Alexandria's Keeper - Lord of the Mysteries

Irina sat silently by Klein's side, the hum of the sea and the faint chatter of others filling the air as the night deepened. The group's earlier conversation about legendary treasures, mermaids, and pirates lingered in her mind, reminding her of the upcoming adventures.

As the cook served slices of honey-roasted murloc belly, the group continued to chat happily with each other, laughing together from time to time. Both Irina and Klein savored each bite, her thoughts empty as she just focused on the pleasant atmosphere, appreciating its peace and tranquility. The moment was shortly halted by a toast, initiated by the captain, "To a beautiful night!" he exclaimed with Sonia blood wine in his glass. The crimson liquid glistened under the moonlight, a subtle reminder of the red moon hanging high above.

Irina watched the scene unfold, her gaze occasionally shifting to Klein. She felt a quiet contentment in the simplicity of the night's event, having a small break from all the problems that were to come.

The children, Donna and Denton, chattered excitedly about adventuring, their dreams skillfully halted by Cleves, who carefully proposed to study and practice some more before leaving for their grand adventures.

As the group began to drift back toward the cabin, Cleves lingered behind. His boots scraped softly against the deck as he approached Klein and Irina, who stood near the railing. Without a word, he pulled two five-pound notes from his coat pocket and held them out.

"This is your payment," he said simply.

Klein instinctively refused, "We didn't do anything."

But Cleves's gaze didn't waver. "You freed up Cecile and took good care of the children."

Irina glanced between them, one brow raised ever so slightly. You called that taking 'good care' of the children? Really? She fought back a grin and kept silent, letting Klein handle the exchange as usual.

The seer hesitated shortly, but Cleves's unrelenting expression left no room for argument. He took the bills and passed one to Irina, tucking it into his pocket while she folded hers neatly before doing the same. He then drew a triangle on his chest.

"You're more generous than I expected," Klein remarked lightly. "Thank you."

Cleves didn't respond immediately. Instead, he adjusted his coat with fluid movements. Finally, he said, "This is a rule of the sea." The words were delivered in his usual flat tone but there was something hidden behind them.

Irina watched Cleves retreat toward the cabin. Her amusement lingered as she turned back to Klein, who was watching the man's back.

"A rule of the sea, huh?" she murmured, her voice soft enough that only the wind might have heard.

Klein's expression shifted briefly, a flicker of awareness crossing his face before he shrugged. "Apparently so. Think of it in video games logic, that should clear things up."

She accepted the answer, even though she already knew the meaning behind Cleves's words. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled only by the waves crashing against the ship. The faint glow of the crimson moon covered the scene, casting long shadows that swayed with the ship's movement.

Irina leaned against the railing beside Klein, enjoying the peace as it lasted.

The White Agate's whistle pierced the cool morning air as the ship glided into Damir Harbor. The bustling colonial island awaited, ready to provide fresh food, water, and perhaps a brief reprieve before the vessel set sail again the next morning.

After the recent murloc hunt, Irina's days aboard the ship had passed in what seemed like calm monotony. Outwardly, her routine appeared uneventful, but beneath that surface, her mind worked constantly. She and Klein had spent hours conversing—though not in the library this time. That risk of disturbing the Warden had been an experience neither of them wanted to repeat. Instead, they'd opted for the safety of Sefirah Castle, discussing over what happened in Backlund and the Megose incident.

When not absorbed in these conversations, Irina devoted herself to the study of various pathways and carefully crafted spells. Each one required hours of meticulous effort, but she no longer went through frustrating cycles of trial and error. Now free from 0-08's influence, her precision had improved dramatically, and the results spoke for themselves.

Seated on her cabin bed, Irina gazed out the window at the harbor. A knock at the door broke her from her thoughts. She slipped on her jacket and stepped out, finding Klein waiting for her. The two exchanged nods—not a single word—and headed toward the harbor. There was no need. Everything they'd needed to say had already been settled in Sefirah Castle.

As they headed down to the docks, they encountered Donna, Cleves, and the rest of their group. The children, curious as always, waved at the pair while their parents remained distracted.

Irina returned the greeting with a slight nod, her features obscured by her scarf. Klein smiled faintly, tugged his collar higher, and headed toward the nearest bar.

They stopped before a weathered signboard, 'Flying Fish & Wine'. Its exterior was plastered with bounty notices—some new, others faded from sun.

