The damp, metallic scent of engine oil and denatured alcohol hung heavy in the workshop as it mingled with the dust motes dancing in the weak afternoon light.
Kiyotaka watched Leppard fumble with the brass adjuster on the Alcohol-Engine that was a delicate, silver-and-copper contraption. It looked like a marvel of lightweight engineering in-making.
"You've tightened it too much. Let it breathe a little, and the cylinder on the rear end is too narrow," Kiyotaka spoke out in a tired tone, although it felt almost gentle in its absence of reproach.
Leppard had, predictably, ruined the final touches again. Kiyotaka stared at the metallic lung of the engine with the same dull expression that a well-versed tutor had while looking at a student who insists on mixing up cardinal directions.
The engine looked like it didn't want to breathe at all.
Leppard exhaled sharply through his nose. It was a sound of frustration as he set the screwdriver down with a quiet clink that somehow managed not to feel insulting. "I thought the needle valve was seated properly this time."
"It is seated, but not properly." Kiyotaka crossed the floor without hurry. He took the brass adjuster between his thumb and forefinger and turned it a precise quarter.
"Holy Lord of Steam..." He sighed. Then, Leppard straightened slowly, rubbing a smudge of grease from his cheek. "Mr. Holmes... May I speak plainly?"
Kiyotaka inclined his head in an affirmative manner.
"I fail to understand...
...you always correct my errors with so much patience, yet you never take the initiative. A man of your caliber could finish three engines in the time I ruin one. Why guide a clumsy mechanic?" His question was devoid of malice.
Kiyotaka's gaze went past the intricate engine to the chalked outline of the new frame sketched across the messy floorboards. "Because I have no capital to purchase all the materials in your possession, and no proper workplace. I possess only knowledge, and..."
His words drawled slightly as he looked down at Leppard. "...and knowledge alone can't buy steel and screwdrivers and..." He looked at Leppard with a rather amused look, "...free labor. Until circumstances change, I will invest my knowledge where it may one day return interest."
He paused for a moment and looked at his fingers that trembled every time he tried to hold them suspended in air. Hands like these were not suitable for work that required utmost precision. "There is also the fact that I am lazy by nature and do not want to do the tedious part of the job."
Kiyotaka did not beat around the bush by praising Leppard's effort or apologizing for his directness.
To him, Leppard was like a mere child who was learning how to connect building blocks; it was tiresome to correct the same mistake over and over again. But in the end, what other choice did he have? His own rented house was not big enough for this workshop.
Leppard studied him for a long moment. He had always found "Williams" a once in multiple generations genius, and he had known that every genius person had some unique, deviant traits. For Williams, he thought it was the ruthless honesty.
Leppard gave a small, respectful nod and a genuine smile. "Understood, sir. And... thank you."
Kiyotaka turned his attention to the chalk lines. Leppard rubbed his forehead with the back of his wrist, leaving a fresh streak of grime, and stared at the engine with a muted frustration.
Without turning back, Kiyotaka spoke. "Was I harsh in my obviousness, Mr. Leppard?"
Leppard smiled to himself. "Well, I appreciate the bluntness. It almost makes you look foreign to the culture of euphemism in Loen. Generally, we like to lie to not hurt the other person's sentiment." Then, as if not wanting to paint his "superior" in the wrong light, he stammered and formulated a quick clarification. "My sentiment is not hurt at all. In this field of work, bluntness is the right approach, lest it leads to a disaster."
"I see." Kiyotaka looked at the faded blueprints tacked to the wall. "I try not to lie unless it's required."
"To each their own... But I must say, Mr. Holmes, your accent makes it sound like you're a local, but you don't look like it. Are you really Loenese?"
Kiyotaka's brows knit together. His—or rather, the original Williams'—memories of his parents were strange and foggy, like trying to see through a muddy fishnet veil. "I suppose? Does the answer fix the faulty valve? If so, I will try a little harder to remember it."
A little embarrassed by the gentle dismissal, Leppard busied himself once more. The dusty light filtering through the high window cast faint stripes over the workbench and the half-finished engine.
