Part 2 The Faceless Man Chapter 71 Shudder of Instinct

　　Three o’clock in the afternoon, East Byron Dockyard, Longshoremen’s Association.

　　Klein was dressed in a thick sweater, a tan jacket, and a simple fedora to give himself an image more akin to that of the common investigative reporter than the kind who attended parties and interviewed subjects of status and position from time to time-such attire cost him an extra £1.10 soule.

　　At this time, he wore gold-rimmed glasses, his hair was neatly combed back and glistening with ointment, his face was free of a messy beard, only a deep greenish-black scruff that circled his lips, and he was at least five centimeters taller than he had been, striving to be so markedly different from last night’s image of a laborer that anyone not particularly familiar with it could not even make the connection.

　　And in the pockets of his shirt and pants, instead of the “All Black Eye” and various charms and herbal oils, there was only a deck of tarot cards, a stack of Post-it notes, a watered-down pen, a wallet, a handful of change, a set of keys, and a fake press card.

　　-He didn’t know Lanlus’ current state, or where the powerful extraordinary people surrounding the other man were from, so it was prudent to not bring any items that would arouse suspicion.

　　Looking ahead to the small two-story building, Klein crossed the street, pretending not to rely on his Joker’s instincts to notice several eyes on him.

　　He pushed open the front door and found the layout of the dockworkers’ union to be rather spartan, with no lady in charge of reception, no spacious lobby, and a central staircase leading to the second floor, flanked by corridors densely populated with offices, with no boards on the floors, let alone blankets, but purely cement.

　　Klein glanced sideways at the man guarding the door and leaned over to say:

　　”I’m a reporter from the Birkeland Daily News, and I’d like to interview the staff of your association about your claims and desires.”

　　The man was wearing a jacket with a number of patches, some of the edges even showing dirty lint, and only a linen shirt underneath.

　　Upon hearing the word reporter, he became instantly wary and answered in a folded voice:

　　”No! We haven’t organized a strike lately, no!”

　　”I think you’ve got me wrong, I’m a sympathetic person, and I’m going to do a feature story describing the kinds of things the unions are doing to help the workers and the practical difficulties they’re encountering, believe me.” Klein used the extraordinary ability of the “Joker” to make his eyes look unusually sincere.

　　”In that case …… you go to Mr. Rand, he’s our committee member in charge of publicity, turn right and it’s the second office on the right.” The man hesitated for a few seconds and said.

　　”Thanks.” Klein gave a salute of feigned relief and felt the gaze watching him from the shadowy corner disappear.

　　With a slight cold sweat on his back, he turned to the right and knocked on the door of the corresponding office.

　　With a creak, the door to the room opened and a middle-aged man with thinning hair looked at him quizzically and said:

　　”And you are, may I ask?”

　　”Is this Mr. Rand? I’m Stinson, a reporter for the Birkeland Daily News, here’s my press card, I’d like to do a story on the subject of labor unions to help you get more attention.” Klein was almost on the verge of believing he was a reporter.

　　”I’m Rand.” The middle-aged man glanced at his press card and hesitated with obvious reluctance, “I find it hard to believe that you reporters are here to help us.”

　　”I was born in the East End, I know how miserable the workers’ lives are, and if you don’t believe my intentions, you can always follow me around and monitor my every question.” Klein suddenly smiled and added, “A report made by me with actual interview information is better than a news story written from nothing but imagination, at least you can state your points of view and steer things in a hopeful direction.”

　　Rand rubbed his scalp and replied hesitantly:

　　”Okay.”

　　”I’ll follow you the whole way.”

　　”Thanks!” Crane narrowly failed to contain himself.

　　Afterward, he was led by Rand into office after office, interviewing the Workers’ Association personnel according to questions predetermined in advance.

　　Right corridor, no gain, left corridor, no gain …… Klein stepped up the wooden steps to the second floor with his expression as usual.

　　This time, Rand led him into the office that faced the stairway and introduced him to the people inside:

　　”This is a reporter from the Birkeland Daily News, Mr. Stinson.”

　　”He’d like to do some interviews with you, but I must warn you in advance that there are some questions that you have the right to refuse to answer.”

　　Klein piled on a smile and took two steps forward, making a gesture to shake hands with each of this office staff.

　　It was at this moment that he saw a slightly familiar figure.

　　Although the other person’s skin had turned bronze, his ordinary round face had become angular, and his glasses had changed from round frames to long gold-rimmed frames, Klein still found a trace of inexplicable familiarity through the spiritual intuition of a “soothsayer”.

　　Immediately afterward, his body trembled and the smile on his face almost got out of control.

　　”No, I’m sorry, I suddenly, suddenly have a stomach ache, may I ask, may I ask where the lavatory is?” Klein asked with an awkward smile as he covered his stomach with the hand that wasn’t holding a pen or note pad.

