Mystery: The Silver Key

Chapter 60: The First Tarot Meeting

In the room, Sirion looked at himself in the full-length mirror and came back to his senses with a touch of melancholy. He had a feeling that Klein had been in a hurry to throw him down.

"And what about the violent reaction to the gray fog earlier? Was it because of my rank?"

"This is a bit troublesome; I can't operate this machine."

He muttered something to himself, then looked at his ramrod straight reflection in the mirror and belatedly realized... Klein hadn't even offered him a seat; he'd been standing and chatting with him the whole time.

Were you so shocked that you forgot to be polite?

With a slightly resentful pout, Sirion turned and left the room.

One thing after another happened, and it was already dark outside, but he still hadn't had time to prepare dinner.

.....

The next morning, after breakfast, Sirion went out again and went to the Harvest Church.

This time, he wasn't greeted by a rag that hadn't been wrung out yet, but by dust kicked up by the broom.

Cyril snapped his fingers to the side, and a sudden gust of wind swept through the hall, blowing all the dust onto the street outside the church.

"Wind" magic trick!

After clearing away the dust that had risen in the air, he looked at Emlin, who appeared dejected, and asked with some curiosity:

"Did you stay up late?"

"No, you vampires are naturally nocturnal, so is it because you were overworked and did all the work in the church?"

"You're a vampire!" Emlyn glared at him expressionlessly. "And besides, I just haven't drunk fresh blood in a long time."

Cyril crossed his arms and clicked his tongue: "So, their food rations were cut."

"Do you need me to go to the hospital and buy you some blood collection bottles?"

"You'd be that kind?" Emlyn glanced at him suspiciously, then shook his head.

"No need. The blood in hospitals is mostly from the elderly, the weak, and the sick. It doesn't taste good at all, and it doesn't have much spiritual energy."

Upon hearing this, Sirion immediately suggested, "Perhaps I can help you find some blood rich in spiritual energy."

Emlyn immediately looked at him warily, even taking two steps back: "What scheme are you plotting?"

"By the way, Father Utravsky said yesterday that you wanted to buy extraordinary materials from him. Are you eyeing the vampires' channels?"

"Ha, dream on. There's no way I'm helping you, unless..."

"Unless what?" Sirion pressed.

Emlyn: "Unless every day in Backlund is sunny and clear."

Cyril: .....

Blue skies and white clouds are impossible; it's more likely that it will be foggy every day.

He pestered Emlyn for a while, but Emlyn rejected every word he said, so he finally hid in the clergy's lounge at the back of the hall.

Sigh, I should have known better than to offend them so badly.

He sighed silently, glanced at Father Utravsky who was praying at the table, greeted him, and without waiting to see if he heard him, turned and left.

...

Back home, he sent the completed manuscript to the newspaper, and then summoned Arodes again through the full-length mirror in his room.

However, Arrodes did not respond immediately this time. Instead, he waited for a full quarter of an hour before the mirror of the full-length mirror made a sound.

As the water rippled outwards, silver words emerged:

"Your Majesty, the people from the Steam Church were just asking me questions, which is why I was delayed in responding to your call."

Cyril shook his head slightly and said in a calm tone, "It's nothing, I just wanted to ask you for a favor."

The mirror quickly responded: "Please give your instructions."

Perhaps it was because of his apology for the delayed response, but Sirian felt that Arrodes was exceptionally sincere today.

He paused, pondered for a moment, and then said, "Give House a hint, and tell him to find an opportunity to pray to me."

After a ripple on the mirror's surface, new silver words emerged:

"Um... Great being, your follower may not be able to pray to you for some time now."

"Members of the Mechanical Heart noticed his unusual behavior recently. They believe he may have been affected by the 'Hidden Sage' during his promotion and is currently receiving treatment underground at St. Hillan Cathedral."

Cyril: .....

This free follower is really unreliable. When will I ever get the meteorite crystal?

After a two-second silence, he asked curiously, "What did he do?"

On the mirror, words appeared one by one: "He's been obsessively pursuing art lately, using his own flesh and blood as paint, collecting animal sounds to create music, and even trying to write some blasphemous literary works..."

"He claims that he is pursuing high art, seeking a moment of inspiration that transcends the mundane."

"If his actions hadn't gone unharmed by anyone other than himself, he would be facing not the healing in the church's underground, but the judgment of the mechanical heart."

Cyril: @_@

People can be truly speechless when they're speechless...

Is his pursuit of high art due to my esteemed name, or the contamination he suffered when he looked at me with his "peeping eyes"?

I'm doomed, my meteorite crystal... I can only wait until the tarot reading this afternoon to think of a solution, and hopefully I can find someone to help me fool Emlyn.

After letting his thoughts wander, he dismissed Arodes and wiped away the mysterious symbols from the mirror.

He stayed in the room until nearly 3 p.m., then quickly closed the doors and windows, drew the curtains, and found a comfortable position to lie down on the bed.

At three o'clock sharp, the clock on the wall chimed.

But Cyril didn't hear it; before the clock struck, a thick gray fog rolled in before his eyes.

He suppressed his instinct to resist, and in a moment of distraction, his figure appeared in the magnificent and ancient palace above the gray mist.

At the head of the long, weathered table, "The Fool" Klein calmly swept his gaze over the blurry figures below, his eyes pausing slightly when they landed on Sirion.

The space above the gray fog was still instinctively repelling him. Even with my suppression, my previous divination showed that he would not bring me any danger. So, it was his secret and the space above the gray fog that were repelling each other.

The fact that they can repel each other at least indicates that the secret he possesses and the space above this gray fog are things of the same level.

This is impressive... Does every time traveler come with a cheat code?

As he pondered, he saw Mr. "The Hanged Man" make a gesture before "Justice" could even get up and greet him, and speak first:

"Dear Mr. 'Fool,' I have obtained a total of 19 pages of Russell's diary this time."

"Here, I must thank you for sending your servants to help me get rid of Zilingus; these diaries are my due reward."

Cyril glanced at the first person to speak, "The Hanged Man," then looked at "Justice" across from him... This isn't the process I expected, bad review!

He paused, then felt a subtle gaze fall upon him, emanating from the head of the weathered long table, from Mr. "The Fool".

He glanced back at the other person with a somewhat blank expression. He knew that the other person probably wanted to see his reaction to "The Fool" collecting Russell's diary, but here he couldn't pretend to be surprised or suspicious, so he could only give a blank look back.

His performance was limited to facial expressions, which were all flaws to Klein, who always had his spiritual vision open and could observe emotions.

"The Fool" Klein withdrew his gaze with some confusion, and smiled calmly at "The Hanged Man" Alger:

"This is the principle of equivalent exchange."

Having received a reply from Mr. Fool, Alger, the Hanged Man, lowered his head and said humbly:

"My current memory limit is six pages of a diary. Please allow me to give it to you in several installments."

"No problem." "The Fool" Klein nodded slightly.

With his help, Alger, the "Hanged Man," then materialized six pages of his own diary.

While Mr. Fool was reading, the others were also lost in their own thoughts, whether curious or contemplative.

Sitting upright in the high-backed chair, Cyril realized a somewhat awkward problem: he seemed to be being ignored by these people...