Lord of the Mysteries

Three in the afternoon at the Dock Union in East Balam Dock.

Klein wore a thick sweater, a tan jacket, and a simple cap that brought him closer to the usual investigative reporters in style rather than the ones who attended banquets and interviewed people of status from time to time. Such a costume had cost him an extra 1 pound 10 soli.

At that moment, he was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and his hair was neatly combed back, gleaming with the luster of hair oil. His face no longer had a messy beard, so he could only plaster a deep-black stubble around his lips. His height was at least five centimeters taller than before. He was trying his best to look different from the worker from last night, making it impossible for anyone who wasn’t particularly familiar with him to make any associations.

In the pockets of his clothes and trousers, there was no All-Black Eye, no charms or herbal essential oils. There was only a deck of tarot cards, a stack of notes, a fountain pen, a wallet, some change, a bunch of keys, and false reporter identification documents.

He didn’t know the Lanevus’s current condition, nor did he know where the powerful Beyonder lingering around him came from. Hence, out of precaution, he didn’t bring any suspicious items.

Looking at the two-story building ahead of him, Klein crossed the street, pretending to not rely on the Clown’s intuition to notice that several pairs of eyes were watching him.

He pushed open the door and saw that the Dock Union’s layout was rather simple. There were no female receptionist or spacious lobbies. The stairs to the second floor were in the middle, flanked by office corridors, and the floors weren’t lined with wooden planks, much less carpet. They were paved purely out of cement.

Klein turned his head to look at the man guarding by the door as he went over and said, “I’m a reporter from the Backlund Daily Tribune. I would like to interview the workers of your association and get to know your needs and desires.”

The man was wearing a very patched jacket which even had dirty cotton lining exposed and a linen shirt underneath.

After hearing the word “reporter,” he suddenly became vigilant and replied loudly, “No! We haven’t organized a strike lately, no!”

“I think you’ve misunderstood me. I’m someone who sympathizes with you. I’m planning on doing a special report on what the union does to help the workers and the actual difficulties they encountered. Trust me.” With the help of his Clown Beyonder powers, Klein made his eyes look abnormally sincere.

“Is that so… Go to Mr. Rand, 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 before replying.

“Thank you.” Klein bowed with feigned relief, and he felt the gaze observing him from a dark corner of the room vanish.

He turned to his right and, with his back perspiring in cold sweat, knocked on the office door.

The door creaked open. A middle-aged man with sparse hair looked at him and asked, “May I know who you are?”

“Mr. Rand? I’m Reporter Statham from the Backlund Daily Tribune. This is my reporter identification documents. I’d like to make a report with unions as the theme to help you acquire more attention.” Klein almost believed he was a journalist.

“That’s me.” The middle-aged man looked at the reporter’s identification documents and said hesitatingly, clearly unwillingly, “It’s hard for me to believe that you reporters are here to help us.”

“I was born in East Borough, and I know how miserable the lives of the workers are. If you don’t believe me, you can follow me the entire time and monitor my every question.” Klein suddenly smiled and added, “A report with actual interview data would be better than nothing, far better than news that’s written purely based on imagination. At least you can provide your views and hopefully guide things in the direction you want.”

Rand touched his scalp and replied hesitantly, “Alright then…

you the

almost lost

he entered one office after another, interviewing the members of the

nothing. Left corridor, nothing… Klein calmly went up the wooden

the office directly opposite the staircase and introduced the people inside, “This is a reporter from

you, but I have to remind you that there are some questions which you have the right

forward, and made a gesture to shake

he saw a slightly familiar

become angular, and his glasses had changed from a round frame to a gold-rimmed frame, Klein still found a trace of familiarity from his

body trembled, and the smile on his face almost

asked with an awkward smile, holding his stomach with the hand that didn’t hold a pen and

door and said, “Go out, turn left. When you reach

walked out of the room, heading quickly for the

closest to the window, sat on

He laughed so hard he nearly couldn’t keep his body straight. A drop of sparkling liquid

confirmed that it

felt another type of aura from the other party’s body, one that left an

was also the main reason why he had nearly lost control on the

body

came from the horror and sorrow deep

that was… That was the aura

…

his face and went on with the interview as if nothing had happened. Even while facing Lanevus, who had somehow changed so

of this, he bade farewell to the workers’ association and walked out of the dimly

sky was cloudy and misty, as

Creator’s aura can only come from “His” body or spawn, as well as things that extend from the two. For example, items bestowed by “Him,” or “His” godhood… This corroborates with what Lanevus said to Hood Eugen. In addition, there’s that tinge of familiarity. I didn’t even need to go above the gray fog for divination to confirm that it’s him…

the street and

the process, he caught a glimpse of a slightly familiar figure among the vagabonds across

Xio? Klein instantly made a guess with what

stop, and he put away the notes before

moment, a horse carriage suddenly stopped in front

was a thin, elegant, middle-aged gentleman with white hair at his temples. He was the great detective

Klein, he didn’t look any different than usual. He was just

just thinking about the last time I interviewed you,”