Once again, as he worked, Leppard couldn't help but talk. It had been like this recently. Ever since he had nurtured this belief of Kiyotaka being somehow blessed by the God of Steam and Machinery, he had felt an irresistible urge to continuously talk to him and try to get closer to the source of such miraculous knowledge.
"But Mr. Holmes, even if we patch this most recent mistake up, it will still be much slower than the steam engine cars. They produce a lot more...Uhh, what was the word you used...hmm...sorry..."
"Torque."
"Yes, torque! They produce a lot more torque!"
Kiyotaka wanted to pick up a screwdriver and stab it in his own head. However, he couldn't blame the man too much. "The weight is the factor. As I mentioned before, the weight range we are aiming for is less than half of the junk that is used in steam engine cars.
Since the weight is less than fifty percent when compared to it, the speed discrepancy will be cancelled out, or in an ideal situation—depending on the distillery and refinement of the fuel—be even more than the other."
Just as he was outlining the principle of power-to-weight ratio, they both heard three crisp knocks on the door outside.
Kiyotaka took the dirty gloves off his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing the stray strands back.
It had been around two days since he was busy with Leppard, and the engine was 'almost' done. It would have been done earlier if not for the inventor's persistent clumsiness.
After about five minutes, Leppard walked back into the main area, wiping his hands on a rag. There was a nervous excitement in his tone. "Mr. Holmes, the investor I talked about is here."
Kiyotaka nodded his head and after a while, came out of the "workshop." In front of him were two men.
Leppard guided them towards the decorated living room. Then he introduced the two newcomers to Kiyotaka.
"Mr. Holmes, this is the investor I told you about, Mr. Framis Cage, and his lawyer, Mr. Pacheco Dwayne."
Framis Cage had the look of comfortable affluence. He had a lean body supported by a round belly. A quarter of his blood seemed to hail from the Feysac Empire, evidenced by his pale blue eyes, which contrasted sharply with his otherwise imposing, bulky build.
His lawyer, Pacheco Dwayne's features were unremarkable. He had ordinary black hair and brown eyes that seemed perfectly calibrated to blend into any Loenese crowd.
Bending his back a little, Kiyotaka curtsied. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am Williams Holmes, the collaborator of Mr. Leppard.
I hope the cold has not bothered you too much."
The two men repeated "Good afternoon" and then Framis Cage snorted. "When has the weather ever treated us—people of Backlund—right? But one must stay content and thank the God."
"You are right." Kiyotaka nodded his head, his pale blue eyes lingering on Mr. Dwayne.
Leppard who had just recovered his composure addressed Kiyotaka. "Mr. Holmes, Mr. Cage once expressed his interest regarding the purchase of shares in the bicycle project of Mr. Moriarty. However, today is here to discuss the buying of shares in your design."
Kiyotaka gave a minimal nod to Framis Cage and his lawyer, acknowledging the dual nature of the approach. He didn't wait for pleasantries.
Kiyotaka took a seat and adjusted his suit.
"That would depend entirely on what Mr. Cage have to offer," Kiyotaka stated. The mention of Sherlock Moriarty's name did form an amused feeling inside him.
Framis Cage, who clearly preferred immediate transaction to extended debate, spoke up. "Mr. Holmes, my lawyer, Pacheco Dwayne, has brought the calculations from our accountant. We are prepared to offer four hundred pounds cash for a twenty percent stake in the Alcohol-Engine venture—specifically, the patent on the variable ratio gearing. We assume you and Mr. Leppard retain control of the manufacturing process."
Pacheco Dwayne offered a curt nod, presenting a sheaf of documents bound neatly with string. Kiyotaka ignored the documents, allowing Leppard to hover over them excitedly. He looked directly at Dwayne.
"Four hundred pounds for twenty percent," Kiyotaka mused aloud as he did some quick mathematics.
"That valuation places the entire gearing system, patent included, at only two thousand pounds. Considering the necessary retooling investment for mass production and the estimated one-year market dominance until an acceptable counter-patent is filed, that valuation is conservative by nearly thirty-five percent."
Mr. Dwayne's smile tightened. "We are paying in cash, Mr. Holmes. Cash today, not projected returns tomorrow. Besides, the patent on the engine itself remains unproven. You have yet to get it. I mean, do you even have a prototype?"
