, his voice slightly choked with emotion:
"... You, you are such a kind person."
"Don't eat too quickly if you've been hungry for a long time," Klein advised.
"I know, that's how one of my old buddies died." The middle-aged man tried to eat slowly, occasionally picking up his tea and gulping down a large mouthful.
Klein finished his toast quickly and just watched quietly, waiting for the other person to finish.
"Phew, I haven't eaten this much in three months, no, half a year. In the workhouse, the food was just enough." After a while, the middle-aged man put down his spoon; the plate in front of him was empty.
Klein, pretending to be a reporter, casually asked:
How did you become a homeless person?
"It's an unfortunate thing. I used to be a fairly good worker, with a wife and two lovely children, a boy and a girl. But a few years ago, an infectious disease took them away. I was also hospitalized for a long time, lost my job, lost my wealth, and lost my family. Since then, I often can't find work, I have no money to rent a place, no money to eat, and I can only wander around different streets and some parks. This has made me very weak, making it even harder to find work..." The middle-aged man said numbly, with a hint of reminiscence and sadness.
He took a sip of tea, sighed, and spoke again:
"I can only wait for the opportunity to enter the workhouse, but you know, each workhouse has a limited number of places. If I'm lucky and get on the waiting list in time, I can have a few days to recover my strength and then find a temporary job. Well, temporary. Soon, I'll be unemployed again and repeat the same process. I don't know how much longer I can hold on like this."
"I should have been a good worker."
Klein thought for a moment and said, "How many cigarettes do you have left?"
"There aren't many left," the middle-aged man said with a bitter smile. "These are my last possessions, the only things I had left when the landlord kicked me out. Ha, you can't bring these into the workhouse, so I'll secretly hide them in the seams of my clothes. I only take them out to smoke one during the toughest times, just to give myself something to look forward to. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. Let me tell you, I used to be a good worker."
Klein wasn't a professional journalist, and for a moment he didn't know what to ask.
He turned his head to look out the window and saw faces that clearly showed signs of hunger.
Some were still somewhat conscious; these were residents of the East Borough. Others were numb and exhausted, almost inhuman; these were homeless people.
There is no clear distinction between the two; the former can easily become the latter, like the gentleman in front of me... Klein turned around and found that the middle-aged man had fallen asleep, curled up in the chair.
After a few minutes of silence, Klein went over and woke the other man up, handing him a handful of copper pennies.
"This is the interview fee."
"Okay, okay, thank you, thank you!" The middle-aged man was momentarily stunned. Only after Klein reached the door did he raise his voice and say, "I'll go to a cheap hotel to take a shower, get a good night's sleep, and then look for a job."
Around noon, Klein attended a banquet at Summer's house with ten guests.
There's apple juice with steak, roast chicken, fried fish, sausages, cream soup, plenty of other food, two bottles of champagne, and a bottle of red wine.
On his way back from the washroom, he ran into Starling Summer and thanked her sincerely.
"It was a very sumptuous lunch. Thank you for your hospitality."
"It cost a total of Soli 4.80. The most expensive items were the three bottles of wine, but they're all from Luke's collection; he has a whole wine cabinet," Mrs. Starling, whose appearance was quite pretty, replied with a smile.
Before Klein could speak, she continued, "You earned 10 pounds just from that Mary affair. If you can maintain this good fortune, you'll soon be hosting similar parties. People in our social class have to invite friends and be invited by friends every month."
Klein was already used to the other party's style and offered a polite compliment:
"Well, but I can only do that when my annual income is a stable 400 pounds."
Starling immediately raised her chin slightly, trying to make her smile appear faint:
"430 pounds, it must be 430 pounds."
Dock Borough, East Balam Dock, Workers' Union Tavern.
Hugh wore boots with raised heels and a thick beard, making himself look like a short man.
She recalled the portrait she had seen from Miss Audrey, trying to firmly imprint the image of the man suspected of being the murderer in her mind.
If Gavin was also murdered, then he was likely a frequent visitor to this pub... Hugh ordered a rye beer and lunch, huddled in a corner, eating slowly, occasionally glancing around discreetly, looking for his target.
After a while, the tavern door was pushed open again, and Hugh reflexively looked over.
Upon seeing this, her pupils contracted to pinpoints, and she nearly turned to stone.
The customer who came in was nearly two meters tall!