Chapter 17: You Have a Truly Keen Eye for People
Help him... go home.
These few words, like an incantation containing infinite magic, exploded in Klein's mind.
Every syllable turned into a thunderclap, splitting open all the confusion, fear, and unease accumulated in his heart, allowing a beam of light named "hope" to shine in frantically with an almost savage posture.
Huh?
What did he hear?
Ah!
He hadn't heard wrong!
Ah.
So... there really was hope.
Ah... go home.
May I ask, what was the core motivation supporting Zhou Mingrui, or rather Klein Moretti, to struggle for survival in this bizarre, strange, and dangerous world?
To go home!
To return to that blue planet with keyboards, the internet, food delivery, and a familiar language!
For this, he could endure poverty, face Beyonders head-on, and break into all sorts of dangerous places, just to become stronger, just to uncover the truth of his transmigration and the secrets of the mysterious space Above the Gray Fog.
Now, this goal he dreamed of, this end point he thought was out of reach, was placed before him so nonchalantly by a mysterious and powerful existence who also came from his hometown.
"I will help you find the way home."
At this moment, Klein finally personally experienced that dizziness, like floating in the clouds with a drifting soul, that Miss Justice and the Hanged Man felt during the Tarot Club meetings.
As well as a sense of surreal unreality.
Klein's breathing stagnated in an instant; all thoughts, all defenses, and all disguises collapsed before these two words.
Go home!
Return to that blue planet with its familiar language, culture, and everything else.
Instead of this strange world where danger lurks everywhere, gods hang high above, and even eating a full meal requires careful budgeting.
In other words, Mr. Fool was completely moved!
He felt like a drowning man grasping the only piece of driftwood; his entire emotional state soared, exactly like Miss Justice and the Hanged Man when Nairn was painting grand visions for them at the Tarot Club.
As for the authenticity of this promise, Klein had almost no doubt.
Given the unfathomable depth the other party displayed, there was absolutely no need to use such a thing to deceive him.
He could have played the emotional card, using his identity as a "fellow countryman" to get closer; or he could have simply laid his cards on the table, using absolute strength to coerce and entice him—
Even forcing him to submit.
In that case, he would likely have chosen to cooperate anyway. After all, a great man knows when to yield; facing such a "super thigh" who showed no hostility, was ridiculously strong, and was a fellow countryman, what else could he do but cling tight?
The person had already found his way into his home; where was the room for resistance?
But Nairn didn't.
Nairn chose a "transaction," a posture of equality based on cooperation. This allowed Klein's pitiful pride, which was unwilling to completely submit to others, to be greatly satisfied.
He didn't want to become a string-controlled Puppet in someone else's hands, even if that person was a fellow countryman.
And Nairn didn't give him that sense of humiliation; he merely proposed a transaction from the perspective of an equal partner.
He gave the greatest respect to this empty-shelled "Fool."
This moved Klein deeply, making him feel somewhat overwhelmed by the favor.
Nairn looked at the complex expression on Klein's face—from shock to wild joy and then to being moved—and nodded inwardly.
He naturally knew how great the temptation of going home was for Klein.
It wasn't that he lacked the confidence to achieve it either.
Whether it was returning to that Eastern Continent.
Or the "Real Modern Era."
But what was his true goal?
To be honest, Nairn himself wasn't entirely sure.
That deliberately blurred apotheosis ritual was like scenery behind frosted glass, with only a hazy outline.
There was only one thought in his mind: Klein was very important, an indispensable link in the entire plan.
Taking a step back, even if Klein ultimately didn't play a decisive role in his plan, he was still an excellent "investment target."
Watching an ordinary person become a Beyonder step by step and eventually ascend to the divine throne.
This kind of growth stock, this kind of nurturing pleasure, this kind of ultra-high-return investment—just thinking about it was exciting.
Of course, the follow-on investments, financing, angel rounds, Series A, Series B... would certainly be necessary.
But Nairn didn't care.
On one hand, he possessed the most core "information gap" of this world; whether it was the plot direction or potion formulas, this knowledge was his greatest capital, enough for him to bet recklessly.
