Woo!
The sound of the steam whistle echoed through every corner of the platform. The massive steam locomotive, a monster dragging over twenty carriages, slowly ground to a halt.
Klein, dressed in a tailcoat and a top hat of moderate height, stepped onto the ground of
The city was divided diagonally into two parts by the Tussock River, which flowed toward the southeast estuary, connected by the Backlund Bridge and ferries, with a population of over five million, the most prosperous city on the North and South Continents.
Klein looked out as far as the eye could see. There was nothing but pale yellow mist. Visibility was terrible. The gas lamps hanging in the station had long been lit one by one, dispelling the gloom and darkness.
"Only six-thirty? Feels like nine or ten..." Klein shook his head almost imperceptibly, suddenly recalling a joke he had seen in the *Tussock Times*: "A gentleman who had just arrived in Backlund got lost in the thick smog. He had to ask a gentleman passing by, who was soaking wet, for directions. 'How do I get to the Tussock River?' he asked. The gentleman kindly replied, 'Keep going straight, don't stop. I just swam out of there.'" (Note 1) Every time he read a Backlund newspaper or magazine, those reporters and editors never failed to satirize the air pollution, the increasing number of foggy days... The *Backlund Daily* had even done a special statistic, saying that similar weather had increased from about 60 days thirty years ago to the current 75 days... Many concerned citizens had founded organizations like the "Coal Smoke Reduction Association" and the "Air Pollution Reduction Association"... One of the proposals in September was said to be for the establishment of a "Royal Atmospheric Pollution Investigation Committee"... Klein put down his large suitcase, pinched his nose to relieve the sudden discomfort.
Then, following the gold chain, he took a gold pocket watch out of his waistcoat pocket, flipped it open with a snap, glanced at it, and confirmed the time.
After truly bidding farewell to his brother and sister, Klein had made a special trip to a department store, spending 4 pounds 10 soli to buy a gold pocket watch and fitting it with a 1-pound 5-soli gold chain.
— For him, not being able to know the specific, clear time at any moment would create a sense of panic.
Originally, Klein had planned to buy a silver pocket watch, thinking it suited his temperament, but considering the true essence of the "Clown," he finally chose the more ostentatious and flashy gold watch.
"6:39... Not very late..." Klein put away his pocket watch, picked up his cane and suitcase, and followed the crowd slowly out of the steam train station.
Suddenly, without warning, he turned a corner, causing someone who had been quietly following behind, reaching for his pocket, to grab nothing but air.
Klein did not mind this little incident. He walked along the paved road, mingling with the dense crowd, heading toward the intersection ahead.
There was a street-side lawn and a garden surrounding a pillar that stood tall like a chimney.
"No, it *is* a chimney..." Klein saw the thick smoke gushing from the top of the pillar.
Part of the smoke drifted into the sky, the other part turned into tiny droplets, scattering around.
Klein paused again, put down his suitcase, and unfolded the newspaper and map he held in his other hand.
— On the steam train, he had already planned where to go and what to do next.
His experiences during this period and the morning's experience of playing the Clown had finally allowed Klein to grasp the true essence of the "Clown." That was, "Although one can slightly foresee fate, one still feels helpless before it, and thus uses a smiling face to conceal all sadness, pain, confusion, and frustration."
At that moment, he clearly felt the digestion of the "Clown" potion, believing that by continuing this role-play, he would soon be able to attempt an advancement.
But the problem was that he still didn't know the name of the corresponding Sequence 7 potion, let alone its specific recipe.
"How do I get the recipe? The
"But this is too risky. I have to be very cautious. The bait I put out must not be too 'good' nor too 'bad.' If it's too 'bad,' no one will be interested. If it's too 'good,' I might easily catch a giant shark, one that can swallow me in a single gulp... The leader of the Secret Order,
Amidst these thoughts, Klein felt the chill of Backlund and couldn't help but shiver, deciding to find a place to stay as soon as possible.
Flipping through the newspaper, he once again browsed the rental section, spotting the entry he had previously circled: "15 Minsk Street, Cherwood Borough... Townhouses... Weekly rent, 18 soli..."
Klein had thought long and hard about where to live. Although Backlund had a population of over five million, he still had to be wary of the possibility of encountering members of the local Nighthawks — whether it was Daly, who had recently been transferred here, or Lolota, Al Hassen, or
Therefore, Klein had ruled out the North Borough, where the Backlund diocese headquarters of the
Excluding the factory districts, the dock area, and the East Borough and Backlund Bridge area, which were slums where the poor gathered, Klein didn't have much choice. One was the Hillston Borough, which housed the Backlund Stock Exchange, the Clearing House, the Futures Center, the headquarters of the Seven Great Banks, various trust funds, various railway companies, and various commodity trading firms. It was known as the economic, commercial, and financial center of the Loen Kingdom. The other was the Cherwood Borough, where small companies clustered and there were many residences.