　　Neither Rand nor anyone else in the office was skeptical and pointed to the door:

　　”Go out, turn left, go to the end and you’ll see the sign.”

　　Klein backed away with a compensating smile and exited the room, his feet flying as he headed straight for the lavatory.

　　Once inside, he picked the toilet compartment closest to the window, sat down on the toilet, and unlocked the wooden door.

　　He bent his back, the corners of his mouth grinning, and laughed silently, so hard that he couldn’t seem to straighten up, and so hard that a drop of crystalline liquid fell to the floor.

　　Klein had confirmed that it was Lanlus!

　　It wasn’t based on that rare sense of familiarity, but rather that he detected another aura in the other man, one that impressed him to the core!

　　And that was the main reason why he almost lost control on the spot just now.

　　The trembling of his body came from instinctive awe and fear!

　　His emotional breakdown came from the thrill and sadness deep in his memory!

　　That was.

　　That was ……

　　That is the breath of the “True Creator”!

　　……

　　Klein washed his face and went on with the interview as if nothing had happened, asking questions and recording answers even when confronted by Llanerus, who had changed so much for some reason.

　　That done, he excused himself from the Dockworkers’ Association and stepped out of the poorly lit and slightly dimly lit house.

　　Outside, the clouds were cascading and misty, as if it were early evening.

　　The aura of the “True Creator” can only come from K himself, K’s heirs, and what extends from that, such as items bestowed by K, such as K’s divinity. …… This is very much in line with what Llanerus said to Hood Organ, and then Plus, there was a hint of familiarity, so I didn’t need to go to the Gray Mist to divine that it was him. …… If I hadn’t had several encounters with the “Real Creator” and been exposed to his spiritual pollution on a regular basis, I wouldn’t have been able to recognize that the aura, which didn’t contain any power or personality, belonged to k. The breath belongs to the k …… Klein’s mood is very heavy, but the appearance is very relaxed.

　　He stood on the street and deliberately organized his interview note pad.

　　In the process, he caught sight of a slightly familiar figure among the homeless people across the street.

　　Ms. Hugh? Klein made an instantaneous guess, combining the events.

　　Without stopping, he collected the note pad and headed for the stop of the railed public carriage.

　　Just then, a carriage suddenly stopped in front of him.

　　”We meet again.” Sitting in the carriage was a slim but elegant middle-aged and elderly gentleman, who was so elegantly gray at the temples, was none other than the great detective who could assist the police in investigating the case, Eisinger Stanton.

　　Crane, on the other hand, did not look much different from his usual self at the moment, except that he was a little taller and had changed his clothes.

　　”What a coincidence, I was thinking about the last time I interviewed you.” Klein deliberately replied so.

　　Eisinger instantly comprehended it and smiled, digressing from the topic:

　　”I came over here to investigate the case, the case of Shibel’s death was struck out and I was mainly in charge of it, and the place of her death was close to the East Byron Dockyard.”

　　”A copycat crime indeed?” Klein pretended that he just found out.

　　After exchanging a few pleasantries, he boarded a railed public carriage and, instead of going straight home, took a connecting ride to the Clarke’s Club in the Hillsdon district.

　　Inside the club’s lounge, he made a quick trip above the gray mist to make sure no one was following him.

　　It was only when he got to this point that Klein completely relaxed and felt the aftermath.

　　The scent of the “Real Creator” haunted him like a nightmare, making the clothes on his back dry and wet, wet and dry again.

　　Just to be sure, Klein materialized a piece of tawny parchment and a crimson round-bellied pen in front of him, and wrote down a familiar, well-thought-out divination statement:

　　”The source of that inexplicable familiarity from earlier.”

　　Putting down the fountain pen and leaning back against the back of his chair, he meditated as he entered the dream world.

　　In that gray and illusory world, he saw a human figure.

　　This silhouette had ordinary features, wore round-rimmed glasses, and always held a downcast and mocking smile, it was none other than Lanlus!

　　Finally, I found you! Klein no longer used his “Joker” ability to control his expression, and muttered to himself through clenched teeth.

　　Then, he sat up straight and prepared to answer Ms. Justice’s prayer.

　　Klein controlled his emotions and spoke in a low, indifferent voice:

　　”There is no need for confirmation.”

　　”That would be Lanlus.”

　　”The Church of the Goddess of the Night can be informed and told that Lanlus has the divinity of the ‘Fallen Creator’ in him.”

　　……

　　Audrey, who was watching her father train the hounds with Susie, froze on the spot when she heard Mr. Fool’s response.

　　”Fallen Creator” …… Isn’t this the “Real Creator”? That fraudster had the divinity of the “True Creator” in him? This, this, a simple mission involves the divinity of the “True Creator”! Sure enough, I told you that Mr. “Fool” has a deeper purpose ……k in targeting the “Real Creator”… …I’m not ashamed to say that I’m Mr. “Fool”! Audrey’s thoughts instantly came to her.