Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Thursday to Friday.

Klein has been as busy as a spinning top these past two days.

He first disguised himself as a clown and visited Baron Pound late at night.

Through physical persuasion and spiritual communication.

It has been confirmed that the evil spirit beneath Williams Street is indeed a remnant of the trapped Tudor family.

This once-glorious "Red Priest" descended from royalty, but now he's not even a decent Extraordinary.

They can only survive by exploiting legal loopholes through the path of becoming "lawyers".

"A descendant of the Iron Knight becomes a lawyer..."

In the living room on Minsk Street.

Orion fiddled with the newly bought sewer map.

While listening to Klein's recap, I couldn't help but complain:

"This is probably the biggest black humor since the Quaternary Period."

Klein took a sip of black tea and nodded solemnly:

"To prevent that evil spirit from escaping, I've decided to blow up that underground entrance tomorrow."

He glanced at his assistant, who seemed to know everything:

"Since it's inconvenient for Marich, this demolition mission will be assigned to you."

"You need to prepare explosives."

Orion snapped his fingers, a pale flame appearing at his fingertips, his eyes like those of a designer scrutinizing a bare-bones house:

"Don't worry, boss."

"Give me enough budget, and I can blast that pile of junk into a minimalist style."

"I guarantee not even a cockroach can crawl out, and... the cross-section will be extremely smooth; even people with OCD would be bowing down to me."

……

Saturday morning.

15 Minsk Street, breakfast time.

The weather in Backlund remained gloomy, much like the undercurrents lurking beneath the surface of the city.

Orion took a bite of his buttered toast and casually flipped open that day's Backlund Post.

An inconspicuous news story caught my eye:

A gas explosion occurred on Dalavi Street in the Eastern District, killing one person instantly. Police have preliminarily determined it to be an accident.

Orion paused for a moment while chewing.

The deceased was Williams.

That informant who helped Hugh and Fors gather information in the East District.

Klein was peeling eggs across from Orion when he noticed Orion staring blankly at the newspaper and casually asked:

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

Orion crumpled the newspaper into a ball and used it to wipe the butter from the corner of his mouth.

"The ink smell of this newspaper is so strong, it almost ruined my toast."

He casually tossed the wad of paper with the news of his death into the trash can.

"However... using gas explosions to clean up garbage is such an old-fashioned method, it has no aesthetic appeal whatsoever."

"If I ever run into that 'cleaner' again, I'll teach him what 'artistic explosion' really means."

Klein didn't reply, but silently sped up the process of peeling the egg...

……

in the afternoon.

8 Williams Street.

Employer Miller Carter looked at the group of "silent, burly" workers before him—

Actually, it was a zombie sponsored by Maric.

And the young assistant who was busy in the basement passageway was feeling quite uneasy.

"Detective Moriarty, is this... really going to work?"

Miller wiped the cold sweat from his forehead:

"I just wanted to seal this place off, so the whole house wouldn't be blown up!"

Standing to the side, Klein maintained his composed detective persona and smiled:

"Don't worry, my assistant is a professional."

Although he wasn't sure himself.

After all, Orion had just been stuffing things into the cracks in the wall.

It looks more like sprinkling salt while cooking than planting a landmine.

Deep inside the underground tunnel.

Orion did not lay the cables like a regular engineer.

As a "master of magic," he possesses more elegant methods.

He took out several bottles of specially made, extremely unstable alchemical potions and precisely placed them at the nodes of the load-bearing structure.

He then retreated to a safe distance and gracefully raised his right hand toward the deep cave entrance.

"ladies and gentlemen."

He spoke softly, a playful smile playing on his lips, typical of a performer.

"The show is about to begin."

Snapped.

The crisp snap of fingers echoed in the basement.

boom--!

There was no earth-shattering noise, nor was there any dust flying everywhere.

There was a muffled tremor, like the earth hiccuping.

The passageway leading to the evil spirit's room collapsed inwards instantly due to the precisely calculated detonation point.

Countless stones fell like dominoes, sealing off the malicious entrance completely.

In fact, Orion had set up a "wind-generating" trick beforehand.

The smoke and dust from the explosion were firmly contained inside the cave entrance, and very little dust was even stirred up in the hall outside.

"Perfect."

Mr. Miller stared in disbelief, then gave a thumbs up:

"Detective, your assistant is indeed... a master!"

Klein stared at the neatly collapsed hole, outwardly calm, but inwardly his mind was racing:

Goodness...

This guy has really turned explosions into art?

If he can't pay my wages in the future, will he blow up my house like this?

……

evening.

Mission accomplished, on my way home.

Although the explosion was perfect, the two men inevitably ended up smelling of gunpowder and gunpowder.

Orion, in particular, who was in charge of close-range operations, smelled so strongly of sulfur that it was as if he had just crawled out of a volcano.

Although Klein was standing far away, as the supervisor, he wasn't much better off.

What should we eat tonight?

Klein, carrying his cane, was in a good mood.

Having resolved the threat of the evil spirit and received the final payment from Mr. Miller, the great detective felt he could indulge a little.

"How about we get some pan-fried veal steak? Or..."

