Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
You actually know me? This means that Mr. Isengard Stanton often mentions me as a friend, or does it mean that the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom knows that I was embroiled in the Great Smog of Backlund? Klein smiled as he nodded in an unperturbed manner.
“Yes, I’m Sherlock Moriarty.”
The grayish-blue-eyed lad immediately gave way as he warmly gestured him in.
“Mr. Stanton has been worried about you all this time. He was afraid that you met with trouble. He can now be at peace.”
Klein handed him his umbrella as he took off his hat and coat while walking in. At this moment, Isengard Stanton, who had sensed something, had put down his papers and pipe, and he left his reclining chair to take a look.
“Oh my, Sherlock, you’re finally back. It’s been so long, my friend.” The thin Isengard with grayed sides revealed a smile as he came over with welcoming arms in an attempt to give him a greeting hug.
Klein wasn’t used to such a custom, so he forced himself to reciprocate it and smile.
“Mr. Stanton, this isn’t something a believer of Wisdom would do.”
The bishops and priests of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom had their pride, and they seldom gave greeting hugs.
But in fact, apart from the boorish Feysac Empire and the liberal Intis Kingdom, such a manner of etiquette was rare in other countries and regions. It only happened among very familiar friends.
Isengard took two steps back and chuckled.
“No, Sherlock. We’re never stingy with respect and friendliness towards intelligent friends.
“In my heart, you’re one of the top five detectives in all of Backlund.”
I like that! Klein smiled inwardly as he retorted in jest, “So you’re one of the top three detectives?”
To be praised as having true wisdom by a Sequence 7 believer of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom was really delighting.
“I wish that you share the same thoughts as myself,” Isengard skillfully and gently replied. Then, he invited him to the living room and to the sofa.
He leaned into a reclining chair and picked up his pipe. With a deep breath, he exhaled.
“I’m very happy that nothing bad happened to you. You seem especially fine, both in body and mind.
“How was it? Was Desi Bay fun?”
Klein had already prepared an excuse as he calmly smiled.
“In fact, I didn’t go to Desi Bay. I ended up going to Constant. Heh heh, I was previously embroiled in some trouble in Backlund, so I could only find a place to hide.”
Sherlock Moriarty was a gentleman from Midseashire who had a slight accent. It was a very normal choice to return to his hometown after causing trouble. Constant was Midseashire’s capital.
“I know,” Isengard replied heavily.
He didn’t inquire about the trouble which Sherlock had involved himself in. Instead, he said with a smile, “In short, welcome back to Backlund. Come to me if you need any help.”
Klein didn’t stand on ceremony as he immediately said, “The purpose of my visit was first because it’s really has been a while since we last met, and second, I wish that you can sell my shares in the Backlund Bike Company on my behalf. Heh heh, all the documents are in place, and there’s no need to carry out any other procedures.”
In order to act as a mysterious tycoon and to repay Miss Messenger with the 10,000 gold coins, not only did he plan on selling items he had little use for, but he also planned on letting go of the last 10% of his shares in the Backlund Bike Company. After all, Sherlock Moriarty wasn’t able to appear in a legitimate fashion for a long period of time.
“Are you really going to sell it?” Isengard stroked his pipe and said, “Although I’ve never been a businessman, I can tell that the bike is a product that’s of great value and something that can be promoted on a large scale. Its commercial future is like the newly-risen sun, and it has yet to reach its limits. You’ll be losing plenty of money by selling it now.”
“That’s why a buyer will be very willing to raise the price significantly because of this expected value.” Klein chuckled. “I believe the people who can tell the value of the bike and its future aren’t in the minority. And Framis and Leppard are definitely unwilling to reduce any part of their holdings at this stage. There shouldn’t be a problem selling my 10% shares at twice or thrice the normal price. Isengard, the pricing of shares isn’t about the present, but about its future.”
To illustrate an alluring story for the buyer and investor, and drawing a beautiful future is very necessary! Of course, the value and future of the bike don’t require additional input from me. Anyone with any business sense can tell. The only problem stems in the rubber production… Klein silently added inwardly.
“The pricing of shares isn’t about the present, but about its future…” Isengard softly repeated Klein’s words, and after a moment he sincerely sighed. “Sherlock, perhaps you should be involved in the business world. However, there will always be many accidents present.”
“To dare to take risks is equivalent to chivalry in business. Oh well, I admit that I’ve recently been in dire need of large sums of cash,” Klein replied with a smile.
Isengard picked up his pipe as he gave it a satisfactory suck.
“You’ve convinced me.
“I will specially hire a lawyer and accountant to confirm the market value of Backlund Bike Company. Then, I’ll add on an estimate of the expected profits and sell that 10% of yours. The corresponding fees and taxes will be deducted from the amount received.
