Has the knight lady who married into the countryside fallen into depravity today?

A middle-aged man stood at the door, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the hem of his clothes, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

His gaze lingered between Klein and Ophelia for a moment before finally settling on Klein.

"My lord, this is what happened." His voice was somewhat dry, like a plank dried by the sea breeze. "As you instructed, I have been inquiring around the port, asking the shipwrights and sailors about the Silverscale Merchant Guild, and... those shadowy figures."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing, as if recalling some unsettling scene.

Klein noticed that the middle-aged man's hands were trembling slightly.

"I was chatting with some old sailors at the 'Rusty Anchor' tavern. That place... it's a mixed bag, you see all sorts of people there. Dockworkers, smugglers, even a few lunatics who claim to have seen sirens." The middle-aged man lowered his voice even further. "I was asking them a question when suddenly someone tapped me on the shoulder."

His Adam's apple bobbed again, this time more noticeably.

"I turned around and saw a well-dressed young man, smiling, but that smile..." The middle-aged man shuddered, "...like a shark's expression before baring its teeth. He didn't say anything, just nodded at me, and then turned and left. My heart skipped a beat; I knew something was wrong."

Klein's fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the table, making a soft, rhythmic sound.

"and then?"

"I...I followed him as if possessed." The middle-aged man swallowed. "He wasn't walking fast, as if he was deliberately waiting for me to catch up. When we reached a secluded alley, he suddenly stopped, turned around, and said to me—'Tell your master that the Silver Scale Merchant Guild wants to see him.'"

"That's all?" Ophelia's voice came from behind Klein, tinged with a hint of wariness.

"No...not only." The middle-aged man wiped the sweat from his forehead. "He also said that they have important information about what you are investigating, sir. They said that tonight, their people will be waiting for you at the 'Deep Blue Anchor' tavern in the North District."

The room was quiet for a moment, with only the mournful sound of the sea breeze blowing through the eaves outside the window.

"How did they know it was me investigating?" Klein's tone was calm, but Ophelia could sense that his thoughts were racing.

"This..." The middle-aged man's forehead was covered in even more sweat, almost dripping down. "They didn't say. But I think, sir, your whereabouts may have been monitored for a while now. Before that young man left, he specifically said, 'Tell your master that we mean no harm, we just want to talk. It would be a real shame if he didn't come.'"

He paused, a hint of fear in his voice: "Sir, I always felt... that 'what a pity' wasn't a good thing to say."

Ophelia's brow furrowed even more.

Her perceptive abilities allowed her to clearly perceive the emotional fluctuations in middle-aged men—fear, unease, and a certain indescribable sense of oppression. This oppression didn't seem to come from an external threat, but rather... a kind of invisible gaze.

It's like being targeted by something.

"Did they do anything to you?" Klein asked, his gaze still calm.

"No." The middle-aged man shook his head, but his movements were somewhat stiff. "It's just... it's that feeling, sir. I always feel like someone is watching me from the shadows, whether I'm walking on the street, back at my residence, or even standing here right now, that feeling is always there."

Klein did not answer immediately.

His gaze fell on the bottle of blood sample on the table, its color a strange, deep purple. His thoughts, like undercurrents beneath the surface of the sea, surged silently. The candlelight cast flickering shadows on the glass bottle, and the deep purple liquid seemed to pulsate with them.

The fact that the Silverscale Merchant Guild took the initiative to approach them was itself strange.

It could be a test, a trap, or... they really have some reason they have to tell us.

But regardless of which one it is, it all points to one thing—their investigation has touched a nerve with some people.

"What kind of place is the 'Deep Blue Anchor'?" Ophelia suddenly asked.

Her right hand remained on the hilt of her sword, a habitual gesture that made her appear ready to draw it at any moment. Her golden pupils gleamed faintly in the dim room, like those of some alert beast.

The middle-aged man wiped the sweat from his brow, his voice becoming slightly more composed: "That's the biggest tavern in the northern part of Silverscale Harbor, a gathering place for all sorts of people. Dockworkers, sailors, merchants, and even some... shady characters. But precisely because there are so many people, if things really came to a head..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear—the cost of taking action in such a place was too high.

