At No. 2 Daffodil Street, Klein suppressed the urge to immediately enjoy his dinner and returned to his room under the pretext of changing clothes.
In reality, he took four steps counterclockwise and arrived above the gray fog.
Behind the bronze long table, he skillfully materialized paper and pen, quickly writing down the content he planned to divine.
"Trissy's whereabouts."
Holding the parchment, Klein, surrounded by dense gray fog and exuding a lofty bearing, closed his eyes, leaned back against his chair, and silently recited the divination statement.
After repeating it seven times, he closed his eyes, entered the dreamscape, and relied on his spirituality to explore the divination's result.
In the hazy dream, he saw Trissy, with her round face and sweet, gentle features, standing in a luxurious room.
Across from Trissy stood a woman wearing a veil. Her appearance couldn't be seen clearly due to the veil's obstruction, but just from her graceful, curvaceous figure alone, it was enough to inspire endless imagination.
Who is this? Trissy's superior?
Klein thought to himself.
He tried hard to identify the room's furnishings or find the corresponding area through the window, but failed to accomplish either.
As his spirituality became difficult to sustain, he had to exit the dream, leave the gray fog, and return to the real world.
Looking on the bright side, at least I know Trissy has a superior in Tingen.
I can tell the Captain tomorrow. Klein thought this way, feeling the hunger in his belly, and hurried downstairs.
Then he saw his sister Melissa staring at him with a strange look.
"What's wrong?"
"Klein, didn't you say you were going to change clothes?"
Melissa asked.
Huh?
Klein looked down and discovered that in his haste coming downstairs, he'd actually forgotten to change clothes.
So what was the excuse he'd just made about?
He could only smile awkwardly and say, "Uh, I forgot."
---
At the same time, in the East Borough of Tingen, inside a mansion on Olsner Street.
"I've already done enough for you. The Nighthawks have tracked me down now. I'm leaving Tingen!"
Trissy handed over the bottle containing red liquid as she spoke.
Her delicate, round face was now pale from blood loss, making her look pitifully vulnerable.
Across from her, Sharon, wearing gloves and a veil, took the bottle.
She looked at Trissy, paused, then suddenly spoke. "You're injured?"
"No, you've been cursed?"
When she said the first sentence, her tone carried surprise.
But when she said the second sentence, her voice became incredibly cold, as if carrying bone-deep resentment.
Trissy couldn't help but tremble.
Then, under Sharon's command, she was forced to open her clothing and reveal her wound.
Sharon stroked the wound, sensing a certain familiar aura, and her eyes beneath the veil gradually grew colder.
---
"Click, click."
Silas continuously wound the clockwork of the clown puppet, infusing spirituality into its body.
Cecilia sat beside him, watching his actions, her eyes revealing worried concern, but she said nothing.
From the time they'd returned home, about half an hour had passed.
Silas had hastily eaten dinner and begun gathering his things, preparing to pursue and kill the witch to obtain her heart.
Miss M had no intention of taking action herself, so he could only do it himself.
As a Sequence 8, he would be pursuing and killing a Sequence 7 Beyonder.
Silas felt the spirituality being consumed. After using about a third of his spirituality, he stopped winding.
This spirituality could keep the Clockwork Clown running for about a minute.
Though not quite enough, considering his spirituality might have other uses, this was all he could manage for now.
Although it was Sequence 8 against Sequence 7, he wasn't without a chance of winning.
First, his opponent had already fought the Nighthawks, so both her spirituality and items had been depleted.
Things like the death-substitution silver mirror and the materials she used for invisibility would all need to be prepared again.
Second, his opponent had also suffered his curse and was in poor physical condition.
Finally, Silas had quite a few trump cards on his side. Three mystical items, the abilities of Listener, Secrets Suppliant, and Foul Words, plus the charm buried in the back of his hand.
However, these were mainly intended for dealing with Miss M, so he'd better not use them if possible.
"You seem quite enthusiastic."
Miss M looked at him and suddenly said with a smile.
"Isn't this what you told me to do?"
Silas looked up at her and asked back matter-of-factly.
"Of course. I also have my own purpose. A witch's body can apparently be used as ritual materials."
He added another explanation.
The act of removing a witch's heart was really hard to conceal.
After considering it, Silas decided to be straightforward about it.
He planned to take various materials from the witch's body and hide the heart among them, which would make it less conspicuous.
"I see."
Miss M said softly. Her reaction made it impossible to tell whether she believed him or not.
As they spoke, Silas had finished winding the clown's clockwork and tucked it into his inner coat pocket.
He also checked over various materials, loaded bullets into his revolver and returned it to its holster, hid the ritual silver dagger inside his sleeve, then put on his coat, donned his hat, and walked to the doorway.
After thinking for a moment, he also picked up the cane standing by the door.
"Silas, you must be careful!"
His sister said with concern from behind him.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine."
Silas smiled at his sister, turned, and went out the door.
The night was growing later. The crimson moon shone down, and a slightly cold night breeze blew over.
Silas tightened his coat and glanced at No. 2 Daffodil Street, separated by one house.
The lights inside were bright. He bent down and quietly passed by No. 2 to avoid making sounds that would attract the people inside.
If they saw him, it would be hard to explain.
Silas didn't relax until he reached the street corner.
Looking left and right, there were no more pedestrians on the street.
He took out the blood-stained handkerchief from his coat pocket, then used the silver dagger to cut his palm.
He pressed the bloodstained part of the handkerchief against the wound, then began softly reciting the True Creator's honorific name.
Before long, the blood that had been coagulated on the handkerchief suddenly began to move, extending toward a certain direction.
Looks like it's over that way.
Silas made a fist to hold the handkerchief over the wound and headed in the corresponding direction.
After walking about one street, he encountered a carriage and raised his hand to stop it.
"Sir, where to?"
The coachman asked.
"Head in that direction for now."
Silas pointed in a direction.
"Very well."
The coachman didn't mind receiving such a vague answer. These kinds of carriages are charged by time. The longer Silas delayed, the more he earned.
Every time the carriage passed a block, Silas would reorient the direction.
Eventually, he found himself in the East Borough of Tingen on Olsner Street, circling around one particular mansion several times.
That's right, she's hiding here!
Silas had the carriage drive one street away, then called for it to stop, paid the fare, and got out.
In the distance, that house stood silent in the darkness, as if welcoming his arrival.