Bekland's steam train station, Platform Three. After chatting with his parents and sister, Alfred seized the brief lull before departure, stepped off the train, and approached a attendant, saying, "A pipe of Dong Bailang tobacco, please." If his years of experience had any negative effects on him, beyond the mental strain and sorrow, they were only a few bad habits. Having smoked too much of the Dong Bailang tobacco—made by wrapping spice and herb blends in baked leaves—he now found the paper cigarettes popular on the Northern Continent utterly bland, lifeless, like watered-down spirits. As for cigars, he believed they required a refined setting to be savored slowly and were not suited to his current circumstances. Of course, his smoking habit was not intense; a "Penitent Knight" possessed sufficient physical and mental strength to withstand such influences. It was simply that he found the carriage too stuffy and that his mother constantly spoke of her marital concerns, which prompted him to come to the platform to smoke. When the attendants produced and lit the "Eastchester smoke," Alfred brought the outer layer, now nearly black and brown, to his lips and took a deep breath. The rich aroma infused his body, instantly invigorating his spirit. At that moment, he saw a classical, statuesque man with golden hair leading his personal servant toward them. Alfred hesitated slightly, smiled, and raised his right hand. "Hibert, I thought you wouldn't return to Eastchester." The visitor was Lord Hibert Hall, the eldest son of the Earl of Hall and Alfred's brother. Hibert offered a perfectly composed, ceremonious smile. "I'm merely a cabinet secretary, not the chief secretary—I'm never busy enough to lose an entire weekend." In fact, he would never aspire to become chief secretary; his primary aim was to gain experience across various departments of the government and build his own network of contacts, laying the foundation for a future entry into the House of Lords. Alfred took another draw of his "Dowling" and smiled, saying, "Have a pleasant weekend." After watching Herbert enter the carriage, Alfred faintly felt someone watching from the platform, engaged in a conversation: "Why aren't there any passengers waiting for that train?" "It seems underfilled." "Ah, that's a special train—reserved by a prominent figure for a considerable sum in pounds. I know you may not have encountered such cases before, but remember, in cities like Bexland and Conston, this happens regularly. When the elite travel with their families, they're accompanied by scores of servants, sometimes even pets—how could they possibly share a train with ordinary passengers?" "Ah, so it is." "By which prominent figure?" Alfred turned his head and saw several people in gray-blue uniforms on the second platform, quietly observing from across the track where no train had yet stopped. The distance between them was actually considerable; if it weren't for Alfred's exceptional hearing, he would have certainly been unable to make out what they were discussing. "Who exactly are they?" Alfred turned to his adjutant, asking. He could only identify the uniforms as belonging to the railway company. The adjutant immediately turned and located the staff in charge of that platform, inquiring with them. Soon, he returned, jogging slightly, and whispered to Alfred: "Sir, they are train dispatchers from various parts of the kingdom, currently undergoing a short-term training program in Becland." Alfred nodded slightly and then glanced again at the second platform. The older dispatchers among them already had white hair, while the youngest appeared to be only in their early twenties; most were middle-aged, in their thirties and forties, with several showing early signs of gray at the temples. …… Sunia Sea, the "City of Generosity," Bayam. Veldu carried a suitcase packed with little more than practical belongings and took a small boat at night, leaving the port to board a pirate ship. — The Sequence 7 Scholar's Path isn't particularly skilled in combat, and although Veldu had some magical items, he was quite afraid of negative effects and only used them when absolutely necessary. Thus, to avoid risks and due to his lack of trust in pirates, he deliberately avoided bringing items that might spark others' desires. A pirate on deck glanced at Veldu and chuckled, saying, "Don't worry—we're all reliable. As long as you pay your fare, we'll certainly not toss you overboard. In fact, you'll be safer here than on a passenger liner; at least, you won't have to fear encountering pirates." Seeing that Veldu remained silent and visibly nervous, the pirate proudly handed him a key. "The room on the second level, the one right at the end of the deck." Veldu caught the bronze-colored key, entered the cabin, climbed a flight of stairs, and proceeded down the corridor toward the