The Difference Between Leon and a Beagle

The two chatted idly, much as they had when they had guarded the Chanis Gate together.

Seeing that the clock was approaching seven, Klein stood up and said, "I should get going. Melissa and Benson should both be home by now."

He looked down at the battered suit he was wearing and frowned in dismay. "I'll have to come up with an excuse to explain it to them, or Melissa will definitely get suspicious."

"I don't think you need to make up an excuse," Leon said casually. "After all, it takes countless lies to cover up one lie."

"Do you have a better idea?" Klein replied irritably. "A suit costs half a month's wages."

"Simple. I'll just give you one."

Leon snapped his fingers. After a while, Martha walked into the room, and he took twenty pounds in banknotes from his wallet. "Go to a clothing store and buy a reasonably priced, presentable suit in Klein's size."

"Consider it an apology for this afternoon," Leon said, looking at the dumbfounded Klein. "That's the truth, not a lie. It was my mistake in judgment that caused your financial loss."

"No! Absolutely not!"

The ever-frugal Klein hurriedly stopped Martha as she was about to leave and rejected Leon's offer without hesitation.

Letting someone pay for food was already the limit of what he could accept-even though the Intis feast Leon had first treated him to had cost enough to buy the suit he was wearing.

But he had no intention of continuing to spend Leon's money with a clear conscience.

At its core, their relationship was a partnership, not one of dependence.

Once he fell into a position of passively accepting things, that partnership would exist in name only.

That was something Klein was determined not to let happen.

He looked at Leon and said seriously, "If you consider me a friend, please don't do this again."

"Sorry, I didn't think it through." Seeing Klein's defensiveness, Leon realized it had been inappropriate and spoke with heartfelt apology.

Klein thought for a moment, then compromised. "If you can, just lend me an overcoat in a similar color."

"No problem." Leon readily agreed and immediately asked Martha to search the wardrobe.

Klein reflected that, as a fairly typical wealthy member of the Loen Kingdom, Leon naturally kept many sets of clothes for various occasions to maintain a respectable appearance.

If they could find an overcoat close in color to the one he was wearing, all the better.

His judgment proved correct.

Martha soon found an overcoat with an extremely similar cut and color.

Although the two men differed somewhat in height, the difference wasn't conspicuous in an overcoat. At the very least, it was more than enough to cover him up in a pinch.

Just as Klein once again politely declined Leon's invitation to stay for dinner,

Martha, who knew a little about tailoring, studied the coat for a moment and suggested tightening the straps at the waist and back slightly, which would make the whole thing look seamless.

So, after a brief hesitation, Klein stayed a little longer.

While waiting for the coat to be altered, Klein, whose nerves had been taut all this time, finally had a moment to breathe a little easier.

Holding a cup of Leon's expensive black tea, he found his thoughts wandering.

Although plenty of unexpected things had happened today, at least for now, the danger had passed without harm.

That was an outcome worth being thankful for.

After all, life could never be smooth sailing forever, and even the most seasoned sailor couldn't avoid every storm at sea.

All one could do was make sure that every storm one encountered ended without harm.

At that thought, Klein suddenly frowned.

But there had been rather too many "storms" lately.

Even if someone hiding in the shadows really was stirring things up, their frequency was far too abnormal.

So Klein took the opportunity to carefully review what had happened, trying to identify a few points worth noting so he could avoid similar situations as much as possible in the future.

But after only a few seconds of thought, Klein let out a deep sigh.

He knew that seemed unlikely, because after a brief but searching recollection, he had found the biggest factor behind it all.

It was the handsome man in front of him, who seemed not to care much about anything.

Looking back on his brief but memorable time with Leon,

Klein couldn't help recalling, for some reason, a kind of dog kept by the older girl next door before he transmigrated.

If he remembered correctly, the breed was called a beagle.

Apart from their good looks, they had no other virtues worth praising.

After a brief "honeymoon period," they would reveal their incomparably evil nature.

Boundless energy and endless curiosity: given the slightest chance, they would dash out without hesitation and start howling or racing around.

Their eagerness to stir up trouble was exactly like Leon's.

Before transmigrating, Klein had been tormented countless nights by that piercing "wer~wer~wer~" howl, unable to sleep and left with frayed nerves.

After transmigrating, he had followed Leon again and again, and after every one of the "narrow escapes" Leon triggered, he had been put through so much that he didn't even dare go home.

At that thought, Klein couldn't help looking up mournfully at Leon, who was leisurely sipping tea across from him.

He could only see him as an oversized, evil beagle.

Leon seemed to notice his gaze. He put down his teacup and gave Klein a puzzled look.

He seemed to be wondering, Why are you looking at me?

Klein looked away. Ten minutes later, he picked up the overcoat Martha had finished altering, still warm from her hands, and stood up to leave.

"All right, see you tomorrow. I won't get up. Have a good night's sleep," Leon said with a smile.

"See you tomorrow." Klein nodded and walked to the entryway. He put his hand on the doorknob and opened the door, and a second before the door closed,

he suddenly sensed that something was wrong. He whipped around to look at Leon, who was still sitting on the sofa.

He suddenly realized that Leon seemed not to have left that spot from the very beginning, nor had he changed position, except to wave his arms occasionally.

He hadn't even gone to the bathroom once.

Was he hurt?

Klein grew worried instinctively. He looked at Leon in confusion and was just about to speak,

but Leon, as though he could tell what Klein was thinking, smiled, stood up, and walked smoothly into the dining room between the entryway and the living room.

He stopped and said to Klein, "What? Changed your mind about staying for dinner?"

"No." Klein shook his head, seemingly reassured, and went out the door.

But the moment the door closed, Leon, who had looked perfectly fine, suddenly shuddered and grabbed the chair beside him.

The next second, the Black Flame, filled with the aura of death, rose up again and darted erratically over his body.

Several seconds later, he finally brought it under control and drew it back into his body.

He let go of the chair, looked at the Black Flame on his arm, and said, struggling somewhat to keep his composure,

"What the hell? 'I' actually got corrupted by my own power? A new account like this is such a hassle. Looks like I'll have to find a way to apply some patches."