Inside the underground shooting range of the Cragg Club.
After finishing his shooting practice, Klein carefully maintained the complimentary revolver and adjusted the ratio of Purification Bullets, Hunter Bullets, and Exorcism Bullets to 3:1:1.
Letting out a breath, he stored the revolver, straightened his jacket, and leisurely returned to the first-floor lobby.
He had heard from the waiter that today's limited special was pan-fried Dragon-bone Fish.
As soon as he entered the buffet, Klein saw a familiar face, Talim Dumont. The riding instructor with short curly brown hair, from a fallen noble family, had unfocused eyes and was eating lunch without any taste.
Klein carried his tray over, sat down, and greeted him.
Talim turned his head, his lips moved a few times, was silent for three or four seconds, then finally murmured:
"Sherlock, do you know... know people with strange abilities, very powerful, very rare?"
"Yes, the one right in front of you..." Klein twitched his eyebrows but gave no direct answer.
"What do you want to do?"
Talim opened his mouth but said nothing.
He thought seriously for a moment, then forced a smile:
"Nothing, I was just curious."
Last time he asked what to do when you love the wrong person, this time he asks if I know people with strange abilities... Is he trying to get rid of that person and cut off your friend's hopes? Who is worth such a risk? Hiring a killer is equivalent to murder! Klein silently grumbled a few words, cut a boneless piece of fish and popped it into his mouth.
Talim took a breath, quickly finished the food on his plate, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
He seemed to have returned to normal and said with a smile:
"Mike wants to hire you for a few days as his bodyguard."
Mike Joseph? The reporter from the Daily Observer? I remember his performance at the "Golden Rose" was quite impressive... Klein chuckled lightly:
"What does Mike want to do now?"
Talim spread his hands:
"I don't know, he just casually mentioned it. Seems to be related to an interview assignment. He said he'll visit you the day after tomorrow and hopes you'll take the job."
"I can't be sure," Klein didn't give a definite answer, not knowing the specifics.
Just then, a layered illusory prayer from a lady rang in his ears.
Miss "Magician"? She's ready to sacrifice money for the recipe? Klein sped up, finished his remaining food, downed his black tea, and went to the reception to have the waiter open a resting room for him.
After sealing the room with the "Spiritual Wall," he ascended the Grey Fog and found his judgment correct: Miss "Magician" was applying to hold the sacrificial ceremony.
Fors had delayed until now because she only had 370 gold pounds on her and had to go to the bank to withdraw some savings.
After some operations, she saw that 450 pounds vanish into the "Illusory Door," and in her mind appeared a formula:
"Sequence 8, Trick Master."
"Main ingredients: Spirit Eater's stomach, 20 ml of Deep-sea Garfish Blood."
"Supplementary ingredients: 5 ml of Hornbeam Essential Oil, 10 grams of String Ball Grass Powder, one blooming Red Chestnut, 80 ml of Pure Water."
Finally, finally got it! Years! Fors was overjoyed and couldn't help pacing back and forth, full of ambition.
Then, still uneasy, she took out paper and pen to record the formula, so as not to forget and bother Mr. "Fool."
If I don't find someone who doesn't know the market, the main ingredients will cost at least 300 pounds each, and I only have 430 pounds left... I need to earn more money... I will write a new book! Fors immediately felt a surge of motivation; she was no longer the chronic procrastinator.
.........
At 7:55 p.m. on Wednesday, Klein, carrying all his savings, stepped into the house where old Mr. "Wisdom Eye" held his gathering, with very complex feelings.
He was draped in a black robe, with his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, and he also wore an iron mask.
"1,674 pounds in cash and 5 gold coins—this is a new peak for my wealth. I wonder how much will be left after this gathering..." Klein entered the living room deep in thought and scanned the area by the light of a flickering candle.
Eh, the pharmacist is not here. Something came up? Klein frowned slightly and sat down in the same seat as last time.
After a few minutes, old Mr. "Wisdom Eye" clapped his hands lightly:
"Let's begin."
Before he finished speaking, someone spoke impatiently. It was the woman who was heavily wrapped and seemed to have the backing of a craftsman.
She lowered her voice and said:
"Is the friend who sold the 'Briber' formula last time here?"
"I'm here," Klein replied succinctly.
The woman visibly sighed in relief, pushed her iron mask, and said:
"This time there are extraordinary weapons you need; of course, you can also choose cash."