Klein didn't go inside immediately. Instead, he picked up the strange letter and began his experiment.
He carried the letter and started walking in a direction far from home.
Sure enough, when he reached another nearby block, the letter vanished without warning, replaced by a crumpled copy of the *Tinggen Honourable* newspaper, which happened to have an advertisement for a department store promotion, dated two weeks prior.
Klein then returned to his front door, opened the mailbox, found the familiar letter again, took it out, and walked in the other direction.
After repeating this several times, Klein, based on his steps, roughly determined the maximum distance the letter could "disappear" and return to his mailbox:
approximately one kilometer.
However, understanding the letter's "automatic return distance" didn't help much. On the contrary, every time he approached the one-kilometer limit, Klein would tap his forehead to activate his spiritual vision, trying to figure out the truth behind the letter's "instantaneous disappearance," but each attempt ended in failure.
Within his spiritual vision, nothing unusual occurred, and he couldn't spot a single potential "porter." Only the suddenly vanished black letter and the random junk advertisements that appeared in his hand.
Aside from expired circus posters and department store discount advertisements from the week before last, one of the things that appeared in Klein's hand was even from "Rosen's Folk Herbal Shop," a name he'd only heard of that afternoon. The advertisement
touted the shop's main product—a powder supposedly highly sought after among the nobility—in glowing terms, making Klein unable to resist glancing at it several times.
Finally, he saw the price: a full 10 pounds. He cursed under his breath, calling it robbery, and stuffed the junk advertisement back into his pocket.
...What could he do? There were no public trash cans on the streets of Tingen, and feeling embarrassed to litter, he could only stuff these tattered things into his pocket, intending to throw them in his wastebasket when he got back.
...He really wasn't interested in that disgusting, strange powder! He swore!
By the time Klein finally finished dealing with the strange letter at a suitable distance and returned to his doorstep, he was utterly exhausted.
If there were a step count leaderboard in this world, I'd definitely be number one today…
Klein sighed inwardly, silently raising his hand to touch his empty stomach, feeling like he was starving enough to eat a whole cow.
Unfortunately, such food wouldn't be on his table. He could only pray that Melissa or Benson had left him some leftovers, which he could just heat up and eat.
Otherwise, he'd have to cook with a rumbling stomach… that would be too miserable.
Taking out his keys and opening the door, Klein weakly greeted Benson and Melissa in the living room, then changed his shoes and slowly made his way to the kitchen.
Bread, soup, stew… He silently recalled Benson's cooking skills, finally deciding to give up on describing them; as long as he could
eat his fill, that was enough. "Klein, remember to come over when you're done eating,"
he heard Melissa say from outside the kitchen.
After wolfing down the leftovers and bread in the kitchen, Klein washed the pots and pans with a slight sense of satisfaction, then wiped his hands and face clean, finally feeling alive again.
Ah, if only he could have a cup of Mrs. Wendy's sweet iced tea after dinner, that would be perfect—
Klein, a true sweet tooth, thought regretfully.
Back in the living room, Benson and Melissa were still engrossed in their studies. Not seeing the witch, Klein felt slightly relieved and went to his sister's side.
"Melissa, is something wrong?"
"For you."
Melissa seemed focused on a school assignment, gesturing towards the other side of the table without looking up.
Klein had noticed the paper bag on the table earlier,
and hearing Melissa's words, he smiled and opened it, immediately finding a beautifully packaged Intis-style dessert, a seashell cake, with what seemed to be a complimentary drink. But before he could even thank Melissa for her rare thoughtfulness, the smile on Klein's face froze.
"Miss Alice brought back some snacks today. Benson and I have already eaten, and this is for you."
Melissa finished marking the last punctuation mark on her workbook before putting down her pen and turning to look at Klein, who seemed somewhat dazed.
"Ah…oh! She, she's back?" Klein stammered, his reply irrelevant.
Melissa looked at him suspiciously, sensing something was off about him today. But she had to say something, otherwise, with her slow-witted brother's obliviousness, he wouldn't be able to gain the upper hand in their relationship!
Melissa made up her mind, beckoning him to sit opposite her, and simultaneously closing her workbook, her young face serious and earnest.
"Klein, you weren't there for dinner today, so you didn't know—"
Hearing Melissa's words, Klein instinctively tensed up.
"Miss Alice said she found a job, and the pay is pretty good. Today was her first day, and the tips she received were enough to cover the cost of three snacks and drinks…"
…Huh?
Klein was dumbfounded, wondering if he had misheard, or if he was just getting hard of hearing at such a young age.
Who? Found a job?
Alice?! That witch?!
"Klein? Are you listening?" Melissa, seeing him seemingly lost in thought, stopped her narration and looked at him with slight concern. "…Are you too tired from work? Why don't we talk about this again tomorrow when you've rested?"
Tomorrow? No way! Even the slightest change regarding that witch Alice could have unpredictable consequences!
Besides, what kind of job could a pleasure witch find? To play the role of someone who brings pleasure...?
Forcibly stopping the increasingly strange thoughts in his mind, Klein cheered and forced a smile:
"No, I'm fine. You can continue. Alice going out to work... that's a good thing."
At least she has a normal source of income, and he dares to ask this freeloading witch for food and lodging expenses.
As for whether he can get them, that depends on the situation.
"...Or is there something wrong with her job?"
Looking at his sister Melissa's hesitant expression, Klein could only consider this direction.
...Could it really be the kind of job that he thought was not suitable for detailed explanation in an all-ages work?