"The engine patent is not under discussion," Kiyotaka corrected smoothly. "As for the latter, as a matter of fact, we already do have a functional prototype. Let us examine the terms."
As he said that, Leppard had the urge to look directly at Kiyotaka. However, he knew that it would raise suspicion, so he refrained from doing so. Despite knowing that he had just lied about it being a functional prototype, he still somewhat believed him.
It was strange.
Kiyotaka picked the documents offered by Dwayne earlier as his eyes scanned the dense legal script with terrifying speed, his attention zeroing in on a clause concerning deferred royalties.
"The offer of four hundred pounds is offset by a clause defining 'manufacturing profit' as net income after the repayment of Mr. Cage's initial investment, plus a seven percent interest rate compounded annually on that investment until repayment is complete," Kiyotaka reiterated.
"Effectively, you are offering four hundred pounds as a secured loan with a seven percent interest fee, taking twenty percent equity as collateral. The true value received by me and Mr. Leppard would be closer to three hundred pounds after the first two years of debt service. This feels less like a purchase of equity and more of an aggressive acquisition of future revenue under the guise of partnership."
Framis Cage blinked, clearly having assumed the complicated wording would confuse the uninitiated mechanic. "It's a standard business practice to protect the initial capital."
"It is a standard business practice to conceal the true cost of capital," Kiyotaka countered, his gaze remaining fixed on Pacheco Dwayne, who had remained utterly impassive.
"We will accept the four hundred pounds for the twenty percent stake, but the principal must be treated as paid-in capital for equity and carry no interest or repayment schedule. Furthermore, the profit split will be calculated before any reinvestment allocations into the company's capital account, not after."
Framis Cage shifted his weight uncomfortably. He realised that this wasn't a man to be lightly dismissed.
As he was dissecting the terms, Kiyotaka suddenly felt his mind going numb. With every passing second, he felt that Mr. Dwayne's terms were not all that bad and that he should accept them. His lips parted and he was about to tell them to ignore everything he had just said, but he suddenly stood up and placed his hand on his stomach.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. I shall be right back."
Arriving inside the washroom, he quickly clasped his hands and recited:
"The Fool that does not belong to this Era;
The Mysterious Ruler above the Grey Fog;
The King of Yellow and Black who wields Good Luck."
A few seconds later, a crimson light enveloped him, and he found himself sitting at the long, mottled bronze table.
Klein, at the head of the long table, was not sitting. He was standing and was looking at Kiyotaka with a deadpan look. "Which criminal syndicate did you poke this time? I am not helping. I already have enough troubles of my own. I am not going to be targeted by gangs!"
Kiyotaka sighed. "It's not that... I just felt like someone had used a Beyonder power on me. I felt myself become awfully gullible. Since this place has a unique composition, I felt like it could filter through the effects... Although since I am not from the three coveted pathways, I am not sure if the filtered effects will stay in real life as well."
Klein sat down and heaved a shallow breath. "Well, I guess, there is only one to find out. Although I must ask, are you in a life-threatening situation?"
"Not really. I am just trying to sell my Alcohol-Engine shares."
Klein felt his eyes go a little wide and the corner of his lips almost twitched, but he controlled it via his Clown powers. "What a copycat..."
Kiyotaka raised a brow. "My real name is actually Williams. Of course, I took the inspiration for the last name from you." He admitted honestly. "Perhaps."
"You're welcome." Klein rolled his eyes. "Well, if that was all, I have something important to do. Let's meet tonight if you have something else to discuss."
"Sure. I am available by 10pm."
"That works with me." Klein affirmed. Then, he swept his hand dramatically and Kiyotaka was hurtling down until he opened his eyes and saw the door of the washroom inside Leppard's house.
Then, he retuned back. "Apologies. My health has not been very fair to me lately."
Mr. Cage nodded his head. At that moment, Kiyotaka saw a flicker in the form of the faintest tightening around Pacheco Dwayne's ordinary brown eyes. Dwayne had been subtly analyzing and guiding the conversation, maximizing the negotiation's 'efficiency.'
