They all call me Great Master

'Detective' Truman had encountered an unprecedented crisis; he realized that he had been manipulated, no, more accurately, his entire life had been controlled.

Since his very first case, an invisible 'hand' had been manipulating everything.

Even his wife might have been arranged by someone....

As Garcia wrote this, he frowned and then sighed.

He found it hard to continue writing.

Although the corresponding plotlines were in his mind, the impact of reality was too overwhelming for him; every time he wrote about some crucial moments, those incidents would surge from the bottom of his heart—although his life had greatly improved since 'that adventure'.

But it also brought some hidden dangers.

Even though he tried hard to conceal it, he still appeared in the sight of some interested parties.

'Is it that famous 'Spirit Medium' Arthur Kredos again?'

Garcia did not know who the 'Spirit Medium' had offended or why he was so hated; the news about him had sold for far more than he could have imagined, and this time, someone even spent a significant sum to hire him to spread the news of the other's injury.

Regarding this, Garcia did not refuse.

He did not dare to refuse.

As a part-time Intelligence Trafficker, he was well aware that once he had come to the attention of others, his life was in their hands.

Just like the guy who had brought him into the business.

Not long ago, he saw the man's corpse.

The death was horrendous, as not only had his eyes been gouged out, but his tongue had also been cut off—rumor had it that the man had tried to rob or extort a lady from a club.

Then he was taken out by the club's security.

Of course, that was just an excuse to fool most people.

The real reason?

Settlement!

Garcia knew well that the man had been 'settled' by 'the organization.'

Those injuries after torture matched the characteristics of being 'settled': painful and enough to deter other organization members.

For that reason, Garcia felt relieved.

The guy had always invited him to join the organization, and he had promptly refused every time.

Because he knew the risks involved.

And more importantly…

He, Garcia, was a writer.

A writer who could definitely produce quality work.

It's just that now, due to financial pressures, he had to take a side job as an Intelligence Trafficker!

Whew! Whew!

Garcia took several deep breaths, ready to gather his thoughts and continue the story in his mind—the task given by that 'client'?

There was no rush; there was still a little bit of time!

Once he finished this chapter, he'd think about what to do next.

With the example of that 'client,' Garcia knew he needed to be even more careful!

At least, he couldn't go to the information pub he used to frequent anymore.

He must go to some new places.

And that increased the risk.

'Should I buy a Firearm?'

Of course, Garcia knew that, in special situations, even a Firearm wasn't much, but at least it would give him some sense of security.

So, whom should he buy from?

Walter's goods were good, but very expensive.

Old Harmon was cheap, but the Quality couldn't be guaranteed; he might even end up with stolen goods, and besides, Old Harmon's place in Dar Alley was too close to Cork Street, where the 'Spirit Medium' lived. I was already rash to go there out of curiosity when he hadn't returned to South Los, and now that he's back, I absolutely cannot go there...wait, why am I even considering these things?

Damn it, I've been distracted again!

Writing!

I need to write!

Garcia paused for a moment and shook his head, preparing to continue focusing on his writing.

But just as he had written down the name 'Truman,' there was a knock on his room door.

Garcia immediately became alert.

After earning a substantial sum, he had moved away from his original residence to cover his tracks.

Nobody should know about this place now, apart from that 'client.'

Unless…

He had been tracked down by someone else!

With that thought, Garcia's face was full of turmoil and helplessness.

But he still chose to open the door.

Standing outside was a man whose balding head could not be hidden even by his hat.

Longbain!

Garcia had seen him on the original Clara Street, and they had even nodded to each other in acknowledgment.

"Mr. Longbain?"

"May we talk inside?"

Longbain, with his gloomy and artistic aura, asked softly.

"Of course!"

Tentatively, Garcia made way for him to enter. As Longbain took off his hat, Garcia moved a chair from underneath a pile of disheveled manuscripts.

"You like to write?"

Longbain looked at the manuscripts with surprise in his eyes.

"Hmm, this is my life."

When mentioning the manuscript, Garcia's face lit up with a smile.

Such a smile made Longbain do a double take.

The 'Cloak Society' leader in South Los seemed to see himself.

He reacted the same way when facing excellent paintings or sculptures.

Immediately, Longbain began to hesitate.

He had come here to clarify an earlier matter and then to report back.

Next, Garcia's death was to follow.

Some methods of the 'Cloak Society' he disliked, but he had to admit, they were sufficiently terrifying.

"Then why did you become an intelligence trafficker?"

Longbain asked directly.

This took Garcia by surprise.

After that, the part-time intelligence trafficker replied with a wry smile.

"To make a living!

As you can see, I've been striving, but the meager manuscript fee simply can't support my lifestyle. I had no choice but to moonlight as an intelligence trafficker.

I originally thought I could quickly extricate myself from such a plight, but who knew…"

When he said this, Garcia's face was full of shame.

He just mentioned 'meager manuscript fee,' but in fact, he had never received any manuscript payment.

However, he couldn't openly admit this to others.

It was too embarrassing.

Yet, after telling the lie, he felt somewhat guilty.

And watching Garcia's expression, Longbain reflected.

So similar!

Too similar!

Garcia was just like his younger self, striving for a dream to make a living, not a true intelligence trafficker.

Perhaps...

Should I give him a chance?

As this thought occurred to him, Longbain couldn't help but let it expand uncontrollably.

After staring at Garcia for a full 10 seconds, the 'Cloak Society' leader of South Los finally spoke.

"Would you like to join the 'Cloak Society'?

Your recent actions have caught the attention of the 'Cloak Society.' Even with my cover, others will come to investigate—this is the constant style of the 'Cloak Society.' Only by joining can you prevent this from happening."

"Can I still write?"

Garcia asked hesitantly.

At that moment, Garcia had decided that if he couldn't write, he would go to the 'client' and sell out the 'Cloak Society.'

Doing so to secure a chance to live and still be able to write.

Hearing Garcia's question, Longbain smiled.

"Of course!

We could even discuss some writing techniques. I love writing as much as I do painting and sculpting."

The 'Cloak Society' leader in South Los looked at Garcia, whose eyes lit up, and was extremely pleased.

Compared to Garcia, who shared the same passion, the previous guy was crap.

"This is wonderful!"

Garcia cheered, and then he wanted to inform Longbain of the 'client's' plans.

However, after a moment's hesitation, Garcia chose to keep it hidden for the time being.

No malice intended.

Just a concealment for self-protection.
Experience tales at My Virtual Library Empire

Temporary!

Garcia reassured himself.

But what Garcia didn't notice, outside the window, a pitch-black crow perched on a branch, silently observing everything, cloaked by the night.

Longbain hadn't noticed either.

The two men chatted amicably inside the room.

Fujin relayed all he saw and heard to Arthur.

Arthur watched Marinda, who looked slightly smug, in silence.

Feeling Arthur's gaze, Marinda started to feel uneasy.

"You don't really know, do you?"

Marinda looked at Arthur with doubt.

The lady suspected Arthur was deceiving her.

Arthur simply laughed softly and spread his hands.

"Don't forget, I'm a 'Spirit Medium.' When facing you, entangled by 'Destiny,' my inspiration always tends to erupt sporadically."

"Huh."

Marinda scoffed, not buying Arthur's talk about 'Destiny's Entanglement.'

Then, the lady pondered.

After about two or three seconds, when she raised her head to look at the young 'Spirit Medium' again, she was beaming with a smile—

"So that's how it is!"