Irina's gaze darted between the notices. Her eyes lingered on the staggering 800,000 pounds bounty for the King of the Five Seas, before wandering to smaller sums offered for lesser pirates.

All that money just walking around... I can't wait to go around hunting pirates and get rich, she mused with a smirk.

Klein, standing beside her, studied the notices with quietly. She stole a glance at him, amused. Yes, Klein, that's all money, all money you—and me as well—can get~

Without a word, he pushed the door open, holding it long enough for her to step inside. The bar was strangely quiet, devoid of the lively noise that usually marked such places.

The room's attention was divided between two men locked in a standoff.

One was a navy sailor, broad-shouldered, in a blue-and-white striped shirt with his bare arms exposed to the biting cold. The other was a bulky figure, bald, with a sea eagle tattoo and an ancient musket aimed at the sailor's forehead. "Dogshit Navy sailor! No one in Damir Harbor would dare slander me as a pirate's informant!"

The sailor held a dagger to the bald man's throat, his jaw set as he illustrated the rich profanities of the sea.

He's definitely dressed for the occasion, Irina thought sarcastically, straightening her jacket though it still didn't cover her bare legs. I seriously doubt he has warmth spell like me to keep the cold out.

Their rich mixtures of obscenities filled the air. Pirates, Irina sighed internally. It's not that I'm somewhat special and don't swear, just... she looked at them from the corner of her eyes. Definitely not at their level.

She and Klein exchanged a glance, neither particularly moved by the scene, and sidestepped toward the bar counter. Captain Elland, in his dark red coat, was seated there, sipping a drink casually, as if accustomed to such scenes.

"What happened?" Klein asked, his voice calm as he settled onto a stool. Irina took the seat beside him with fluid movements.

"A quarrel between two drunkards," Elland replied, barely lifting his gaze. "Sea Eagle Logan has been rumored to work for the master of the Black Tulip. That sailor decided it was a good time to say it out loud."

Klein tapped the bar lightly. "One glass of Southville beer."

"Six pence," the bartender replied, his voice as dry as the rag he used to wipe the counter.

As he paid, the standoff at the center of the room dissolved under the intervention of a bouncer. The two men retreated to opposite corners, their curses fading into the background as the bar's usual hum returned.

Elland gestured toward the stairs leading to the upper floor. "Want to play some cards?"

"No." Klein's reply was curt, his attention already focused on gathering intel from the patrons.

The captain's hand twitched, as if on instinct, to pat Klein on the shoulder, but he stopped midway. Something about the man's cold, unyielding demeanor made such familiarity feel... misplaced. Instead, Elland awkwardly adjusted his dark red coat, masking the gesture as an afterthought.

"Don't get too... friendly with the women here," he began, his tone cautious. Then, his gaze shifted, and he caught sight of Irina standing behind Klein.

Her face, obscured by thick lace, tilted slightly as she rested her chin in her palm, her dark-blue eyes locking with his. There was something unnervingly deliberate about the way she stared—both disinterested and sharply observant, as if she could peel away his layers with just a glance.

Elland coughed and hastily added, "Also, don't trust anyone here. Only a small portion of what they say is true."

He turned to walk up the stairs, but Klein's voice stopped him. "Including you?"

Elland chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Perhaps." Then, with a wink, he added, "At least my reminder just now was real. Oh, and me being a man is true as well!"

Irina, half-listening, let her gaze wander the room. A poorly disguised figure at the edge of the bar caught her eye. His attempts at subtleness were laughable, a textbook example of what not to do when blending in. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, how does he manage on a daily basis?

Not long after, a short, thin man slid onto the stool next to Klein, holding his drink. Irina's lips twitched ever so slightly. Oh my God, they're actually trying to scam THE Gehrman Sparrow. She tucked her chin into her palm, her demeanor delicate, her posture deliberately composed—a picture of elegance veiled in mystery. The contrast between her outer refinement and the simplicity of her clothing only made the scene more amusing to her.

"Mate, you look like an adventurer," the man said, tilting his head with a grin.

The stranger had black hair, blue eyes, and aged facial features. His entire presence radiated an air of wretchedness.

"You could say that," Klein replied, his tone cold enough to freeze water.

"I can tell you're a hunter—a hunter that chases bounties and riches." The man leaned closer, his voice lowering. "Have you heard of the Specter Empire?"

Klein's gaze remained steady. "Yes. A massive, ancient ghost ship full of treasures."

