Chapter 63

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Klein took a few steps forward and saw the client. He was dressed in a black suit and held a gold-inlaid wooden cane in his hand. His short blond hair flared out stubbornly from beneath his short top hat. His nose was aquiline like a hawk’s beak.

Anna's fiancé... Joyce Meyer, the one who survived that terrifying ordeal...

Klein, recognizing him from his dream divination, immediately greeted him with a smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Meyer.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti.” Joyce removed his hat and bowed in greeting. “Thank you for the advice you gave Anna. She cannot stop praising how incredible you are.”

Klein chuckled. “I changed nothing at all. You should be thanking yourself. Without your strength of will and your aspiration for goodness, you wouldn’t have overcome such calamity.”

After the exchange of pleasantries, Klein inwardly groused.

Does this count as mutual professional bootlicking?

“In all honesty, I still find my coming back alive to be a dream. I cannot believe I managed to get through wave after wave of horror,” Joyce said wistfully, shaking his head.

Without waiting for Klein’s reply, he continued, “You knew who I was the moment you saw me. Was that because my nose stands out too much, or because you divined that I would visit you?”

“I had your detailed information. That is enough for a seer,” Klein replied vaguely, acting like a seasoned charlatan.

Joyce was visibly stunned. After a pause of more than ten seconds, he squeezed out a smile. “Mr. Moretti, I’d like you to divine for me.”

At that moment, Joyce realized something.

Mr. Klein Moretti had introduced himself as a seer, not merely a fortune teller. A seer!

“All right, let us head to the Topaz Room,” Klein gestured.

In that instant, he silently chastised himself for not wearing a long black robe or speaking sparingly to maintain the mystique of a seer.

After entering the room, Joyce Meyer locked the door of his own volition. As he surveyed his surroundings, Klein seized the opportunity to tap twice on his brow to activate his spirit vision.

Joyce settled into a chair and leaned his cane beside him. Tugging at his bow tie, he said hoarsely, “Mr. Moretti, I wish for you to interpret my dream.”

“Dream analysis?” Klein asked, as if confirmation was all he needed.

Klein’s spirit vision revealed the various hues representing Joyce’s health—none so alarming as to suggest serious illness. The colors symbolizing his emotions were predominantly blue, for pensiveness, and their darkness suggested tightly wound nerves.

Joyce nodded solemnly. “I have had the same dream every night since arriving at Enmat Harbor—a dream filled with terror. I know it could be trauma from my horrific experience and that I should see a psychiatrist, but I suspect this is no ordinary dream. A normal dream would have some variation in details even if it recurred nightly, but this dream remains exactly the same, at least in all the parts I can recall.”

“To a seer, such dreams are seen as revelations from the divine,” Klein explained, half-consoling, half-explaining. “Can you describe the dream to me in detail?”

Joyce clenched his fists, holding them against his lips. After a moment of contemplation, he began, “I dreamed that I was falling from theAlfalfainto the ocean. The ocean was dark red—as if it were filled with putrid blood.

“As I fell, someone on the boat grabbed me. I couldn’t see exactly what he looked like. I only know that he was very strong. At the same time, I was also holding onto someone, trying to save him from falling into the sea. I know this person. He was a passenger of theAlfalfa,Younas Kim.

“Because of his weight and his struggling, I could not bear it any longer and had to release my grip. I watched him scream as he sank into the sea of blood.

“At that moment, the person above me also released his hand. I flailed my arms, hoping to grab onto something, but there was nothing to hold on to. I plummeted rapidly, and then I woke up in horror, with sweat covering my back and forehead.”

Klein held his forehead and gently tapped it, as though deep in thought. He then organized his words and said, “Mr. Meyer, nightmares, recurring nightmares, and even similar dreams are all psychological phenomena with corresponding sources. When the same nightmare repeats night after night, it is a signal from your inner spirituality—a revelation from the gods.”

Seeing Joyce’s confused expression, he elaborated, “Believe me, even an ordinary person’s inner spirituality is capable of sending signals. I do not know exactly what happened on theAlfalfa,but I can tell you it was a tragedy of blood and steel that has left a profoundly traumatic impression on you.”

Seeing Joyce nod slightly, Klein continued, “You must have been utterly horrified and fearful on the ship. When overwhelmed by extreme emotions, it is easy to lose your perception and overlook crucial details. This doesn’t mean you didn’t see those details—you simply disregarded them. Do you understand? Disregarded.

“In your subconscious, in your spirituality, those overlooked details still remain. If they are important enough, your inner self will remind you of them through your dreams.”