Orion hadn't finished speaking when he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

At the intersection ahead, which we must cross.

Two police officers in black uniforms are patrolling.

He was holding a large, fierce-looking black police dog on a leash.

The dog seemed to smell something; its nostrils twitched, and it suddenly turned its head, staring intently in the direction of the two people.

Then, a low growl came from his throat.

Woof! Woof woof woof!

The police dog barked wildly and charged this way, pulling on its leash.

Oh no! The smell of gunpowder!

Klein's heart skipped a beat.

In Backlund, he wandered around with a strong smell of gunpowder.

They would definitely be arrested as crazy people from the Aurora Society or terrorists!

"Run?" The thought flashed through Klein's mind, but he immediately dismissed it.

If it runs away, the outcome is even more uncertain, and it might not even be able to outrun a dog.

At this critical moment.

Orion, who was next to him, moved.

But he didn't pull out a gun, nor did he run away.

This "magic master" snapped his fingers silently behind his back with an astonishingly fast hand speed.

For an instant.

The smell of gunpowder on Orion had completely disappeared.

Instead, it has a strong, even pungent, smell of cheap cologne.

He even straightened his collar, instantly switching from a "demolition expert" to a "debonair gentleman who just returned from a date".

And Klein, standing nearby...

He's still that same hot-tempered detective.

Wang!

The police dog rushed in front of the two men.

It sniffed the guy who had sprayed cologne in confusion, then sneezed in disgust.

Then, it immediately locked onto Klein beside it, opened its mouth wide, and let out a deafening roar.

They seemed convinced that this was the culprit who had blown up the gas pipeline.

"Don't move!"

Two police officers followed closely behind, their dark gun barrels pointed directly at... Klein.

"Hands up, sir!"

Klein looked at the dog that was only biting him, then at Orion, who looked completely innocent and even smelled sweet.

My whole body cracked open.

no……

We all blew up the building together, so why do you smell good?!

And since you can use magic to eliminate odors, why don't you just do it for me too?!

What about your team spirit?!

You cheated!!!

But under the gun, following one's heart is the primary driving force.

Klein could only awkwardly and slowly raise his hands, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace:

"Officer...this is just a misunderstanding."

"If I said... I'm a detective who just handled a gas leak..."

"Enough talk! Take him away!"

The police ignored all explanations and came up with handcuffs.

Orion took two steps back in alarm, even covering his mouth and nose dramatically, as if Klein were carrying some kind of plague.

"Good heavens! I knew you always smelled of sulfur!"

"Officer! Take him away! I've suspected something was off about what he was doing in the basement!"

"I don't know him! I'm just an innocent passerby! I'm calling the police too!"

Klein turned his head sharply; if that look could kill, Orion would have been shattered into a thousand pieces.

You're going to call the police?! You're the one who blew up this building, you bastard!!

……

One hour later.

The entrance to the St. George Precinct Police Station.

Klein walked out with a dark expression.

Behind him followed the serious-looking lawyer with gold-rimmed glasses—Jürgen Cooper.

Thanks to the lawyer's persuasive arguments, along with the detective's credentials and Mr. Miller's guarantee, Klein was spared a night in jail.

"Thank you, Attorney Jürgen."

Klein thanked him wearily.

"This is my job, Mr. Moriarty."

Jürgen nodded and left quickly.

Under the streetlights, Orian leaned against a lamppost, sipping a cup of hot coffee with contentment.

Seeing Klein come out, he raised the paper cup in his hand, looking regretful:

"Boss, you came out too fast."

"I just bought this cup of South Wales coffee, and you came out before I even finished it."

"I was planning to watch the show a little longer on that bench over there... oh no, I mean wait for you a little longer."

Klein snatched the coffee away.

Without even checking if Orion had drunk from it, he took a big gulp.

The way he was acting was as if he were drinking the blood of his enemy.

The warmth dispelled the chill of late autumn and calmed his initial urge to curse.

He glanced at the bastard assistant who had gotten him into jail while he was out drinking coffee, and finally just snorted.

"If you cheat again next time, remember to take me with you."

"That won't do, boss."

Orion shrugged, wearing an innocent expression that said, "I was doing this for the greater good."

"If we both smell of gunpowder, we'll just be staring at each other in the detention cell."

"There always has to be someone innocent left outside to handle hiring lawyers and paying bail, right?"

"...fallacious reasoning."

Klein adjusted his glasses, deciding to stop arguing with this guy who was spouting nonsense, and instead turned to a more important question:

I'm hungry.

"Want to eat pan-fried veal steak? It's at the Intis restaurant up ahead."

Orion, being very perceptive, pointed ahead.

"I want black pepper sauce."

Klein strode forward and added calmly:

"We'd also like a dessert. The bill is yours."

"Yes, my great detective."

Under the dim yellow light of the gas streetlights, fog lingered over the streets of Backlund.

The two figures walked away side by side, with only the faint sound of their pointless bickering lingering in the distance.

As for the shadow of Tudor buried underground?

It didn't seem so important in the face of the upcoming lavish dinner that someone was treating.