14 LOTM

Sir Deweyville's bedroom was larger than the living room and dining room of Klein's house combined. It was partitioned into a place for a bed, a living space, a changing room, a bathroom, and a study desk and bookshelves. The furnishings were exquisite, and the details were extravagant.

But to Klein, the light seemed dimmer and the temperature was several degrees colder than the outside.

At the same time, he seemed to hear the sound of sobbing and moaning, as though one was putting up a last-ditch struggle.

Klein was in a trance, and everything suddenly returned to normal. The sunlight shone brightly through the window and poured over the entire bedroom. The temperature was reasonable, neither too high nor low. The surrounding policemen, bodyguards, and butler were quiet. No one spoke.

This... He looked sideways at the classic yet luxurious bed. He felt there were pairs of blurry eyes lingering in the shadow, like the moths that fearlessly stayed around gas lamps.

Taking a few steps closer, Klein lost the earlier images from his Spirit Vision.

Not a standard wraith or an evil spirit... What is it exactly? Klein frowned and recalled the mysticism knowledge that he had been learning all this time.

From what he had seen, the mission would have been easy if it was passed to a Corpse Collector, Gravedigger, or Spirit Medium. It was obviously not within his domain of expertise.

Holding back his urge to use divination as an investigative approach, Klein looked around slowly to look for other traces to confirm the few guesses on his mind.

"Inspector." Sir Deweyville hesitated and asked, "Did you discover anything?"

"If it were that easy, I believe my colleagues wouldn't have waited until now," Klein replied, glancing at the philanthropist subconsciously.

Just as he planned to retract his gaze, he suddenly saw that there was a faint white human figure reflected behind Sir Deweyville in the mirror behind him.

No, there were many figures overlapping each other, resulting in a white distorted figure!

The figure flashed by and Klein seemed to hear faint sobbing.

Phew... He let out a breath to ease his nerves, having almost drawn his gun out out of fright.

Heightened spiritual perception with Spirit Vision will one day scare me senseless... Klein tried relaxing his tense nerves by joking around before redirecting his focus back onto Sir Deweyville.

This time, he saw something different.

Now that he was in the bedroom, Sir Deweyville had a faint and twisted figure shimmering around him. It even dimmed the lighting of that area.

Every flash was accompanied by an illusionary cry and moan that could hardly be detected by an ordinary person.

Hardly audible for an ordinary person under ordinary circumstances? Is it because it's daytime? Klein nodded as he thought. @@novelbin@@

He had an initial judgment for this case.

It was resentment that was haunting Sir Deweyville. It was the remnant spirituality that resulted from unresolved emotions before a human's death!

If such feelings of resentment stayed in this world over a period of time, they would become a terrifying wrathful spirit after becoming stronger.

However, Sir Deweyville was a famous philanthropist. Even Benson, who was a picky person, was in awe of him. Why would he be bogged down with the resentment of the dead? Is he actually two-faced? Could it be the means of a Beyonder with nefarious intentions? Klein guessed the possibilities suspiciously.

After some thought, he looked towards Deweyville and asked, "Honorable Sir, I have a few questions."

"Please ask." Deweyville sat down wearily.

Klein organized his thoughts and asked, "When you leave here to go to a new place, such as the village or Backlund, do you temporarily get at least half a night's worth of peace before the situation resumes and gradually worsens? Even when you sleep during the daytime, are you able to hear moaning and sobbing sounds?"

Deweyville's half-closed eyes suddenly widened as his deep blue eyes were suddenly beaming with hope.

"Yes, did you find the root of the problem?"

Only then did he realize that due to his extended period of insomnia and his poor mental state, he had completely forgotten to inform the police about such an important clue!

Seeing that Klein's question had uncovered something useful, Inspector Tolle relaxed. He knew that the Nighthawk had found a clue.

Sergeant Gate was surprised and curious too. He couldn't help but look closely at the psychological expert, Klein.

It coincided with the traits of gradual entanglement and the feature of accumulation... Having received the feedback, Klein had basically confirmed the cause.

Then, he had two ways of helping Sir Deweyville to shake off the burden. One was to set up an altar directly around the man and remove the resentment of the dead entirely using ritualistic magic. The second option was to use other mysticism measures to find the root of the problem and solve it from there.

Taking into consideration the rule of preventing commoners from learning of Beyonder powers to the best of his abilities, Klein planned on first attempting the second method. Only if it failed would he pray to the Goddess.

"Sir, yours is a psychological illness, a mental problem," he spoke nonsense with absolute seriousness while looking at Deweyville.

Sir Deweyville knitted his brows and asked in reply, "Are you telling me that I'm a mental patient, that I need to enter an asylum?"

"No, nothing that serious. Actually, most people have psychological problems to one degree or another," Klein casually comforted him. "Please allow me to introduce myself again. I am a psychological expert from the Awwa County Police."

"Psychological expert?" Deweyville and his butler looked at Inspector Tolle who they were familiar with.

Tolle nodded seriously and confirmed that it was true.

"Alright, what do you need of me for my treatment? Besides, I don't understand why my butler, my bodyguards, and my servants will hear the sobbing and moaning as well..." Deweyville held his walking stick with both hands, looking confused.

Klein replied professionally, "I will explain it to you after it's resolved."

"Please tell your butler, your servants, and your bodyguards to leave. Inspector Tolle, Sergeant Gate, please leave as well. I need a quiet environment to begin the initial treatment."

A "treatment" with magic... Inspector Tolle added in his heart and nodded at Sir Deweyville.

Deweyville fell silent for more than ten seconds before saying, "Cullen, take them to the living room on the second floor."

"Yes, Sir." Butler Cullen didn't retort since the request was made by a police officer, a probationary inspector, and a psychological expert.

After watching them leave the room one after another and closing the door behind them, Klein looked at Deweyville who had dark blond hair and blue eyes, and said, "Sir, please lie down on your bed. Relax and try to sleep."

"...Alright." Deweyville hung his coat and hat on the clothes rack before walking slowly to the side of the bed and then laid down.

Klein drew all the curtains, turning the room dark.

He took off his pendant and quickly used spirit pendulum to determine any dangers. Then, he sat on the rocking chair near the end of the bed, traced a spherical light in his mind, and entered Cogitation. He allowed the world of spirituality to extend before his eyes.

Then, he leaned against the back of the chair and fell into a deep sleep, allowing for his Astral Projection to make contact with the external world.

He was using the technique of dream divination, to let himself be in the spiritual environment like he was dreaming, so as to communicate with each and every resentment that plagued Sir Deweyville.

Only communication would be able to give him an answer and solve the problem!

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

A sad sob reverberated in Klein's ear, and he "saw" that the white translucent figures were floating around him.

A painful groan echoed as Klein, who barely regained his mental processes, extended his right hand and touched one of them.

Suddenly, the figures swarmed at him like moths darting toward a fire.

The image before Klein's eyes suddenly turned blurry and his brain seemed to be cleaved into two. Half of his mind was calmly observing while the other half saw a "mirror."

In the "mirror," there was a young girl dressed in worker garbs. She looked strong and fit as she walked in a dust-covered factory while her head throbbed in pain.

Her eyesight occasionally turned blurry and her body became skinnier by the day.

She seemed to hear someone calling her Charlotte, and the voice said that she had a hysterical illness.

Hysterical illness? She looked towards the mirror and saw that she had a faint blue line on her gum.

...

The "mirror's view" switched and Klein saw another girl called Mary.

She too walked into the lead factory, young and lively.

Suddenly, half of her face started twitching, followed by her arm and leg on the same side.

"You have epilepsy." She heard someone say while her whole body was convulsing.

As she twitched and fell, the intensity increased before she finally lost consciousness.

...

There was another girl, and she was depressed. She was walking around the street in a daze, to the point of having a speech impediment.

She had a very bad headache, and she had a blue line on her gums. She would also convulse from time to time.

She met a doctor, and the doctor said, "Lafayette, this is a result of lead poisoning."

The doctor looked at her with pity and saw her convulse again. She twitched continuously, and the doctor saw that her eyes had lost all their light.

...

Many images appeared before Klein, and he remained immersed within them and calmly observed.

Suddenly, he understood the plight of the girls 1 .

The female workers had been in extended contact with white lead. They had all died of lead poisoning as a result of long-term exposure to the dust and powder.

Sir Deweyville had a lead factory under his name and also two porcelain factories. All of them hired comparatively cheaper female workers!

Klein "saw" all of that in silence, and felt that there was something that still had not been clarified.