The man's face lit up, as though the bait had been taken. "We have clues to it!" His voice practically dripped with feigned enthusiasm. "We found information about where it will appear next! Pirates and the Navy don't deserve the wealth aboard, so we've decided to hire our own armed merchant ships to intercept it. It would only cost about 1,000 pounds. I've already got 15 companions who've raised 720. Interested?"

Without waiting for a response, he produced a stack of brownish-yellow letters. "I know it sounds unbelievable, but once my 15 friends read this information, they all signed up!"

Irina's fingers twitched slightly against her cheek. Does Gehrman have a gullible face I'm somehow not noticing? And is my silence really enough for them to forget I'm even here? This keeps happening... maybe I should consider the Spectator pathway after all.

Before Klein could respond, a familiar voice roared across the room. "Woody, you're trying to scam someone again, you sewer rat!"

Sea Eagle Logan, his tattooed head gleaming under the lamplight, strode forward, grabbed the short man, and hurled him unceremoniously into the center of the bar. Woody sprawled on the floor, groaning.

Logan turned back with a broad grin. "Sorry about that, mate. These rats ruin Damir Harbor's reputation. We're all friendly folk here. You can trust me!" His voice dropped theatrically. "Don't believe what they say about me being Admiral Hell's informant. Lies, all lies!"

The more you deny it, the more suspicious it sounds. Do these people not understand the basics of lying? Irina smirked faintly beneath her scarf.

Klein remained silent, but his eyes flickered with clear disinterest.

Logan slammed the bar top and shouted to the bartender, "Two plates of special cured meat! On me, for my new mate and his woman!"

Irina blinked. His woman? That's what I look like?! Her gaze darted to Klein, who seemed ready to retort. She tapped his arm lightly, shaking her head almost imperceptibly when he glanced her way. Let it go. It's not worth it. It's only a matter of time before we start hunting pirates, there, our identities—or rather our personas—should become clear enough.

The bartender returned with two plates of cured meat, their aroma rich and smoky. "Ten pounds," he said flatly, ignoring Logan entirely and directing the demand to Klein.

"Ten pounds." Logan grinned, raising his tattooed arm, boasting his muscles. "Everyone here just heard you offer to treat me. Thanks for the meal, mate!"

Irina leaned back, crossing her legs with deliberate nonchalance, more skin peeking through where her jacket fell open. She rested her chin in her palm again, watching Klein's realization dawn on him. The faintest hint of amusement curled at her lips. This is what it feels like to be a spectator? It's not too bad.

Klein raised his beer, taking a slow sip before speaking. "Why don't you just rob me?"

Logan blinked. "Why don't I just rob you?"

Thump!

Klein's left fist crashed into Logan's jaw, sending him sprawling backward into the bar counter. Before Logan could fully process the impact, Klein closed the gap with a palm shove, driving his knee into the man's abdomen.

Logan gagged, his breath hitching in a wheeze as his face twisted in pain.

Klein drew his revolver, slamming the barrel into Logan's mouth with ruthless precision. The hammer clicked ominously as he pulled it back.

"I... I am..." Logan's muffled protests came out jumbled.

Irina pulled down the scarf that had covered her mouth, revealing a faint smile. She reached for her wine glass, the crimson liquid catching the dim light as she took a measured sip. I prefer cocktails to wine, she mused, her thoughts wandering as if the scene before her were little more than a mildly interesting play.

Klein's cold gaze remained locked on Logan. Without a word, he yanked the revolver free and swung it hard. The butt of the gun connected with Logan's face in a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed out as his teeth scattered across the floor. Logan crumpled, choking on the metallic taste flooding his mouth.

Irina didn't flinch watching, her expression was unchanged as she sliced off a small piece of cured meat and savored it. It was nothing exceptional, simply decent. Certainly not the best I've had... she thought. Back when I worked as a secretary, my boss dragged me to those absurdly fancy parties. Endless expensive food, endless small talk. Ugh, those were the worst.

A thud pulled her back to the present. Logan had collapsed to the floor, unconscious, his face a bloodied mess. Klein crouched down briefly, rummaging through the man's pockets. He fished out a handful of loose bills and coins, tossed them on the bar, and said calmly, "Keep the change."

The bartender froze, his bronze face paling as he registered the scene before him. His voice trembled as he blurted out, "My boss is White Shark!"

Klein didn't spare him a glance. He simply released Logan, letting the man's limp body slump to the floor. Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to his seat, picked up his fork, and eat a piece of cured meat.

