3 PM, East Balam Dock, Dockworkers' Association.
Klein wore a thick sweater, a tan jacket, and a simple soft hat, making himself look more like a typical investigative journalist than someone who frequently attends banquets and interviews people of status and position. This outfit cost him an extra 10 pounds 10 Soli.
At this moment, he was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, his hair was neatly combed back and gleamed with the shine of ointment, his face was free of the messy beard, with only dark stubble around his lips, and he was at least five centimeters taller than before, striving to make a clear difference from the worker's image last night, so that people who were not particularly familiar with him would not be able to make any connection.
In his pockets, the " Eye of All-Black," various talismans, and herbal oils were gone; instead, there was only a tarot deck, a stack of sticky notes, a fountain pen, a wallet, some loose change, a bunch of keys, and a fake press pass.
He didn't know Lanarvus's current state, nor where the powerful Beyonder surrounding him came from, so he was being cautious and didn't bring any items that might arouse suspicion.
Looking at the two-story building ahead, Klein crossed the street, pretending not to rely on his " Clown " intuition to notice that several eyes were watching him.
He pushed open the door and found that the Dockworkers' Union ' union was laid out in a rather rudimentary manner. There was no lady in charge of reception, nor a spacious hall. The staircase leading to the second floor was located in the center, with corridors lined with offices on both sides. The floor was not covered with wooden planks, let alone carpets; it was simply made of cement.
Klein glanced at the man guarding the door, then moved closer and said:
"I'm a reporter from the Backlund Daily, and I'd like to interview your association's staff to understand your demands and aspirations."
The man was wearing a patched-up coat with dirty cotton wadding showing at some corners, and underneath he wore only a linen shirt.
Upon hearing the word "reporter," he immediately became alert and replied in a hushed tone:
"No! We haven't organized a strike recently, no!"
"I think you've misunderstood. I sympathize with you. I'm planning to do a feature article describing what the union is doing to help workers and the practical difficulties they're facing. Believe me." Klein used the Clown's extraordinary abilities to make his eyes appear exceptionally sincere.
"Oh, I see... Go find Mr. Rand. He's our publicity officer. Turn right, it's the second office on the right," the man said after a few seconds of hesitation.
"Thank you." Klein bowed, feigning relief, and felt the gaze that had been watching him from the shadowy corner disappear.
Slightly sweating, he turned to his right and knocked on the door of the corresponding office.
The door creaked open, and a middle-aged man with thinning hair looked at him suspiciously and said:
"May I ask who you are?"
"Are you Mr. Rand? I'm Stansen, a reporter from the Backlund Daily. This is my press pass. I'd like to do a report on unions to help you get more attention." Klein was almost convinced he was a journalist.
"I am Rand." The middle-aged man glanced at his press pass, then hesitated, clearly reluctant, and said, "I find it hard to believe that you reporters are here to help us."
"I was born in the East Borough, and I know how miserable the lives of workers are. If you don't believe my intentions, you can always follow me and monitor my every question," Klein suddenly added with a smile. "A report based on actual interviews is always better than a news story written entirely from imagination. At least you can articulate your views and steer things in a hopeful direction."
Rand touched his scalp and hesitated before answering:
"All right."
I will follow you the whole time.
"Thank you!" Klein almost lost control of his emotions.
Afterwards, led by Rand, he entered one office after another, interviewing members of the workers' association with pre-set questions.
The right corridor yielded no results, the left corridor yielded no results either... Klein, with a calm expression, stepped onto the wooden stairs and arrived at the second floor.
This time, Rand led him into the office directly opposite the staircase and introduced him to the people inside:
"This is Mr. Stansen, a reporter from the Backlund Daily."
He wants to conduct some interviews with you, but I must remind you in advance that you have the right to refuse to answer some questions.
With a smile, Klein stepped forward and gestured to shake hands with each of the office staff.
Just then, he saw a figure that seemed somewhat familiar.
Although the other person's skin had turned bronze, their ordinary round face had become angular, and their glasses had changed from round frames to long frames with gold rims, Klein still sensed a strange familiarity through his " Seer's " Spirituality intuition.
Immediately afterwards, his body trembled, and the smile on his face almost slipped out of control.
"No, excuse me, I suddenly, suddenly have a stomachache. Excuse me, where is the restroom?" Klein asked awkwardly, clutching his stomach with his hand that wasn't holding a pen or notepad.