Such "death resentment" was insignificant. They could not affect reality or have any effect on Deweyville even when accumulated.

Unless— Unless there was a more powerful and stubborn resentment that had united them all.

Just then, he "saw" another girl.

The girl was no more than 18 years old, but she was glazing the porcelain in the factory.

"Hayley, how are you doing lately? Do you still have a headache? If it gets too serious, remember to inform me. Sir Deweyville has enforced a rule that people with severe headaches cannot continue being in contact with lead and must leave the factory," an elder lady asked with concern.

Hayley touched her forehead and replied with a smile, "Just a little, I'm okay."

"Tell me tomorrow if it gets any worse," the elderly lady exhorted.

Hayley agreed. When she returned home, she massaged her forehead from time to time.

She saw that her parents and brothers had returned, but their faces looked hopeless.

"Your father and brothers lost their jobs..." her mother said as she wiped her tears.

Her father and brother hung their heads low and muttered, "We will try to get some work at the harbor."

"But we don't even have bread money for the day after tomorrow... Maybe we will need to move to Lower Street..." Hayley's mother looked at her with reddened eyes. "When are you getting your pay? It's ten soli, right?"

Hayley massaged her forehead again.

"Yeah, Saturday. Saturday."

She didn't say anything else and remained as quiet as usual. She returned to the factory the next day and told her supervisor that her headache recovered and she felt fine.

She smiled and walked five kilometers back and fro to work daily. She massaged her head more and more frequently.

"You haven't found another job?" Hayley couldn't help but ask her father and brother while looking at the soup which was boiling with black bread.

Her father said in frustration, "The economy is in a recession. Many places are retrenching. Even the harbor jobs are sporadic. I could only get three soli and seven pence a week."

Hayley sighed and fell into her usual silence. However, she hid her left hand that was twitching suddenly.

On the second day, she walked to work again. The sun was shining brightly, and the street grew busier and busier with pedestrians.

Suddenly, she started convulsing all over.

She fell to the side of the road, foam spewing out of her mouth.

She looked up into the sky and her gaze turned into a blur. She saw people walking past and others getting close. She saw a carriage pass by with the Deweyville family emblem with a white dove with its spread wings as if ready to take off.

She tried hard to open her mouth, but she couldn't make a sound.

So, she didn't say a thing, quiet as ever.

But the difference this time was that she was dead.

-x-X-x-

The scenery started to distort, turning illusory and began to fade away.

After Klein left his dreamlike state, his vision adapted to the darkness in the room.

He knew that with one pound and ten soli, which was thirty soli a week, Benson didn't have an easy time supporting the family according to the standards of an average family.

He had thought that the majority of workers earned twenty soli a week.

He had once heard Melissa remark that Lower Street of Iron Cross Street had five, seven, or even ten families squeezing into the same room.

He also learned from Benson that as a result of the situation in the Southern Continent, the kingdom's economy was in a recession for the past few months.

He knew that a maid, with board and lodging provided, could earn between three soli and sixpence to six soli a week.

Klein extended his hand and pinched his glabella. He was silent for a long time, until Sir Deweyville asked, "Officer, aren't you going to say anything? The psychiatrists I went to would always speak to me and ask questions in such a situation.

"However, I must say that I feel at peace. I almost fell asleep. I haven't heard any moans or cries yet. @@novelbin@@

"How did you do it?"

Klein leaned back in the rocking chair. Instead of providing an answer, he asked with a gentle tone, "Sir, do you know about lead poisoning? Do you know about the dangers of lead?"

Deweyville fell silent for a few seconds. "I did not know about it in the past, but I do now. Are you telling me that my psychological illness stems from my guilt—my guilt toward the female lead and porcelain factory workers?"

Without waiting for Klein to answer, he continued just like he always had—in his position of power during a negotiation.

"Yes, I did feel guilty about this in the past, but I did compensate them. At my lead and porcelain factories, the workers do not earn less than other workers in the same industry. In Backlund, lead and porcelain workers are paid no more than eight soli a week, but I pay them ten, sometimes even more.

"Heh, many people criticize me for breaking ranks since it makes it hard for them to recruit workers. If not for the Grain Act that made many farmers bankrupt, sending them to the cities, they would have had to raise their wages just like I did.

"Furthermore, I've also informed the supervisor of the factories to make sure that those with repeated headaches and blurry vision are to leave the areas where they are exposed to lead. If their illness is really severe, then they can even ask for help at my charity foundation.

"I think I have done enough."

Klein spoke without a ripple of emotion in his voice, "Sir, at times, you cannot imagine how important a salary is to a poor person. Simply losing work for a week or two can result in an irreversible loss to their family, a loss that would cause tremendous grief."

He paused before saying, "I am curious, why wouldn't a kind person like you install equipment that can protect against dust and lead poisoning in your factories?"

Deweyville looked at the ceiling and laughed ruefully.

"That would make my costs too high for me to bear. I would no longer be able to compete with other lead and porcelain companies. I no longer pay too much attention to my profits in these areas of my business. In fact, I am even willing to fork out some money. But what's the point of keeping the business if I have to keep doing that? That can only help a number of workers and not become a standard in the industry or effect change on other factories.

"That would merely result in me forking out money to support the workers. I heard that some factories even secretly hire slaves to minimize costs."

Klein crossed his hands and said after a moment of silence, "Sir, the root of your psychological illness comes from the buildup of guilt, despite you believing that the guilt has faded and disappeared over time. It wouldn't have any visible effects under normal circumstances, but there was something that triggered you and set off all the problems at once."

"Something that triggered me? I'm not aware of such a thing," Deweyville said puzzled, but with conviction.

Klein allowed the chair to rock gently as he explained with a gentle tone, "You did fall asleep for a few minutes just now, and you told me something."

"Hypnosis?" Deweyville made a guess as he usually did.

Klein did not give a direct reply and instead said, "You once saw a girl dying on her way to work while you were on your carriage. She had died because of lead poisoning. She was one of your workers who glazed porcelain while she was still alive."

Deweyville rubbed his temples, speechless before saying somewhat doubtful, "I think that happened once... but I can't remember it clearly..."

His prolonged insomnia had left him in a poor mental state. He could only faintly recall seeing such a scene.

He thought for a moment, but gave up taxing his brain. Instead, he asked, "What was that worker's name?

"Well, what I meant was, what should I do to cure my psychological illness?"

Klein replied immediately, "Two things."

"First, the worker that died by the side of the road was called Hayley Walker. That was what you told me. She was the most direct trigger, so you have to find her parents and give them more compensation.

"Second, spread information about the dangers of lead in the newspapers and magazines. Allow your charity foundation to help more workers who suffered from the damage. If you succeed in becoming a member of parliament, push for enacting laws in this domain."

Deweyville sat up slowly and laughed in a self-deprecating manner.

"I will do all of the rest, but to enact a law, heh— I think it's impossible since there is still competition from nations beyond our country. Setting up such a law would just slip the entire industry in the country into a crisis. Factories would become bankrupt one by one, and many workers would lose their jobs. Organizations that help the poor cannot save that many people."

He slowly got off the bed and adjusted his collar. He then looked at Klein and said, "Hayley Walker, right? I'll immediately get Cullen to retrieve information about her from the porcelain company and find her parents. Officer, please wait with me and continuously evaluate my mental state."

"Alright." Klein stood up slowly and smoothed his black-and-white checkered police uniform.

...

At eleven in the morning in the living room of Deweyville.

Klein sat on the sofa in silence as he looked at the man and woman being guided into the house by Butler Cullen.

The two guests had blemished skin, wrinkles already woven into their faces. The man had a slight hunch while the woman had a mole under her eyelid.

They looked nearly identical to what Klein had seen through Hayley, just older and more haggard. They were so skinny that they were almost all bone. Their clothes were old and ragged. Klein even learned that they couldn't continue living on Lower Street of Iron Cross Streets any further.

Sob...

Klein sensed an icy wind start to spiral through his spiritual perception.

He pinched his glabella and shot a glance toward Sir Deweyville. It was unknown when a faint white, translucent, contorted figure had appeared behind him.

"Good-good morning, Honorable Sir." Hayley's parents were unusually polite.

Deweyville rubbed his forehead and asked, "Are the both of you Hayley Walker's parents? Doesn't she also have a brother and a two-year-old sister?"

Hayley's mother answered in fear, "Her-her brother broke his leg at the harbor sometime back. We got him to take care of his sister at home."

Deweyville remained silent for a few seconds before he sighed.

