Phew, I finally got through the round with the medium…
Klein let out a foul breath. He slowly turned around and enjoyed the cool breeze and tranquility of the night while walking closer and closer to the apartment building's door.
He took out his keys, inserted the correct one in and turned it gently, allowing the crimson-mixed darkness to expand with the creaking sound of the opened door.
Walking on the staircase without a single person in sight and taking in the cold air, Klein had an inexplicable and amazing feeling. It felt like he had a few more hours than others. This caused him to hasten his pace.
In a similar state of mind, he opened the door to his room and before he even stepped inside, he saw a silhouette sitting silently in front of his desk. It had reddish black hair, bright brown eyes, and a delicate, pretty face. Undoubtedly, she was Melissa Moretti!
"Klein, where did you go?" Melissa asked curiously as she relaxed her eyebrows.
Without waiting for Klein's reply, she added, "Just now, I got up to go to the bathroom and realized you weren't home." It was as if she wanted to know everything clearly, from the causes and effects of the matter to the underlying logic.
With great experience at lying to his parents, Klein's brain took a spin before he gave a bitter smile and calmly replied, "I couldn't fall asleep again after I woke up. Instead of wasting time, I decided that I should train my body. So I went out to run a few rounds. Look at my sweat!"
He took off his jacket and half-turned his body, pointing to his back.
Melissa stood up, took a glance half-heartedly and deliberated for a few moments before saying, "Honestly speaking, Klein, you don't have to stress yourself out. I'm sure you can pass the interview to Tingen University. Even if you can't, er—I mean if—you can still find better ones."
I haven't even thought about the interview… Klein nodded his head and said, "I understand."
He did not mention the "offer" that he had gotten because he had not decided whether he wanted to join them or not.
Staring at Klein intensely, Melissa suddenly turned around and trotted into the interior of the house. She took out an object that resembled a tortoise. It consisted of items like gears, rusted iron, torsion springs and ordinary springs.
After quickly tightening the torsion spring, Melissa placed the object on the desk.
Ka! Ka! Ka!
Dum! Dum! Dum!
The "tortoise" moved and jumped with a rhythm that could pull anyone's attention.
"Whenever I feel irritated, I feel much better seeing it move. I've been doing this very often recently and it's very effective! Klein, give it a try!" invited Melissa as her eyes brightened.
Klein did not turn down his sister's goodwill. He approached the "tortoise" and waited for it to stop before laughing. He said, "Simplicity and regularity can indeed help relaxation."
Without waiting for Melissa's reply, Klein pointed to the "tortoise" and casually asked, "Did you make this yourself? When did you make this? Why wasn't I aware of it?"
"I made use of unwanted materials from school and picked up things from the streets to make this. It was only finished two days ago," Melissa said in her usual tone, the side of her lips upturned a few more degrees.
"That's impressive," Klein praised sincerely.
As a boy with poor skills in machine assembly, he encountered great difficulties even assembling a four-wheel toy car as a child.
With her chin slightly raised and her eyes slightly bent, Melissa calmly replied, "It was okay."
"Being overly humble is a bad trait," Klein smiled slightly and continued, "This is a tortoise, right?"
Instantly, the atmosphere in the room took a great plunge, leaving behind an air of graveness for a while. Then, Melissa faintly replied with a voice that seemed enigmatic like the crimson veil, "It's a puppet."
Puppet…
Klein gave an awkward smile, and tried to forcefully explain, "The problem lies in the materials, they're too rudimentary."
Following that, he tried to change the topic and said, "Why would you go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Isn't there a toilet here? Don't you always sleep till dawn?"
Melissa was taken aback momentarily.
It was only after a few seconds, before she opened her mouth, prepared to explain.
At that moment, an intense sound of digestion sounded from her
"I-I'll go get some more sleep!"
Bang! She grabbed her tortoise-like "puppet", trotted to the interior of the house, and closed the door to her room.
Last night's dinner was too good, she ate too much and now her stomach is having trouble digesting it… Klein shook his head as he smiled, slowly walking towards his desk. He sat down soundlessly, silently pondering Dunn Smith's invitation as the crimson red moon emerged from behind the dark clouds.
