Lord of Mysteries

Chapter 26 Exercises

Tap, tap, tap.

Footsteps echoed through the dark, narrow corridor, spreading far and wide in the silence, without any further noise.

Klein stood upright, following the middle-aged pastor at a steady pace, asking no questions and engaging in small talk, as calm and serene as a still lake.

Passing through the heavily guarded passage, the middle-aged priest used a key to open a secret door and pointed to the downward stone staircase:

"The left side of the crossroads leads to Charness Gate."

"May the goddess protect you." Klein tapped his chest four times, outlining the "shape" of the Crimson Moon.

Secular people use secular etiquette, and religious people use religious rituals.

"Praise be to the beautiful goddess," the middle-aged pastor replied with the same gesture.

Klein said no more and followed the stone steps, using the elegant gas lamps embedded in the walls on both sides to help him walk deeper into the darkness.

Halfway there, he subconsciously turned around and saw the middle-aged pastor still standing at the door, at the top of the steps, in the shadow of the gaslight, like a motionless wax figure.

Klein withdrew his gaze and continued downhill. Before long, he touched the ground paved with cold stone slabs and came to a crossroads.

He didn't turn towards "Charnes Gate" because Dunn Smith, who had just been on duty, certainly wouldn't be there.

Following the familiar path on the right, Klein climbed another set of stairs and appeared inside the "Blackthorn Security Company".

Seeing that the doors were either closed or ajar, he didn't rush to search. Instead, he went into the reception area and saw a smiling brown-haired girl engrossed in reading a magazine.

"Hi, Rosanne." Klein came to the side and deliberately tapped the table lightly.

Clang!

Rosanne suddenly stood up, knocking over her chair, and hurriedly said:

"Hi, the weather's nice today. You, you, Klein, what brings you here?"

She put her hand to her chest and took a couple of breaths, like a little girl afraid of being caught slacking off by her father.

"I need to speak with the captain," Klein replied briefly.

"...You scared me to death! I thought the captain had come out." Rosanne glared at Klein. "You don't even know how to knock! Humph, you should be glad I'm a kind and benevolent lady, or rather, I prefer the word 'girl'... What do you need the captain for? He's in the room opposite Mrs. Orianna."

Even though he was quite tense, Klein was amused by Rosanne and smiled. After a moment's thought, he said:

"secret."

"..." Rosanne's eyes widened in disbelief, while Klein bowed slightly and quickly took his leave.

He went through the partition door of the reception room again and knocked on the door of the first office on the right.

"Please come in," Dunn Smith's deep, gentle voice rang out.

Klein pushed open the door, closed his hands behind his back, removed his hat, and bowed, saying:

Good morning, Captain.

"Good morning, what's up?" Dunn's black trench coat and hat were hanging on the coat rack next to him, and his exposed body was only wearing a white shirt and a black vest. Even with his high hairline and deep gray eyes, he looked much more refreshing.

"Someone is following me," Klein answered truthfully, without embellishment.

Dunn leaned back, clasped his hands together, and looked quietly into Klein's eyes with his deep gray eyes.

Instead of following up on the topic, he asked:

"You came from the church?"

"Yes," Klein replied affirmatively.

Dunn nodded slightly, without commenting on whether it was good or bad, and returned to the main topic:

"It's possible that Welch's father didn't believe our reported cause of death and hired a private investigator from Windy City to investigate."

The city of Constance in the Intersea County, also known as the Wind City, is a region with an extremely developed coal and steel industry, ranking among the top three cities in the Kingdom of Rune.

Before Klein could give his opinion, Dunn continued:

"It could also come from the source of that notebook. Ah, we're investigating where Welch got the Antigonus family notebook. Of course, we can't rule out other individuals or organizations that are searching for this notebook."

"What should I do?" Klein asked in a deep voice.

Without a doubt, he hoped it was the first reason.

Dunn didn't answer immediately. He picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and said in a calm, gray eye:

"Go back the way you came, and then do whatever you want."

"Any?" Klein countered.

"Anything," Dunn nodded firmly. "Of course, don't scare them away, and don't break the law."

"Okay." Klein took a breath, said goodbye, turned around, left the room, and returned to the underground level.

He turned left at the intersection, bathed in the intermittent light of gas lamps on both sides, and walked quietly in the empty, dim, and cold passageway.

The echoing clatter of the drums amplified the loneliness and intensified the fear.

Soon, Klein approached the steps and climbed them one by one, until he saw the middle-aged priest standing in the shadows by the door.

Neither of them spoke when they met. The middle-aged pastor silently turned around and made way for them.

Klein walked silently back to the Great Prayer Hall. The light emanating from the round holes behind the arched altar remained pure and bright, the room remained dark and tranquil, and the men and women queuing outside the confessional were still there, only fewer in number.

After waiting for a while, Klein, carrying his cane and newspaper, slowly left the Great Prayer Hall and the Church of St. Serena as if nothing had happened.

As soon as he stepped outside and saw the blazing sun, he immediately felt that familiar sense of being watched again, as if he were prey being stalked by an eagle.

Suddenly, a question arose in his mind:

Why didn't the "voyeur" follow me into the church before? Even though that way I could still use the dim lighting and the pastor's help to hide my temporary "disappearance," wouldn't it have been easier for him to pretend to pray and follow me? What's wrong with going in openly and honestly if I haven't done anything wrong?

Unless he has a dark past, fears the church, dreads the bishop, and knows that the other party might have extraordinary abilities...

Therefore, the possibility of a private investigator is extremely low...