"My deepest condolences for what happened to Hayley."

Upon hearing that, the eyes of Hayley's parents immediately turned red. They opened their mouths and said over each other, "Thank-thank you for your goodwill.

"The police told us-told us, that Hayley died from lead poisoning. That's the term, right? Oh, my poor child, she was only seventeen. She was always so quiet, so determined.

"You had sent someone to visit her before and sponsored her burial. She is buried at the Raphael Cemetery."

Deweyville glanced at Klein and changed his sitting posture. He leaned forward and said with a serious tone, "That was actually an oversight of ours. I have to apologize."

"I have considered that I need to compensate you, to compensate Hayley. Her weekly salary was ten soli, was it not? One year would be five hundred and twenty soli, or twenty-six pounds. Let's assume that she could have worked for another ten years.

"Cullen, give Hayley's parents three hundred pounds."

"Three-three hundred pounds?" Hayley's parents were dumbfounded.

They never had more than one pound of savings, even at their richest!

It wasn't only them who were dazed. Even the expressions of the bodyguards and maids in the room were also all that of shock and envy. Even Sergeant Gate couldn't help but draw in a deep breath—his weekly salary was only two pounds and among his subordinates, only one chevroned constable earned one pound a week.

Amidst the silence, Butler Cullen walked out of the study and held a bulging sack.

He opened the sack and revealed stacks of cash, some one pound, some five pounds, but mostly made up of one or five soli.

It was clear that Deweyville had made his subordinates receive "change" from the bank earlier.

"It's an expression of Sir Deweyville's goodwill," Cullen handed the sack over to Hayley's parents after receiving confirmation from his master.

Hayley's parents took the sack and rubbed their eyes, looking at it in disbelief.

"No, this-this is too generous, we cannot accept this," they said as they held the sack tightly.

Deweyville said in a deep voice, "This is what Hayley deserves."

"Y-you truly are a noble, charitable knight!" Hayley's parents bowed repeatedly in agitation.

They had smiles on their faces, smiles that they couldn't repress.

They praised the knight repeatedly, repeating the same few adjectives they knew. They kept insisting that Hayley would be grateful towards him in heaven.

"Cullen, send them home. Oh, take them to the bank first," Deweyville heaved a sigh of relief and instructed his butler.

Hayley's parents hugged the sack tightly and walked toward the door quickly without stopping.

Klein saw the faint translucent figure behind Sir Deweyville attempt to extend its hands towards them, hoping to leave with them, but the parents' smiles were abnormally radiant. They didn't turn back.

That figure turned fainter and, soon, vanished completely.

Klein also sensed that the icy feeling in the guest hall had instantly returned to normal.

From beginning to end, all he did was sit there silently, not expressing his opinion.

"Officer, I feel much better. Now can you tell me why my butler, servants, and bodyguards could also hear the cries and moans? This shouldn't just be solely a psychological illness of mine, right?" Deweyville looked at him curiously.

Inspector Tolle, who knew the underlying truth, instantly became nervous.

Klein replied without much expression, "In psychology, we call this phenomenon—mass hysteria."

"Mass hysteria?" Sir Deweyville, who had met many psychiatrists recently, ruminated over the term Klein had said.

Despite their curiosity, his butler, bodyguards, and servants didn't make a single sound since they had not been given permission by him.

As for Sergeant Gate, he looked towards Klein doubtfully as if he had never heard of that concept.

Klein controlled his habit of tapping the armrest with his fingertips and calmly explained, "Humans can be fooled easily by their sensory organs. Mass hysteria is a kind of psychogenic illness that is a result of tense nerves and other factors amongst a group of individuals as they influence each other."

The jargon he spewed out confused Sir Deweyville, Sergeant Gate, and the rest, causing them to subconsciously opt to believe him.

"Let me give a simple example of this; this was one of the cases that I previously dealt with, one man held a dinner banquet and invited 35 guests. Midway, he suddenly felt disgusted and puked. After that, he even had severe diarrhea. After a couple times, he began to believe that he had gotten food poisoning. He shared his speculation with the other guests on the way to the hospital.

"In the next two hours, there were more than 30 guests that had diarrhea amongst the 35 guests, with 26 of them experiencing nausea. They flooded the entire emergency room of the hospital.

"The doctors went through a detailed examination and performed cross checks, and they concluded that the very first man didn't have food poisoning at all. Instead, it was a result of stomach inflammation caused by the change of weather and cold liquor.

"The most surprising fact was that none of the guests who went to the hospital had food poisoning. In fact, not a single one of them was sick.

"That is mass hysteria."

Deweyville nodded slightly and marveled, "I understand now. Humans do lie to themselves easily. It's no wonder that Emperor Roselle once said that a lie would become reality once it was repeated a hundred times.

"Officer, how may I address you? You are the most professional psychiatrist I have ever met."

"Inspector Moretti." Klein pointed at his epaulet and said, "Sir, your troubles have been resolved temporarily for now. You can try to sleep now while I determine if there are any other problems. If you are able to sleep well, please allow us to bid farewell ahead of time instead of waiting for you to wake up."

"Alright." Deweyville massaged his forehead, took his cane, and walked upstairs to his bedroom.

Half an hour later, a police carriage left the fountain at the door of Deweyville's residence.

When Sergeant Gate got off on the way and returned to his police station, Inspector Tolle looked towards Klein. He complimented in jest, "Even I believed that you were a real psychological expert..."

Before he finished his sentence, he saw the young man in a black-and-white checkered uniform looking expressionless. His eyes were deep and serene as he forced a smirk on his face and said, "I only had some experience with it in the past."

Inspector Tolle fell silent until the carriage arrived outside 36 Zouteland Street.

"Thank you for your assistance, allowing Sir Deweyville to be finally free from his problems and be able to find sleep again." He extended his hand and shook Klein's hand. "Thank Dunn on my behalf."

Klein nodded slightly and said, "Alright."

He went up the stairs and returned to the Blackthorn Security Company. He knocked and entered the captain's office.

"Done?" Dunn was waiting for his lunch.

"Done." Klein massaged his forehead, and kept his reply short and simple. "The root of the problem stemmed from the lead and porcelain factory under Sir Deweyville. From the moment they were established to this day, too many deaths have been caused by lead poisoning. And every accident left Sir Deweyville with some resentful spirituality."

"Generally speaking, that wouldn't bring too big of a problem. That might cause nightmares, at the most." Dunn had experienced similar cases with his plethora of experience.

Klein nodded slightly and said, "Yes, that's usually the case. But, unfortunately, Sir Deweyville encountered a female worker who died of lead poisoning on the streets. She collapsed by the side of the street and happened to catch a glimpse of the Deweyville's family emblem. She also harbored intense indignation, worry, and desires. It was only when Sir Deweyville gave her parents, brother, and sister a compensation of three hundred pounds did her emotions dissipate."

"This is a societal problem. It isn't rare in the Age of Steam and Machinery." Dunn took out his smoking pipe, smelled the tobacco, and sighed. "Workers that make linen work in damp environments, and are generally diagnosed with bronchitis and joint related ailments. As for factories with serious powder and dust issues, even if the dust isn't poisonous, it can still accumulate into lung problems... Sigh... We don't have to talk about this. As the kingdom develops, I believe these problems will be resolved. Klein, let's find a restaurant tonight to celebrate you becoming an official member, alright?"

Klein thought for a moment before saying, "How about tomorrow... Captain, I have used Spirit Vision for an extended period of time today and also used dream divination to directly interact with those resentments. I'm feeling especially drained. I want to return home in the afternoon to get some rest. Would that be okay? Oh, then I'll head over to the Divination Club at about four or five in the afternoon to see how the club members are reacting to news of Hanass Vincent's sudden death."

"No problem, that's only necessary." Dunn chuckled. "Tomorrow night it is. Let's do it at Old Will's Restaurant next door. I'll get Rozanne to make a reservation."

Klein took off his police peak cap and stood up to salute him.

"Thank you, Captain. See you tomorrow."

Dunn lifted his hand and said, "Hold on, did you mention that Sir Deweyville gave the female worker's parents a compensation of three hundred pounds?"

"Yes." Klein nodded and immediately understood the reason why the captain had mentioned it. "You are worried that they will get into trouble because of their wealth?"

Dunn sighed.

"I've seen many similar situations in the past. Pass me their address, I'll ask Kenley to arrange for them to leave Tingen for another city, to start life anew."

"Alright," Klein replied in a deep voice.

