Braving the blazing afternoon sun, Klein left home.
Since he had to walk all the way from Iron Cross Street to Welch's residence, he had changed out of his formal suit, top hat, and leather boots into a linen shirt, an old brown coat, a round-brimmed felt hat of the same color, and worn leather shoes. That way, he would not have to worry about sweat and its odor fouling his expensive outfit.
He walked slowly along Daffodil Street toward Iron Cross Street. As he passed the square at the corner, he instinctively glanced over.
The tents were gone. The circus had finished its performances and left some time ago.
Klein had imagined that the animal tamer who had performed a divination for him was actually a hidden powerhouse who had discovered his uniqueness and come specifically to guide him. Surely there would be further encounters and hints. Yet none of that had happened. She had set off with the circus on the next leg of its journey.
Life isn't full of so many stock plots... Klein shook his head with a chuckle and turned onto Iron Cross Street.
Iron Cross Street was not a single street. As its name suggested, it consisted of two intersecting roads.
With the crossroads at its center, it was divided into Left Street, Right Street, Upper Street, and Lower Street. The apartment where Klein, Benson, and Melissa had previously lived was on Lower Street.
However, the people living in the apartment building and its surroundings did not consider their neighborhood part of Lower Street. They had coined the name "Middle Street" to distinguish it from the slum district two hundred meters farther down the road.
There, five, six, or even ten people might be crammed into a single bedroom.
Walking along the edge of Left Street, Klein let his thoughts wander. He thought of the Antigonus Family Notebook, its unknown whereabouts, the importance the Nighthawks attached to it, and the bloody incident it had brought about.
His mood gradually grew heavy, and his expression darkened.
Just then, a familiar voice reached his ears.
"Little Klein."
Hmm... Klein turned in puzzlement and discovered that he had reached the entrance to Slin Bakery. Gray-haired Mrs. Wendy was waving to him with a gentle smile.
"You look a little... a little unhappy?" Wendy asked warmly.
Klein rubbed his face and said:
"A little."
"No matter how many troubles you have, tomorrow will still come." Mrs. Wendy smiled. "Here, help me try the sweet iced tea I've just made. I don't know whether it suits the local palate."
"The locals? Aren't you one yourself, Mrs. Slin?" Klein shook his head in amusement.
Trying it should mean it's free, right?
Wendy Slin's lips curved upward.
"You guessed right. I'm actually from the south. I came to Tingen with my husband more than forty years ago. Hehe, Benson hadn't even been born then, and your father and mother hadn't even met."
"I've never quite gotten used to northern food. I'm always missing the food back home-pork sausages, potato bread, baked flatbread, vegetables fried in lard, and roast meat with our special sauce."
"Mm, and sweet iced tea..."
A smile spread across Klein's face as he listened.
"Mrs. Slin, this really is a conversation that makes people hungry... Still, I feel much better. Thank you."
"Good food can always heal sorrow." Wendy handed Klein a cup of reddish-brown liquid. "I made this sweet iced tea from memory. Try it and tell me whether it tastes good."
After thanking her, Klein took a sip. The drink tasted somewhat like the iced black tea on Earth, but it was less sharp, with a stronger tea flavor and a more refreshing taste. It immediately dispelled the heat of the blazing sun.
"Excellent!" he praised.
"Then I can rest easy." Wendy's eyes narrowed with her smile as she watched kindly while Klein finished the cup of sweet iced tea.
After chatting with Mrs. Slin for a while about his move, Klein returned to the street he knew best.
There were far fewer street vendors here in the afternoon. They would not gather again until after half past five, and the ones who remained looked listless and wilted.
The moment he turned onto the street, Klein's mood suddenly darkened for no apparent reason. He felt an indescribable sense of oppression, dejection, and gloom.
What's going on? Keenly aware that something was wrong with him, he immediately stopped and looked around, but saw nothing strange.
After a moment's thought, Klein raised his hand and tapped twice between his eyebrows as though deep in thought.
His view immediately changed, revealing the auras of the street vendors and the few pedestrians.
Before Klein could examine the colors indicating their health, his attention was drawn to the deep gloom that represented their emotions.
He could not determine the specific thoughts of those he observed, but the impression of pessimism, numbness, and melancholy etched itself deeply into his mind.
Looking around, he discovered that these dim hues filled his surroundings. Even the sunlight could not dispel them.