Being a Nighthawk civilian staff member had its apparent disadvantages.
With me being a transmigrator, "The Fool"—initiator of the mysterious Gathering—and the multiple secrets I have, it will be risky to be under the noses of the Church of Evernight's team that specializes in dealing with matters regarding the Beyonders.
As long as I join Dunn Smith and his team, I would certainly aim to become a Beyonder. I could then cover up the benefits gained from the Gathering.
Yet, becoming a formal member would entail many restrictions on my freedom, like how a civilian staff has to report his leaving of Tingen. No longer would I be able to go wherever I want or do whatever I want. I would miss many opportunities.
The Nighthawks are a strict organization. Once a mission is given, I can only wait for the arrangements and accept orders. There is no room for rejection.
Beyonders have the risk of losing control.
…
Having all the disadvantages listed out one by one, Klein turned to considering the necessities and advantages:
Judging from the situation of the luck enhancement ritual, I'm not one of the eighty percent of lucky people. In the future, there is bound to be some bizarre event happening to me, increasing the dangers I face.
Only by becoming one of the Beyonders or by joining the Nighthawks can I be equipped with the ability to resist.
The wish to become a Beyonder cannot be solely reliant on the Gathering. The potion formula is not a major problem, but where can I find the corresponding materials? How am I to obtain and concoct them?
Not forgetting the nous of daily practice, I'm faced with serious obstacles! It is just not possible for me to consult Justice and The Hanged Man on every matter and exchange every object with them. This would not only hurt the image of The Fool and arouse their suspicions, but there will also be inadequate time to communicate on such trivial issues.
Similarly, I am unable to produce anything that can pique their interest.
Besides, more materials would more often than not leave behind the trail of my real identity. Then, "online disputes" would effectively be transformed into "offline conflicts," bringing about immense troubles.
By joining the Nighthawks, there would definitely be contact with the common knowledge of the world of mystery and relevant channels. This can sufficiently accumulate into a corresponding social circle and can be used as leverage. Only then can I initiate the Gathering and in turn gain the greatest benefits from Justice and The Hanged Man. In fact, the gains can feedback into reality, allowing me to obtain more resources and form a virtuous cycle.
Of course, I could also go to an organization that is suppressed by the various Churches such as the Psychology Alchemists mentioned by Dunn and join them.
Yet I'll also lose my freedom, and be in a constant state of fear and anxiety. However, more importantly, I have no idea where to look for them. Even if I manage to gain the corresponding information from The Hanged Man, such rash contact with them could endanger my life.
Becoming a civilian staff leaves opportunity for a buffer and exit.
The inferior recluse hides away in the wild; the superior, the crowd. Perhaps the identity as a Nighthawk can be a better cover.
In the future, when I become one of the top authorities of the tribunal, who would imagine that I am a heretic, the head of the secret organization who is working behind the scenes?
…
As the first rays of the morning sun shone, the crimson disappeared. Gazing at the golden light on the horizons of the sky, Klein made up his mind.
He would find Dunn Smith today and become part of the Nighthawk's civilian staff!
At this moment, Melissa, who had gotten out of bed again, had pushed open the door to the room. She was surprised to see her brother stretching in an unglamorous manner. "You didn't sleep?"
"I was thinking through some things." Klein smiled, feeling relaxed.
Melissa thought for a moment and said, "Whenever I encounter problems, I'll list out both the pros and cons one by one and compare them. After that, I would be able to get a hint of what I should do next."
"That's a good habit. I did that too," Klein smiled and replied.
Melissa's countenance was relaxed, and she did not add more. Holding a yellowish sheet of paper and her toiletries, she headed to the bathroom.
Not in a hurry to leave after he finished his breakfast and his sister's departure, Klein took a good nap. Based on what he knew, nearly all the pubs were closed in the morning.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, he smoothed the pleats of his silk hat and handkerchief using a small brush. He also removed the dirt to reestablish the tidiness.
Thereafter, he wore a suit of formal clothing, just like he was going for an interview.
Besik Street was a little far, and Klein was afraid that he would miss the "working hours" of the Nighthawks. Therefore, he did not walk there, but instead waited for a public horse carriage at Iron Cross Street.