With all of that done, he left Dunn's office and entered the break room diagonally opposite. He changed into his original suit and left the police uniform in his locker.

Klein took the public carriage back to Daffodil Street in silence. He took off his coat and top hat. He then heated up the leftovers from last night and ate them with the last piece of wheat bread to fill his stomach.

Then, he went to the second floor, hung his clothes, and slumped into bed.

When he woke up, the pocket watch showed that it was already ten past two in the afternoon. The sun was hanging high up in the sky and the sunlight shone through the clouds.

Underneath the golden splendor, Klein stood next to his desk and looked out the oriel window. He watched the pedestrians in old ragged clothing as they entered or left Iron Cross Street.

Phew... He let out a breath slowly, finally overcoming his low spirits.

Every journey had to be taken one step at a time. Likewise, his Sequence needed to be advanced one level at a time. Everything worked like that.

He shook his head and sat down. He started concluding and reorganizing his encounter over the last week, so as to reinforce the important points in his mind to prevent himself from forgetting them.

Five minutes before three in the afternoon.

Above a blurry, boundless, grayish-white, silent gray fog stood a lofty palace. An ancient mottled bronze table sat there quietly.

On the seat of honor at the long table sat a man already engulfed by the thick gray fog.

Klein leaned against the back of the chair and contemplated. He suddenly extended his hand and tapped on the crimson stars that represented Justice and The Hanged Man.

...

Backlund, Empress Borough.

Audrey lifted her dress as she quickly walked towards her bedroom.

Suddenly, she felt something and looked sideways at the shadow sitting on the balcony. As expected, she saw her golden retriever, Susie, who was sitting there in silence, observing her as always.

Audrey sighed and drew a crimson moon on her chest. She then got closer and looked down at her golden retriever from a commanding position.

"Susie, that's not right. This is peeping. A Spectator has to observe in an open manner."

The golden retriever lifted its head to look at its owner and shook its tail.

After nagging her dog, Audrey didn't delay any further and continued walking towards her bedroom again.

In the few seconds of opening and closing the door, she suddenly had a weird idea.

"I wonder if Mr. Fool would allow Susie to enter that mysterious space. Then, there would be four members in the Tarot Gathering! And all of them would be Beyonders!

"No way, Susie can't talk. If they were to let her express her opinion and share her thoughts, what would she do? Woof woof woof? Howl howl? Eww, why am I mimicking a dog's bark here...

"Just imagining such a scene feels really strange. A mysterious and solemn gathering with the sudden barking of a dog... Mr. Fool would definitely kick us out of the Tarot Gathering directly..."

Audrey locked the door and sat by the side of her bed. She took out a piece of old yellowish-brown paper from underneath her pillow.

She read it repeatedly and entered her Spectator state.

...

In a particular area of the Sonia Sea, an old sailboat which was in pursuit of the Listener had already left the Rorsted Archipelago.

Seafarer Alger Wilson was worried that the wall clock's machinery would malfunction, so he entered the captain's cabin about half an hour earlier in case he had misjudged the time which would cause his subordinates to see him getting pulled into the Tarot Gathering.

In front of him was a glass of nearly transparent liquor. The rich aroma swirled strand after strand into his nostrils.

Alger trembled once again when he thought of the impending Gathering, the boundless fog that presented itself in front of him in the hotel's corridor, and the mysterious Fool who sat in the middle of the gray fog.

He lifted his glass and took a gulp, using the burning sensation in his throat to ease the emotions that had stirred within him.

Very soon, he restored his calm. He was as calm and stoic as he always was.

-x-X-x-

Above the gray fog, gigantic stone columns held up a majestic divine hall.

Two dark red blobs extended out into faint human figures by the side of the ancient mottled bronze table.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fool." Augmented with a blurry effect, Audrey greeted him with a bow and smiled. "It is unfortunate that there is no wine here; otherwise, we could have a toast to your successful trial."

She was referring to the ritualistic magic.

"You are more powerful than we imagined," Alger Wilson praised as well.

Klein was surrounded by the thick fog as usual. He pressed down with his right arm and spoke with his normal tone, replying as though it was natural.

"Great, this means that we are on the path of excellence. If you have any matters to tend to that leave you unable to attend the gathering on Mondays, conduct the ritual and inform me. All you have to do is change the line in the incantation 'I pray for a good dream' with the reason."

"Alright," Audrey quickly agreed. "Mr. Fool, I obtained another page of Emperor Roselle's diary. I believe I still owe you one page."

"I was away from land this week and haven't found any new pages." Alger placed his right hand near his chest and bowed in apology.

"No matter. I expected my request to take a long time." Klein leaned back into his chair and tapped the armrest with his index finger. He looked at Miss Justice and said, "You can express the contents of the diary now."

Audrey bowed slightly and said, "As you wish."

A pen suddenly appeared before her. She recalled the symbols that she had memorized and tried her best to transcribe them.

In seconds, she saw that the goatskin was already filled with content. The strange symbols neatly covered the entire page.

After checking the contents, she put down the fountain pen and said, "It's done."

Klein raised his hand and the goatskin parchment appeared in his palm.

Shifting his gaze down, he started reading without emotion.

"July 9th. I suddenly thought of an interesting question. Since the Sequence pathways are also called the 'Blessings of The Divinities' or 'Pathways of The Divinities', then why would the stone slate that records the completed twenty-two Sequence pathways be called the 'Blasphemy Slate'. Blasphemy, what an interesting term... Just who is the one blasphemed?

"And who created the Blasphemy Slate? How could that person hold all of the Sequence pathways? Just what other information was on the stone? I really want to see it...

"July 12th. I've realized another fact today. The Sealed Artifacts are an important component of a church's overall strength, even though some of the sealed items are very, very dangerous. Among the seven churches, the God of Craftsmanship wields the least number of Sealed Artifacts which are also relatively less dangerous... Did I join an organization without a future? No, I should think of it this way; only a blank piece of paper can produce a good painting. A weak organization is the best place for me to display my abilities!

"July 14th. I saw that mysterious Mr. Zaratul again. I never expected him to be the leader of an ancient organization, the Secret Order!"

Klein's pupils constricted when he read this. He nearly revealed an unnatural expression.

The Zaratul family only had a certain connection with the Secret Order in the notes of the Church of the Evernight Goddess. But now, he learned from Emperor Roselle that the mysterious Mr. Zaratul was further determined to be the leader of the Secret Order.

From the looks of it, it is an unquestionable fact that the Secret Order holds the Seer Sequence pathway...

While Klein was reading the diary, Audrey looked over and began observing him out of habit.

However, her field of vision was completely obscured by the thick fog.

Momentarily taken aback, Audrey snapped back to her senses and turned her head frantically to look at the other illusory dark red star.

I was too reckless, too insolent, too foolish in trying to observe Mr. Fool... I was lucky, lucky that he isn't angry. Audrey stuck out her tongue secretly and pretended to admire the scenery. She was just short of humming a lively tune.

Alger sat silently, his gaze never leaving the long bronze table. He knew his place, as if he was in the presence of a true god.

Klein collected himself and scanned the last portion of the diary.

"After learning that I had become a Savant, Mr. Zaratul mentioned that I had chosen a difficult, yet relatively safe path. I asked him why that was the case, but all he did was smile before telling me that the Sequence pathway contains secrets beyond my imagination. I couldn't help but ask him which Sequence pathway he selected. He told me that his Sequence 9 was Seer.

"I intentionally mocked him and asked if every Seer only disclosed half-truths, never explaining things more clearly. Furthermore, he was clearly a powerful High-Sequence Beyonder. There was no need for him to continue acting as a Seer!

"Mr. Zaratul told me that it was a habit he adopted from back when he was a Seer, and that this was a method that could pique my curiosity and make me cooperate with him. He hoped that I could help him steal a dangerous sealed item from the Church of the God of Craftsmanship, a relic of the Antigonus family.

"Clearly, this must wait until I become a core member of the Church of the God of Craftsmanship. I asked Mr. Zaratul how long it would take to digest the potion if I used the acting method, and what standards I should use to determine if I had digested it completely.

"He told me that for the lower Sequences, it would only take half a year to digest the potion as long as one strictly used the acting method. In fact, in the fastest case, it might only take a month. And standard measure for progress was simple; every Beyonder would sense it immediately once the potion was completely digested. It is what it is.

"I asked him for more details, but he merely smiled at me.

"To hell with his smiles, I'll beat up every Seer I see when I become a High-Sequence Beyonder!"

