"Well, in that case, let's do what you said. Oh, and in addition to the problems you just mentioned, are there any other issues with the Bismarck-class battleships?"
The system's explanation was so detailed that Mainz felt compelled to improve the Bismarck-class battleships immediately. But to do it properly, he knew he had to address all the flaws at once—otherwise, new problems would appear later, causing even greater losses.
[System Note: Current recommended improvements for Bismarck-class battleships include: replacing four twin turrets with three triple turrets, increasing the main gun caliber to 406 mm, upgrading hoist mechanisms and gun recoil systems to improve rate of fire and accuracy. Optional upgrades include: enhancing propulsion systems, reinforcing armor at the waterline, installing early electronic fire-control calculators to improve targeting accuracy.]
Mainz's head spun at the long list of potential improvements.
"Stop, stop! Just tell me how much this will cost," he complained. "If you want money, say it outright—I'm dizzy listening to all this!"
[System Note: Total cost for all listed improvements: 1,000 funds. Host currently has 2,000 funds. Confirm transformation?]
Despite feeling the pinch, Mainz chose to proceed. The Bismarck-class battleship was the future cornerstone of the Third Reich's navy—it had to be perfect.
Mission complete, Mainz saw no reason to linger. The British police and soldiers, who had monitored his every move, were relieved when the German colonel left after paying tribute, without lingering or causing trouble.
The next day, Mainz returned to his accommodation in Kirkwall, the main town of the Orkney Islands. News of the German colonel's public tribute at Scapa Flow spread quickly through British newspapers—and across Europe.
In Germany, Mainz drew widespread attention and admiration. Former sailors of the High Seas Fleet were moved to tears; he had done what they could not. Even Admiral Reuter, imprisoned in the Tower of London, silently read the reports and vowed to personally thank Mainz if he were ever released.
Yet Mainz had little time to dwell on accolades. After his mission in Britain, the next step was to return to China. The domestic bureau surely had new developments after so much time.
Upon entering his hotel room, Mainz immediately sensed danger. Something—or someone—was in the room.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
It was clear that this intruder was neither a companion nor an ally; someone had entered without permission.
"Who sent you to kill me?" Mainz asked sharply.
No answer came. The danger was real; recent reports of assassinations across Europe made it clear that his life could be targeted at any moment.
He hadn't brought his pistol into Britain before visiting Scapa Flow; it was locked in the safe beside his bed.
Turning on the lights was impossible—the intruder could pinpoint his location immediately. Exiting the room was also risky; the moment light entered, the opponent could take aim. Even with Mainz's reflexes and agility, a human could not match the speed of a bullet. Failure could mean death—or serious injury.
The masked intruder hesitated after hearing Mainz's voice, missing the perfect opportunity to strike. But the target's location was now uncertain. Another shot risked alerting any companions Mainz might have, so the killer had to act with a single decisive blow.
In the shadows, a deadly game began: Mainz seeking to survive and identify his assailant, the intruder determined to kill and escape.
Both simultaneously made the same decision. Both moved toward the white lockbox beside the bed.