In the Loen Kingdom, public horse carriages were placed under two categories—without track and with track.
The former consisted of a carriage drawn by two horses and could sit approximately 20 people while taking into account the top of the carriage. Only a general route existed, without specific stations. It had flexible operations and could be hailed anywhere unless it was full.
The latter was operated by the Orbital Carriage Company. First, a rail-like service device was laid on the main street. The horses would move on the inner lane while the wheels ran on the tracks, making it easier and more labor-saving. This could thus pull a bigger double-decker carriage that sat nearly fifty passengers.
However, the only problem was that the route and stations were fixed, making many places inaccessible.
After ten minutes, the sound of the wheels hitting the tracks approached from a distance. A double-decker horse carriage stopped in front of the station at Iron Cross Street.
"To Besik Street," Klein said to the carriage driver.
"You have to transfer at Champagne Street but when you get there, it takes about ten minutes to walk to Besik Street," explained the carriage driver to Klein, with regards to the route.
"Let's go to Champagne Street then." Klein nodded in approval.
"It's more than four kilometers, four pence", said a young man with a fair and clean face, as he extended his hand.
He was a worker responsible for money collection.
"Okay." Klein fished out four copper coins from his pocket and handed it to the other party.
He walked up to the carriage and found that there were not many passengers. Even on the first floor, there were a few empty seats.
"I only have three pence on me now, so I can only walk when I go back…" Klein pressed his hat down and sat down firmly.
On this floor, the men and women were mostly well-dressed although there were a few clothed in their work clothes, leisurely reading newspapers. Almost no one spoke, and it was rather quiet.
Klein shut his eyes and recharged his strength, oblivious to the coming and going of passengers around him.
Station after station passed until he finally heard the few words "Champagne Street."
After alighting the horse carriage, he inquired along the way and soon reached Besik Street, where he saw the pub with the brownish-yellow hound logo.
Klein reached out his right hand and gave a forceful push. The heavy door gradually opened, inundating him with a wave of uproarious noises and an impetuous heat wave.
Although it was still afternoon, there were already many customers in the pub. Some were temporary workers, looking for opportunities here, waiting to be hired. Others were simply idling around, numbing themselves with alcohol.
The pub was dimly lit. In the center, there were two large iron cages with a third of its bottom sinking deep into the ground without any gaps.
People held wooden wine cups and surrounded it, sometimes discussing loudly while laughing, sometimes cursing loudly.
Giving a curious glance, Klein found two dogs caged inside. One was black and white, similar to the husky found on Earth. The other was wholly black, with shiny fur, making it look healthy and fierce.
"Do you want to bet? Doug has won eight games in a row!" said a little man wearing a brown beret, as he neared Klein and pointed to the black dog.
Bet? Taken aback at first, Klein regained his senses immediately.
"Dog-fighting?"
When he was at Khoy University, those aristocratic and wealthy students would always ask him contemptuously and curiously, if the boorish workers and unemployed hooligans enjoyed participating in boxing and gambling at the pubs.
Besides being able to gamble on boxing and card games, didn't it also include cruel and bloody activities like cock-fighting, dog-fighting, and others?
The short man smirked. "Mister, we're civilized people. We don't engage in such unglamorous activities."
Having said that, he whispered, "Besides, laws were introduced to ban these things last year…"
"Then what are y'all betting on?" asked Klein curiously.
"The better hunter." Just as the short man finished his sentence, a resounding cacophony sounded.
He turned his head, waved his hands excitedly, and said, "You can't place a bet for this round as it has started, wait for the next one then."
Upon hearing that, Klein tipped his toes, lifted his head, and looked as far as he could.
He saw two strong men each dragging a sack, coming to the side of the iron cage and opening the "prison door." They then dumped the contents of the sack into the cage.
There were gray and disgusting animals!
Klein tried to identify them carefully before realizing that they were rats. Hundreds of rats!
As the iron cage was deep underground without any gaps, the rats moved in all directions but could not find a way out.
Right then, just as the door of the cage was closed, the chain of the two dogs were untied.
