Mr. Death in the Steam World

"This is the Locating Stone," Arthur explained. "I discovered it in the ruins before; it could point out a general direction."

"But that direction kept changing slowly, and I didn't understand what it was pointing to at the time."

"It now appears that it is tracking the locations of the other two candidates."

Emily leaned closer to examine the crystal, then looked up at Arthur, her emerald eyes suddenly lighting up:

"In that case, why don't we strike first! Now that we've identified the candidates, it's better to proactively reach out to the other two than to wait for them to come to us, right?"

"That makes sense." Moen nodded in agreement, then turned to Phils.

"Miss Ignis, did you clearly see the features of those two candidates in your dream? Or did you hear any useful information?"

Phils closed her eyes, trying to recall every detail of her dream.

"That woman... to be honest, she didn't have any particularly distinctive features." She frowned.

"She stayed huddled in the corner the whole time, looking very scared, and didn't say a word."

"She was rather thin and was wearing some kind of dark-colored clothing, but that's about all I could tell."

"Where's the man?"

"That guy..." Phils's expression became somewhat subtle, "How should I put it, he's a very confident person, the kind of confidence that's a little uncomfortable."

"As soon as he appeared, he started talking to us, saying something like, 'Although we've never met before, the fact that we're here means there must be a destiny connecting us.'"

"Can you imagine? To say something like that to two complete strangers in that situation, my God..."

"Accent?" Moen pressed. "You said his tone of voice was rather distinctive, what kind of accent is it?"

“The North,” Fils said with certainty. “I went to the mining towns in the North with my father when I was a child, and that’s the way people talk there, very clearly.”

"Oh right, he's probably a fire mage too. Judging by the strength of his magic, he's probably around the third rank."

Hearing this, Emily pondered for a moment, then her expression suddenly changed.

"Phils." Her voice had become strange; her usual playful and teasing tone had vanished without a trace.

"Are you sure it's a northern accent? Around level three strength? Fire attribute? And you're incredibly confident—no, the kind of overly confident?"

"Yes, how did you know—"

"Sidwin Ashton," Emily said, her tone filled with undisguised disgust.

"The only son of the Ashton family, a mining noble family in the North. He is notorious in the industry, but because his family controls a considerable share of the mining rights in the North, even the royal family has to give them some face, so no one dares to touch him."

"How do you know so much?" Moen raised an eyebrow.

"Because this guy is too famous." Emily rolled her eyes, her tone full of disdain.

"Last fall, during the social season, he publicly declared at a private ball that he would become the founder of fire magic and marry the eldest daughter of the Ignis family—oh right, the older sister of little Fifi—to improve his family's bloodline."

Phils's face instantly turned ashen.

"He said something like that again?"

"He's said it way too many times." Emily pouted. "He also said that Heathfil, the god of fire, was just lucky to have the advantage of being born in that era. If he had been born in that era, the title of Lord of Fire might have gone to someone else."

"If anyone else had said that, the church would have come knocking on their door to greet them long ago. But his family is rich, owns mines, and has a private army. The church is too lazy to offend a mining tycoon over a few crazy words."

As Moen listened, he thoughtfully turned his gaze to Emily.

He had indeed looked up the surname Manro before. After accepting the commission for the transparent dress, out of professional habit, he scoured all the noble registers and merchant records in Kansas City, wanting to see what kind of background this generous young lady had.

But the result was unexpected—the surname Manro could not be found at all in the noble genealogy of the entire kingdom.

A girl living in a city manor who could casually toss twenty-five gold pounds possessed a surname not found in the noble register. And now, she casually revealed the secrets of a northern mining family, even knowing the gossip of the aristocratic social circles.

What is the background of this "rich young woman who is obsessed with handicrafts"?

Moen didn't ask any questions on the spot, but kept the question in mind.

Right now, the more important thing is Phil's matter.

"Now that we know their identity, things are much easier." Moen leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping his knee.

"Let's just strike first," Arthur chimed in. "Before they can react, let's find out what's going on."

"What's the target?" Moen asked. "Which way do we go?"

Arthur unfolded a map he carried with him and pointed to an area northwest of Kansas City with his fingertip.

"The directions Crystal has been pointing out these past few days have mostly been in this area, with deviations not exceeding fifty miles."

"Based on this trend, those two are most likely—"

"Ironcrown City, a major industrial city in the north," Emily finished the sentence for him.

A brief silence fell over the carriage once again.

Ironcrown City is the largest industrial hub in the north of the kingdom and the place where the Ashton family's power is most concentrated.

Going there is like trespassing on someone else's home turf.

Phils suddenly spoke up.

"Um..." Her voice was much softer than usual, tinged with hesitation.

"This is clearly my own business, so why... why are you all so concerned?"

After she finished speaking, the carriage was silent for a few seconds.

Then, Emily burst out laughing.

"Little Feifei, what did you say?" She leaned over and pinched Feifei's cheek.

"We're in the same group, which means your problems are our problems, understand?"

"Manro is right." Arthur leaned back in his chair, a rare, obvious smile appearing on his lips.

"What kind of team is it if you stand idly by when your team members are in danger?"

"Besides," Moen added casually from the side,

"You've essentially given me a commission. As Kansas City's most trusted rookie detective, how can you back out halfway through?"

Phils looked at them, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but her throat felt like it was blocked by something.

She lowered her head and blinked hard to suppress the sour feeling.

"...Thank you."

The group exchanged smiles and said nothing more.