Under the blazing afternoon sun, Klein stepped out of his home.
Since he planned to walk all the way from Iron Cross Street to Welch's residence, he opted for a more casual outfit. He'd swapped out his formal suit, hat, and leather shoes for a linen shirt, a worn brown jacket, a round-brimmed felt hat of the same color, and an old pair of shoes—no need to worry about sweat ruining an expensive outfit.
Strolling down Narcissus Street toward Iron Cross Street, Klein passed the corner square and glanced at it instinctively.
The tents were gone; the circus had finished its performance and moved on.
Klein had once imagined that the animal trainer who had read his fortune might secretly be a powerful figure, noticing his unique nature and providing guidance, hinting at future encounters and signs. But none of that had happened; she had simply continued on with the circus to her next destination.
Not everything follows a trope… Klein chuckled and shook his head, then turned onto Iron Cross Street.
Iron Cross Street wasn't a single road but, as its name suggested, a crossroads formed by two intersecting streets.
Centered at the intersection, it branched into Left Street, Right Street, Upper Street, and Lower Street. The apartment where Klein, Benson, and Melissa had once lived was located on Lower Street.
However, the apartment's residents and nearby locals preferred to call it "Middle Street" to distinguish it from the area two hundred meters away, which extended into a district of impoverished housing, where a single bedroom might house five, six, or even ten people.
Walking along the edge of Left Street, Klein's thoughts drifted to the Antigonus family notebook. He recalled how it had vanished, the Night Watchers' intense interest in it, and the bloody incident that had followed.
A sense of heaviness settled over him, his expression darkening.
At that moment, a familiar voice reached his ears:
"Klein, dear."
Huh…? Klein turned in surprise to find himself standing outside Sleen's Bakery. Mrs. Wendy, with her gray hair and warm smile, waved to him.
"You don't look very happy," Wendy said kindly.
Klein rubbed his face. "A little, maybe."
"No matter how many troubles you have, tomorrow always comes," Mrs. Wendy said with a gentle smile. "Here, try my new sweet iced tea. I'm not sure if it suits the local taste."
"Local taste? Mrs. Sleen, aren't you local yourself?" Klein laughed, understanding that "try" meant it was on the house.
Wendy Sleen chuckled. "You guessed right; I'm actually from the South. I followed my husband to Tingen over forty years ago. Back then, Benson hadn't even been born, and your parents hadn't met yet."
"I've never quite gotten used to the northern food style. I always miss my hometown's dishes—pork sausages, potato bread, baked pancakes, lard-fried vegetables, and the roasted meats with special sauces."
"And, of course, sweet iced tea…"
Klein couldn't help but smile. "Mrs. Sleen, you're making me hungry… but I feel a lot better now. Thank you."
"Good food always heals sadness." Wendy handed him a cup filled with a reddish-brown liquid. "This is my own attempt at sweet iced tea. See if it's any good."
After thanking her, Klein took a sip, finding the drink reminiscent of Earth's iced tea, though less intense, with a stronger tea flavor and a refreshing quality that instantly relieved the afternoon heat.
"Delicious!" he praised.
"That's a relief." Wendy's eyes crinkled with a smile as she watched Klein finish the tea.
After chatting briefly with Mrs. Sleen about moving to his new apartment, Klein continued on, reaching his familiar old neighborhood.
In the afternoon, the street vendors here were fewer, as most would return around five-thirty. Those who remained seemed listless, drained by the heat.
The moment Klein stepped onto this street, he felt an inexplicable gloom—a strange sense of oppression, melancholy, and darkness settled over him.
What's going on? Sensing something was wrong, Klein immediately stopped, glancing around cautiously, but he saw nothing unusual.
Klein raised his hand, tapping his brow twice as if lost in thought.
His vision shifted, revealing the auras of the nearby street vendors and a few passersby.
Before he had a chance to examine their health-related colors, he was drawn to the intensity and dimness symbolizing their emotions.
He couldn't discern their specific thoughts, but the sense of pessimism, numbness, and gloom left a deep impression on him.