This was an oppression accumulated over untold days, months, and years.
At this sight, Klein immediately understood the reason.
Just as Old Neil had said, with his Spirit Vision active, he could easily feel uncomfortable upon entering unfamiliar surroundings, and other people's emotions could easily affect him.
The same principle applied to Spirit Intuition-an ability he had gained upon becoming a Seer without needing any additional study. It was a passive perception that could not be refused, allowing him to directly detect the presence of certain abnormalities.
And perception inevitably involved some degree of interaction. Thus, in the eyes of Beyonders such as Spirit Mediums, the strength of each person's Spirit Intuition was as obvious as a torch in the night. Thus, people with strong Spirit Intuition were naturally and easily affected by abnormal, intense atmospheres. Only through repeated practice could they gain a grasp of it, control it, and adapt to it.
"It must have taken a long time for such oppressive 'hues' to form, right?" Moved by the sight, Klein sighed and shook his head.
He tapped twice between his eyebrows again and worked to rein in his spirituality.
Tap, tap, tap. Klein walked toward the apartment building, sensing for other possible abnormalities and subtle connections as he searched for the Antigonus Family Notebook that "he himself" had hidden.
The street was as it always had been, with dirty water and rubbish. It only became reasonably clean at the entrance to the apartment building.
Klein pushed open the half-closed door and made a circuit of the first floor in the gloom beyond the sunlight's reach.
He climbed step by step, making the wooden staircase creak continuously.
The second floor was as poorly lit as ever. Klein gave his Spirit Intuition free rein and gazed straight into the gloom.
However, not only did he fail to find any clues to the notebook, he did not see a single incorporeal spirit either.
"If they were that easy to encounter, the vast majority of ordinary people wouldn't be unaware of the existence of Beyonder things..." Klein remarked to himself.
He already understood that most "spirits" did not exist as spirit bodies, but as spirituality. Only a Spirit Medium could communicate with them effectively.
After making a circuit of the third floor, Klein left the apartment building and walked toward Welch's residence along the route he remembered.
He walked for a full hour without discovering anything along the way.
Standing outside the garden villa, Klein gazed at the house through the locked iron gate and muttered inwardly:
There shouldn't be any need to search Welch's house, right? The captain and Madam Daly must have combed through it...
Besides, I don't have a key. I can't exactly climb over the wall...
I'll try coming here by another route tomorrow...
I've walked so far today, but there isn't even a step-count leaderboard...
Amid these grumbles, Klein turned and headed for the nearby streets, intending to take a public carriage to Blackthorn Security Company, collect his thirty bullets for the day, and make the most of his time practicing.
Seers lacked quick, effective means of attack. He could only make up for that with a revolver and a cane!
The area near Welch's residence was quite clean, with many shops boasting bright windows and spotless interiors lining both sides of the street.
After turning a corner, Klein was about to look for a public carriage stop when his gaze suddenly swept across several signs on the second floor opposite him:
"Harold Department Store."
"Veteran Officers Club."
"Divination Club."
Divination Club... Klein silently repeated the name, suddenly remembering that he needed to "act" as a Seer.
Mm, I'll go take a look... See if I can find some new ideas...
With these thoughts running through his mind, Klein crossed the street, went up to the second floor, entered the hall, and stopped in front of the pretty receptionist.
The lady, whose brownish-yellow hair was pinned up, glanced at Klein and smiled.
"Sir, would you like a divination, or would you like to join our club?"
"What are the requirements for joining?" Klein asked casually.
The lady with her brownish-yellow hair piled high gave a practiced introduction:
"Fill out your details and pay the annual membership fee. It's five pounds initially, then one pound each year afterward. Don't worry, we aren't like those political or business clubs that require a recommendation from a full member before you can join."
"Members can use the club's meeting rooms, various divination rooms, and divination tools free of charge. They can enjoy the coffee and tea we provide and read the newspapers and magazines we subscribe to for free, as well as purchase lunch, dinner, alcoholic drinks, and certain divination textbooks and materials at cost."
"Also, at least once a month, we invite a renowned diviner to give a lecture and answer difficult questions."
"Most importantly, you can find a group of friends who share your interests and exchange experiences with them."
Sounds good, but... but I don't have any money... Klein smiled self-deprecatingly and asked instead:
"What if I want a divination?"