"I hear you."
…
The layered, echoing response rang in Snow's ears, tinged with a hint of impatience and irritation. Though likely an illusion, Snow could sympathize with Klein's mood.
"If this keeps up, I might become Mr. Fool's least favorite follower," Snow muttered with a wry grin, ending his daily prayer. Returning to the breakfast table, he murmured in ancient Hermes, "Thanks to the Fool for granting me breakfast."
"Meow?" Lily leapt onto the table, her call almost human. Snow rolled his eyes.
"Perk up at the word 'breakfast,' huh? You're a cat, but you're nowhere near Klein's level!"
Despite his teasing, he mashed boiled chicken breast with egg into cat food and handed it to the little creature.
After eating, Lily hopped to her cat bed by the window. She looked like she was napping, but she was actually meditating.
Yes, meditating.
To ingrain this skill into Lily's instincts, Snow had spent three hours daily as a cat.
His possession of Lily wasn't just for strolls or dealing with Witches—it was to instill "conditioned reflexes" in her.
The Sequence 8 Pavlov's Dog was intriguing. Like most Sequence 8s, it lacked game-changing extraordinary abilities. Beyond physical enhancement, its core power was "conditioned reflex."
This sequence allowed rapid formation of conditioned reflexes, accelerating mastery of skills like shooting or combat that rely on "muscle memory."
It could also apply this to animals. By projecting part of his consciousness into an animal and guiding it through repeated training, the animal would develop a reflex and learn the skill.
Thanks to One Foot of the Staff's near-infinite spiritual output, Snow could sustain this ability long-term, allowing him to "borrow" Lily's body for outings.
He thought Lily's first skill would be speaking.
Sadly, two days after consuming the Assassin potion, she still hadn't spoken—Snow half-suspected she was acting mute.
Of course, that was a joke. Using Pavlov's Dog preemptively, he'd etched loyalty to him into Lily's instincts. Otherwise, he wouldn't have dared give her an Assassin potion. Her silence likely stemmed from language being too complex for conditioned reflexes.
After typing a bit more on his typewriter, Snow organized his manuscript. In the past half-month, he'd made no other progress but had written four-fifths of Phantom Blood. Once back in Backlund, he'd submit it—his veterinarian connections included editors.
But more pressing matters awaited today.
Glancing at the clock nearing eleven, Snow donned a double-breasted high-collar suit unworn for half a month, topped it with a half-height silk hat, grabbed a silver-inlaid yew cane, packed his manuscript in a briefcase, and perched Lily on his shoulder. With this eye-catching ensemble, he stepped out of the inn.
The staff, familiar with their half-month hermit guest, exchanged surprised looks but didn't pry.
Crossing a few streets, Snow reached a place he'd only seen in dreams—not a metaphor, but literally, brought there by Dunn in a dream. This was the police station on Zouteland Street.
"Sir, how may I assist you?" Whether due to Snow's striking appearance or his upright demeanor, the young policewoman at reception was notably polite.
No doubt a follower of the Evernight Goddess.
"I'm Snow von Panredax, here to see Mr. Dunn. I believe he's a senior inspector," Snow said with a courteous smile, his sunny, handsome grin making the sweet-faced policewoman blush.
"Mr. Dunn? I'll check for you."
Unfamiliar with the name, she nodded and hurried off with small steps.
She didn't return. Instead, as Snow idly played with Lily, Dunn's deep gray eyes met his. Without preamble, Dunn led him to an office and cut to the chase. "Mr. Panredax, what brings you here?"
"I just wanted to confirm if it was really a dream," Snow said, instantly putting Dunn on guard. His spotty memory finally recalled questioning this man in a dream.
Not that Dunn was careless—without Snow showing up, he'd nearly forgotten the encounter!
But would an ordinary person track someone down over a dream?
"Mr. Dunn, to you, it may have been a routine inquiry, but it's haunted me. The dream was so vivid, and when I woke, I found signs my room had been disturbed. You must understand, I'm in hiding. This has left me sleepless and anxious. It took a week to muster the courage to come…"
Listening to Snow's rambling, Dunn pieced it together, resolving to chew out Leonard later. He nodded. "Rest assured, I mean you no harm…" Soothing Snow, Dunn tried to calm him. Snow turned, taking a deep sniff of Lily's fur before relaxing with a sigh.
"Mr. Dunn, back in Backlund's circles, I'd heard whispers about Beyonders, but I thought they were just stories. Your appearance confirmed their existence. So, I'd like to ask—can I become a Beyonder?"
"Mr. Panredax, this isn't something you should know." Dunn's face grew stern, his deep eyes radiating a soul-piercing authority.
"The Beyonder world is dangerous. I don't recommend joining it. But if you're determined, you can apply to the three major Churches. After rigorous evaluation, you might qualify."
"I understand. Thank you." Snow doffed his silk hat, bowing with a hand to his chest. As Dunn pondered whether to keep tabs on him, Snow added, "By the way, Mr. Dunn, I've been cooped up in the inn for half a month. I'd like a diviner to read my fortune. Do you have any reliable recommendations?"
(End of Chapter)
Translator's Note: Don't know why is that the title of this chapter.