Whew! Klein let out a breath, no longer as tense as before, and strolled leisurely around to the back of Zotland Street.

He stopped in front of an old-fashioned building with mottled walls. The address was "3" and the name was "Zotland Shooting Club".

The police department's underground shooting range has a portion open to the "public" in order to generate additional revenue.

As soon as Klein entered, the feeling of being spied on vanished instantly. He seized the opportunity to give the "Special Operations Department" badge to the receptionist.

After some verification, he was led underground to a small, enclosed shooting range.

"10-meter target." Klein simply told the waiter, then took out his revolver from his armpit holster and pulled out a box of brass-colored bullets from his pocket.

Being suddenly targeted made his desire to protect himself overcome his procrastination, so he couldn't wait to come and practice his marksmanship.

Snapped!

After the waiter left, he flicked the reel, ejecting the silver demon-hunting bullets one by one, then picked up the brass-colored normal bullets and loaded them into the cylinder one by one.

This time, he didn't leave any room for accidental firing, nor did he take off his formal jacket or top hat. He wanted to practice in his most ordinary attire, since it was impossible to shout "Please stop for a moment, let me change into some lighter clothes" after encountering an enemy or danger.

pat!

Klein closed the wheel and spun it once with his thumb.

Suddenly, he gripped the gun with both hands, raised it sharply, and aimed it at the target 10 meters away.

But he didn't rush to shoot. Instead, he carefully recalled his experience of missing the target during military training and common sense such as the three points in a straight line and the recoil of firing a gun.

Splash! Splash!

Amidst the rustling of clothes, Klein practiced aiming and gripping techniques over and over again, as earnest as a student preparing for the college entrance examination.

After repeating this several times, he retreated to a spot against the wall, sat on a soft bench, put the revolver aside, massaged his arms, and rested for a while.

After taking a few minutes to recall what had just happened, Klein picked up the pistol with its wooden grip and bronze cylinder again, went to the firing position, assumed the standard stance, and pulled the trigger.

boom!

His arm trembled, his body leaned back slightly, and the bullet missed the target.

boom! boom! boom!

Having learned from his experience, he fired shot by shot, figuring out the feel for the gun through practice, until all six bullets were fired.

The shooting has begun... Klein stepped back and sat down, catching his breath.

*Thud!* He flung the reel, sending the six spent cartridges clattering to the ground, then continued, expressionless, to load the remaining brass-colored bullets one by one.

After relaxing his arms, Klein stood up again, summarizing his actions as he returned to his shooting position.

boom! boom! boom!

Gunshots echoed, targets swayed, and Klein practiced again and again, resting repeatedly, firing all thirty rounds of standard ammunition he had received and the five rounds he had left before, gradually stabilizing his aim and beginning to pursue a high score.

Shaking his aching arms, he emptied the last five spent cartridges, bent down, and carefully inserted one silver Demon Hunter bullet after another, leaving a safety net for accidental detonation.

After putting the revolver back into his armpit holster, Klein dusted himself off and, feeling relaxed, walked out of the shooting range and back onto the street.

The feeling of being scrutinized resurfaced, but Klein was calmer than before. He strolled to Champagne Street, spent 4 pence to take a tram back to Iron Cross Street, and entered his apartment.

The feeling of being spied on disappeared silently. He took out his key, opened the door, and saw a man who was nearly thirty years old, wearing a linen shirt and with very short hair, sitting at the desk.

Klein felt a sudden tightness in his chest, but quickly relaxed and greeted him with a smile:

"Good morning, no, good afternoon, Benson."

The man was his and Melissa's older brother, Benson Moretti, who was only 25 years old but looked much older than his age due to his receding hairline.

He had black hair and brown eyes, and bore a resemblance to Klein, but lacked that subtle scholarly air.

"Good afternoon, Klein. How did the interview go?" Benson stood up, a smile playing on his lips.

His black coat and top hat were hanging on the protrusion of the bunk bed.

"Very bad," Klein replied expressionlessly.

Seeing Benson freeze in surprise, Klein chuckled and added:

"In fact, I didn't even have an interview. I found a job beforehand, with a weekly wage of £3..."

He repeated what he had said to Melissa earlier.

Benson's expression softened, and he shook his head and smiled:

"It feels like watching a child grow up... Hmm, this job is not bad."

He sighed and said:

"It's great to hear such good news after a long trip. We should celebrate tonight, how about buying some beef?"

Klein laughed:

"Okay, but I think Melissa will be upset. Shall we go grocery shopping together this afternoon? Bring at least 3 sulphurs? Uh, honestly, 1 pound for 20 sulphurs, 1 sulphur for 12 pence, and then there are half-pence, quarter-pence, this currency system is just counterintuitive, very troublesome, I think it must be one of the dumbest currency systems in the world."

After he finished speaking, he saw Benson's expression suddenly turn serious, and he felt a little uneasy, wondering if he had said something wrong.

Could it be that in the original owner's missing memory fragments, Benson was a pure and extreme supporter of the kingdom, intolerant of any dissent?

Benson paced a few steps, then retorted with a serious expression:

"No, there is no other."

Without a doubt... Klein paused for a moment, then quickly realized what he meant and exchanged a smile with his brother.

As expected, this is Benson's signature sarcastic humor.

Benson smirked and added seriously:

"You should understand that to create a reasonable and simple currency system, there is a prerequisite: knowing how to count and mastering the decimal system. Unfortunately, such people are extremely rare among those great figures."

(End of this chapter)