...Rest in peace, Emperor... Klein read the diary several times before looking at Justice and The Hanged Man again.

"Sorry for the wait."

"It is our honor." Audrey was still shocked, forgetting that she was a Spectator.

She looked at The Hanged Man and organized her words.

"Where can I find the Psychology Alchemists?"

Psychology Alchemists... Klein suddenly recalled the man buying supplementary ingredients for the Spectator potion at the Tingen underground market.

Perhaps he was a member of the Psychology Alchemists?

Just as Klein was considering how to get closer to that man, The Hanged Man, Alger Wilson shook his head and said, "Miss Justice, firstly, I don't have a clue. Secondly, I don't think there's any rush in seeking out the Psychology Alchemists. What you should focus on now is completely digesting the Spectator potion."

Audrey glanced at The Fool and noticed that he didn't have any intention of adding to the conversation. She nodded in disappointment and said, "All I want is to have plenty of time to prepare so that I can approach them more naturally. Alright, then when can I digest the Spectator potion and stop acting? Is there a standard that indicates when I can? I'm almost at the point where I no longer feel frustrated, nor do I hear the constant murmuring anymore."

Alger looked at The Fool in the fog but saw that he didn't have any intention of speaking. He then deliberated before saying, "If you don't use the acting method, the typical rule of thumb is to wait three years and confirm that you no longer feel restless or receive any auditory or visual illusions. There is one simple test to determine when you can. That method is to exhaust your body to its limit. If you still don't hear any maniacal murmurings or see any strange things at that point, that would mean that you're ready to advance."

"With regards to the acting method, I have also just come into contact with it. It feels good, so I don't think it'll take three years."

That wasn't useful at all... Three years, that's too long... Audrey criticized inwardly.

She had just thought about this when she heard an armrest being tapped.

Audrey froze, then turned her head in joy. She saw The Fool tapping on the edge of the long table.

Alger sat straighter, waiting for The Fool to speak.

Klein said in his normal tone, "For Low-Sequence Beyonders, as long as you strictly stick to acting, you should be able to digest the medicine in half a year. It's even possible to do it in a month."

He looked at Justice and added, "As for the signs of digestion, you'll know it when it comes. It doesn't need to be taught."

"One month... Great! Thank you, Mr. Fool!" Audrey exclaimed while brimming with joy.

Miss Justice, don't think that you are the chosen one. The key point is half a year...Klein lifted his right hand and placed it beside his lips.

"Half a year..." Alger repeated softly. @@novelbin@@

Audrey sensed joy, relief, and intense doubt in his tone.

What is he suspicious about? Audrey thought as she asked, "Mr. Fool, have you considered adding more members?"

Klein leaned back casually. He had long prepared an answer.

"This started as a trial, so I didn't spend much time thinking about extending our meetings.

"But now, as a regular gathering, we must choose our members carefully. Secrecy is our motto."

Audrey nodded gently and said, "That is to say that we have to follow a process of observation, recommendation, and testing process. Yes, a process."

"You can interpret it that way," Klein affirmed.

In his mind he was thinking about how he could inquire about the Secret Order and the Clown potion.

How can I ask questions in a way that befits my status? Klein was placed in a difficult spot.

At that moment, realizing that Justice temporarily had nothing else to say, Alger took the initiative to speak, "I've heard that a Listener from the Aurora Order is searching for traces of the True Creator, which is the holy residence they advocate."

"True Creator?" Audrey asked, puzzled.

"It is an ancient entity worshiped by numerous secret organizations and cults. They believe that the Creator hasn't completely perished. The Core he left behind is the True Creator." Alger gave a rough explanation. "Since the Fifth Epoch, the True Creator has appeared in many forms, such as The Hanged Giant or the Eye behind the Shadow Curtains. Heh heh, many people believe that Emperor Roselle referenced the imagery of the True Creator when he was creating the tarot cards; hence, there exists the card of The Hanged Man."

At this point, he looked at Klein and said, "Mr. Fool, there's nothing with what I said, right?"

Is he trying to probe for my views on the True Creator? Klein thought about the bloody man on the cross that the Captain saw in Hanass Vincent's dream and immediately had an idea.

Doesn't both the hanging and the shadows imply evil connotations?

Therefore, he chuckled and said, "I am more inclined to call him, the Fallen Creator."

"The Fallen Creator... Fallen..." Alger ruminated over The Fool's words and fell deep in thought.

However, what struck Alger the most was The Fool's relaxed, natural, and nonchalant attitude.

He acted as if they were equal!

If he hadn't experienced their previous ritual, Alger might have thought The Fool was merely bluffing, and building himself up to intimidate him and Justice. But now, he was of the opinion that even if The Fool was inferior to the True Creator, he was at least close to that level.

It's dangerous. It's also an opportunity... Alger muttered softly. He then spoke with a smile, "Mr. Fool, your description is indeed more appropriate. According to our observations, Beyonders who believed in the True Creator, no—the Fallen Creator, have a higher probability of losing control. The rest of them are mostly psychopaths."

That's something that the Nighthawks' intelligence mentioned as well... And the so-called 'psychopaths' didn't lose their sanity; instead, their ideologies become twisted... Klein maintained his seated posture but didn't continue with the conversation.

He was still considering how to inquire about the Secret Order and Clown potion, but he couldn't figure out a way of asking the questions in a way that fit with his persona.

It's such a pity that the Gathering is still so different from an Internet forum. Otherwise, I could create another smurf account to join the Gathering, and that account would be in charge of asking questions that are inconvenient for me to ask... Perhaps, one day, I'll learn mirror-related magic and give it a try. For example, I can make half the members here my smurf accounts...

There are twenty-two chairs here, and there are twenty-two cards in the tarot deck. That matches up perfectly. But when I 'created' this divine hall, I didn't even name myself 'The Fool' or have any intention of forming a 'Tarot Club'. Hmm, do these symbolize the twenty-two different Sequence pathways?

I wanted a divine hall, so a divine hall appeared. If I wanted a smurf account, would I get a smurf account...

Upon seeing The Fool remain silently engulfed in the thick gray fog, Audrey asked both wistfully and curiously, "That sounds scary. Mr. Hanged Man, could you share, in detail, information about each, and every mysterious organization? And also the matters regarding each secret cult? It's hard for me to come into contact with them during my daily life. I can only understand them through the both of you. I'm willing to pay for it. May I know what you'd like in return?"

That's a great question! Miss Justice, you're playing the role of my smurf account to a certain extent... This way, The Hanged Man will definitely bring up the Secret Order... You're the best! Klein's mind stirred when he heard that, but he didn't let his emotions show through his expression or movements.

Alger thought for a moment before saying, "I need money—a thousand pounds. It'd be best if they weren't bills marked by a serial number. Or maybe gemstones that have just been unearthed. Price them according to the Backlund Jewelry Exchange's monthly average price."

A thousand pounds? That's a huge sum of money. It could be used to buy a house in a high-class street in Tingen City! Not everyone would have that available immediately... Captain might have an annual salary like that, I guess? Hayley's death compensation was only three hundred pounds... Although Miss Justice is a noble, she obviously hasn't inherited her family's wealth yet, and she'll only be receiving some sort of annual allowance... Hmm, it's no wonder that The Hanged Man stated that it could be paid via gemstones... Klein was very sensitive towards monetary figures. Luckily, he was blanketed in thick fog.

For a single lady or madam, two thousand pounds could let her live a decent life!

If two thousand pounds were invested, the investment could reliably produce an annual return of about a hundred pounds.

"A thousand pounds?" Audrey said, sounding shocked. She then replied happily, "No problem, do I send it to the previous address?"

Judging by Miss Justice's tone, she finds it very cheap? Klein didn't look over.

Alger was quiet for a good twenty seconds before he said, "Yes, send it to the Warrior & Sea Bar at Pelican Street, in the White Rose Borough of Pritz Harbor. Tell the boss, Williams, that it's what the 'Captain' wants.

"Alright." Audrey leaned back and posed in a Spectator-like manner. "Mr. Hanged Man, you can start now."

Alger looked at The Fool, deliberated for a moment before saying slowly, "Let's start from the Moses Ascetic Order. It is the earliest hidden organization. Of course, many think that the earliest hidden organizations are the Church of the Evernight Goddess, the Church of Mother Earth, and the Church of the God of Combat.

"These people must be from the Church of Lord of Storms, the Church of Eternal Blazing Sun, or the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom," Audrey refuted sulkily.

The Church of the Goddess is the earliest hidden organization? That was the first time Klein had heard of such a claim.

