Chapter 352: Breakfast

Another statement about only worshiping the moon and not the Goddess? Klein couldn’t help but have a look of contemplation.

The last time he heard about such matters was when he was learning about the Life School of Thought. He never expected that the Shaman King, who had lived his entire life in the Southern Continent, would also have a similar point of view.

—In the Pale Era, at the end of the Fourth Epoch, the Berserk Sea became a veritable reality. Thus, the Northern and Southern Continent were cut off from each other, and the Life School of Thought was formed in the early Fifth Epoch. Obviously, it was impossible for the Life School of Thought to extend itself to the Southern Continent before Roselle sent his men to find a safe sea route.

Shaman King Klarman was a historical figure who was active in an era more than a thousand years before the Northern Continent’s invasion.

In other words, the two Beyonder factions, which were in different continents, had no way of communicating with each other and had chosen to worship the moon itself and ignore the Evernight Goddess at almost the same period of time.

Such a coincidence inadvertently made one consider why.

Could it be that the birth of a new god had taken away a portion of the authority related to the moon? But, as a deity, “He” shouldn’t be so obscure and unknown… In other words, although the Goddess had snatched the authority of the Moon, the followers of the primordial Moon God had survived. They had been passed down from the Fourth Epoch or even the Third Epoch. Even after the separation of the Northern Continent and Southern Continent, they blossomed into two groups, one helmed by the Shaman King, the other by the Life School of Thought? Klein made a rough guess, but he was troubled by the lack of clues to narrow the scope.

He gave up thinking about it for the time being and quickly skimmed through the rest of the contents of the Book of Secrets.

In the preamble, Shaman King Klarman said, very directly, that many of the rituals, deeds, astromancy, and summoning techniques in the book had originated from a primitive worship of the moon and described the corresponding honorific names in detail: “The one and only red moon, the symbol of life and beauty, the mother of all spiritual forces.”

There’s actually an honorable name! However, it lacks the more popular descriptions like those of the Evernight Goddess or Mother Earth… If there really is such a hidden god, His followers would inevitably develop a simpler title to address “Him” that’s more suitable for praise than the worship of the primitive moon… Klein sensed something amiss as he began to analyze it with his own knowledge on mysticism.

Besides, using the Lady of Crimson to hold a ritual would very obviously direct it at the Goddess. But using an honorable name which is very similar but more detailed would circumvent the Goddess, pointing it to the source of their power—the primitive moon… I wonder what arcane existence it is… Klein thought with wonder and alarm.

Due to his lack of time, he skimmed through the details and found that, as Shaman King Klarman had said so himself, many of the deeds and rituals were directed at the moon.

For Klein, it wasn’t a cause for concern. He didn’t plan on copying them wholesale and end up provoking the primitive moon which he had no idea about. What he wanted to learn was the overall structure, design, and details of the deeds and rituals.

Only by mastering the underlying rules could he come up with his own secret deeds, rituals, astromancy, and summoning techniques that pointed to the King of Yellow and Black.

Perhaps in the far future, I’ll have my own mysticism system… Klein removed the spirit pendulum from his wrist and finally confirmed the authenticity of the Book of Secrets.

After receiving a clear answer, he was in no hurry to use the Werewolf’s Beyonder characteristic to divine a formula. After all, he wasn’t able to sell it, and for the same reason, he decided to delay the research of the Biological Poison Bottle for a while.

He quickly returned to the real world and drew the curtains. He saw the sun, which wasn’t capable of illuminating the land. It was hidden behind the clouds and fog, looking somewhat pale.

“Achoo!”

Suddenly, Klein covered his nose and mouth, and he sneezed.

Only then did he realize that his head was aching and burning. He felt light-headed and had seemingly caught a cold.

I actually fell ill as a Sequence 7 Beyonder… Klein pulled out a piece of paper and sniffed.

He carefully thought back for a moment and quickly understood the reason.

The negative effects of the Biological Poison Bottle would gradually weaken the possessor and result in an illness!

If it was carried around even longer, then it might even lead to death.

And this effect couldn’t be eliminated with the use of spirituality seals!

Last night, Klein’s spirituality was almost nearly emptied after the battle. While his body was still weak from the poison, he still carried the Biological Poison Bottle with him and hid in Lever Cathedral for half an hour…

Adding the time spent on his return to Minsk Street, and he had embarrassingly fallen ill.

Thankfully, it’s not serious… It doesn’t affect anything… Klein sneezed again as he prepared to soak himself in a hot bath.

After washing his face and rinsing his mouth, he specially fried an egg to reward himself. The fragrance was truly tantalizing.

A Shaman King’s Book of Secrets and the Biological Poison Bottle, a mystical item that’s not worse than the Sun Brooch, as well as a Sequence 7 Werewolf’s Beyonder characteristic. I made quite a killing this time… It’s just a pity that I didn’t manage to obtain the Zombie Beyonder characteristic… Klein sat by the side of the dining table. As he ate, he did a tally of his spoils.

