Before leaving, Klein casually tossed a coin to ask if it was a bad day to go to the "Brave Bar".
After receiving a negative answer, he looked around and said quietly to the air:
"Is anyone monitoring me today?"
After a few seconds of silence, the bodyguard's ethereal voice suddenly came from behind him:
"No."
Klein instinctively turned his head but still couldn't see the bodyguard.
He quickly shifted his attention to the answer and couldn't help but snicker inwardly:
MI9 simply didn't put me on the list of suspects!
After confirming that Rosago hadn't come to me, they completely ignored me.
Should I feel honored or insulted?
Also, a detective busy looking for cats and catching adulterers simply couldn't be connected to things like assassinating an ambassador, taking down a Sequence 5 expert…
Besides, MI9 had more or less monitored me for a while. They saw my panic, my helplessness, my desperate struggle to save myself, and that I clearly couldn't cause any real harm to the ambassador…
Lost in thought, Klein put on his half-cylinder silk hat, picked up his black-inlaid silver cane, walked out of 15 Minsk Street, spent 2 soli, and took a hired carriage to the "Brave Bar" located on Iron Gate Street in the Bridge area of Backlund.
He entered skillfully, passed the patrons cheering around the boxing ring, came to the counter, knocked on the table:
"A pint of Southwell beer."
The bartender looked up at him and grunted:
"Kaspas is in room 3."
Klein smiled, placed five 1-penny copper coins, and pushed them to him.
Then, holding a wooden mug, drinking the white and fine Southwell beer, he bypassed the two most crowded, lively, and sweat-smelling arenas and knocked on the door of room 3.
Kaspas was playing no-limit Texas hold 'em with a group of people. He had a high stack of bills in front of him, and a heap of shiny coins.
Noticing Klein's gaze, the arms dealer with a huge scar on his face twitched his red nose and said casually:
"I don't like using chips. That makes me feel unreal. The texture of bills and the weight of coins are intoxicating, just as enjoyable as sleeping with a woman!"
After grumbling this, Kaspas frowned slightly:
"What are you here for this time?"
Klein didn't answer directly and motioned with his mouth to talk outside.
"Damn! I was about to empty them with this hand! Shit, I fold!" Kaspas threw his two cards to the center, then hobbled to the door and said to Klein:
"You better have a good reason!"
Out of the card room and in a corner, Klein lowered his voice:
"I want to know when the next gathering is, the same kind as last time."
Kaspas looked at him suspiciously:
"Didn't Marich settle things with you?"
"It's not about the bodyguard. I've taken a great interest in that, you know." Klein spoke the truth.
Kaspas hesitated and then said:
"There's a gathering tonight. The organizer is the same as last time, but you need to wait for more than half an hour. I'll go notify them first. You showed credibility last time, so it shouldn't be a big problem."
"No problem, I'll pay you." Klein touched the money in his pocket.
"Just one pound this time." Kaspas acted generous.
"It's worth it." Klein smiled with both corners of his mouth lifted.
After paying, he found a seat, sat down, and while drinking the malty Southwell beer, he watched the match on the boxing ring.
"I could knock them both out…" Klein quickly concluded.
After more than ten minutes, Kaspas returned to the bar, looked around, and said in a low voice:
"They agreed."
"We'll go over in half an hour. Storm above, I hope you haven't forgotten that mask."
To this, Klein gave an affirmative answer.
He slowed down his drinking, taking small sips, and took half an hour to finish the 500 ml large mug of Southwell beer.
Still the same road, still the same house without lights, Klein put on the iron mask that only covered the upper half of his face, and watched Kaspas knock on the door rhythmically.
Unlike last time, the knocking pattern kept changing… Klein listened carefully for a while and saw the small wooden board on the door open, with an eye looking out.
After a similar process, he put on a hooded robe, hiding his entire face in the shadows.
It was still that living room, still that flickering dim candle, Klein casually found a place and sat down quietly.
But unlike before, he no longer suppressed, no longer tense, but leisurely looked around.
— The cold wind blowing on the back of his neck confirmed that the bodyguard had followed in without being noticed.
The members of this gathering indeed had no Sequence 5, maybe not even Sequence 6… Klein thought to himself.
After listening for a while, he saw the round-faced "Pharmacist" change posture as if wanting to speak.
Sure enough, the pharmacist, showing half of his chubby face, quickly raised his hand:
"'Black Snake' seems to have died in the sewer…"