After the second piece, he finally looked up. His tone was casual, almost conversational, as he asked the bartender, "Does your boss know you're colluding with Sea Eagle?"

The bartender's mouth opened and closed multiple times before replying. "No, he... No... "

Irina watched as the bouncers, who had cautiously gathered nearby, went back to the shadows. The tension in the room eased, but only slightly.

Klein took a sip of his wine, his gaze falling to the unconscious Logan sprawled on the floor. "He's Ludwell's informant," he said conversationally. "How much is his bounty worth?"

The bartender blinked, shaking his head vehemently. "No, he's not. That's just something he spreads about himself. The Navy sailor earlier? Logan hired him. It's how he keeps people afraid of him..."

At this, murmurs rippled through the room. The drinkers exchanged looks of disbelief. Some stood, staggering toward Logan's prone form.

"Pui!" A man spat on Logan's face.

"Pui! Pui!" Others followed suit, their drunken stupor turning into a spectacle.

Irina's lips curled upwards. Deserved. She glanced at Klein, whose expression remained unchanging as he forked another piece of cured meat. Faceless abilities at their peak—no. That's when he plays the mighty Fool~

"Tell me about the recent rumors," Klein said, his voice cutting through the noise.

The bartender, visibly relieved at the shift in conversation, wiped his glass with renewed vigor. As he spoke, the events of the past two months spilled out, a mixture of rumors and half-truths. Some of it aligned with what Klein already knew; other details piqued Irina's interest as she quietly cross-referenced them against the novel she knew.

When the plate of cured meat was empty, Klein reached for his beer, but Irina's hand darted out, stopping him mid-motion. No, no. For dramatic purposes, you'll need some left in there.

She stood, pulling up her scarf to conceal her face, and Klein followed suit. He handed the empty plate to the bartender, his expression neutral. "Remember today's lesson," Klein said, his tone flat.

The bartender nodded quickly, but before he could take the plate, Klein's hand shot out, grabbing the man by the back of the head.

Bang!

The bartender's face slammed into the counter with a sickening crunch. Splinters flew out, and blood poured from his nose. Gasps filled the bar as the customers recoiled, their drinks forgotten. The bouncers moved in, their hesitation vanishing in the chaos.

Klein clapped his hands as though shaking off dust, picked up his glass, and poured the remaining beer over the bartender's head. The amber liquid streamed down, mixing with the blood and shards of wood.

He turned sharply, bending to grab Logan by the collar before tossing him toward the advancing bouncers like a pile of trash. The man hit the ground with a heavy thud, groaning faintly as consciousness returned.

The bar erupted into motion, but Klein and Irina had already moved. With fluid, almost lazy ease, they slipped through the commotion, circling around obstacles with precision.

Once outside, Irina adjusted her scarf higher as she led the way through the twisting streets. They turned corner after corner, her steps confident despite the dim, flickering lamplight.

Only when the noise of pursuit faded entirely did they slow. Klein took out a gold coin, letting it dance across his fingers, the motion absentminded.

Irina tilted her head, watching him silently. Thinking deeply again, she mused, her steps falling into rhythm with his. Or perhaps lampooning.

Ding!

The coin spun through the air before landing in Klein's palm. He glanced at it, his expression inscrutable, then turned sharply into a dark alley. Irina followed without question, already knowing what was going to happen.

Halfway down the pathway, Klein stopped abruptly. His voice was deep. "Come out."

For a long moment, there was silence. Then, a figure stepped into view. "Very sharp," the stranger said chuckling, his voice carrying a note of amusement.

Irina's eyes immediately darted over him. The man was cloaked in black, his frame poorly hidden. He had charred-yellow hair and dark blue eyes. His features weren't sharp, more rounded, suggesting he came from somewhere south of Intis—maybe Lenburg or Segar.

Yet, it wasn't his face that stood out to her. It was the ridiculous cloak, the kind of suspicious attire someone might wear if they wanted to look like a wanted criminal. Irina had to suppress a laugh. This is Gehrman's maid! Excitement bubbled beneath her calm exterior. Finally we meet in person.

"What do you want?" Klein asked, his voice smooth but his posture shifting. He bent his knees ever so slightly, his body twisting like a predator ready to strike.

