Old days, dice and investigator's manual

Carlo spun the dice between his fingers: "The check needs to point to the target. The more descriptions you add, the more difficult the check becomes, or the result becomes more ambiguous, like the last teleportation."

"But annoyance is a very specific emotion. This direct connection to me is like a thread that I can follow directly, which is much more useful than descriptions of appearance or behavior."

There was even this layer! Isaac originally thought Carlo was just causing trouble and making things difficult, but he didn't expect that from the moment that person started bidding, Carlo had already been paving the way for the subsequent tracking.

"Boss, why are you so proactive in investigating those two?" Isaac thought that Carlo didn't seem like a conscientious and responsible section chief at the FBI, and there must be something fishy about his proactive investigation.

It certainly wasn't just about the ring; otherwise, with Carlo's wealth, he could have just bought it.

"Because it's interesting. It's been a long time since I've done something like checking the water meter in the middle of the night. I suddenly felt it was a good opportunity to do it again."

Isaac was speechless. So he was just missing the Chalco watch? What a strange hobby...

Carlo looked around and turned into an alley: "Here it is. Manifest the spiritual connection between the two people I angered the most tonight and who are most emotionally volatile and connected to me as a line. Check score 80."

The die landed and stopped, showing 55. Check successful.

Isaac looked around but didn't notice anything different.

"A rookie who hasn't mastered spiritual vision can't see the bond between me and them." Carlo picked up the dice. "Now I'm connected to them by a red thread, one end to me and the other to them. Follow the thread and you'll find them."

"Which one should we contact first?"

"The buyer has the ring on his hand. It will take a lot of effort to get him to hide it. Tsk tsk, the thread is even redder, he's still angry."

Carlo started walking, with Isaac following behind. After about ten minutes, Carlo stopped at an intersection: "They stopped over there."

"Are you home?"

"It should be that we don't need to pursue them anymore. Just walk a bit further down this street."

The two turned onto the street, where the houses on both sides were detached villas. The residents were generally more wealthy than those in townhouses, but judging from the size of the villas and the layout of the courtyards, they were not extremely rich. This was roughly in line with the person's spending level: he could carry 20 pounds in cash to the black market, but thought 50 pounds was too expensive.

Carlo stopped in front of a villa with its lights on. Isaac glanced at the house number, which read "Sherwood".

He looked away and saw Carlo had already pushed open the gate and gone inside. He followed, saying, "When we negotiate later, we'll say we're from the FBI?"

"Too much trouble, it'll just lead to a lot of wrangling: where are your IDs? What do you want from me? What evidence do you have? I need to see your boss... It's annoying just thinking about it." Carlo pulled out the two hoods he'd been carrying, tossed one to Isaac, "Let's find a faster way."

Isaac looked at the hood in his hand and fell silent: "...Isn't this really not being a robber?"

"It was an unexpected raid by our agents," Carlo corrected. "We're from the FBI, just doing our job, albeit in a rather unconventional way."

"You're certainly not very particular about details... Boss, aren't you usually quite particular about appearances?"

"Dignity isn't a fixed standard; it's relative to one's status. When we're robbers—unconventional FBI agents—we just need to maintain the dignity of that status."

Isaac put on the hood and saw Carlo walk to the door. He examined the lock, grabbed the doorknob and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

"They actually locked it; they have no manners when it comes to hospitality."

Even the most hospitable person wouldn't leave their door unlocked in the middle of the night, waiting for someone to walk in...

Carlo took a half step back: "Go ahead, Asa, pick the lock."

"Boss, I don't know how to pick locks."

"You're hopeless. What did Lessing teach you? Why don't you learn such an important skill?"

Isaac thought to himself that he never imagined he'd be burglarizing a house one day. "So, you know how to pick locks?" he asked, referring to the raid.

"Nope."

"..."

"But I have a more convenient way." Carlo took out the two dice again. "Whether this door will be unlocked, check value 60."

The dice landed at the doorway.

72, Verification failed.

"Tsk, you try it."

Isaac picked up the dice and tossed them aside.

85, also a failure.

"The dice-opening trick doesn't seem to be working," Isaac said.

"Then let's try a different approach and go through negotiations."

"With Sherwood?" Isaac thought to himself, "Isn't this just going back to the normal case-handling procedure?"

"Wamon".

"what?"

"Can Isaac Lessing make this door open for him? Check value 30, Charisma bonus 14, final value 44."

What a strange check... Isaac rolled the dice again.

41. Verification successful.

He waited a few seconds, but the door remained still.

"No response..."

Carlo gestured towards the door with his chin: "I already said we need to negotiate. You have to talk to the door and state your request."

Isaac, left with no other option, could only address the door: "...Hello?"

The door remained firmly in place.

"Um, could you please open the door?"

Men pondered Isaac's request.

Men observed Isaac's appearance.

The observation through the door failed because Isaac was wearing a hood.

But Men felt that the young man wearing the hood had a mysterious charm.

A welcoming click came from the door.

The door opened.

"...This works?"

"Not bad, Asa, you're incredibly charming, even the door is captivated by you."

Carlo pushed open the door and went inside, with Isaac following behind, trying to piece together his shattered worldview.

……

Sherwood sat in his study, examining the ring on his hand by the light of the gas lamp.

The light from the gas lamp flowed across the ring, making the patterns undulate slightly like veins.

I don't know how much of this thing is real and how much is fake. I bought it on the black market on impulse, worried that someone else would get a bargain. Later, I was provoked by another guy, and in a moment of madness, I took out the money and left without asking any more questions.

But this ring did indeed resemble something he had heard described at the gathering—from a deceased god, containing His remaining power…

If that's true, then £20 is an absolute steal.

Next time I can bring it to the gathering and let others see if it's real or fake... No, what if it's real? Others might get the idea.

Let's consult that master first, since it was that master who told us about the ring.

As he was thinking, a slight noise came from the direction of the living room.

Sherwood paused for a moment. He lived alone and had no family. To prevent his collection from being discovered, servants came to his house regularly and worked under his supervision.

At this time, there should be no noise in the house.