“Oh… How should I contact you? It seems like your rental contract for the house at Minsk Street has lapsed.”
Klein obviously wouldn’t expose his present identity. He said, having prepared for it, “You can post news on the Tussock Times, Backlund Daily Tribune, and other newspapers about the sale of the shares to make more people know. Only when there’s competition would there be better price negotiations. When it’s sold, you can publish a notice to indicate that the deal has been closed and that further inquiries won’t be entertained.
“And when I see that notice, I’ll come visit you.”
Isengard was no stranger when it came to communicating over published notices in the newspapers. He nodded and said, “No problem. Of course, all expenses will be deducted from the final sum received.”
With his main goal accomplished, Klein stood up and reached out his hand.
“Thank you for your help, Isengard.
“I need to leave. We can talk in the future.”
Isengard didn’t hold him back as he sent him straight out the door.
Klein circled to a nearby street and took a carriage to the Bravehearts Bar as he admired Bravehearts Bar’s night view in the drizzle.
He planned on reestablishing all the news and resource channels which Sherlock Moriarty used to have!
After entering the noisy bar, he didn’t head for the bar counter to order some beer and make inquiries. Instead, he circled around the boxing ring in preparation to leave, so that he could wait for Miss Sharron to appear on the carriage outside.
At this moment, the door to a billiard room creaked open. Ian, with an old coat, walked out with newspapers in hand.
His red eyes did a cursory sweep when he suddenly noticed a familiar figure. He gaped his mouth, but he didn’t say his name. He greeted in pleasant surprise, “Good evening, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Not for now. I’m only here to visit an old friend.” Klein smiled warmly.
As he spoke, he noticed that the papers in Ian’s hand was News at Sea. On it was a striking headline: “Shocking! Crazy adventurer made a fugitive!”
Crazy adventurer… Klein intuitively believed that it had nothing to do with him.
Ian noticed his gaze and raised the newspapers with a smile.
“This is one of the rare up-to-date reports from News at Sea because the bounties have already appeared in various places.
“The crazy adventurer, Gehrman Sparrow, plotted to bring harm on the City of Generosity, and he has been proven to be a member of a cult. In this incident, thanks to the Church of Storms and the military, no one from Bayam was injured. But Admiral of Blood Senor, who was involved in the matter, vanished as a result. It’s suspected that he has been killed by Gehrman Sparrow.
“Guess how much of a bounty they are offering for Gehrman Sparrow.
“50,000 pounds!
“It has exceeded Admiral of Blood’s, and it’s almost reached that of Admiral Hell’s!”
50,000 pounds… Klein’s heart stirred.
He calmed the palpitations in his heart as he replied with a smile, “Unfortunately, few people can claim such a bounty.”
He pointed at the bar’s entrance and said, “I’ll come to look for you again when I have the time.”
“Alright.” Ian didn’t ask further as he mentioned in passing, “Is Mr. White from the Harvest Church your friend?”
That fellow, Emlyn, is finally willing to get out of the house? For those Primordial Moon believers? Klein nodded.
“That’s right.”
After saying that, he squeezed through the crowd and pushed open the door to leave the Bravehearts Bar.
After getting onto a rental carriage, Klein cast his gaze outside, awaiting Miss Sharron’s appearance.
Of course, he wasn’t certain that she was here. Months had passed, so it was very possible that this lady and Maric had switched their area of activity.
Silently, Klein’s spiritual perception was triggered as he turned to look at the window. On the glass which could reflect the night view, a young lady in a black bonnet and gothic-styled black dress clearly appeared.
Turning his head, Klein saw Miss Sharron sitting opposite him. Her pale blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale expression didn’t seem any different from before.
“Good evening.” Klein, who no longer needed to act as Gehrman Sparrow, greeted first.
Sharron got up a little and curtsied.
Realizing that she might’ve read News at Sea, he was momentarily unable to find a topic for small talk. He cleared his throat and directly said, “I killed Senor.”
“Okay.” Sharron nodded slightly, indicating that she was aware.
Klein smiled as he continued, “If Maric still needs the Beyonder characteristic of a Wraith, he can wait and prepare the money needed. Once I find a replacement, I’ll sell Senor to him.”
Sharron didn’t ask what “replacement” meant as she replied, “After seeing that piece of news, he has been awaiting your return.”
“Very good.” Klein chuckled. He reached out for his collar, pulled out a silver necklace and said, “Senor’s lucky item. You should know about it, right?”
Sharron tersely answered as she waited for Klein to continue.
“I plan to sell either this or the Biological Poison Bottle. Would you, or people from your circle, be interested?” Klein took the initiative to ask.
