Phew, I've finally passed the Spirit Medium stage …
Klein exhaled and slowly turned around. As he enjoyed the tranquility of the night and the refreshing cool breeze, he approached the apartment door.
He took out the key, inserted it, and slowly twisted it, causing the crimson darkness to expand with a creaking sound.
Walking on the deserted stairs and breathing in the cold air, Klein had an inexplicable feeling that he had a few more hours in life than others. It was to the point that his footsteps became lighter. Creak.
He maintained a similar state of mind as he opened the door to his room. But before he stepped in, he saw a figure sitting quietly in the darkness in front of the study table. Her black hair was bathed in red, her brown eyes were bright, and her face was delicate. It was Melissa Moretti!
"Klein, where did you go?" Melissa's brows relaxed as she asked in puzzlement.
Without waiting for Klein to answer, she added, as though she wanted to clearly explain the cause and effect of the matter, as well as the logical relationship between them. "I just got up to go to the bathroom and realized that you weren't home."
Klein had rich experience in deceiving his parents. With a thought, he calmly replied with a wry smile, "I couldn't fall asleep after waking up once.
I thought that instead of wasting time, I might as well train, so I went out for a few rounds. Look, I'm covered in sweat. "
He took off his jacket, turned around, and pointed at his back.
Melissa stood up and glanced at him nonchalantly. After deliberating for a few seconds, she said, "Yes.
She deliberated for a few seconds before saying, "Klein, actually, you don't have to. You don't have to feel too pressured. You will definitely pass the interview at Tingen University. Even if you can't, well, I mean if, you will still be able to find a better one."
I didn't even consider the interview … Klein nodded.
"I understand."
He didn't mention that he had already received an "offer" because he hadn't decided if he wanted to go.
Melissa gave him a deep look before she suddenly turned around and jogged into the inner room. She took out a tortoise-shaped object that was made up of gears, rusted metal, springs, and springs.
Melissa quickly tightened the spring and placed the item on the desk.
Ka, ka, ka, da, da. The "turtle" hopped and walked rhythmically, causing people to involuntarily turn their attention to it.
"When I feel troubled, watching it move like this makes me feel much better. I've been doing this a lot recently, and it's very effective! Klein, give it a try. "Melissa's eyes lit up as she invited him.
Klein didn't reject his sister's good intentions. He leaned in to look at the "tortoise" and waited for it to stop before smiling.
"Simplicity and regularity really do bring relaxation."
Without waiting for Melissa to speak, he pointed at the "tortoise" and asked casually,
"You made it yourself? When did you do it? Why didn't I know about this? "
"I made it with materials the school didn't want and things I picked up on the road. I just finished it two days ago." Melissa's expression was the same as usual, but the corners of her mouth curled up a little.
"Very impressive," Klein praised sincerely.
As a boy with poor mechanical skills, he had struggled to assemble a mini 4WD when he was young.
Melissa raised her chin slightly, her eyes slightly curved as she replied calmly,
"It's alright, it's alright."
"Excessive modesty is a bad character." Klein chuckled. "This is a tortoise, right?"
The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned heavy. Melissa's faint voice sounded like a crimson veil.
"It's a doll."
Doll …
Klein smiled awkwardly and forcefully explained, "The problem is the materials.
"The problem with the materials is that it's too crude."
Then, he changed the topic.
"Why would you go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? There's a toilet in there, right? Besides, aren't you good at sleeping until dawn? "
Melissa was stunned for a moment. After a few seconds, she opened her mouth and was about to explain.
At this moment, a gurgling sound of digestion came from her abdomen.
"I-I'll go back to sleep!"
Bang! She grabbed the tortoise-shaped "doll" and jogged into the room, closing the door.
… Last night's dinner was too good. I ate too much, and my stomach isn't used to it … Klein shook his head and laughed. He slowly walked to the desk and silently sat on the chair. Under the crimson moon that emerged from behind the dark clouds, he quietly thought about Dunn Smith's invitation.
The disadvantages of being a civilian member of the Nighthawks were obvious.
As a transmigrator and the founder of the mysterious gathering, The Fool, he had many secrets on him. It was quite risky for him to stay under the watchful eyes of the Church of the Evernight Goddess, who specialized in dealing with Beyonder matters.
As long as he joined Dunn Smith and company, his goal would definitely be to become a Beyonder, so as to conceal the benefits he obtained from the gathering. And as an official member, his freedom would definitely be restricted. It was just like how a civilian had to report when leaving Tingen. He couldn't go wherever he wanted or do whatever he wanted. He would miss out on many opportunities.
The Nighthawks were a strict organization. Once there was a mission, he could only wait for it to be arranged and accept orders.
There was a risk of losing control as a Beyonder.
…
After listing all the disadvantages in his mind, Klein began to consider the necessity and benefits.
From the luck enhancement ritual and other encounters, he wouldn't be the 80% lucky person that Dunn mentioned. There would definitely be strange incidents that would befall him in the future. It would be filled with danger, and only by becoming a Beyonder or joining the Nighthawks would he have the ability to resist them.
To become a Beyonder, it was impossible to rely on the gathering alone. The potion formula wasn't a big problem, but where to find the corresponding ingredients, how to obtain them, how to concoct them, as well as the general knowledge of a Beyonder's daily cultivation, he had serious obstacles. It was impossible for him to ask Justice and The Hanging Man for everything. Not only would it damage The Fool's image and arouse their suspicions, but he also wouldn't have the time to discuss such trivial matters. Similarly, he wouldn't be able to produce anything of interest to them.
In addition, more material interactions would leave behind traces of his real identity. When the time came, "online disputes" would turn into "offline conflicts," which would be troublesome.
