Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Wednesday morning, 15 Minsk Street.

With the gate locked, Klein went to the club to practice his shooting.

Inside the room, Orion instantly forgot his elegant "seeing off the boss" posture and threw himself into the sofa.

The heavy money bag in his hand was tossed into the air, and then caught steadily.

"This damn mid-range hotel has sheets that smell like cheap lemon oil sprayed on to cover up a musty smell."

Orion rubbed his fingers together in disgust.

"Lying on it, I felt like a corpse that had just undergone embalming."

No, I have money now; I can't let myself rot in this 'pretend-to-be-respectable' coffin.

I heard there's a restaurant in the West End where the steaks are said to have been "raised while listening to symphonies and receiving massages".

"Ha... that beast lived a more respectable life than I did in the East District."

Orion sprang up from the sofa, grabbed his hat, and looked like a vengeful madman:

"I want to taste that 'debauchery' and eat that 'high society cow'."

……

An underground gathering at 8 PM.

Having tasted the flavors of decadence, Orion changed into a slightly worn burgundy velvet suit, wore a single-lens reflex spectacle, and his face was completely covered by a ball mask.

This flamboyant yet disheveled outfit perfectly embodies the persona of "Intis the Speculator".

As soon as he sat down, his gaze locked onto the corner through his glasses.

Blue work uniform, baseball cap, half-metal mask.

The boss's "I'm going to survive" attitude shone like a beacon among all the strange and unsavory characters in the house.

Without saying hello, Orion, like a picky nobleman, disdainfully wiped the table in front of him with a handkerchief, preparing to watch the show.

Halfway through the party, the main event was about to begin.

A "hurricane axe" wreathed in wind blades, starting at £520.

"550 pounds," Klein said through gritted teeth.

"560 pounds!" A muscular man followed closely behind, his tone aggressive, clearly a hot-tempered "sailor" of extraordinary ability.

Klein reached into his pocket and touched his empty wallet.

We didn't have enough money left from selling the formula.

Just as the burly man exhaled a triumphant breath, thinking victory was assured...

A lazy Intis accent came from the shadows:

"My friend, if I were you, I wouldn't touch that axe."

The burly man suddenly turned his head and glared at him fiercely: "Looking for trouble?"

Orion slowly adjusted his monocle, his tone carrying the excitement of someone who had spotted a rare insect:

No, I was just trying to remind you.

Did you hear that, big guy?

He pointed to the throbbing veins on the burly man's neck:

"Your blood vessels are making 'gurgling' sounds."

It's like trying to boil your brains.

The burly man froze.

He has indeed been on the verge of losing control lately, and he often experiences auditory hallucinations.

Orion gave a nervous smile and leaned forward:

"If you touch that axe, your eyeballs will probably pop out with a 'pop'."

That scene would be so entertaining! I can't wait to watch it, buy it now!

The burly man's face turned deathly pale instantly.

Once the hidden danger was exposed, his arrogance instantly turned into fear of losing his life.

He looked at the mysterious Intis man with suspicion and uncertainty, then finally snorted and turned his head away.

"...No, I don't want it anymore."

"£560, sold."

Klein quickly paid, but his mind was in turmoil.

Can you tell a spirit's state at a glance?

What kind of ability is this? Is it a puppet master like Rosago?

If they are "spectators," they must be at least Sequence 7 or higher...

Could they even be members of the Psychological Alchemy Society?

This gathering was indeed full of hidden talents.

Orion, who kept his achievements hidden, simply smiled slightly.

You're welcome, Mr. K.

Saving you money is an employee's duty.

……

Having dealt with Cthulhu's troubles, Orion walked to a corner.

Skip over the fat pharmacist Darkwell who keeps muttering "bad luck".

His target was the one next to him—

Even with a hood up, he tried his best to straighten his back, exuding an aura of "everyone here is trash".

"I want the 'Meteorite Crystal'." Orion tapped the table.

The tall, thin man slightly raised his head, revealing his pale chin, his tone arrogant as if bestowing a favor:

"600 pounds, no bargaining."