"Woof!" The black dog pounced ahead and killed a rat in one bite.
The black-and-white dog was dazed at first before it started playing excitedly with the rats.
The surrounding people either raised their wine cups and intensified their gaze or shouted loudly, "Bite it! Kill it!"
"Doug, Doug!"
Motherf**king rat-baiting with
The objective of the gamble is to determine which dog can catch more rats…
Perhaps, one can even bet on the specific number of rats caught…
No wonder there were people purchasing live rats at Iron Cross Street…
That's really unique…
Klein shook his head, laughing as he backtracked, and circled along the edge of the alcoholic customers, and reached the front of the bar.
"New here?" said the bartender as he spared Klein a glance while wiping the cups. He continued, "One cup of rye beer is a penny. Enmat beer, costs two pence. Four pence for Southville beer, or do you want a cup of purely brewed malt Lanti?"
"I came here for Mr. Wright," said Klein directly and bluntly.
The bartender whistled and shouted to the side, "Old Man, someone is looking for you."
"Oh, who…" A vague voice sounded, and an intoxicated old man stood up from behind the bar.
He rubbed his eyes, shifted his gaze to Klein and asked, "Lad, were you looking for me?"
"Mr. Wright, I would like to hire a small mercenary squad for a mission," replied Klein, according to what Dunn had instructed.
"A small mercenary squad? Are you living in an adventure story? This hasn't been around for a long time!" the bartender interrupted and smiled.
Wright went silent for a few seconds before saying, "Who told you about this place?"
"Dunn. Dunn Smith," replied Klein in all honesty.
Instantly, Wright broke out in a chuckle and replied, "I see. Actually, the small mercenary squad still exists. It's just in another form, with a more contemporary name. You can find it on the second floor of No. 36 Zouteland Street."
"Thank you," thanked Klein sincerely before he turned and squeezed out of the pub.
Before he went out of the pub, the alcoholic customers who surrounded him suddenly quieted down, as they murmured, "Doug was actually defeated…"
"Defeated…"
Klein smiled and shook his head. Then he left quickly and found his way to the nearby Zoeterland Street after asking around.
"30, 32, 34… Here," he counted the house numbers and walked into the stairwell.
Going around the corner and slowly climbing up the stairs, he saw the vertical sign with the current name of the so-called small mercenary squad.
"Blackthorn Security Company."
"Blackthorn Security Company."
Upon seeing the signboard, Klein felt surprised yet found it reasonable.
Man… what do I say about this… He shook his head and laughed before walking up the steps and knocking gently on the half-closed door with his right hand.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The sound echoed slowly but rhythmically, but there was no response; only a faint sputtering sound could be heard.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Klein repeated, only to be met with the same outcome.
He switched to pushing the door, making the gap larger as he stared inside—a classic sofa which might have been for serving guests, a soft fabric armchair, and a burly wood coffee table. There was a girl with brown hair behind a table right across with her head drooped.
Even though "Security Company" is just a guise, isn't this just… just too "unprofessional?" How long has this place been out of business? Right, you guys don't need any business… Klein drew closer as he complained silently and knocked on the table just beside the girl's ear.
Knock! Knock!
The brown-haired girl sat up immediately and swiftly took the newspaper in front of her, covering her face.
Tingen City Honest Paper… Nice name… Klein silently read the title of the page facing him.
"The 'Soaring Express' steam train service, which commences today and directly connects to Constant City… Ugh, why can't they have one that goes straight to Brindisi Bay? I absolutely detest traveling by ship, it's utterly dreadful…"
The girl, with her brown hair, pretentiously read from the newspaper. Interrupting her own remarks, she lowered the paper, revealing a smooth forehead and a pair of light-brown eyes that stared at Klein with a mix of admiration and surprise. "Well, hello there! And who might you be?"
"Hello, I am Klein Moretti, and I am here at the invitation of Dunn Smith," Klein said as he took down his hat to his chest and bowed slightly.
The brown-haired girl looked to be in her early twenties. She wore a light green, Loen-styled dress. She was accentuated by the beautiful laces on her sleeves, collar, and chest.