He had been using his advanced "Eloquence" in tandem with "Bribe-Arrogance" to reduce Kiyotaka's intelligence. But to subtly influence him, he had avoided unleashing it with full force. That is why Kiyotaka was able to tell that this was unlike him.
It was different from the other influence he had felt.
However, one thing was certain to Mr. Dwayne by now. And it was that Kiyotaka was also a Beyonder from his pathway. He was unsure what his sequence would be, and so was Kiyotaka. So, both of them reached a non-verbal tacit agreement of not using their powers at all.
One of the many reasons was that to Mr. Cage, this was a meagre sum. For Mr. Dwayne to use Beyonder powers and escalate the matter was totally unnecessary. So, he took hold of the conversation, interrupting Framis Cage before the businessman could offer another glib defense.
"Mr. Holmes's analysis is technically correct. The contract favors us too heavily in the repayment structure. We will revise the offer immediately. The four hundred pounds will be treated as equity capital, non-repayable, and the twenty percent profit share will be calculated after a standard five percent of revenue is allocated to general operating and future capital expenditures, but before major debt servicing."
The compromise met Kiyotaka halfway: the interest trap was removed, but the firm reserved a necessary amount for running the business. It was a functional, fair deal, stripped of the deceit.
Kiyotaka nodded, accepting the revised terms. "That is acceptable. Although I would request the capital to be increased to £500."
"£450."
"Deal."
Leppard's face beamed as his eyes darted between Kiyotaka and the two gentlemen.
Once the papers were signed, deposits exchanged, and the two men had departed, the workshop seemed unnaturally quiet. Leppard clutched the signed contracts and was practically vibrating with excitement.
"We did it, Mr. Holmes! We have the capital! Four hundred pounds for the gears, and they promised us another two hundred pounds if we can have a working car by the end of the coming week!"
Kiyotaka leaned against the window frame and finally allowed himself a deep, ragged sigh of relief. He was relieved that things did not escalate much. However, this made him a little paranoid.
He was exceedingly weak.
'I need to become a Sequence 8 as soon as possible. Something worse is most definitely on the horizon.'
*****
"I want to know about the Sequence 8 of Lawyer Pathway." Kiyotaka raised his voice right at the start of the meeting this time. The Beyonder meeting was organized by Mr. A, and this time, Kiyotaka was using a different mask and had made his voice much shriller and more feminine.
He made sure to tuck his locks in a hood. His mask was white in color and had a yellow star underneath the left eye and a waterdrop underneath the right one. It gave him the look of a circus clown but dressed in a semi-expensive suit.
The lady who had talked to Kiyotaka in the last meeting was the first to raise her voice. "Mr. Newcomer, ambition is certainly commendable, but it is prudent not to allow aspirations to become so distant that they lead you toward an inevitable misstep." Her tone carried a gentle admonishment to it.
Kiyotaka wanted to ignore her but recognized the necessity of maintaining a diplomatic front in this secretive circle. Antagonizing any member, no matter how slightly, was a risk he was unwilling to take.
"I appreciate the advice, Miss, I really do." he returned, modulating his voice to convey false sincerity. "However, having a specific objective to work towards provide me with a much-needed mental anchor. Without such a focus, I often find myself succumbing to an overwhelming sense of restlessness."
"If that is your reasoning, so be it," she conceded. "However, just to oust myself from it, I am regrettably unable to satisfy your request. I do not possess the formula for the Sequence 8 of the Lawyer Pathway. Furthermore, even if I did, I am quite certain the price would be far beyond your means.
I doubt anyone present here today would have access to that specific formula. That Sequence is stringently guarded by both the military and the royal family. The merest indication of a security breach or a leak would invite an instantaneous and lethal response from them, and you would never know what struck you.
And since they essentially dictate the law, escaping their pursuit is virtually impossible, assuming, of course, that they do not simply execute you on the spot."
Kiyotaka already knew about it all. However, if he knew that it was impossible to get a formula from this place, he would've never brought it up in the first place. The whole reason he did bring it up was because this was an "illegal" Beyonder gathering.
