Chapter 40: Klein's speculation
After the initial shock had subsided and Klein regained his composure, he felt a pang of embarrassment as he asked the guide, "Excuse me, but could you tell me where the washroom is? Is it upstairs?"
"No, that's where our office is. If you follow this path all the way to the end before turning left, you'll find it," the female guide replied politely, pointing in the direction with a smile.
"Thank you," Klein nodded appreciatively, slightly relieved to have a clear direction in the vast museum.
As he walked towards the washroom, Klein couldn't help but notice the intricate architecture and the carefully curated displays that surrounded him. Portraits of historical figures, ancient artifacts, and meticulously arranged exhibits hinted at the museum's rich collection and its significance in preserving cultural heritage.
Reaching the washroom area, Klein found it surprisingly quiet compared to the bustling exhibition halls. He took a moment to examine the layout, noting the strategic positioning that would allow easy access to multiple exits. His mind, ever analytical, began to mentally sketch out potential escape routes and tactical points within the museum, a habit ingrained from months of dealing with precarious situations.
By the time he returned to the main area of the museum, Klein's mind was abuzz with observations and theories about the security measures and the layout's vulnerabilities.
As noon approached and having accomplished nothing substantial at the Royal Museum, Klein decided to leave and head back to 15 Minsk Street. The journey back was uneventful, but his thoughts were consumed by the incident involving the stolen bookmark.
...
Back at his residence, Klein settled into his study, a room filled with books, artifacts, and his divination tools. The light from a single oil lamp flickered, casting shadows across the wooden walls adorned with maps and diagrams. It was here, in this quiet sanctuary, that Klein often found solace and clarity amidst the mysteries and complexities of his world.
After attending to some mundane tasks, Klein paused for a moment before preparing to enter the Gray Fog—a realm where he could seek answers through divination. He approached a large mirror hanging on one wall, its surface rippling as if reflecting a distant ocean. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused his thoughts, invoking his abilities.
The mirror shimmered softly, then gradually displayed scenes—images of his recent prayers, projected onto its surface like ethereal visions. Klein studied them intently, searching for clues or insights that might guide him in his quest.
Upon divining that the theft of the bookmark from the Royal Museum posed some danger but not an overwhelming threat, Klein retrieved his compass—a mystical artifact imbued with the power to detect supernatural influences and alignments.
"Does someone know the true nature of that Blasphemy card?" Klein murmured softly, watching the compass intently as he held it aloft.
To his surprise, the compass remained motionless, its needle steady and unmoving.
"What? The compass didn't move at all? Normally, even in difficult cases, it would show some reaction. Could it be that whoever stole the card is so powerful compared to me that they can block my divination? Is it a demigod or even higher?" Klein pondered aloud, his voice tinged with a mix of fascination and unease. He glanced around instinctively, only to realize he was still inside the Gray Fog, shielded from the prying eyes of the outside world.
"Is the church actively searching for the person who stole the bookmark?" Klein queried next, his thoughts racing with possibilities.
This time, the compass shifted slightly to the west, a subtle but significant movement that confirmed a connection between the thief and the church.
"So, it confirms that the person who stole the Blasphemy card is connected to the church," Klein murmured to himself, his mind racing with new questions and considerations.
"And it was stolen last month? What terrible luck. How did they discover the card's location? Did they notice something suspicious while browsing the bookmarks and then decide to steal it later? No, that can't be. I believe Roselle concealed the card perfectly. Many Beyonder investigators would have been intrigued by Roselle's invitation and inspected the museum, yet none found his card. If not by chance, then how? Could there be another person in this world who can decipher Chinese characters?" Klein's thoughts delved into increasingly unlikely scenarios, a mix of intellectual curiosity and cautious skepticism.
"And why last month? Was this person recently reincarnated into this world, like me? But the difference in strength is vast! I can't even divine their identity. The gap is too wide. Perhaps they reincarnated long ago and only recently stumbled upon Roselle's page. Hmm, I shouldn't get lost in these thoughts. There are countless mysteries in this world. Perhaps this person genuinely identified Roselle's bookmark through an unknown method," Klein mused aloud, his voice carrying a blend of wonder and apprehension. Klein pondered to himself, intrigued by the possibility of meeting another person from his homeland, even if the likelihood seemed remote.
...
In the sprawling mansion of Pendragon, Arthur sat in his chamber surrounded by an eclectic collection of books that had captivated readers across generations. Among them lay Cinderella, The Lord of the Rings, and Alice in Wonderland—works attributed to the enigmatic figure, Roselle, whose literary 'creations' sparked phenomenal reactions from people far and wide. Each book held its own charm and mystery, transporting readers to worlds where magic, adventure, and whimsy reigned supreme.
On this particular day, as Arthur leisurely flipped through the pages of Alice in Wonderland, lost in the nonsensical adventures of Alice and the Mad Hatter, a sudden commotion from the adjoining room caught his attention.
In the adjacent chamber, Igris, a strong combatant angel known for his strength and penchant for excellent swordsmanship, was engaged in a heated chess match with Uriel, a fellow angel known for her beauty and occasional bouts of temper.
"You look smart, Uriel, but you're actually dumber than me," Igris remarked, his sharp word pieced through Uriel's heart. Arthur swears he can hear something breaking. Arthur couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at the banter, knowing full well the intensity that accompanied their chess matches.
"Intelligence doesn't only apply to this stupid game," Uriel retorted, her voice tinged with frustration as she eyed the chessboard, where Igris's pieces dominated. "And you're just lucky! Let's play again," she insisted, her determination clear despite the odds stacked against her.
Amidst the relaxed atmosphere of the castle, where the clinking of armor and the distant murmur of courtiers formed a comforting backdrop, Arthur suddenly felt a familiar sensation—a message tingling at the back of his mind.
[Host is ready to advance to Sequence 4. Proceed?]
As he contemplated the message, Arthur's attention drifted back to Igris and Uriel's ongoing chess duel, which had escalated into a lively debate about strategy, luck, and strength.
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