Previously, when I felt I had overlooked something, I later realized that the diary was with Ryer Bieber... I, however, was more sensitive, with stronger spirituality and a deeper knowledge of mysticism, which allowed me to deduce things more quickly.

Klein looked into Joyce Meyer’s eyes and asked, “Did Mr. Younas Kim—the one you let fall into the sea of blood—plead with you on the ship, only to be unable to escape his fate?”

Joyce fidgeted unnaturally, opening and closing his mouth several times before answering, “Yes, but I do not pity him. Perhaps in a few days or a week, you will read in the newspapers what a cruel and despicable bastard he was. He raped and murdered at least three ladies and even threw a baby into the Berserk Sea. He led a band of savages who lost their minds and brutally massacred the passengers and crew.

“He was scheming, strong, and evil. I dared not—and could not—stop him because doing so would have cost me my life.”

“I am not doubting what you did,” Klein said, making his stance clear. Then he explained, “But your dream is telling me that you are feeling regret and remorse. You believe that you should not have released your hand. If you truly felt that killing him was an act of justice, then why do you feel remorse to the point that it haunts you in your dreams?”

“I don’t know, either...” Joyce shook his head, confused.

Klein crossed his fingers and rested them under his chin as he attempted to analyze the situation. “In light of what I’ve just described, are you overlooking certain details? For instance, consider what Younas Kim said—what were the exact contents of his plea, the way he presented himself, and so on. I cannot recall the incident for you, so please think about it carefully.”

“There’s nothing... All he managed to say back then was, ‘Spare me. I surrender...’” Joyce muttered.

Not knowing the full details himself, Klein could only guide him based on his understanding of the dream. “Perhaps you felt that Younas Kim was more useful alive—that he could prove something or explain something?”

Joyce knitted his brows. After a moment, he said, “Perhaps...! still find that the conflict on theAlfalfaerupted too abruptly and escalated too viciously. It was as if the passive evil in everyone’s heart burst out of control... It was far too unusual ... Perhaps...perhaps I wished to interrogate Younas Kim and ask him what happened—what made him act as if possessed by the devil.”

Klein’s eyes lit up with a sudden inspiration after hearing Joyce’s hazy description. Speaking in a tone steeped in mystery, the way a seasoned charlatan might, he said, “No, that’s not the only reason.”

“What?” Joyce appeared startled.

Klein crossed his fingers and rested his chin on them. He fixed his gaze on Joyce and spoke slowly but forcefully, “Not only did you find the incident unusual, but you also noticed details that you disregarded. When you string together those overlooked details, they lead to a terrifying conclusion.

“Your inner spirituality is warning you that there is someone who should be regarded with the highest suspicion. That person is the one who grabbed you in your dream and then released his hand. You subconsciously refuse to suspect him, and therefore, you cannot see his face. He was your companion. He once controlled your fate or perhaps even saved you!”

Joyce suddenly leaned back, slamming into the back of his chair with a dull thud. His forehead slowly broke into a sheen of sweat, and confusion filled his eyes. “I... I see it...”

Without warning, Joyce sprang to his feet, his chair wobbling with a clanging sound, nearly toppling over. “Mr. Tris...” he managed, as if expending all his energy to utter the name.

He was that friendly, bashful boy with the round face—the hero who had saved the survivors.

Klein did not interrupt. He simply leaned back and waited in silence. Joyce’s expression changed several times before finally settling into a pale, normal look. He then offered a rueful smile. “I understand now. Thank you for interpreting my dream. Perhaps it’s time for me to visit the police station.”

Reaching into his leather wallet, Joyce fished out a one-soli note. “I don’t think money can fully represent your worth, but I can only pay according to the price you set.” He pushed the note toward Klein.

I wouldn't have minded if you gave me ten pounds... One soli... You sure are like your fiancée...

Klein maintained his mysterious facade, saying nothing as he smiled and placed his hand on the note.

Joyce took a deep breath, donned his hat, and turned toward the door. As he locked it behind him, he looked back earnestly, “Thank you, Master Moretti.”

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Master?Klein thought with a quiet chuckle as he watched Joyce leave the divination room and wondered silently to himself.

Something unbelievable seems to have happened on theAlfalfa...If only Captain Dunn were here. He could peer into Joyce Meyers dreams and uncover everything...

...

It was a Tuesday morning in Empress Borough, Backlund, when Audrey, having woken earlier than usual, beckoned her golden retriever Susie over.

“Susie, you are also a Beyonder now,” she said seriously. “We are the same kind—wait, no, what I mean is that we have to help each other. Later, you need to guard the door and not let anyone disturb me. I have to conduct a ritual.”

Susie merely looked at her mistress and shook her tail in gentle exasperation.