And surely people attending the illegal gathering won't be selling legal things. That meant that if he played his cards well, and showed that he was trustworthy, it was possible to get a formula from someone.
"I understand, thanks for your counsel." He turned and looked around. "If anyone has the formula, and due to the fear of being exposed are hiding it, you can give the formula to Mr. A, and he can then give it to me."
At that moment, Mr. A stifled a laugh. Everyone turned to look at him but after a while, they turned away. "That is possible, but you have to pay double the amount of money."
"And why is that?" Kiyotaka did not look directly at Mr. A.
"The person would not want to show it to me for free. Hence why you'll have to pay for two, since I have no interest in seeing the formula."
"I am sure everyone here trusts you enough. If not, no one would've been here to attend your gathering while the legal patrols get tighter every day."
Mr. A looked at Kiyotaka with a predatory look in his eyes. After a while, he smiled and leaned back into his chair. "I can abide by that."
Kiyotaka then waited for the meeting to be over and stayed an extra 15 minutes once everyone was gone. Soon, the burly guard from before came to escort him out of the building.
"Did no one give a formula to Mr. A?"
"No."
Kiyotaka stared at the man for a bit but then sighed and left the establishment. Once he was out, he tapped his cane hard on the ground and leaned against a wall. 'I wasted so much time here only to not get any benefit. Every hour wasted has the chance to tip the scales of life and death in my favor or against me... Sigh...'
"KYAAAA!"
A blood-curdling shriek shattered his train of thought. Judging by the high pitch, Kiyotaka assumed it was a woman. Since the source wasn't far, he moved toward it, though he was careful to lift his cane slightly with every step to keep it from clicking against the ground. At the same time, he wore the Mystical Item Ring on his finger.
It was a calculated move. If the danger turned out to be beyond his capabilities, he needed to be able to flee without drawing attention to himself. This was, after all, was the optimal strategy. Of course, he was painfully aware that plans often crumbled, since it was a recurring theme in life since his transmigration.
'Then again,' he thought, 'when death comes knocking, it usually trips on the doorstep. My enemies seem plagued by misfortune more than I do. I suppose fortune favors me after all.'
Instead of going there like some reckless knight-errant, he approached as stealthily as possible as his footsteps muffled against the cobblestones. Peering into the gloom, a horrific scene reflected in his eyes.
He saw a colossal hound that was savaging a hapless woman on the ground. Its jaws that were dripping with intestines and all sorts of gore tore mercilessly into her abdomen, devouring her innards with a voracious hunger.
Kiyotaka almost felt bile raise up to the back of his throat, but he soon composed himself. Ever since fully digesting his potion, he was able to gain even more composure in social events.
The poor little woman's limbs twitched in an extremely feeble protest before falling limp. Her eyes were wide open in pain, horror and disbelief. In that instant, an extremely deep forebribution gripped Kiyotaka's heart. The feeling was intense and his hands and feet suddenly turned cold.
As the metallic tang of blood assaulted his nostrils and the wet, ripping sounds grated against his ears, his senses erupted in chaos. At a single glance, even without it looking directly at him, Kiyotaka could tell that it was no ordinary dog. The way it was taking it's time and adjusting its force to not kill her on the spot and to brutally rip her woman apart was enough proof that it was not.
Suddenly, the creature's head lifted slightly. Its eyes glowed and seemed to almost pierce the darkness toward his hiding place.
However, before the dog could completely look at him, he had already fled. The Mystical Item was granting him a supernatural speed but at the same time, he wanted to quickly turn and fight the dog, to show that he—Kiyotaka–Williams— was the real hunter here, not the dog.
Curbing those instincts, his heart thundered as he dashed through the back-alley streets, putting as much distance as possible between himself and that abomination.
Prudence dictated evasion, and he knew that confrontation with such a fiend would be a folly. Reaching a quieter thoroughfare, he composed himself sufficiently to enter a modest haberdashery. It was the one where he had bought his previous suits made.
"Fancy seeing you at this hour, Mr. Holmes. To what do I owe you the pleasure of your visit in such a...state?"
A little breathless, Kiyotaka was about to take off his ring, but decided not to. The danger intuition from a while ago had warned him to run away. If the dog got into vicinity, he was sure that it could come in handy once again.