What made his heart ache was the fact that he had used a total of eleven Beyonder bullets, each worth nearly ten pounds!

That is to say, I burned a hundred pounds… It’s really like throwing money to deal damage… It’s no wonder most Low- and Mid-Sequence Beyonders are so desperate for money… Klein glanced down at his breakfast.

They added up to only a few pence!

After breakfast, Klein idly read the newspapers, sneezing from time to time as he wiped his nose and mouth with a piece of tissue paper.

As soon as the church bell stopped chiming at eight o’clock, his doorbell rang.

Klein wasn’t surprised to see the reporter for the Daily Observer, Mike Joseph.

The reporter with beautiful blue eyes and a thin mustache, but with rather rough skin, took off his hat and greeted him. Then he went straight to the point.

“Detective Moriarty, do you have time to take the job?”

Although he had a cold, he still needed to take on jobs like usual to avoid suspicion from anyone during this period of time… Klein, who had just finished a job, smiled and said, “I’m slightly ill, but that doesn’t affect my fighting or shooting skills.”

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Mike suddenly smiled and said, “Thank you for your help.

“Let’s set off now.

“Eh, Detective Moriarty, have you had breakfast? I’ll treat you. As your employer, I should be in charge of providing you your meals today.”

Inviting me to breakfast? Klein was startled.

“I just finished eating.

“But I suggest you go to East Borough to have breakfast there. That way, you can see a lot of things. I’ll just need a cup of coffee when we’re there.”

“… No problem.” Mike pointed outside. “The carriage I hired is waiting.”

Klein sized him up and said, “Sir, you’d better change into something a little worse; otherwise, there will be lots of work for me.”

Mike looked down at his tweed coat and said with some realization, “This is too eye-catching?”

“It is in East Borough.” Klein pointed into his place. “I have some specially prepared clothes. Hmm, we are about the same size.”

Mike couldn’t help but exclaim, “You really are a professional.”

Professional criminal? Klein lampooned.

After changing into ordinary worker’s clothes, the two boarded the carriage and headed for the outskirts of East Borough.

…

“Achoo!”

Klein pulled out another piece of tissue paper, wiped his mouth and nose, and blew his nose.

Since there was no trash can nearby, he folded the tissue paper properly and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“The food in this coffee shop is okay. Of course, this is relative to the residents of East Borough.” Klein pointed to the slightly greasy coffee shop at the corner of the street.

He occasionally came here for breakfast whenever he spent the night at his one-bedroom apartment that was nearby.

“Looks like it’s a pretty good restaurant.” Mike didn’t think it was a coffee shop.

It was already past nine o’clock, and there were very few customers in the coffee shop. East Borough residents typically finished their breakfast at around seven and began to work or to look for work.

After accompanying Mike as he ordered stewed beef with potatoes, bread, and coffee, Klein looked around for a window seat.

At that moment, he saw an acquaintance—the elderly man he had helped while pretending to be a journalist.

He was the one who brought me here in the first place… Why is he only having breakfast now… As Klein thought, he turned to Mike and said, “You have an interviewee.”

As he spoke, he carried his coffee cup to the “tramp.”

The man was wearing the same thick jacket as before. His grizzled hair was oily, and his beard was obvious. However, he no longer looked tired, and his face was no longer as appallingly pale as before.

“Good morning, we meet again.” Klein sat down across him and greeted him, noticing that his breakfast was black bread with a large cup of cheap tea that was worth a penny.

The elderly man raised his head, took a close look, and said in pleasant surprise, “Mr. Reporter, it’s you?”

… Klein laughed dryly, pointed at Mike and said, “This is my colleague, he wants to do a deeper investigation on my previous interview.”

Being an experienced and knowledgeable reporter, Mike didn’t say anything further when he heard that. All he did was nod with a smile and greeted the elderly man.

As for the matter of Detective Moriarty pretending to be a reporter, it wasn’t like he had only found out about it today. He was the one who had lent him his fake reporter’s identification!

“So you really are a reporter!” The elderly man blurted out in astonishment. “But that doesn’t stop you from being a kind-hearted person.”

Klein smiled and asked, “How have you been recently?”

The elderly man drank a mouthful of tea and said, “Thanks to your help, I finally had a good night’s sleep and ate my fill, so I wasn’t that weak.

“My original plan was to go back to my original job—making shoes, but they didn’t want me. They said my hands shook…”

He lowered his head and chuckled, skipping that episode.

“Later, I went down to the docks and found some work. It was tiring, but at least I made money. I’ve already rented a spot in someone’s house for only six and a half pence a week. Of course, I can only sleep there at night.

“Well, that’s how working at the dock is like. I went early today and ate nothing. I raised my hand and shouted my name and the supervisor’s name, but I wasn’t chosen, so I had to come back here.

“Fortunately, there’s still a chance in the afternoon. Those people in the morning might be busy till late and won’t be fighting against us for those jobs.”

Klein listened quietly, occasionally taking a sip of the bad coffee. As for Mike, he took out a pen and paper and quickly made notes.