"No, there's no problem... not really." Melissa shook her head and slowly exhaled, "It's a very good job. The working hours are from 10 am to 6 pm, with three days off a week, and a weekly wage of 2 pounds 10 soles. If you include the tips from the customers, it's even more..."
Working four days a week, she earns 2 pounds 10 soles, plus tips...
Based on his vague impression, Klein quickly estimated the price of the shell-shaped cake and drink in the paper bag, then multiplied it by three.
Wow, that income seems to be higher than his weekly wage of three pounds? And although the working hours are slightly longer, he only gets one day off a week…
Klein pretended not to feel envious, took out the dessert and drink from the paper bag, and asked,
"That's…that's good, so Melissa, what are you trying to say?"
"…Miss Alice's job is indeed a good job, but…her employer isn't so good." Melissa seemed somewhat embarrassed, and instead asked Klein, "Do you know Sir Deville?"
"Sir Deville? The one I mentioned before, the one who created the 'trust company' to provide cheap housing for the working class?"
Having done considerable research when renting the house, Klein immediately remembered the name—of course, this was also partly due to the fact that he and Old Neil had found the man's wallet a few days ago.
Currently, he still held a certain degree of respect for this philanthropic gentleman.
The 30 pounds that the other party generously gave to old Neil was a good example.
Melissa said,
"Of course, I know you're going to ask, he's a good gentleman, we don't need to worry about Miss Alice, do we... But Sir Deville's charity and kindness don't prove that his only child has inherited these fine qualities!"
"...Her employer is young Deville?"
Klein, who was about to swallow the piece of cake in his mouth, was taken aback.
At this moment, Benson, who seemed to be nestled on the sofa reading an accounting book, couldn't help but join the conversation, clearing his throat and beginning to explain:
"Ms. Danitalia Deville, the only daughter of that good gentleman, runs a café catering to middle-class consumers... Of course, Melissa's statement is somewhat exaggerated, I personally think that kind of thing doesn't amount to moral depravity..."
"If something similar happened to Miss Alice, Benson, would you give the same comment?"
Melissa shook her head, looking like she didn't quite agree with Benson's opinion.
Benson seemed speechless for a moment, then touched his forehead and replied,
"That, that's different... At least, at least Ms. Danitaly never forces anyone, whether it's dating or anything else, those girls are all willing."
"Then why don't you mention that Ms. Deville has had seven girlfriends since January of this year?" Melissa objected.
"This only proves that she's quite the ladies' man... Among those from wealthy families, it shouldn't be considered anything special, right? Better than those curly-haired baboons who just squander money... No, those who only know how to be extravagant are even worse than curly-haired baboons!... Wait, Melissa, how do you know so much? You even know how many girlfriends Ms. Danitalia has had since the beginning of the year?" "
It's not me who knows, it's Selena. Aside from those mystical, superstitious things, she's also interested in the gossip of these 'high society' people."
...
Amidst the disagreement between Benson and Melissa, Klein took a sip of his sweet iced tea, then pinched his brow, rummaging through the fragments of the original owner's memories for similar keywords.
Danitalia, Deville Café, Halls Street... Hmm, I think I vaguely remember that.
It seemed to be a high-class, high-end themed café.
Yes, that's right, a themed café—that seems to be a term "invented" by Emperor Roselle.
Thanks to the original owner's deceased classmate, Welch McGowan, the original owner seemed to have the privilege of experiencing the sinful life of the middle class.
Unfortunately, being an introverted bookworm, the original owner only remembered the coffee and its prices; everything else was a blur. According to the café's menu, even the cheapest small cup of Southvale coffee cost 2 soules and 5 pence.
That same amount of money could have been used to buy groceries and cook a hearty meal for the three siblings.
While lamenting the evils of class society and listening to Benson and Melissa's conversation, Klein gradually pieced together the core issue.
In short, Alice had found work at a café owned by Ms. Danitally Deville. As for the café owner, Ms. Danitalia herself, she seems to prefer women, and is rather amorous and a bit of a womanizer…
Hmm, Melissa is worried that Alice, who works at the café, might be taken a liking to Ms. Danitalia, the owner, and get into trouble? Or perhaps she'll develop lesbian tendencies and leave him for someone else?
If Alice were truly an innocent girl who could be deceived in love, Klein might worry about her, but realistically… he could only pray that the amorous Ms. Danitalia wouldn't be fooled by this witch.
"So what kind of café is it?" Klein was vaguely worried, but more curious.
Perhaps the witch chose to work at that café for the sake of playing a role, to obtain "pleasure"?
…For some reason, the more Klein thought about it, the more he felt it wasn't a respectable place.
Hearing his question, the brother and sister stopped arguing, and finally Benson answered Klein's doubts.
"A maid café. The waitresses there all dress as maids to serve customers."
Klein's lips twitched, finding this answer completely unsurprising.
"However, I heard that the waitresses who apply for the job actually receive professional maid training courses,"
Melissa added. Ms. Deville claimed that one of her initial intentions in opening this café was to help lower-middle-class women improve their self-worth and allow women from less privileged backgrounds to experience upper-class culture. Furthermore, outstanding employees even had the opportunity to be recommended by Ms. Deville to serve important figures in the homes of the truly upper class.
It sounded good, but the actual situation was another story…
Klein simply shook his head slightly, reaching for the paper bag, only to find it empty. He glanced down and noticed that the seashell cake he had just eaten was the last piece of the dessert.
…Oh well, it's fine now that it's gone. That witch wouldn't poison him in a dessert, would she? If she poisoned him, who would she get her "pleasure" from?
Klein thought silently, taking another sip of his sweet drink.