Kiyotaka did not remove his hat and instead looked around.
"Would you like a glass of whiskey while you organise your thoughts, Mr. Holmes?"
Kiyotaka sat down and placed his cane by his thigh. "Yes, please."
"As it comes, or softened?"
"Soften it, if you please." Kiyotaka kept his eyes on the road and tried to expand his senses as much as he could.
The senses of a Sequence 9: Hunter were enhanced to such an extent that they could guess the weight of a person just by hearing their footfalls. The reason for trying to detect footfalls was that if there was someone with hurried steps and less than a normal male's weight approaching this area, he would make a dash for it again.
"As you say."
After a while, the Haberdasher brought a cheap looking bottle of whiskey and placed the softened whiskey glass that was 1/8 of the way full, by Kiyotaka's side. He picked it up and downed it.
Savoring the taste, Kiyotaka felt his senses become less irascible. "I need a suit. Right now."
The Haberdasher looked at Kiyotaka and then at his shop. "Mr. Holmes, I sell sewing equipment. I can't possibly give you a suit."
"You stitched mine before."
"Stitching, yes, but I can't sell you a suit if you don't give me the material."
Kiyotaka's brow twitched. "I know the Business Permit you received from the government does not list tailoring as an activity. That is why you are doing it in the back with only one employee. I appreciate your work for my suits, however, I am in a dire need of one right now. I will call the authorities on you if you don't. At the end of the day, you will suffer a greater loss than me, even if you were to accuse me of theft."
The Haberdasher looked at Kiyotaka in a dazed manner. At the same time, Kiyotaka felt his senses and Danger Intuition perk up again. Standing up, Kiyotaka suddenly pulled the blinders to remove the sight from outside and took his revolver out. "Alright, I do not have enough time. Strip."
"W-What...?!"
"Strip, right now."
Seeing the gun's barrel pressed so close against his forehead, the man suddenly raised his arm. "P-Please, d-don't shoot me. I-I have a child..."
"Strip then." Kiyotaka hissed. 'The side-effects of this mystical item are really bad! What am I doing!?'
The man stripped out of his clothes, leaving behind only the red colored undergarments. Kiyotaka glanced at him and aimed at his crotch. "Remove the undergarments too."
The man with his face red due to anger and humiliation did what he was asked of. Kiyotaka looked away and walked to where the man used to sew clothes. Then he took the machine lubricant and applied all over his body before slipping into the man's clothes. The attire composed of a sturdy brown coat, black trousers, white shirt, and red undergarments.
While he was changing, he covered his hand with some other spare cloth and stole someone else's dress and packed it inside a plastic bag, sealing it with a simple knot.
Then he threw his own clothes at the man. "Here, burn them. As quickly as possible. Understand?"
The man nodded meekly as Kiyotaka placed a £10 banknote on the counter before pressing the man's hat on his head and taking away his cane. The man's cane was even cheaper than Kiyotaka's.
Once he was out, he secured a room at a nondescript inn on the outskirts of East Borough. It was a place where questions were never asked, and anonymity prevailed over everything else.
Once ensconced in the empty chamber, Kiyotaka drew a hot bath, scrubbing the machine oil vigorously. He then placed his clothes on a pillow and stuffed it underneath the bed. Then he broke the leg of the bed and then assembled it in a way that even the smallest nudge would cause the bed and a few other things connected via strings to fall on anyone who would come close to it.
This was made possible with Trap laying abilities of a Hunter.
Wearing the stolen piece of clothing, Kiyotaka jumped through the window, closing it after himself.
After a lot of other stops, he finally reached his house. Kiyotaka barred the door and sank into bedbed inside his room. His breath was labored as he steadied himself. "The Fool that does not belong to this Era, The Mysterious Ruler Above the Grey Fog, The King of Yellow and Black who wields Good Luck!"
After about 10 minutes, Kiyotaka found himself sitting on the far end of the table, across Mr. Fool.
Klein was not particularly in a bad mood. Instead of the usual annoyed quip, he simple interlocked his fingers and leaned forward. "How are you today?" He asked casually.