On the other hand, the Tarot Club, this "online communication platform," was in itself a channel of immeasurable value.
Wasn't it only natural to build a good relationship with the channel provider and administrator, Mr. Fool?
Besides taking some original shares as a founding member, he also had to appropriately sell some favors and make emotional investments.
In fact, in Nairn's view, Klein, this innocent little virgin, was simply too easy to handle.
He even wondered why that "Visionary" Adam didn't act like the Moral Heavenly Worthy from the neighboring set... or like Yang Jian, personally entering the field to become the protagonist's guide, junior brother, or even... comrade-in-arms while he was still insignificant?
If that God of Spectators could lower himself to personally enter the stage at the right time, then make a grand exit at the right time, or even... ahem, learn from the operations in some fanfictions, cross-dress and have a romance with the innocent little Klein, wouldn't that have a better effect?
Perhaps, without needing so many schemes, Klein, this sentimental fellow, would have helped him become the final winner among all five parties in the end.
Adam was still too aloof—
Only knowing how to layout, arrange, and be a mastermind.
He didn't even care about the feelings of his chess pieces.
As a superior, how can you expect others to risk their lives for you like that!
At least make the presentation look a bit better.
Being utilized while being PUA'd into willingness—that is the high-level technique a Spectator should master.
Meng Qi from next door was scared of being arranged by big shots and got PTSD.
But Klein was different; although vigilant, he didn't inherently dislike being "arranged," and even had some clear-headed realization—
In this mysterious world, if you want to advance, it's almost impossible to move an inch if you "don't have someone above."
However, these absurd thoughts only flashed by.
Nairn knew well that human nature requires deeper benefit binding. An alliance built solely on the identity of being a "fellow countryman" was not reliable.
He decided to immediately show his sincerity rather than just making verbal promises.
Nairn was going to add more fuel to the fire.
"Of course, talking about going home is still too far off. Let's first solve the practical problems at hand."
Nairn spoke lazily, as if he were just discussing the weather.
"For instance, helping you solve your distressed financial situation."
Before he finished speaking, he pulled a heavy money bag from his pocket and casually tossed it onto the old coffee table in front of Klein.
"Clang—"
A crisp and pleasant sound of metal colliding rang out. The mouth of the money bag loosened, and several bright, dazzling gold pounds rolled out, reflecting a charming light under the afternoon sun through the window that was enough to make any poor person lose control.
Klein's eyes were instantly and firmly fixed on those few gold pounds.
Gold pounds!
These were gold pounds! One was equal to 20 soli, equal to 240 pence!
It was enough for several months of his living expenses, and he could even luxuriously have a few decent meals!
And in that bulging money bag, it looked like... there were at least dozens of them!
"Here are 100 gold pounds." Nairn's tone was nonchalant, as if he hadn't thrown out a huge sum but a handful of sand. "Consider it the signing fee I, the director, am giving to the 'lead actor.' It should be enough for you to buy some potion materials and improve your life a bit, right?"
Klein's throat moved with difficulty. He used all his strength to tear his gaze away from that pile of golden devils and cast it toward Nairn's incredibly handsome face.
At this moment, Nairn was practically a "Giant of Light," an "Envoy of Justice," the most handsome existence in the human world.
Reason told him he should be reserved, should decline, and should show the demeanor a person with backbone ought to have.
But his body was much more honest than his brain.
He nodded almost uncontrollably and replied in an incredibly solemn tone with a slight tremble:
"Fine! I'll cooperate with you! But our primary goal is to go home!"
Thus, the founding iron triangle of the Tarot Club—Justice, Hanged Man, and Fool—had all been handled by Nairn in different ways.
Miss Justice's "accounting tutoring class" had just begun, the Hanged Man's "Legends of the Sea" hadn't even started being collected, and Mr. Fool's "signing fee" had already arrived.
Nairn leaned back on the sofa with satisfaction, feeling that he was indeed himself; even in another world, his skill at CPU-ing others into working for him was consummate.
What a discerning boss with a good eye for people.