Irina stood a few paces behind Klein, leaning casually against the wall of the alley. Her eyes wandered over the damp ground and crumbling walls, searching for anything remotely interesting. There wasn't much to find. A discarded bottle, a few suspicious stains, and the faint smell of salt from the nearby sea. This is already getting boring. She shifted her weight, watching the cloaked man as he began his persuasion.

"The way you handled yourself back there? Impressive," the man began, his voice a smooth mixture of admiration and arrogance. "We could use someone like you. White Shark Hamilton? He's not someone to cross lightly. You've stirred the waters, and trouble's coming your way. I can help with that."

Irina stifled a yawn behind her scarf, only half-listening. He's really going for it. The dramatic delivery, the ominous warnings... She smirked to herself, her gaze flicking to Klein. He was still as stone, his revolver holstered but close—easy to reach—his body language deliberately relaxed.

The man in the cloak rambled on, describing grandiose treasures—ancient empires, mythical artifacts, unimaginable wealth. Irina tuned him out, her attention drifting to a broken crate lying further down the alley. Maybe there's a rat or two. Hhm... but I don't hear any movement.

"...and our captain insists we share our creed and rewards upfront," the man was saying, his tone growing more confident.

She tilted her head, watching him with amused detachment. He really thinks this will work. Poor, poor Danitz. Klein didn't even flinch as the man announced the virtues of a life at sea, casually mentioning about sleeping on a bed of gold coins and battling rival pirates.

When the topic shifted to payment—no salaries, just shares of whatever treasure they found—Irina rolled her eyes. The beginning is always boring, but seeing him talk with such confidence to Klein is... amusing.

"...and if you're still chasing after legendary powers," the cloaked man added with a sly grin, "join us, and you'll have a chance to claim them!"

He straightened, his demeanor suddenly formal. "I almost forgot to introduce myself."

Irina's grin widened beneath her scarf. Oh, this is going to be good.

His expression turned serious, humor melting away. "Rear Admiral Iceberg Edwina Edwards's subordinate, fourth boatswain of the Golden Dream, Blazing Danitz."

Danitz paused, clearly expecting Klein to react with fear or awe.

The seer, instead, tilted his head, his voice calm and unnervingly low. "Blazing Danitz, with a bounty of 3,000 pounds?"

The pirate opened his mouth to reply, but the words died in his throat amd he froze. The man before him seemed to change, his shadow warping into something monstrous, hungry. It was as though Gehrman's very presence clawed at his soul, threatening to devour him whole.

Irina felt it too—the shift in energy, the oppressive weight—but she noticed her protection flare up briefly, shielding her from all of it. She glanced at Danitz, whose body trembled despite his best efforts to appear composed.

"Why are you here?" Klein asked, his voice sharp like the edge of a knife.

Danitz swallowed hard, his pride fighting with his instinct. "I... I'm on vacation," he blurted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Klein's gaze lingered for a moment longer before the tension evaporated. The hunger receded, leaving the alley eerily still.

He turned, walking away with Irina in tow. Just as they reached the corner, he stopped and looked back. "Where's White Shark?"

Danitz hesitated, then answered truthfully. "He's at one Sea Wall Avenue. Spends most of his time on the second floor of the Flying Fish & Wine. Same as today."

Klein nodded and disappeared into the shadows with Irina.

Danitz exhaled shakily, finally relaxing as he pulled his hood down. "What a terrifying fellow..." he muttered to himself.

His thoughts turned grim. I need to inform Captain. There's another lunatic out at sea—a gentleman on the surface, but a monster underneath. If you're not ready to kill him outright, it's best not to cross him.

Adjusting his cloak, Danitz resolved to send a message to his contacts in the morning. Whatever happened to White Shark, it wasn't his concern anymore.

In the corner of another quiet street Irina, with her spirit vision, noticed the faint light emanating from the black glove on Klein's left hand. He stood silent, his gaze fixed on it, as though contemplating something.

She tilted her head, smirking. "Those pounds looked quite interesting to you if Creeping Hunger reacted like that," she teased with the faintest trace of mischief in her voice. She began walking ahead, hands tucked casually into her coat pockets. "Careful, it might decide to eat you whole."

Klein remained still for a moment longer before following, his footsteps measured and deliberate. "I have good self-control," he replied, his tone cold and even, a perfect match for the cold persona of Gehrman Sparrow.

She glanced back at him, her expression somewhere between playful and contemplative. "I know," she said lightly, "but you can never be too sure."