Kiyotaka cleared his throat and nodded his head. "Could be worse, I suppose. What about you?"
Klein gave a perfunctory glance around. "A little troubled with something that I have been doing, but it's trivial." He lightly tapped the side of the table. "So, what do you need from me? Do you find yourself amidst a gang war? Do you require my help for a performance, again?"
'What's with him and suspecting gang wars? I mean, the gang leader is gone, so there will be unrest, but it is not anything serious like gang wars. The Churches look lenient, but they won't let things escalate to that extent.' Kiyotaka cleared his throat once again. "Not something of those sorts, albeit, perhaps, something more daunting."
Klein frowned a little. He was already a little troubled due to events of today. He and Madam Sharron had followed a commission and had found an underground ruin with multiple statues and asymmetrical architecture. And the original owner, to whom the origins of this place were traced back to, Rafter Pound, was found dead.
"As we have talked before, animals can become Beyonders as well, right?"
"Yeah, hypothetically. But it is a rare phenomenon."
"Right, I am not one-hundred-percent sure, but I am sure that I had accidently stumbled upon a Beyonder dog. It was killing and feasting on a woman's innards. I am sure you, as a famous detective, have heard about cases like these before."
Klein waved his hand. "I am not that famous really, but I suppose I do alright with this whole detective fiasco. That said, what you described does coincide with the recent serial killings in Backlund. Most of the victims have been girls and their insides have been hollowed out.
An initial theory was that it could be the work of Aurora Order or some other heretic cult that wants the descent of their evil god, since intestines and other organs that were missing's carried symbolic mysticism meaning.
However, it would make sense why they are missing. They were eaten by the dog... Can you explain the appearance of it?"
Kiyotaka recalled its description instantly. "It is a giant dog. Its black, with red eyes. It does sound very intelligent. It followed me until my house, I think, it is highly intelligent. It was able to track me minutely even after I changed and removed my scent multiple times. Not to mention the crime I had to commit to do that..."
"Crime?"
"Don't worry about it. I compensated the person."
"Right..." Klein was not buying his words. Despite having helped him in a life-threatening situation, he still didn't have a very high opinion of Mr. Emperor, "...anyways, this is crucial information, thanks. That said, why did you chant? Surely it can't be purely to debrief me about what happened to you, right? Do you need my help?"
"Yes, and no."
Klein scoffed a little. "It is either a yes, and a no. Which one is it?"
"I want your help, but not directly, or in the way you are thinking. You said you had someone with an Artisan contact, right?"
"Yes, but the price previously was really discounted. Do no think it would be the same this time as well."
Kiyotaka let out a sigh. "I know. I do not really care about the price. All I care about is equipping myself handsomely. At my current level, as you would know yourself, I cannot stand up to most of the Beyonders, including that Dog. I am quite sure it is a fair few sequences above me."
Klein rapped his fingers against the long, mottled bronze table. "Fair enough. If you require my help, you can always ask me. However, I will only participate after I am sure that I can make it out of it alive. Last time was close, but since we didn't set-up the terms beforehand, I participated anyways."
"Thanks for the offer, but as I said, I would like to deal with it myself. Can you contact the artisan as soon as possible?"
"It would depend, since I do not have direct contact. Do you have a Beyonder Characteristic?"
Kiyotaka nodded his head. "Yeah. I will sacrifice it to you soon enough."
"Alright, I will let you know of the price required to make it."
"Sure."
Klein waved his hand and said Goodnight before returning Kiyotaka to the red star representing him. He stayed above the Grey Fog and took out a pendant and a sheet of paper. He wrote if what Kiyotaka was saying was true or false.
The pendent revolved clockwise but at a moderate pace, which meant that it was not entirely the truth. 'Sigh, why is he always half-lying... Makes me not want to trust him completely. So far, he has meant no harm, and the whole Rosago fiasco also had no involvement from his side. If he is truly innocent, why does he lie?' Klein shook his head. 'Well, as soon as I feel danger to myself, I can deal with him. He doesn't have the same resistance to Divination as before, which is quite nice for me.'
Satisfied with the turn of events so far, Klein descended back to the material world.