"The Captain… alright, wait here for a moment. I'll go get him." The girl scurried up and went into the room beside her.
She didn't even serve a cup of water or anything… The level of service awareness is worrying… Klein smiled faintly as he waited at his spot.
After two to three minutes, the brown-haired girl opened the door and came out. She said with a sweet smile, "Mr. Moretti, please follow me. The Captain is on watch at the 'Chanis Gate' and is unable to leave at the moment."
"Okay." Klein quickly followed behind. In his mind, he pondered to himself.
Chanis Gate, what could that be?
Going through the partition, the first thing he saw was a small corridor, with only three offices on each side.
Some of these offices were locked tight, while some were opened, revealing someone on the inside who typed non-stop on a heavy mechanical typewriter.
At a glance, Klein noticed a familiar figure: the young officer that had investigated his apartment, the one with the black hair, green eyes, and romantic vibe of a poet.
He was not in official wear; his white collared shirt was not tucked in, making for quite an unruly appearance.
Perhaps he really is a poet… Klein nodded in greeting and was greeted with a smile.
The brown-haired girl pushed open the left office door at the end of the room and pointed inside, chirping, "We still have to go down a few levels."
This office had no furniture in place, only a grayish-white stone staircase that extended downwards.
The two sides of the stairs were lit up by gas lamps. The stable glow dispelled the darkness and gave a sense of harmony.
The brown-haired girl walked in front, staring at her feet while walking carefully.
"Although I walk here often, I am still constantly afraid of falling down, tumbling down like a barrel. You don't know, Leonard did such a folly. On the first day of becoming a 'Sleepless'—the first day where he had not mastered his new powers—he tried to rush down the flight of stairs. And-and he became a cartwheel. Haha, it was hilarious if you think about it. Oh yes, it was the guy that greeted you just now. This was about three years ago. Speaking of which, I have been with the Nighthawks for five years; I was only seventeen when I joined…"
The girl watched her steps as she spoke. Suddenly, she smacked her forehead and said, "I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Rozanne. My father was a member of the Nighthawks, who sacrificed himself in an accident five years ago. I suppose we are colleagues from now on— Err, yeah 'colleague' is the right word… we are not teammates since we are not Beyonders."
"I hope to have the honor, but still it depends on what Mr. Smith has to say," Klein said as he sized up the enclosed surroundings. He felt that they were going underground—dampness seeped out from the stone walls, dispelling the summer heat.
"Don't worry, the fact that you came so far means the Captain has agreed. I've always been a little afraid of him, even though he is amiable, a fatherly figure. I don't know why but I'm still afraid." Rozanne spoke as though there was a piece of sweet in her throat.
Klein answered humorously, "Isn't being afraid of a father normal?"
"True." Rozanne said as she held the wall around the bend.
As they spoke, the two finished walking down the stairs and reached a stone-paved floor.
It was a long aisle; both sides of the walls were mounted with gas lamps surrounded by metal gratings. Klein and Rozanne's shadows were elongated under the illumination.
Klein keenly noticed that there was a "Dark Sacred Emblem" every few meters—the symbol of the Evernight Goddess. A deep black background dotted with sparkling embellishments, as they clustered precisely half the crimson moon.
These emblems did not seem special, but walking between them gave Klein a sense of serenity. Rozanne also stopped talking, unlike her previous talkative state.
Before long, an intersection appeared up front. Rozanne briefly introduced,
"The path to the left will lead to the Saint Selena Cathedral; to the right are the armory, storeroom, and archives. And straight ahead is Chanis Gate."
Saint Selena Cathedral? Then, Zouteland Street is just behind Red Moonlight Street? Klein was a little stunned.
Saint Selena Cathedral of Red Moonlight Street was the headquarters of the Church of Evernight in Tingen, a sacred ground where local followers yearned to visit. Along with "Holy Numerics Cathedral" of the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery in the suburbs, and the "River and Sea Cathedral" of the Church of Storms in North Tingen, they sustained the religious circles in Tingen City and its affiliated towns and villages.
Aware that his status made it unsuitable for him to ask more, Klein only listened silently.
They passed the intersection and moved straight ahead. In less than a minute, a black iron split gate carved with seven sacred emblems was seen.