Rand and the people in the office had no doubts and all pointed to the door, saying:
"Go out, turn left, walk to the end, and you'll see the sign."
Klein smiled apologetically and stepped back, leaving the room and heading quickly towards the bathroom.
Once inside, he chose the toilet stall closest to the window, sat on the toilet, and locked the wooden door.
He bent over, his mouth stretched into a wide grin, and laughed silently, laughing so hard he seemed unable to straighten up, until a single, glistening drop of liquid fell to the ground.
Klein has confirmed it—it is indeed Lanarvus!
This wasn't based on that slight sense of familiarity, but rather on the fact that he sensed a different aura emanating from the other person, an aura that left an extremely deep impression on him!
This is also the main reason why he almost lost control on the spot.
His trembling stemmed from an instinctive fear and dread!
His emotional breakdown stemmed from the horror and sorrow deep within his memory!
That is,
That is...
That's the aura of the " True Creator "!
Klein washed his face and continued the interview as if nothing had happened. Even when facing Lanarvus, who had changed so much for some reason, he asked questions and Record the answers methodically.
Having done all this, he bid farewell to the Dockworkers' Association and left the poorly lit, somewhat dimly lit house.
Outside, layers of dark clouds and a thin mist hung in the air, as if evening had arrived early.
The aura of the " True Creator " could only originate from Himself, His offspring, and things derived from them, such as the items He bestowed, His divinity... This aligns perfectly with what Lanarvus said to Hood Eugen, and coupled with that inexplicable sense of familiarity, I could confirm it was Him without even needing to Divination above the Gray Fog... If I hadn't already dealt with the " True Creator " several times and frequently been exposed to his mental pollution, I wouldn't have been able to recognize that the aura, devoid of power and status, belonged to Him... Klein's mood was extremely solemn, but his outward appearance was relaxed.
He stood on the street, deliberately tidying up his interview notes.
During this process, he spotted a somewhat familiar figure among the homeless people across from him.
Based on the sequence of events, Ms. Hugh Klein made a guess instantly.
He didn't stop, put away the note, and headed towards the tram stop.
Just then, a carriage suddenly stopped in front of him.
"We meet again." Sitting in the carriage was a thin but refined middle-aged gentleman with graying temples, exuding an air of elegance. He was none other than the great Detective, Isengard Stanton, who assisted the police in their investigations.
Klein looked much the same as usual, except he was a little taller and had changed his clothes.
"What a coincidence, I was just thinking about the interview with you last time," Klein replied deliberately.
Isengard immediately understood and, with a smile, changed the subject:
"I'm here to investigate a case. The case of Shermane's death has been cleared, and I'm mainly in charge of it now. Her death location is very close to the East Balam Dock."
"So it really is a copycat crime?" Klein pretended to be the only one who knew.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, he boarded a tram and, instead of going straight home, transferred to a carriage bound for the Cragg Club in Hillston Borough.
Inside the club's lounge, he quickly went above the Gray Fog to make sure no one was following him.
Only at this point did Klein completely relax and feel a lingering fear.
The aura of the " True Creator " haunted his mind like a nightmare, causing the clothes against his back to dry and then become wet again.
To be on the safe side, Klein conjured a piece of yellowish-brown parchment and a deep red, round-bellied fountain pen before him, and then skillfully wrote down the Divination statement he had already prepared:
"The source of that inexplicable sense of familiarity."
He put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and drifted into a dream while silently reciting something.
In that gray and illusory world, he saw a figure.
The figure had ordinary features, wore round-framed glasses, and always wore a condescending and mocking smile—it was none other than Lanarvus!
"Finally found you!" Klein stopped using his " Clown " ability to control his expression and muttered through gritted teeth.
He immediately sat up straight, ready to respond to Miss Justice's prayer.
Klein controlled his emotions and spoke in a low, indifferent voice:
No confirmation required.
That's Lanarvus.
"We can inform the Church of the Evernight Goddess and tell them that Lanarvus possesses the divinity of a ' Fallen Creator '."
Audrey, who was watching her father train the hunting dogs with Susie, was stunned for a moment when she heard Mr. The Fool's response.
" The Fallen Creator "... Isn't this the " True Creator "? That conman actually possesses the divinity of the " True Creator "? This, this, a simple task actually involves the divinity of the " True Creator "! Sure enough, I knew Mr. The Fool had a deeper purpose... He's targeting the " True Creator "... No wonder he's Mr. The Fool! Audrey was instantly filled with many thoughts.