If you can't afford it, stay away from me. I don't like the coal smoke smell you have from the Ruen slums.

People around him turned to look; this guy was just asking for it.

Orion, however, was not angry.

Emlyn White.

He claims to be a noble vampire, but in reality, he's a shut-in who needs to sell medicine to support a house full of dolls.

Orion, too lazy to haggle, leaned closer to that face that screamed "keep away," and whispered like a devil:

"Fourth-Era Court Limited Edition".

A 1:1 replica.

Ball joint technology...

Moreover, the skin is made of deep-sea merman skin, which feels warm to the touch.

The air froze for a second.

"...What?"

Emlyn's hand, which was adjusting his cuffs, froze, and his aristocratic arrogance instantly crumbled.

Orion's lips curled slightly as he continued to speak:

"I heard that the lace pattern on that dress is woven according to the 'Night Kingdom' totem; you just need to lift the hem slightly..."

"Shut up!"

Emlyn let out a low growl, gripping the edge of the table tightly with both hands, his pale face turning red, his eyes wide open.

That wasn't anger, that was fanaticism.

It was like a believer who had fasted for three days seeing the true God descend.

"Where?!"

He leaned forward, almost throwing himself at Orian, and spoke incoherently:

"Tell me the address! Or which craftsman?! It's not about the money...it's art! It's the ultimate pursuit of beauty!"

The fat guy next to him, Darkwell, was so frightened that he moved to the side, looking at his neighbor who had just been so aloof as if he were a madman.

Orion disdainfully pressed his cane against the vampire's chest and pointed to the materials on the table.

"make a deal?"

"Take it! Tell me quickly!"

Emlyn tossed the precious crystal over like trash, even throwing in a potion as a bonus:

"If the intelligence is true, this bottle of 'powerful tranquilizer' is yours! Stop talking nonsense!"

At this moment, all talk of vampire glory is utter bullshit in the face of a "detachable lace dress".

Orion smiled as he put away the materials and placed a note on the table with the address of the doll shop Sharon frequented.

Watching the arrogant vampire hold the paper like a sacred relic, revealing a perverted smile.

Orion silently made a diagnosis in his mind:

This vampire is useless; let's capture it and use it as the mascot for our Tarot club.

……

Klein, watching this scene from the corner, frowned deeply.

What did that Intis man say to that arrogant guy?

Why did the other person suddenly become so... disgusting?

This person indeed possesses some forbidden method that targets mental weaknesses!

Having obtained the main promotion materials, Orion was not in a hurry to leave.

He approached the old man with the "Eye of Wisdom" and tossed another gold coin:

"I also need to buy some intelligence."

Orion toyed with his cane, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for everyone present to hear:

"I need a detailed structural diagram of the sewer system in the eastern part of Backlund."

Ideally, it should clearly mark all areas with "illegal alterations" and "recent landslides."

"sewer?"

The Eye of Wisdom was somewhat surprised:

"What do you need that for?"

"It's nothing."

Orion shrugged, his tone filled with frustration, as if he had lost the whole world:

"Yesterday when I went to the toilet, I accidentally flushed down the toilet with my favorite gold coin."

"That's my lucky coin. So I've decided to turn that sewer upside down, even if it means dissecting every single rat in there."

He looked intently at the Eye of Wisdom:

"Can you understand the pain of losing a 'beloved' person?"

The deal is done.

Orion, map in hand, swaggered away from the party.

Klein, who was huddled in the corner, paused again as he was wrapping the axe.

Klein's lips twitched slightly in the corner.

This Intis is a madman...

But his intuition told him that this guy was lying, and that this was definitely some kind of code.

sewer.

Illegal alteration.

mouse.

These words were like a bolt of lightning, instantly piercing through the fog in his mind.

The previous divination showed a red glow, but Lanius seemed to have vanished into thin air...

What if he wasn't hiding on the ground, but underground?

Was that Intis man looking for a sewer map also looking for something?

Although there was no direct evidence, the seed of doubt had already been planted deep in the great detective's heart...