Lord Of The Mysteries (chp.201-400)

Chapter 227 : Inventor Leppard

Sitting at his own dining table on a foggy morning, Klein broke up his specially bought wheat bread and soaked it in milk, improving the way he ate it.

Although his body had changed a long time ago, his pursuit and obsession with delicacies were engraved into his soul. He was completely unable to adapt to the Loen Kingdom’s monotonous and repetitive style of breakfast. He could only try his best at experimenting. He tried not to limit himself to toast, bread, bacon, sausages, and butter. He tried hard to expand the boundaries and improve the way he ate. For example, his recipes had new additions such as pork-filled pastries from the south, Feynapotter noodles, and roasted corn pastries.

“Caviar from the Feysac Empire isn’t bad either, but it’s too expensive. It’s only suitable for formal meals...” Klein scooped up a small piece of wheat bread he had softened and put it in his mouth. Just by chewing it a little, he could feel the intertwining flavors of milk with the fragrance of wheat. The aftertaste of the bread was even sweeter.

After breakfast, Klein put down his cutlery, but he was in no hurry to tidy up the table. He picked up the newspapers, and began to read.

I’ll do a divination in a while. If there’s nothing else to do, I’ll pay Mr. Leppard a visit at St. George Borough’s Sird Street and see if his new transportation vehicle is worth investing in... Backlund is really big. Every borough is almost the size of Tingen City. The East Borough is especially ridiculous. It’s at least twice as large... The easiest and most economical way to travel is to walk, followed by the steam metro, before walking again. It’s just quite a waste of time... Klein’s mind wandered aimlessly.

Backlund’s public horse carriage system was rather similar to Tingen’s. The price was about the same, but the only problem was that most of them were confined to a single borough. If one wanted to go from Cherwood to St. George, a few transfers were needed and that would naturally raise the price.

Such a situation made the prospects for a new transportation vehicle very alluring.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

At that moment, knocks on the door sounded. It was as loud as the pounding of a hammer.

Who is it... Don’t they know how to ring the doorbell... He muttered a few words, straightened his collar, walked to the door, and pulled it open.

In front of him was a familiar face. It was the highlander man who had chased Ian at the steam metro. His skin was dark, his eye sockets recessed, and he was lean and hardy man.

According to Klein’s mediumship results, the man’s name was Meursault, an “executioner” of the Zmanger gang who was almost equal to the boss.

“Excuse me, who are you looking for? Do you have a commission to entrust with me?” Klein deliberately acted somewhat confused.

Meursault was wearing a black coat and a pompous silk hat, but he didn’t look anything like a gentleman at all.

He coldly sized Klein up, then he asked in Loen, with a thick highlander accent, “Are you Detective Sherlock Moriarty?”

“Yes,” Klein replied short and sweet.

Meursault nodded his head stiffly.

“I want to hire you to find someone.”

“We can talk about the exact situation inside.” Klein prevented himself from acting odd in any way.

Meursault shook his head coldly.

“There’s no need.”

After saying that, his eyes suddenly became sharp.

“The person I’m looking for is called Ian. Ian Wright. He has a pair of bright red eyes, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He likes to wear a brown, old coat and a round hat of the same color. I believe you know him.”