deepest part. This floor seemed specially designed for travelers who had come aboard pirate ships for various reasons. Along the way, Veldu encountered several passengers who bore little resemblance to typical pirates. Among them were young ladies dressed somewhat casually, like street performers; middle-aged men with rounded bellies and shiny faces; and young men dressed in elegant coats, wearing hats, and carrying an air of cool reserve. "Shall I be your host?" the woman asked, smiling seductively as Veldu turned to look at her—whether she intended to make a business trip or simply to take a detour during her journey remained unclear. Veldu paid her no attention, turned away, and reached the door of his own room. The young man with a strong, sharp silhouette and a rigid demeanor stopped at the door directly opposite, diagonally across the hall. ………… Beckland, West District, No. 9 Belotto Street. "Please come in," said Hoo, rising straight from his wide armchair. The office door creaked open, and two MI9 members from the Huna team walked in. "Colonel, we've made some progress with our investigation into Utopia," said one of the men, who handed a report to Huna. Huna was both slightly startled and immediately energized. "What?" The man in the dark jacket explained simply: "Over the past few days, while we were waiting for the handover of our previous mission, we personally interviewed passengers on the steam train—every passenger who had traveled through Becland." There was no doubt he was referring to the steam train that had mistakenly stopped in Utopia. "Hmm," Huna nodded, signaling his subordinates to continue. He pointed to the report: "We've initially confirmed that all passengers who reached Becland safely have shown no abnormalities—both mentally sound and cognitively intact." "However, we discovered something: not everyone had returned to the train. According to two passengers, their fellow traveler chose to stay in Utopia. "She was a woman who loved travel and exploration, deeply fond of unfamiliar places. After experiencing Utopia's excellent wines, pastries, and distinctive sparkling iced tea, she decided to abandon her original itinerary and stay in the charming little town for a while, discovering even more beauty. "This information came from conversations the two passengers had with her. They not only shared a seat but also chose the same hotel, where they had met in the morning. "The hotel is the same one where our information officer stayed—it's called 'Irises.' "Hurst nodded slowly. "Have you found out about her current situation? "What's her name?" "Not yet. We're still uncertain whether she has left Utopia." "Another MI9 member with a small丛 of beard replied, 'Those two passengers only know the lady's name is Monica; they're unaware of her surname or background.' Hugh nodded once. 'Your subsequent task is to investigate her background, locate her family and friends, and verify whether she has returned.' 'Yes, Colonel.' The two MI9 officers bowed and exited Hugh's office. Hugh read through their report once more, then sighed silently. Compared to her subordinates, she was closer to the utopian truth—she already knew it was a ritual, linked in some way to Germaine Sparrow. Yet she couldn't bring herself to report it, to earn recognition. Aside from questions about the source of intelligence, Hugh's primary concern was whether Germaine Sparrow would be willing to allow this information to come to light." Perhaps we could try reaching out to Gelmans Spalro and ask for his opinion... Hugh thoughtfully arranged her desk and left the MI9. After changing her attire, she returned to the East and Bridge districts, moving from bar to bar like a bounty hunter, gathering information from various acquaintances. Along the way, she casually inquired about Utopia, but no one had heard of it. Finally, Hugh entered a bar in the Bridge district of Beckett and took a high stool at the counter, asking the bartender: "Have you heard of any suspicious individuals recently?" "Many people are quite suspicious, but none have a bounty on their head," the bartender replied casually. Hugh pursued this topic, eventually following protocol and asking: "Have you heard of Utopia?" "Yes, I have," the bartender answered while wiping a glass. Hugh's gaze, initially focused on the counter surface, gradually lifted. She looked at the bartender and asked: "Where did you hear about Utopia?" "Previously, a guest came in and drank very moderately," the bartender said casually, "I tried to promote our specialty cocktails, but he said he had other commitments and could only manage one beer. I praised him a bit and asked where he was from, and he replied, 'Utopia.'" Wendel slightly furrowed his brow. The young police officer, Byers, smiled politely. "The murder case of Tricia from Utopia." "..." Wendel's pupils instantly widened.