It stood there, heavy, cold and domineering, like a giant guarding in the darkness.
"Chanis Gate." Rozanne reminded him and pointed at the room beside them, saying, "Captain is inside. Go on in by yourself."
"Alright, thank you." Klein replied politely.
The room Rozanne was referring to was just in front of "Chanis Gate." The windows were opened, revealing the lit room inside. Klein took a deep breath to calm himself.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Come in." He heard Dunn Smith's deep and amiable voice.
Klein opened the unlatched door gently. There was only a table and four chairs inside. Dunn Smith with his high hairline, who was wearing the black coat from the previous night plus a gold watch chain around his chest, was reading the newspaper leisurely.
"Come and have a seat. Have you decided? Are you certain you want to join us?" Dunn smiled and asked as he put down the newspaper.
Klein removed his hat and bowed, then he sat beside the table and said, "Yes, I am certain."
"Then take a look at this deed, heh heh. People like to call it a contract now." Dunn pulled out the table drawer and took out two contract copies.
There were not many clauses, and most of them had been mentioned by Dunn Smith. The emphasis was on the confidential clause. Violators were tried in the tribunal courts of the Church of Evernight instead of the kingdom's courts. It was akin to how soldiers and officers were sent to court martial for trials.
A five year contract… Two pounds and ten soli for weekly wages, ten soli as compensation for the risk and confidentiality… Klein read through it and answered resolutely, "I've no problem with it."
"Then sign it," Dunn said as he pointed to the dark red fountain pen and ink.
Klein used a piece of waste paper to try out the pen before drawing a breath. He signed on both contracts with his name: Klein Moretti.
As he did not have a stamp yet, he could only use his thumbprint.
Dunn received the contract, took out a stamp from the drawer, and stamped on the end of the contract and a few key parts.
With that done, he stood up and returned a contract with one hand, and reached for Klein with the other saying, "Welcome, from now on, you are one of us, and please note that the contract is confidential as well."
Klein stood up as well. He received the contract, shook his hand, and said, "So, I shall be addressing you as Captain?"
"Yes." Dunn's grayish eyes seemed especially deep in the dim surroundings.
After shaking hands, they sat down. Klein glanced at the stamp on the contract, it read: "Nighthawk team, Tingen City, Awwa County, Loen Kingdom."
"I can't believe you guys would use the name 'Blackthorn Security Company' as a disguise," he laughed and said.
"Actually, we have other signboards." Dunn pulled out a piece of paper from the drawer.
It was stamped with the stamps of the city government and the police department. The contents were as follows: "Seventh Unit, Special Operations Department, Awwa County Police, Loen Kingdom."
"The first four units are the regular police responsible for general security, like the VIP Protection Unit and Key Installations Protection Unit. And from unit five onwards are the ones dealing with supernatural incidents in each city. Our unit is responsible for incidents related to the followers of Evernight Goddess in Tingen. If there are different types of followers, then we divide the area accordingly; we are mainly in charge of places like the north, west and the Golden Indus region."
Dunn briefly introduced, "Unit Six of the Mandated Punisher squad under the Church of Storms is in charge of the pier region, the east, and the south. The university area and the suburbs are under Unit Five, which is the Machinery Hivemind squad in Tingen."
"Right." Klein had no questions about it. He then laughed. "What happens if someone really comes here due to the 'Blackthorn Security Company' signboard and requests for our services?"
"We'll take those requests; why shouldn't we? As long as it doesn't affect our daily operations," Dunn said slowly and humorously. "Any earnings would be considered additional bonuses, so our members are quite willing to take those jobs. Anyway, the market for trivial and troublesome matters such as finding dogs and cats has been monopolized by private detectives."
"So how many people are there in this Nighthawk team?" Klein asked since they were on this topic.
"There aren't many supernatural incidents, so there are even fewer Beyonders. There are only six formal members of the Nighthawks in the entire Tingen City, including me. Heh heh, as for civilian staff, there are six including you."
Klein nodded his head, and eventually asked the question that he was most concerned about, "So, Captain, what do you mean by Beyonders losing control? Why does it happen?"
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