Klein chuckled softly.

The laughter was soft, but it sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

"Do you think they'd care where they are if they really wanted to make a move?" He tapped his fingers on the edge of the table, making a crisp sound. "This is Silverscale Merchant Guild territory, so it doesn't matter where they are."

The middle-aged man opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words.

Klein turned around and his gaze fell on Ophelia.

"Shall we go?"

His tone was calm, as casual as asking "What are we having for dinner tonight?" But Ophelia knew that the question carried far more weight than it appeared.

Ophelia looked at Klein and remained silent for a moment.

She could sense Klein's emotions—calm, but not a numb calm; rather, a composed calm born of deep thought. He had already made his decision and was simply seeking her opinion.

"I'll listen to you," she said, her tone as calm as a statement of fact, "but—"

"I am confident that I can protect you."

Her voice was soft, but every word was clear. It wasn't an empty promise, but a confidence that came from the core—the confidence of being the "Sword of the Empire."

Klein looked at her, a slight smile playing on his lips.

He reached out and gently grasped Ophelia's hand, which was resting on the hilt of her sword.

"I know," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice, "that's why I dared to go."

Ophelia's cheeks flushed slightly, but she did not pull away from Klein's hand.

She simply nodded.

Klein turned to the middle-aged man and released Ophelia's hand.

"Go tell them that Ophelia and I will arrive on time." His tone returned to calm.

The middle-aged man paused for a moment, then nodded quickly.

"Yes, sir. I... I'll go right away."

He turned and left, his footsteps fading into the distance in the corridor, carrying a sense of relief and lightness.

After the door closed, the room fell silent again.

"What do you think they're trying to do?" Ophelia walked up to him and asked.

Her voice was soft, but it sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

"I don't know." Klein turned around, his gaze falling on the bottle of blood sample on the table, its color a strange, deep purple. "But since they mentioned what I'm investigating..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but Ophelia already understood what he meant.

In a sense, their appearance in Silverscale Harbor was due to following the clues left by the Silverscale Merchant Guild.

If the Chamber of Commerce were truly interested in paying attention, it wouldn't be difficult to discover their existence.

But what exactly do these people want to do?

The Silverscale Merchant Guild may have some shady dealings, but at present, they do not seem to have a direct connection with the Siren—at least there is no conclusive evidence to suggest so.

and……

Klein glanced at Ophelia beside him.

Even if they have some kind of conspiracy, they should be shown why she is called the "Sword of the Empire".

Klein rubbed his temples, pulling his thoughts back to the present moment.

When soldiers come, we'll meet them with force; when water comes, we'll dam it with earth. The most important thing now is to extract the component in Karen's blood that can counteract the siren's blood as soon as possible.

Klein still has a lot to do.

He walked back to the lab bench, his fingers gently brushing against the glassware.

The firelight cast flickering shadows on the liquid surface, like some silent omen.

"How much longer?" Ophelia asked.

She walked behind Klein, her gaze falling on the intricate alchemical devices. Although she didn't understand them, she could sense that Klein was doing something very important.

"If all goes well..." Klein glanced at the darkening sky outside the window, "we should have some results before sunset."

He paused, then added, "At least we can confirm whether this thing is actually useful."

Ophelia didn't say anything more, but just stood quietly beside him.

Her gaze lingered on Klein's figure for a moment before turning to look out the window.

The room fell silent again, with only the faint clinking of glassware and the mournful sound of the sea breeze blowing through the eaves outside the window.

……

As night falls, the "Deep Blue Anchor" tavern in the northern district of Silverscale Harbor is brightly lit.

Klein pushed open the wooden door of the tavern, and the stale air, mixed with the smell of cheap ale, tobacco, and some kind of rotten seafood, hit him, almost suffocating him.

Ophelia followed behind him. The blonde girl's knightly attire stood out in this chaotic place—her royal blue and gold-trimmed clothes gleamed softly in the dim light, and her white stand-up collar shirt was spotless. She looked like a swan that had strayed into a muddy pond.

The tavern was bustling with noise.

Several burly sailors were playing drinking games in the corner, their shouts making the wine glasses on the table rattle.

