Ghost Girl

### Uninvited Danger

Just three days had passed since the team's mission, and Klein had already returned to the Pendragon Mansion. He couldn't shake off the unease stemming from his run-in with the Intis Ambassador. Despite having discussed the matter with the police, the threat still loomed over him like a dark cloud. He had already survived one assassination attempt, but the anxiety gnawed at him constantly.

Three hours later, Arthur finally arrived home. He had spent the day participating in a High National Council meeting, where he proposed a comprehensive plan to address the issues plaguing Hillston Borough. Klein stood up to greet him, but before he could speak, Arthur's voice cut through the air.

"Join me on the second floor."

Does he want to discuss something privately with me? I wonder what is so secret that he has to discuss it with me alone, Arthur pondered, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension although he could guess the situation.

Arthur led Klein up the grand staircase, the polished wooden steps creaking softly under their weight. They entered a spacious study, adorned with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a large desk cluttered with documents. Arthur closed the door behind them, creating an atmosphere of confidentiality.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," Arthur said, his tone sincere.

"No, I have time to spare," Klein replied, accepting the invitation to sit in one of the plush leather chairs facing Arthur's desk.

Arthur wasted no time, getting straight to the point. "I have heard of your dispute with the Intis Ambassador."

So he already knew, yet he still chose to meet me. Is he not afraid of M19? Or is he just that confident in himself? Klein mused silently.

"Don't worry," Arthur continued, his voice steady and reassuring. "Since you are one of my people now, I will not let anyone touch you."

Arthur then retrieved a beautifully ornate mirror from his desk drawer. The frame was gilded with intricate designs, and the glass seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. He spoke to the mirror as if it were a living being. "Do you want to take a job? The reward is 2,000 pounds," Arthur said, his eyes never leaving the reflective surface.

After a moment, a voice echoed from the mirror, though Klein couldn't make out the words. Arthur nodded and then added, "The person you must protect is this man right here, Sherlock Moriarty."

Arthur placed the mirror back on the desk and resumed sipping his tea. Klein was baffled by the entire interaction. What is he doing? Who is he talking to?

Arthur just smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. "You have a bodyguard now."

Klein scanned the room but saw no one except for the two of them. Despite his confusion, he nodded his head.

After leaving the mansion and walking some distance away, Klein took out his coin and flipped it. The familiar feeling of divination washed over him.

Is there anyone protecting me right now?

The coin fell on the head side, indicating that someone was indeed watching over him. He continued to walk until he abruptly stopped, catching a glimpse of Miss Sharron in a puddle of water. She was the enigmatic woman he had met earlier, her pale face and ghostly presence lingering in the reflection.

Sharron lifted her skirt slightly and bowed before disappearing again, her form dissipating into the air like mist.

What is she? Am I protected by a ghost? Klein came to a rather shocking conclusion.

As expected of Backlund, I have learned many things even though I just arrived here, he mused.

Klein hailed a carriage and paid 10 soli to the coachman, the vehicle clattering down the cobbled streets toward his rented home. As he arrived, he noticed a familiar face waiting for him—a policeman named Faxine, well-regarded in the neighborhood.

"You are here, Mr. Sherlock Moriarty. I came to discuss the issue about the Intis Ambassador that you mentioned two days ago," Faxine said, his voice steady and professional.

"Go on," Klein replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Faxine stepped closer, clasping his hands. "You should be well aware that you have offended that ambassador. Tonight or tomorrow will be the most perilous time for you. The higher-ups have given you three options. The first option is to spend two days at the Holy Wind Cathedral. I know you believe in the God of Steam and Machinery, but Saint Hierländ Cathedral is too far away, and trouble can emerge on the way."

Klein nodded imperceptibly, waiting for the sergeant to continue. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. Klein's vision dimmed, and his head felt numb as if a thick coating of glass surrounded him. Faxine's face twisted into a grotesque grin.

"The second and third options are simple: just let me kill you painlessly," the man grinned from ear to ear, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.

Klein's heart raced. He instinctively reached for his revolver, his mind whirling with the sudden turn of events. How did Faxine get compromised? Or was he always an enemy in disguise?

"Who sent you?" Klein demanded, trying to buy time. His fingers brushed the cold metal of his gun, hidden in his coat.

"Does it matter?" Faxine sneered. "Your choices are limited, Mr. Moriarty."

Klein's thoughts raced. He needed a distraction, something to break the man's focus. Just as he was about to draw his weapon, the room's temperature plummeted, and an eerie mist began to form around them.