His nod was curt, the kind that ended conversations rather than invited them. Yet, after a pause, he broke the silence. "What of him? You seemed rather interested."

Irina sighed dramatically, letting her head fall forward. "You Seers and your damn Spirit Vision! It's no fun like that," she pouted, her tone exaggerated enough to be theatrical.

Klein's expression didn't so much as twitch. He regarded her with the air of someone dealing with a petulant child, though the subtle glint in his eye betrayed his amusement.

Undeterred, Irina continued, "He'll be an... hmm... entertaining and useful guy in the future." She smiled to herself, already imagining the future maid Danitz.

Klein studied her for a moment longer, then gave a faint nod. He didn't ask for further details. Instead, he reached into his pocket, withdrew a gold coin, and flipped it into the air with practiced ease. It spun lazily before landing in his palm.

He closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath as he performed two quick divinations. Irina stood silently, watching him with the quiet patience of someone who had witnessed this routine more times than she could count.

When he finished, he opened his eyes and turned to her. "I've decided what to do," he began, his voice matter-of-fact as he laid out his plan.

Irina nodded along. "I'll follow from outside," she said. "You know, just to keep an eye on everything in case of emergencies."

Klein's brow twitched—barely—but Irina caught it and smiled inwardly. He knew, of course, that she had no real intention of being his backup. She just wanted to enjoy the show.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing. Instead, he tucked the coin away, adjusted his hat, and swept his palm down his face in a fluid motion. The transformation was instantaneous. Blond hair replaced dark, blue eyes took on a nondescript shade, and his sharp features softened into the kind of face that faded from memory the moment it left sight.

Next, he unbuttoned his overcoat and loosened his inner shirt, letting it hang untucked. The subtle shift in his posture and the slight slouch to his shoulders completed the disguise, transforming him from a sharp, cold adventurer into a poorly disguised pirate.

Irina watched the transformation with muted admiration. It wasn't flashy, but it was effective. Efficient and practical, I should study this process more. Maybe I could create some more spells to disguise myself.

Satisfied with his new appearance, Klein began heading back toward the tavern. His steps were confident, but his lips pressed together tightly, and some sweat had begun to form on his brow, adding to his disguise.

On the way, he crossed paths with Blazing Danitz again. The pirate's gaze flicked to Klein for a brief moment, lingering just long enough to register his presence before dismissing him entirely. The pirate turned away, heading toward the hotel opposite the bar without so much as a second glance.

Irina stifled a laugh. Oh, Danitz. If only you knew. She cast a quick glance at Klein, who seemed unbothered by the encounter.

Irina stood, hidden in the shadows of a dim alley, her spirit vision activated as she watched through the tavern walls, tracking Klein's movements. Concealed by a spell she had prepared earlier, she berated herself for not creating one to alter her clothing's appearance. If I had, I could've entered the bar, she thought, tucking the idea away for her future self.

Inside, Klein navigated the tavern with practiced ease. He approached the bar and sat down, observing the confrontation between White Shark Hamilton and Captain Elland, watching impassively as the tension escalated. White Shark demanded compensation for the earlier chaos, but Elland's sharp remarks defused the situation by refusing openly and siding with Klein and Irina. In a fit of anger, White Shark brutally struck the bartender with fury before retreating upstairs.

Irina's smile widened as she listened from afar. I really like the Captain, he knows when to defend a guy.

As the bar returned to normal, the seer seamlessly slipped into action. Using his Faceless abilities, he disguised himself as one of the bar's bouncers and went upstairs, entering White Shark Hamilton's office. There, while disguised as Danitz, he brutally intimidated the man, reducing him to a stammering mess. Klein's piercing gaze and calm threats scared White Shark, forcing him to reveal his connections to pirate factions and the possession of a rare radio transceiver used to communicate with them.

Throughout, the seer's demeanor oscillated between chilling politeness and restrained madness, leaving White Shark paralyzed with fear. Irina, watching from the alley, noticed the way Klein easily controlled the situation.

By the time Klein retreated, having gathered the information he needed, White Shark was left trembling, rushing to send a frantic telegram. The seer, however, hadn't truly left. He lingered just outside, intercepting the message and memorizing the passcodes.

As the door softly clicked shut behind Klein, Irina let out a quiet breath. Perfect. Everything's still following the original.

Under the night sky, the harbor was rather quiet. After leaving the Flying Fish & Wine, Klein made a small detour.