Several ragged dockworkers sat by the bar, having laid down their burdens and enjoying their own night.

Several glamorous women leaned against the wall, their laughter sharp and piercing, their eyes scanning each newcomer with suggestive glances.

Klein's gaze swept across the crowd and he quickly noticed the waiter standing at the top of the stairs.

He was a young man in a neat vest, who seemed somewhat out of place in this tavern full of uncouth people.

His vest was dark blue and embroidered with the Silverscale Merchant Guild's logo.

His gaze met Klein's, and he gave him a polite smile and nodded.

That smile was so perfect, like it had been specially trained.

Klein took Ophelia's hand and walked through the noisy crowd toward the waiter.

Ophelia followed behind him.

She acted somewhat reserved, like a rich young lady who had wandered into this place by mistake.

"We look forward to your arrival, Mr. Klein." The waiter bowed slightly, then turned his gaze to Ophelia, "and Ms. Ophelia as well."

His tone was respectful, but his eyes held a scrutinizing quality—as if he were assessing their worth.

"My master has been waiting for you upstairs for quite some time." The waiter stepped aside and gestured for you to come with him. "Please follow me."

Klein didn't speak, but simply released Ophelia's hand and stepped onto the wooden stairs leading to the second floor.

The stairs were narrow, and each step made a creaking sound, like the groaning of some ancient musical instrument.

Several dim oil lamps hung on the wall, casting long shadows that twisted into strange shapes.

Ophelia followed behind Klein, her right hand always resting on the hilt of her sword.

Her senses were amplified to the extreme at this moment—she could feel the gazes of the people downstairs still fixed on them, she could feel a certain tension permeating the air, and she could even feel the frequency of the waiter's heartbeat.

Everything is under her control.

The second-floor corridor is completely different from the one downstairs.

Several oil paintings that looked quite valuable hung on the wall—some depicting naval battles, some depicting mythical creatures, and one showing a huge black sailing ship cutting through the waves in a storm.

The floor was covered with a thick, dark blue carpet, which made a soft sound with every step.

Even the air was filled with a faint scent of spices, like some kind of expensive incense.

It was as quiet as another world here. The noise downstairs was shut out by a magic circle, leaving only the sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor.

The waiter stopped in front of a carved wooden door and knocked twice.

"Please come in." A woman's voice came from inside the door. The voice was not loud, but it had an indescribable penetrating power, as if it could pass directly through the wooden door and into a person's ear.

The waiter pushed open the door, gestured "please" to Klein and Ophelia, then stepped aside, head bowed, like a dutiful servant.

Klein entered the room.

This is a rather luxuriously furnished reception room.

A deep blue velvet curtain hung on the wall, embroidered with silver wave patterns, gleaming softly in the candlelight.

On the table sat an exquisite silver candlestick, its candlelight casting shimmering shadows on the crystal glasses, like some kind of flowing gemstone.

There was also a faint smell of sea breeze in the room, as if it were blowing in from some unseen place—it wasn't the smell of rotting sea, but a fresh, salty ocean scent.

A woman was sitting on the sofa in the center of the room.

She wore a well-tailored dark blue dress with silver embroidery on the neckline and cuffs.

Her long black hair was styled into an elegant bun, revealing her slender neck.

She wore a silver necklace around her neck with an exquisite anchor as a pendant.

She was beautiful—delicate features, fair skin, and lips painted a light red.

But those eyes were unsettling—they possessed a sharpness that seemed to see through everything, like the eyes of a hawk, or the eyes of some predator in the deep sea.

She watched Klein and Ophelia walk in, a polite smile playing on her lips.

"Please sit down." She gestured to the sofa opposite her, her voice soft and elegant, like that of a well-trained aristocrat.

Klein sat down opposite her, while Ophelia sat down beside him.

The woman's gaze lingered on Ophelia for a moment—it slid across Ophelia's face, then landed on the longsword at her waist, and finally returned to her eyes.

Then, her gaze returned to Klein.

"Let me introduce myself." She picked up the wine glass on the table, took a small sip, her movements elegant and composed. "I am the president of the Silverscale Merchant Guild."

She paused, then added, "You can call me—Ni Lisa."