Klein stared at the letter in his hands, his eyes filled with shock. His gaze was locked tightly on the envelope, unable to look away.
James James Holmes!
And that familiar address!
He had only chosen the name Sherlock Moriarty because, having become a detective, he wanted to have some fun with the reference.
However, he never expected someone would actually know where the name came from and even send him a letter!
Who was the person who wrote this letter?
A fellow transmigrator like me?
Or perhaps Roselle had secretly written this detective novel, and the person writing to me had read it?
Klein's heart was filled with both joy and panic, unable to control himself.
He couldn't help but reach out to grab the edge of the envelope, about to tear it open. But just as he was about to open it, he suddenly stopped.
He put down the envelope and paced anxiously, even restlessly, in circles on the floor.
"No, I need to calm down."
"I can't be sure what's inside. What if there's something dangerous?"
"The more moments like this, the more I need to stay rational."
Klein paced in circles, attempting deep breathing and meditation, gradually calming his excited emotions.
I've got it.
Sure enough, after calming down, he quickly thought of a safe way to open the envelope: sacrifice it above the gray fog.
There, with sufficient mysticism, he could isolate any danger in the letter and take the opportunity to divine its source.
With this thought, Klein efficiently began the sacrifice ritual, opening the illusory door and sacrificing the letter above the gray fog.
Then he took four steps counterclockwise, departing from the real world.
In the realm shrouded in eternal gray fog, the letter lay quietly on the bronze table.
Klein sat in the bronze chair, his figure becoming tall and profound. He cautiously picked up the letter and tore it open.
Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper written in Loenese, with very brief content.
It roughly stated that this person, who called himself "James James Holmes," had seen his advertisement in the newspaper and was writing to consult him about something.
This person indicated that he had obtained a string of Roselle's diary text, along with some corresponding letters he'd never seen before.
He hoped Detective Sherlock could provide a reference opinion and, from a cryptographic perspective, try to analyze the original meaning of this string of letters.
Huh?
What the letter says doesn't match up at all with the obvious hints on the envelope...
Klein felt confused, but he still turned to the back of the letter to look at the so-called Roselle text and corresponding cipher letters provided by the other party.
He understood in his heart that Roselle's writing was naturally Japanese, but he didn't know what these so-called cipher letters were about.
As a result, on the back of the letter, he saw a string of Japanese characters and corresponding English.
After reading it, Klein was once again plunged into shock and delight.
It turned out that although these two languages had different forms, they expressed roughly the same meaning: Hello, the content on the front of this letter is a decoy, used for disguise.
If you can read these words, if you come from a different world, like Roselle and me, the writer of this letter, then without a doubt, we are companions.
As fellow transmigrator, I hope we can meet and exchange information.
If you're interested, we can meet tomorrow night in front of the first arch under Backlund Bridge.
So it really is a fellow transmigrator...
Klein's excitement at this moment was obvious.
The feeling of encountering a companion in a foreign land was simply indescribable.
He read these brief words over and over, trying to extract more information from them.
The person who wrote this letter is very cautious. First, they tested me with the name and address on the envelope, and even wrote a fake letter as camouflage.
The reason for using two languages must be because they were worried I wouldn't understand Japanese.
Klein analyzed the letter with great interest.
Only after he could discover nothing more did he put down the letter and materialize paper and pen on the bronze table, writing a line of text:
"Information about the person who wrote this letter."
That's right, he was going to use divination to obtain more information about the other party!,
Sorry, fellow transmigrator whose name I still don't know. You're so cautious, so I have to stay alert too.
Klein apologized inwardly while reciting the divination statement on the paper seven times.
Then he leaned back against the chair back and entered an illusory dream.
At first, he saw nothing in the dream.
Gradually, sounds began to emerge, and the dream took on color. He saw vast expanses of blood-red fog, and at the same time heard, from beyond the fog, the illusory sound of tides.
The sound of the tide grew louder and louder, until it filled his mind and occupied his thoughts.
Why can't I see any other images? And this sound is so strange...
Klein thought to himself.
Just then, he suddenly had a strange feeling.
Inside his body, something was faintly repelling this dream. More precisely, it was repelling this tidal sound...
"Bang!"
The repulsion suddenly intensified.
Before he could actively end it, the terrifying repulsive force rapidly filled his mind until it burst his head!
"Urgh..."
Inside the ancient palace, the gray-white fog churned violently, as if an invisible gale was raging within it, stirring uneasily.
With his head shattered, Klein struggled to support himself on the table, letting out a muffled groan of pain.
After some time, his body slowly recovered. He noticed the changes in the gray fog, his heart filled with astonishment.
What's going on!
The gray fog, which had always been soothing and calm, had never had such a strong reaction, not even when he witnessed the divine blood of the "Eternal Blazing Sun" or heard the mad ravings of the "True Creator"!
What secret do this letter-writing fellow transmigrator and this strange tidal sound hold?
He watched the churning gray fog uneasily, recalling that in the dream, besides the repulsion, the gray fog seemed to have an inexplicable attraction to that tidal sound as well...
"This is just baffling. It's completely contradictory."
Klein said in a low voice, tapping on the table.
Originally, he had been ready to go to the appointed place to meet the other person.
However, the other party's peculiar divination result made him begin to waver, unable to make up his mind.
Sure enough, we're all transmigrators. Everyone has some secrets...
Klein looked around at the gray fog and, thinking of the special circumstances surrounding himself, couldn't help but smile bitterly.
***
In the mad illusion.
Terrifying ravings filled the entire world. Atop the dark mountain range, on a massive cross stuck at the peak, hung an equally colossal giant, suspended upside down.
Silas sat cross-legged, facing the giant.
"...You should repent of your sins, until the profane blood surges from the abyss, filling all living things..."
The ravings tormented his spirit.
Blood vessels bulged on his head, his eyes bloodshot.
He was involuntarily murmuring along with the giant, speaking blasphemous, frenzied, and unknown ancient verses.
Hm?
Suddenly, he frowned slightly, feeling the tides in his head surge inexplicably for a few seconds.