Under the scorching afternoon sun, Klein stepped out of his house.
Because he needed to walk from Iron Cross Street to Welch's residence, he changed out of his formal suit, top hat, and leather boots into a linen shirt, a worn brown coat, a matching round-brimmed felt hat, and old leather shoes, so he wouldn't have to worry about his sweat ruining that expensive set.
He strolled along Narcissus Street toward Iron Cross Street, and as he passed the corner square, he subconsciously glanced over.
The tents were gone. The circus had long since finished its performance and left.
Klein had even imagined that the animal trainer who had performed divination for him was actually a hidden expert, who, having discovered his uniqueness, had come specifically to guide him. Surely there would be further encounters and hints. But none of that happened. She had simply continued on with the circus to the next stop.
There aren't that many clichés... Klein chuckled wryly, shook his head, and turned onto Iron Cross Street.
Iron Cross Street wasn't a single street but, as its name suggested, an intersection formed by two roads.
With the crossroads as the core, it was divided into Left Street, Right Street, Upper Street, and Lower Street. The apartment where Klein, Benson, and Melissa had previously lived was on Lower Street.
However, those living in the apartment and its vicinity didn't consider the area to be Lower Street. They had coined the term "Middle Street" to distinguish it from the slum area about two hundred meters down the road extension.
There, a single bedroom could be crammed with five, six, or even ten people.
Walking along the edge of Left Street, Klein's mind began to wander. He thought about the notebook of the Antigonus family, its disappearance, the Nighthawks' concern, and the bloody incident that followed.
His mood gradually grew heavy, and his expression darkened.
Just then, a familiar voice reached his ears:
"Little Klein."
Klein turned in surprise and found himself at the entrance of Slim's Bakery. Mrs. Wendy, her hair graying, was waving at him with a gentle smile.
"You look not... not very happy?" Wendy said warmly.
Klein rubbed his face.
"A little."
"No matter how many troubles there are, tomorrow will still come," Mrs. Wendy said with a smile. "Come, help me taste my newly made sweet iced tea. I'm not sure if it suits the local palate."
"Local people? Aren't you a local yourself, Mrs. Slim?" Klein shook his head in amusement.
Tasting it must mean it's free, right?
Wendy Slim raised the corner of her mouth.
"You guessed right. I'm actually from the South. I came to Tingen with my husband over forty years ago. Haha, Benson wasn't even born then, and your father and mother hadn't even met yet."
"I've never really gotten used to Northern cuisine. I always miss the food from my hometown: pork sausage, potato bread, griddle cakes, fried vegetables with lard, and roast meat with a special sauce."
"Ah, and sweet iced tea too..."
Klein broke into a smile as he listened.
"Mrs. Slim, this really is a topic that makes one hungry... But I feel much better. Thank you."
"Delicious food can always soothe sadness." Wendy handed Klein a cup of brownish-red liquid. "I made sweet iced tea from memory. Try it and see if it's good."
After thanking her, Klein took a sip. He found that the drink had something of the taste of iced black tea from Earth, but not as sharp. The tea flavor was stronger, more refreshing, and it instantly dispelled the heat of the blazing sun.
"Excellent!" he praised.
"Then I'm relieved." Wendy laughed, her eyes squinting, and watched kindly as Klein finished the cup of sweet iced tea.
After chatting with Mrs. Slim for a while about moving into a new house, Klein returned to the street he knew best.
In the afternoon, there were far fewer street vendors here. They wouldn't gather again until after five thirty. The few that remained were listless and wilted.
As soon as he turned into this area, Klein's mood inexplicably turned gloomy, with an indescribable sense of oppression, melancholy, and darkness.
What's going on? He quickly sensed something was wrong. He stopped and looked around, but didn't see anything unusual.
After a moment's thought, Klein raised his hand and tapped lightly on his forehead twice, as if in thought.
His vision changed, and the auras of the street vendors and a few passersby appeared.
Before he could examine their healthy colors, he was drawn to the intense gloom that represented their emotions.
He couldn't discern their specific thoughts, but the impression of pessimism, numbness, and depression was deeply etched in his heart.
Looking around, he found that the entire vicinity was enveloped in this dim tone, one that even sunlight couldn't dispel.
This was the oppression accumulated over who knows how many days, months, years.
Seeing this, Klein suddenly understood the reason.