Truth Union, third-floor office.
Charles Horne sat behind a large desk, his fingertips gently caressing several exquisite dolls placed on the tabletop.
These dolls were crafted with extreme precision, every detail lifelike—silk-stitched gowns, meticulously carved faces, and joints that could move flexibly.
They were clearly custom-made.
"Truly astonishing craftsmanship…" Charles murmured in admiration.
"What a pity their owner is a foolish Vampire."
He picked up one of the lady dolls wearing an elaborate long dress, gently stroking its hair. The doll's crimson eyes glowed softly under the light.
These dolls were all Emelyn White's "treasures."
According to the rules, such collateral without a fixed value could at most be mortgaged for half its purchase value.
Long-lived species often had peculiar hobbies, and Emelyn White, this Vampire, happened to have a special fondness for these dolls, even willing to spend a fortune to customize them.
"A foolish Vampire…" Charles sneered.
Emelyn White evidently believed that as a Sanguine, he would never truly fail to repay a mere debt of over a thousand pounds, which was why he mortgaged these beloved collectibles to the Union.
But he was wrong; he defaulted.
According to the contract, upon default, the collateral would belong to the Union.
And these dolls… because Emelyn preserved them extremely well, they were almost like new, even more exquisite than those circulating on the market. The Union could easily resell them, even directly making double the money.
And most importantly, these dolls were custom-made by craftsmen under the Shawshank Firm.
That's right! The Shawshank Firm, with its vast enterprise, had many public-facing businesses, including numerous handicraft workshops run by craftsmen.
So this time, it was entirely a matter of the left hand passing to the right, successfully achieving a double benefit.
"A truly profitable business." Charles contentedly placed the doll back on the table.
He looked up at the clock on the wall, estimating the time.
"Sherlock Moriarty should have already started acting, right?"
He wasn't worried about whether Klein could find Emelyn. After all, a detective who could accurately track a target was much more useful than a bounty Hunter.
Moreover, he already knew the other party was a Beyonder.
"Most likely a Seer… and not just Sequence 9."
"Doesn't belong to any faction…"
As he thought, Charles took out another set of clothing from the office desk's cabinet and examined it from top to bottom.
"Not bad, it looks just like the real thing." He once again praised the craftsmanship of the Shawshank Firm's artisans.
It was a black coat with a crimson moon print and a pair of exquisitely made red gloves.
This should be enough as a template… Charles nodded slightly.
"The Disguiser Project is about to begin. If successful, the position of Spade 4 will…" Charles couldn't help but envision the future.
"I can freely assign personnel; this is my chance to cultivate my direct lineage…"
"Perhaps…"
…
Unlucky!
Because the Tarot Club meeting was longer than expected, a considerable amount of time had passed by the time Klein rushed back to the detective discussion.
This caused dissatisfaction among some detectives, who felt he wasn't taking the discussion seriously.
And according to Shawn, he would most likely get a new nickname— "that guy with bad digestion."
"Damn it, I don't know what the Hanged Man imagined." What depressed him even more was the misunderstanding of the Hanged Man, Alger.
When he read Rosell's absurd romantic escapades above the Grey Mist, he momentarily lost control of his expression—this brief silence was actually captured by the keen "Hanged Man."
"He seems to have mistakenly thought I was very pleased with the content of this diary…"
To maintain the Fool's prestige, Klein could only vaguely hint that these few pages of the diary were "of limited value." But Alger's thoughtful expression made his heart pound; Heaven knew what "mysticism" the other party had "imagined again."
"Sigh! Forget it, let's get down to business first."
He still had the task of finding someone and couldn't be distracted by this matter.
48 Riverbend Avenue.
Klein arrived at the civilian house according to the address on the information, tidied himself up, and then raised his hand to knock on the door.
A moment later, the door was pulled open a crack.
"Who is it?"
"Hello, is Emelyn White at home?" Klein revealed a polite smile.
"And you are?" The other party's voice was low and wary.
"My name is Sherlock Moriarty, a friend of Emelyn's." Klein lied without changing his expression, "There are some things I'd like to discuss with him."
Then, a person who looked seven or eight parts like Emelyn, possibly his father, opened the door: "Emelyn's friend?"
His tone was full of suspicion, "How rare, that child would actually have… uh, such a normal friend."
"Ah?"
"Please come in." Mr. White stepped aside to let Klein enter.
"Please have some." He handed Klein a cup of black tea.
"Thank you." Klein took the cup, "Emelyn isn't home?"
Mr. White's expression subtly changed: "Alas… To be honest, he hasn't been back for a week, and I haven't been able to find him."
This… Could it be that he really ran away to avoid debt?
But the other party's family circumstances didn't look like they couldn't afford to pay… Klein surveyed the room's decor.
Could it be that he borrowed money behind his parents' backs, and now that it's overdue, he doesn't dare tell them, so he ran away?
"Does Emelyn have any recent financial disputes?" Klein hesitated, asking.
"Financial?" Mr. White asked in confusion, "Does he owe you money?"
"No, just asking casually."
Then the two chatted briefly.
…
A few minutes later, Klein put down his teacup, stood up, "Since Emelyn isn't here, I won't disturb you further."
After confirming that Emelyn's father was unaware of the matter, Klein chose to leave. It concerned the Union's reputation, so since Mr. White didn't know about it, it was better not to tell him for now.
…
Inside the ancient palace above the Grey Mist, Klein was performing a divination.
During his conversation with Emelyn's father, he learned that Emelyn White had not been home for many days, and his parents were also unaware of his whereabouts and were looking for him.
With the clue gone, he had no choice but to use the Seer's method to find someone.
"Emelyn White's current location."
"Emelyn White's current location."
"Emelyn White's current location."
Before long, a scene appeared before Klein's eyes.
In a dark, damp basement, a young man with a feminine face was frantically pounding on a stone wall, his pale face covered in sweat.
"Let me out, let me out!" Emelyn screamed hoarsely.
Uh… It looks like he's locked in a basement. Klein made his judgment, looking at the scene before him.
Then the scene slowly moved upwards, passing through the thick stone wall, revealing the full view of the entire building: a small church, with the holy emblem of life—composed of wheat ears, flowers, and simple baby drawings—hanging from its spire.
That symbol is… the symbol of the Earth Mother Church! Klein stared at the church in the image.
Could Emelyn White have been captured by people from the Earth Mother Church?