As he glanced around, he noticed that the same dark tones surrounded the area, unaffected even by the sunlight. It was an oppressive atmosphere, formed over countless days, months, and years.
Seeing this, Klein understood the cause.
Just as Old Neil had mentioned, activating Spirit Vision in an unfamiliar environment made him susceptible to discomfort and easily influenced by others' emotions.
A similar principle applied to "inspiration"—a passive, unavoidable ability that came with becoming a Seer. It allowed him to detect unusual occurrences around him.
And since perception inherently involved some degree of interaction, highly sensitive individuals were easily affected by intense atmospheres, something that could only be managed through practice and adaptation.
"It must have taken a long time to accumulate this kind of oppressive 'tone,'" Klein sighed, slightly affected.
He tapped his brow twice to end Spirit Vision and worked to gather his spirituality.
Click, click, click… Klein's footsteps echoed as he walked toward the apartment, sensing for any unusual presences or connections that might lead him to the hidden Antigonus family notebook.
The streets were as they always were, littered with dirty water and garbage, only getting cleaner as he approached the apartment entrance.
Klein pushed open the half-closed door and took a turn around the dimly lit first floor where sunlight didn't reach.
He climbed the wooden staircase, each step producing a creak.
The second floor was as dark as ever. Letting his "inspiration" roam, he peered into the dimness.
However, he found no clues to the notebook, not even the faintest trace of a spirit.
"If things were this easy to encounter, most ordinary people would already be aware of extraordinary phenomena…" Klein muttered to himself.
He had come to understand that most "spirits" did not exist as tangible entities but as spiritual essences that required a Medium to communicate effectively.
After searching the third floor, Klein left the apartment and walked along the familiar path toward Welch's residence.
An hour later, he still hadn't found anything.
Standing outside the garden villa, Klein looked through the locked iron gate at the house, muttering to himself, "I probably don't need to search Welch's place… the Captain and Ms. Daly must have searched it thoroughly…"
"And besides, I don't have a key. I can't just jump the wall…"
"I'll try a different route tomorrow…"
"Today I walked so much, and there's no leaderboard to show for it…"
Muttering to himself, Klein turned toward a nearby street to find a public carriage to the Blackthorn Security Company. He planned to pick up his thirty rounds of ammunition for the day and squeeze in some practice.
As a Seer, lacking fast, effective offensive abilities, he'd have to rely on his revolver and cane!
The area around Welch's residence was fairly clean, lined with well-kept shops with sparkling windows.
Turning the corner, Klein looked around for a public carriage stop when he spotted a few signs across the street on a second-floor building:
"Harold's General Store."
"Veterans' Club."
"Divination Club."
…
Divination Club… Klein read the name, suddenly reminded of his need to "play" the role of a Seer.
Hmm, let's take a look… maybe I'll find some new ideas…
With his mind racing, Klein crossed the street, went up to the second floor, and entered the lobby, where he stopped in front of a pleasant-looking receptionist.
The woman, with her honey-blonde hair neatly pinned up, looked him over briefly before smiling and saying, "Sir, are you here for a divination, or would you like to join our club?"
"What are the requirements for joining?" Klein asked casually.
With practiced ease, the woman began her explanation: "You'll need to fill out a detailed form and pay an annual membership fee. The first year is 5 pounds, and then it's 1 pound each following year. Don't worry; unlike political or business clubs, we don't require sponsorship from an existing member to join."
"As a member, you'll have free access to our meeting rooms, divination rooms, and a variety of divination tools. You'll also enjoy complimentary coffee and tea, along with access to our collection of newspapers and magazines. We offer lunch, dinner, alcoholic drinks, divination books, and divination materials at cost."
"Additionally, we host at least one talk each month by a well-known diviner who addresses any questions or challenges members might have."
"Most importantly, you'll be part of a community of like-minded friends with whom you can share experiences."
Sounds nice, except… I have no money, Klein thought with a wry smile. He then asked, "And what if I'm just here for a divination?"