What exactly happened in the Fourth Epoch or the Third Epoch?

Alger smiled and said, "The truth is buried in ancient history. Only one thing is certain: no one has ever said that the Church of Lord of Storms, the Church of Eternal Blazing Sun, or the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom were once hidden organizations.

"Alright, let's save some time and return to main topic. The Moses Ascetic Order was first established by a few humans that had read the Blasphemy Slate. They believed in an non-anthropomorphic god, called 'the Hidden Sage'."

"The description is that of a god, but it is more of an ideology, a natural law. For example, all objects are numeric. The Hidden Sage is an embodiment of Spirit Numerology. Or that knowledge is supreme, and the Hidden Sage is knowledge itself. Hence, the original Moses Ascetic Order was a very respectable organization, and it maintained a good relationship with the other major churches.

"The members of the organization led ascetic lives to resist losing control and to resolve the effects of the Remnant potion. They strictly kept their order's secrets, and they upheld moral and religious precepts. They believe that humans continuously reincarnate after death...

"The Sequence 9 that they grasp is called Mystery Pryer... The word 'Warlock' was also spread from that organization."

Audrey listened to The Hanged Man's description carefully and asked sharply, "You said that the Moses Ascetic Order used to be a respectable organization. Are they not one anymore?"

Alger nodded his head indiscernibly.

"Yes, they have fallen into corruption and are now an evil organization."

"Why? I find their beliefs very good and very normal," Audrey expressed her confusion.

That was Klein's confusion too. The information that he could get at his security clearance didn't provide the reason for the Moses Ascetic Order's fall from grace.

Alger looked at the unfathomable Fool and tersely agreed.

"I am not sure of the real reason. It might be because it has been buried by history. However, I have heard one terrifying explanation.

"In that story, the main reason why the Moses Ascetic Order fell into corruption was because the god that they believed in, the Hidden Sage, had come to life!

"He became the personification of an evil god!"

"Came to life? This... how?" Audrey found it unimaginable as she replied with an incredulous tone.

Without realizing it, she had exited from her Spectator state.

It's like a horror story, but the ghost is even a god... Klein's heart stirred with a surge of emotions as well.

"I'm sorry, no one knows the answer." Alger had originally wanted to casually say, "Maybe Mr. Fool would know," but he held back the urge.

He had already teetered on the borders of danger once.

In the The Book of Storms 5:7, there was a saying that Alger remembered clearly, which was: "Do not test God!"

Audrey calmed herself down and didn't press for more answers. She gestured for him to continue.

Klein maintained his seated posture and his silence, validating The Hanged Man's descriptions with his own understanding.

Finally, he realized that there were four points that he needed to take note of.

First, the Demoness Sect was also known as the Demoness Family in the Fourth Epoch. Back then, they had very few members, and their beliefs were passed down through their bloodlines. Plus, they would kill the fathers of their children and abandon the baby boys. Hence, all the members were female. Of course, that was all from Alger's description, and there was no way to verify it at the moment. @@novelbin@@

Second, the Numinous Episcopate that believed in Death and the Rose School of Thought that liked bloody sacrificial worship ceremonies both originated in the Southern Continent. After the colonial era came, they almost vanished under attacks by the seven churches. But as such, they began spreading to the Northern Continent.

Third, the current Psychology Alchemists was similar to the earlier Moses Ascetic Order. They believed in an non-anthropomorphic existence and believed that the human spirit could change everything.

Fourth, the Secret Order had the lowest activity level among all the other hidden organizations. Thus, they were the most unknown. Every time they appeared, they seem to be after something or looking for something.

What are they after or looking for? Klein suddenly recalled the diary which he had read earlier: The leader of the Secret Order, Zaratul, cooperated with the Roselle. His goal was to get something left behind by the Antigonus Family.

Their appearance that time was to look for the lost notebook, the Antigonus family notebook... Klein narrowed his eyes slightly and felt that he had apparently found the key reason for the Secret Order's actions.

They are after the things that the Antigonus family left behind!

Klein suppressed his urge to tap the edge of the table as his thoughts appeared one after another.

Oh, they were looking for remnant traces the Antigonus family left behind?

Then must I direct my focus onto these areas to obtain the Clown potion formula from the Secret Order?

After a further exchange of information, Klein announced the end of the Gathering.

"By your will." Audrey and Alger stood up together.

Cutting off the connections, he saw both their figures shatter and disappear. Klein rubbed his glabella and attempted conjuring a smurf account with his mind.

As he thought, a figure appeared at the furthest end of the long bronze table. That figure was wearing a black tuxedo, a silk top hat, and a dull expression. His actions were clumsy and inarticulate. Even though he was engulfed in gray fog, it was obvious that something was wrong with him.

That won't do... Klein experimented a few more times before sighing and dismissing the idea of creating a smurf account.

He attempted other things too. He continued to sit above the gray fog in the seat of honor at the long bronze table. He considered what Audrey had said, and he cast his gaze curiously at the illusory crimson stars.

After a moment of silence, Klein started to pray as a form of feedback instead of establishing contact with those stars.

Amidst the tranquility and silence, he didn't receive any feedback from the ten plus crimson stars nearby.

In order to receive feedback, I need to pull someone above the gray fog before I can reply? Klein nodded as he thought, feeling somewhat disappointed.

He didn't want to violate someone else's will and forcefully pull them into this mysterious space.

Hmm... Klein was just getting ready to leave, but he habitually touched a nearby illusory crimson star.

Just then, he suddenly felt that there was a faint and insignificant prayer deep inside the crimson star!

-x-X-x-

"A prayer?"

Klein's mind stirred as he used the same method he used back when he spied on The Hanged Man. He allowed his spirituality to spread outward and touch the crimson blob.

A hazy and contorted image appeared within his sight. He could faintly see a blond teen kneeling on the ground, facing a pure crystal ball.

That teenager was dressed in a tight-fitting black outfit, with a style very different from the contemporary styles of the Loen Kingdom. It was more congruent with the traditional clothing of the Feysac Empire and the Intis Republic that Klein had seen from reading magazines.

The area surrounding the teenager was dark and had old furniture. From time to time, the room would be illuminated, but Klein couldn't hear the roaring thunder or the pattering of rain.

In the image, the teenager had his hands on his forehead, fingers crossed. He bowed forward, continually praying for something. His thick accent buzzed in Klein's ears.

Klein listened attentively but discovered an awkward fact.

He couldn't understand what the other party was saying. It was a language that he had never come across in his life!

...To think that I cannot understand a foreign language even though I am the mysterious ruler of this world above the gray fog... Klein gave a self-deprecating laugh. He indignantly tried listening in once again in a manner more attentive than when he had to do English listening comprehension tests back on Earth.

As he was listening to the prayers, he gradually discovered something.

Even though he had never learned the language the young man was speaking, he found that it had similarities to Ancient Feysac!

Father... Mother... Those are likely the meanings of those two terms, right? It is quite similar to Ancient Feysac, but not without its differences... Klein creased his brows and slipped into deep thought. Ancient Feysac was a common language in the Fourth Epoch. It is also the root language of all the contemporary languages of this era. Furthermore, it is still evolving... I cannot confirm it right now...

He listened to it over and over again, eliminating the possibility of the language being a modern language like Loen, Feysac, or Intis.

Could it be a dialect of Ancient Feysac? Like the language used in the Antigonus family's diary? Klein tapped his finger on the edge of the bronze table and nodded indiscernibly. There was another possibility. Ancient Feysac didn't spring into existence out of nothing, it was an evolution of Jotun, the language of the Giants... The Feysac Empire in the north has always claimed that its people possesses the bloodline of the Giants. Perhaps, this is ancient Jotun.

At this point, Klein, who lacked knowledge, could only stop. He retracted his spirituality, without looking or listening in to that scene. @@novelbin@@

He had no intention of pulling the praying teen up above the fog immediately. He wanted to know what the young man was talking about first.

Of course, before that, he had to observe him frequently and conduct basic 'tests'.

Phew. Klein exhaled as he leaned back in his chair.

He enveloped himself with his spirituality and simulated the feeling of falling.

...

After "revising" Roselle's diary, Klein changed into his formal wear and left for the Divination Club.

He took the public transport despite his pay rise, but he did splurge to support Mrs. Wendy's business. He spent 1.5 pence on sweet iced tea to combat the afternoon heat.

When he arrived at Howes Street, Klein tossed the empty cup into the trash can and walked up to the second floor.