When he was certain no one followed him, he tucked his shirt into his trousers with practiced ease and slipped on his gold-rimmed glasses. While stepping under a shadow, he turned his face back into that of Gehrman Sparrow. Under the pale moonlight, the glasses glinted lightly, giving his cold person a sharper edge. Beside him, Irina walked silently, having joined him after his appearance's change.

The icy night air brushed against them with no effect, carrying with it the salty scent of the sea. She replayed the events of the night in her mind. A faint smirk tugged at her lips. White Shark would be an idiot not to notice Klein's traps. But then again... pirates aren't exactly known for their subtlety.

Klein let out a low chuckle, his breath visible in the cool night. "I hope White Shark isn't too foolish," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "The flaws I left behind should be obvious enough to bait him."

Irina glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. Flaws? You made it look like you tripped over yourself setting all that up. It was so unlike any of your personas. But then again, that's the whole point.

As they neared the White Agate, the pair quickened their pace. From a side street, the familiar forms of Donna's family and Cleves came into view. The former adventurer, ever the cautious observer, greeted them with a slight nod.

"I heard there was trouble at the Flying Fish & Wine?" he asked, his tone low and unhurried.

News spreads fast in Damir Harbor, Irina mused, concealing her surprise.

Klein smiled and replied, "I only taught two cheats a lesson."

Cleves's brow twitched, his gaze sharpening as he studied Klein. His impression of the young adventurer seemed to waver. On the surface, Klein appeared polite, calm, and calculating—a man who knew when to advance and when to retreat. But now, Cleves wondered if a hidden madness lurked beneath that polished exterior.

Before he could dwell on it further, Donna's father interjected. "Mr. Cleves, who are these fine folks?"

Cleves, in a very simple manner, began introducing the two. "This is Gehrman Sparrow, a colleague... and..." He faltered, realizing he didn't know the woman's name.

"Elena Jaeger," Irina added smoothly, extending her gloved hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Gehrman and I often work together."

Her handshake was firm but brief, and before Donna's father could respond, she stepped back, her gaze drifting toward the gift boxes carried by the Branch family's servants.

With a polite smile, Klein extended his right palm as well. "It's my honor to meet you. In the future, if you need anyone, and if you can't find Cleves and the others, you can consider me."

"No problem. I hope you two are as strong and professional as them!" Donna's father shook hands with Klein with warmth and introduced himself, "Urdi Branch."

Irina's spiritual perception was subtly triggered by the box. She activated her Spirit Vision and stared at the vibrant hues of the cured meat, its surface marked with red, white, and blacks.

Influenced by the spirit world but harmless... what special meat, Irina thought, her lips curving into an almost imperceptible smile.

Klein's gaze fell on the same box, and she could tell he'd reached the same conclusion. Donna's father, only noticing his interest due to Irina's hidden features, laughed heartily.

"This is a specialty of Damir Harbor," he said, gesturing toward the boxes. "The caves near the extinct volcano create a unique environment for curing meat. It gives it a flavor you won't find anywhere else. Makes for excellent gifts! Mr. Sparrow, Ms. Jeager, if you wish to buy some, it's not too late."

Irina suppressed a sarcastic remark. Unique flavor? It better be after being influenced by the spirit world.

Klein shook his head politely. "I'm not interested in cured meat," he replied, his voice as detached as ever.

Their conversation was interrupted by Denton's sudden exclamation. "Look! The moon is so red tonight!"

Donna nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's beautiful!"

Irina's head snapped up, her heart skipping a beat. The crimson moon hung in the sky, serene and unchanging. She exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. You scared me for a moment kid. A blood moon is the last thing I need.

She quickly recalled what happened. The cured meat must've given the children some temporary low Spirit Vision. Their pure spirit reacted to the lingering aura of the spirit world.

By the time they reached the White Agate, the chill in the air had deepened. The group exchanged farewells, the children's laughter echoing softly as they disappeared into the ship's interior.

In the second-class corridors, the two adventurers parted ways without ceremony. Irina retreated to her cabin, closing the door behind her. For a moment, she leaned against it, her head resting lightly against the cool wood. The memory of the cured meat, the red moon, and those cursed ravings flickered through her mind.

Next time I see Nefiref, I'll ask about those ravings. She pushed off the door, shaking her head. But not tonight. Not here out in the open. Keep your head clear, Irina. Don't think about 'Them'.

The night stretched on quietly, save for the distant sound of waves, as she prepared for the following day.