Before entering the building, he pinched his glabella and activated his Spirit Vision.

Klein had just entered the hall when he felt a faint, lingering grief.

The pretty receptionist Angelica was sitting there; her slightly red eyes looked unfocused.

"The grief will pass in time," Klein said with a gentle and firm tone as he walked toward Angelica.

Angelica looked up abruptly and muttered, clearly confused, "Mr. Moretti..."

She quickly came to her senses and asked, perturbed, "Y-you already know about Mr. Vincent?

"Oh right, I forgot that you're an exceptional fortune-teller."

Klein sighed appropriately.

"I only managed to divine a very rough outline of what transpired... Just what exactly happened to Mr. Vincent?"

"The boss told us that Mr. Vincent had a heart attack in his sleep and left this world peacefully." Angelica cried as she said, "He was so friendly, so polite, a true gentleman. He was the spiritual mentor of so many of our members. H-he was still so young..."

"I am sorry for bringing up this sad topic." Klein didn't console her any further. He walked toward the meeting room slowly.

Angelica took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes and nose. She then looked at Klein's back and asked loudly, "Mr. Moretti, what would you like to drink?"

"Black tea." Klein preferred black tea to coffee, even though he found the black tea average.

In comparison, he preferred ginger beer and sweet iced tea. But as a gentleman, it was not right for him to act like a child in a formal setting...

As it was a Monday, there were only five or six members in the meeting room. Using his Spirit Vision, Klein saw that they each had different colors of emotion. Some were grieving, some more dull, some relatively unaffected.

They're all rather normal... normal reactions. Klein nodded slightly. He picked up his cane and found a spot in the room.

He was about to deactivate his Spirit Vision when he saw Angelica walk in and walk towards him.

"Mr. Moretti, a customer is looking for you. Well, it's the person from last time," the beautiful lady said with a hushed tone.

"You still remember him?" Klein asked with a smile.

Hmm, I wonder if he bought the magical medicine as I instructed... I wonder if he still needs surgery...

Angelica covered her mouth and said, "He was the only person who was willing to wait an entire afternoon in the club for a divination."

Klein grabbed his cane and stood up. He walked outside without saying anything.

In the reception area, he found the person who had sought his services the other day. He also noticed that the aura near his liver had regained its normal color. His overall health had also improved.

"Congratulations, the feeling of being healthy is wonderful indeed." Klein smiled as he extended a hand.

Bogda was first taken aback before he immediately extended both hands. He grabbed Klein's right palm tightly.

"Mr. Moretti, you truly can 'see' my condition!

"Yes, I have fully recovered! The doctors asked me questions over and over again, ran repeated tests on me, but they cannot believe that I recovered just like that!"

Upon hearing Bogda's ecstatic description, Klein calmly confirmed one thing—the apothecary at Lawson's Folk Herb Store was definitely a Beyonder!

He had seen how severe the man's liver disease had been. Fully healing him in the span of a few days was beyond the capability of herbs and medical ability. The only possible explanation was that of a Beyonder!

Coupled with the incident with Glacis, there could only be one answer.

"I have to repent to God. To think that I would suspect you, suspect that miraculous doctor." Bogda refused to let go of Klein's hand. He continued on about his shame and gratitude, "...those ten pounds were truly money well spent. It bought my life back!"

What? Ten pounds? You spent ten pounds on the miraculous medicine? And you only gave me eight pence for my divination... Just eight pence... eight pence... pence...Klein was dazed just hearing about it.

At this moment, Bogda released his hands as he took a step back while beaming. He bowed reverently and said, "I am here today to express my gratitude. Thank you, Master Moretti. You showed me the way and saved my life.

"This was the outcome of you paying to have something divined. You need not thank anybody." Klein lifted his head slightly and looked at the divide between the wall and the ceiling. His answer fully expressed the vibes of a charlatan.

"You are a true seer," Bogda praised. "Next, I'll be heading to Vlad Street to thank that apothecary and buy the medicine he recommended."

"Haven't you already recovered?" Klein expertly hid the shock in his voice.

Bogda looked around, and laughed when he confirmed that the receptionist was not paying attention to them. He chuckled softly and said, "The doctor mentioned a concoction of herbs that includes mummy powder. It is a prescription that would satisfy both men and women... I didn't believe the doctor back then, but I have no more doubts now."

...There's a prescription like that? Klein suddenly felt that the apothecary was a cheat, and suspected if he had pushed the person in front of him into a fiery pit of doom.

He observed Bogda and confirmed that there was no problem with his aura.

"Mummy powder?" Klein cautiously asked.

"Yes, mummy powder. I have asked a friend, he said that even the nobles of Backlund are maniacally looking for such an item. It's a powder made by grinding mummies which gives men peak performance in bed. Even though it's disgusting and sounds dirty, it truly is a material used by the aristocrats..." Bogda gave a detailed description. He had an eager desire in his eyes.

Mummies? Mummies made from corpses? Then grinding them to powder? Klein was dumbfounded. He nearly retched in front of Bogda.

Those nobles sure are hardcore... Just as he was about to advise Bogda against doing so, Glacis, who had suffered from a lung disease previously, stepped into the door and heard Bogda's description.

"Yes, it's very effective. I would recommend that you head to Lawson's Folk Herb Store at Vlad Street. Mr. Lawson's secret recipe is very effective!" Glacis took off his spectacles and leaned over with interest. He recommended with a hushed tone, "My experience was very, very, very perfect."

"You know of it too? I was just about to head to Mr. Lawson's Folk Herb Store." Bogda's worries vanished completely.

After a short conversation, he left the Divination Club in a hurry.

Up until then, Klein was still a little dumbfounded.

He waited till twenty past five in the afternoon before putting on his hat and picking up his black cane. He took a carriage down to Vlad Street, intending to observe the apothecary named Lawson Darkweed before deciding if he should notify the captain or not.

...

18 Vlad Street.

Klein stood outside the herb store and saw the closed door, as well as a subletting notice.

...Quite a wary man... he muttered silently.

Since this had happened, he no longer had to be troubled or perform any observations.

-x-X-x-

By the afternoon of the next day, Klein had fully recovered from any signs of exhaustion. He walked into the Blackthorn Security Company with steady footsteps.

"Good morning, Klein. The weather is so cool and beautiful today, I'm looking forward to tonight's feast." Rozanne who was wearing a light green dress greeted him with a smile from behind the reception desk.

Klein deliberately touched his stomach and said, "Miss Rozanne, you shouldn't be talking about that so early in the morning! I'm already sick of today's mission that has yet to arrive. I only hope for the evening to arrive sooner."

"Me too." Rozanne chuckled.

She looked to the left and right, then she beckoned for Klein to come closer. She lowered her voice and said, "I met Madam Daly earlier."

"Spirit Medium Madam Daly?" Klein asked in surprise.

The most famous Spirit Medium from Awwa County had been living at Enmat Harbor all this time, and it wasn't a short distance from Tingen.

"Yes." Rozanne gave a firm nod and said, "But, she has already left. Ah, she is my ideal Beyonder. If I were to become a Spirit Medium, I would leave Tingen and travel all around the world by myself. To Intis, to Feysac, to Feynapotter, to the Southern Continent; to the vast prairies, primitive forests, and snow-covered plains!"

Lady, be aware of the Nighthawks' rules... Klein shook his head in amusement.

"Even Madam Daly has to apply and obtain permission to leave Enmat Harbor."

"I know that, but you can't just remind me about it now and shatter my dreams!" Rozanne said peeved. "The truth is, I would never become a Beyonder. It's too dangerous. I know when I'll die from sudden gunfire. From what I've seen, Beyonders are basically people who turn themselves into monsters to fight against monsters."

"Archbishop Chanis said that we are guardians, but also a bunch of miserable wretches that are constantly fighting against threats and madness," Klein replied, sighing. The quote had left a deep impression on him.

To fight against the abyss, we have to endure the corruption of the abyss.

The two of them fell silent in unison. Rozanne was the first to break the silence as she pursed her lips towards the partition and said, "Captain wanted you to meet him when you arrived."

"Alright." With his hat and cane in hand, Klein passed through the partition and entered Dunn's office after knocking on the door.

A middle-aged gentleman with deep and serene gray eyes and a high hairline put down his coffee cup and said with a smile.

"Daly was here."

"Can't say that I'm surprised; Rozanne had just informed me," Klein replied with a smile.

Dunn didn't mind his humor but sighed.

"Daly was just transferred to the Backlund diocese, which is the world's busiest and most crowded city. They have the highest population of Beyonders and the most opportunities... She has a higher chance of becoming an archbishop or a senior deacon than me."

"Why?" Klein asked curiously as he took a seat.

Dunn thought for nearly twenty seconds before answering, "She has a unique talent in mastering and exploiting Sequence potions... I've mentioned the internal rule of the Nighthawks before. If you want to consume the next potion in the Sequence, you'll have to wait three years and go through a strict examination to prevent any loss of control. But typically, three years is far from sufficient. I spent three years going from a Sleepless to a Midnight Poet. It took me nine years to go from a Midnight Poet to Nightmare—a full nine years. And to go from Nightmare to Sequence 6, I've already spent three years. I have no idea how many more years I need.

"When our bodies age and our energy starts to decline, even if we overcome the latent dangers, we shouldn't attempt advancing anymore. This is because the risk of losing control at that point is so high that no one is willing to risk it.

"As for Daly and I, we are different from most Beyonders. After she became a Corpse Collector, she handed in a special application after only a year. She hoped to consume the follow-up potion immediately. What surprised everyone was that she actually passed through the stricter examination and obtained the Gravedigger potion.

"It only took her one more year to go from Gravedigger to Spirit Medium. Heh, this year will be her fifth year as a Beyonder. She is only twenty-four this year, young enough to have many opportunities ahead of her."

On the surface, she's the most famous spirit medium in Awwa County, but she truly is an actual Spirit Medium... Isn't that acting? Old Neil had apparently mentioned that Madam Daly had similar tendencies... Klein felt that he had grasped the key reason for Madam Daly's quick ascension through the ranks.

"Captain, you're young enough as well. You're only in your thirties," Klein comforted Dunn, but added in his heart, It's just that your memory isn't that great...

Dunn drank a sip of his coffee. He shook his head and smiled bitterly.

"Why didn't you ask Madam Daly about her method of mastering and exploiting Sequence potions?" Klein purposely asked.

Dunn put down his coffee cup and massaged his temples as he spoke.

"She told me to become a true Nightmare... I don't know what that means."

Play the role of a Nightmare. Man, a Nightmare sounds sinister... Klein creased his eyebrows and temporarily fell silent.

Then, Dunn took out his smoking pipe and sniffed at it.

"Daly and I discussed the possibility of Seer's follow-up potion being Clown. Assuming that the member of the Seers didn't lie to you, she brought up an interesting hypothesis."

"What hypothesis?" Klein asked hurriedly, his eyes turning bright.

He had once used a divination method to determine if Clown was the follow-up potion of Seer. The answer he received had been vague, but it seemed close to being a confirmation.

Dunn's deep and serene gray eyes swept his gaze at him while he said in thought, "A normal Sequence pathway proceeds in a stepped manner. They advance according to a particular similarity. For instance, Sleepless, Midnight Poet, and Nightmare are all obviously related to the darkness of the night, as well as the peaceful sleep and tranquility that is generated from sleep. It can be imagined that every subsequent Sequence would have identical traits, only with more power and a wider scope. They might be linked to secrets, disaster, horror, the crimson moon, etc...

"Certain Sequence pathways appear unrelated, but when we analyze them in detail, we can still find similarities, such as Assassin and Instigator. Their implied similarity is to bring people calamities, pain, sorrow, and despair. Hence, the follow-up Sequences should abide by this pattern."

Klein paid close attention and asked proactively, "But Seer and Clown doesn't have such a connection?"

"Yeah." Dunn nodded and said, "Daly believes that there might be Sequence pathways that share another kind of relationship. After all, there's a lot we do not know."

He paused for a moment before saying, "Daly said that, in this sort of pathway, the low to mid Sequence potions would respectively provide the Beyonder an ability that seems brand new and unrelated to the others. When the Beyonder reaches a point of qualitative change, these abilities will mix into an abnormally powerful 'job' that includes them all."

"In other words, the pathway doesn't advance step by step, but instead it's a relationship of dissection and combination."

Klein listened intently, but he felt lost. Dunn lifted his right hand and said, "A normal Sequence pathway advances a bit at a time, just like a child growing up. A growing child becomes taller, stronger, heavier, and more mature from a young age."

"While special Sequence pathways are more like..."

Having said this, Dunn lifted up his thumb.

"This is Sequence 9."

Then, he lifted up his index finger.

"This is Sequence 8."

Then, he gradually lifted up the rest of his fingers.

"Each and every finger is independent, and doesn't seem to be related to the others. But in the end..."

When he said the word 'end,' Dunn clenched his fingers into a tight fist!

"I understand now." Klein was suddenly enlightened. He agreed with Lady Daly's guess and the Captain's metaphor.

Maybe that's how it is? He nodded in deep thought.

Sequence 8 Clown and Sequence 9 Seer are completely different and have brand new abilities. And according to the description from the Nighthawks' intelligence, the corresponding Sequence 7 and Sequence 8 Clown don't share any similarities either...

Klein fell silent for a while before curiously pressing on, "At which stage would the different abilities combine to form a qualitative change?"

Dunn took another sip of coffee and chuckled.

"Daly and I guessed Sequence 4!"

"Why?" Klein blurted out.

"Because according to the way the churches categorize Sequences, Sequence 4 is the beginning point of the higher Sequences. It is said that merely achieving such a level brings about qualitative changes in vitality and energy. In ancient times, Sequence 4 Beyonders were qualified to be called demigods in the Fourth Epoch. It's a pity that such Beyonders are very rare in this era," Dunn said wistfully.

"If Sequence 4 to Sequence 1 are High-Sequence Beyonders, then who are the Low-Sequence Beyonders?" Klein asked with interest.

"Sequences 9 through 7 were considered as Low-Sequences a thousand years ago. But, in recent centuries, Beyonders are few in number and each church has listed Sequence 7 as a Mid-Sequence." Dunn laughed in a self-deprecating manner.

Sequence 9 and Sequence 8 are Low-Sequences. Then, Sequences 7 through 5 are Mid-Sequences. Finally, those Sequence 4 and above are High-Sequences... Klein repeated in his head and inevitably felt a yearning for that.

Emperor Roselle was a High-Sequence Beyonder!

However, the higher the Sequence, the greater the risk of losing control... Klein thought to himself in fear.

He asked as though in a seemingly casual manner, "What is the Sequence 4 potion for the Church of the Goddess called?"

"In actual fact, I'm not sure. My security clearance isn't high enough for me to be privy to that information. I'll be able to read them when I become a diocese bishop or Nighthawks deacon." Dunn shook his head and smiled. "In fact, at least half of the Church's thirteen archbishops and nine senior deacons at the top of the Church's hierarchy are below Sequence 4. Hmm, that's just me being optimistic. The archbishop Ince Zangwill, who became wanted, lost control when he tried to advance to Sequence 4."

The one who stole Sealed Artifact '0-08?' His potion was apparently called Gatekeeper... Klein thought and probed, "Is Sleepless Sequence 5 Gatekeeper?"

"No, that's in Spirit Medium's pathway. You'll be allowed to access that information when you reach Sequence 7 and become a bishop or a Captain of a Nighthawks team."

Gatekeeper is Sequence 5 of the Spirit Medium pathway? Does it mean that it's keeping watch over the gates to Hell? Or keeping watch over the gates to the Spirit World? Klein guessed.

"Alright, go to Old Neil and continue with your studies." Dunn smiled and said, "Don't forget about dinner tonight, at Old Will's Restaurant. Reservations have been made. I'll introduce you to the rest of the Nighthawks officially."

"Alright, I've already prepared the money." Klein forced a smile.

"No, there's no need. Have you forgotten that we have additional bonuses? The part about you completing an assigned mission." Dunn waved.

Klein was momentarily taken aback before replying with a beaming smile, "Alright, Captain."

He turned around and walked towards the door, while counting inwardly,Three, two, one... Eh, why didn't Captain call me back?

Klein dragged out "one" for a very long time, only to be surprised that Captain Dunn Smith hadn't forgotten add anything.

A miracle...

...

In the armory, Old Neil stole a glance at Klein, who was in a good mood.

"Don't be obsessed with tonight's dinner. You still have a lot of things to learn, such as more ritualistic magic, ancient Hermes, Dragonish, Elvish, and many more."

"Yeah, every afternoon besides your day off, you have to have at least two hours of combat training with an instructor."

"Combat training? Captain didn't mention it..." Klein was shocked.

Old Neil nodded and didn't hesitate to answer, "He forgot."

-x-X-x-