As for joining the Nighthawks, he would definitely come into contact with the general knowledge of the mysterious World and the relevant channels. He would accumulate enough corresponding connections and use them as a fulcrum to stir up the gathering and obtain the greatest benefits from Justice and The Hanging Man. This would then, in turn, improve his real state and obtain more resources, forming a virtuous cycle.
Of course, he could also join the Psychological Alchemy mentioned by Dunn, an organization that was being suppressed by the various Churches. However, becoming a member would also mean losing his freedom. He would even have to live in fear at all times. More importantly, he had no idea where to find them. Even if he managed to obtain the relevant information from The Hanging Man, his life would still be in danger if he were to make contact with them.
There was still a chance of a buffer and an exit if he became a civilian.
A small one hid in the wilderness, a medium one hid in the city, and a big one hid in the court. Perhaps his identity as a Nighthawk was a better cover.
In the future, when he became a high-ranking member of the arbitration tribunal, who would think that he was a heretic and the mastermind behind the secret organization?
…
The morning sun shone, and the crimson faded. Looking at the golden sky, Klein made up his mind.
I'll find Dunn Smith today and become a civilian of the Nighthawks!
"You're not asleep?" At this moment, Melissa woke up again and pushed the door open. She was surprised to see her brother stretching without any regard for his image.
"I'm thinking about something." Klein smiled, feeling relaxed.
Melissa pondered for a moment before saying.
"When I'm troubled, I'll list the bad and the good ones one by one. After I'm done, I'll compare them, and I'll get a hint on what I should do."
"It's a good habit. I do the same," Klein replied with a smile.
Melissa relaxed and didn't say anything else. She took the yellowed piece of paper and toiletries to the public bathroom.
After breakfast, his sister left. Klein wasn't in a hurry to leave. He was in a good mood to catch up on his sleep. According to what he knew, almost all the taverns weren't open in the morning.
At two in the afternoon, he smoothed the wrinkles on his top hat with a small brush and handkerchief. He removed the dirt and made it neat again. Then, he went out in a formal suit, as if he was going for an interview.
Besik Street was a little far. Afraid that he would miss the Nighthawks' "working hours," Klein didn't walk there. Instead, he waited for the public carriage at the intersection of Iron Cross Street.
In the Kingdom of Rouen, there were two types of public carriages: trackless and trackless. The former was pulled by two horses. Including the top of the carriage, it could seat about twenty people. There was only a general route, and there were no specific stops. It was flexible and could stop at any time unless it was full.
The latter was operated by a rail carriage company. First, a rail-like device was laid on the main street. The horses would walk on the inside, and the wheels would rotate on top. It was easy and labor-saving, so it could pull a larger double-decker carriage that could seat nearly fifty passengers. The only problem was that the route was fixed, and the stops were fixed. There were many places that couldn't be reached, so it was rather rigid.
After about ten minutes, the sound of wheels hitting the tracks approached. A double-decker carriage stopped in front of the Iron Cross Street stop.
"Go to Besik Street," Klein said to the carriage driver.
"You'll have to take a turn at Champagne Street, but once you get there, it'll only take about ten minutes to walk to Besik Street," the carriage driver explained the route.
"Then let's go to Champagne Street." Klein nodded in agreement.
"It's more than four kilometers. Four pence," a pale-faced youth beside the carriage driver said.
He was the staff member in charge of collecting money.
"Okay." Klein took out four copper pence from his pocket and handed it to him.
He walked up to the carriage and found that there weren't many passengers. Even on the first floor, there were still several empty seats.
"I only have three pence on me. I'll have to walk back …" Klein pressed down on his hat and sat firmly.
Most of the men and women on this floor were sitting in formal attire. There were also some in work clothes and leisurely reading the newspaper, but almost no one spoke. It was rather quiet.
Klein closed his eyes to recharge his energy, ignoring the passengers coming and going around him.
One stop after another, he finally heard the words "Champagne Street."
He got off the carriage and asked along the road. He soon came to Besik Street and saw the tavern with the brown and yellow hound logo.
Klein stretched out his right hand and pushed hard. The heavy door slowly opened, and the noise and impetuous waves of heat rushed in.
Although it was still afternoon, there were already many customers in the tavern. Some of them were temporary workers looking for opportunities and waiting to be hired. Some had nothing to do and were numbing themselves with alcohol.
The tavern was rather dark. There were two large iron cages in the center, one-third of which was deep into the ground, leaving no gaps. People gathered around with wooden wine glasses, discussing loudly, cursing, and laughing.
Klein glanced curiously and found two dogs inside. One was black and white, similar to a husky on Earth. The other was completely black, with shiny fur, strong and fierce.
"Do you want to bet? Doug has already won eight matches in a row! "A short man wearing a brown bonnet approached and pointed at the black dog as he spoke.
Bet? Klein was stunned at first, but he immediately came to a realization.
"Dog fighting?"
When he was at Khoy University, the noble and rich students would always ask him contemptuously and curiously if rude workers and jobless hooligans liked to participate in boxing and gambling in taverns. In addition to boxing and cards, did gambling also include cruel and bloody events such as cockfighting and dog fighting?
The short man sneered.
"Sir, we are civilized people. We don't do such undignified things."
At this point, he muttered softly, "Besides, there was a law last year that forbids such things …"
"Then what are you betting on?" Klein was curious.
"To see who's the better 'hunter'." Just as the short man finished speaking, there was a commotion.
He turned to look and waved his hand excitedly.
"This match has begun. You can't bet anymore. Wait for the next match."
Upon hearing that, Klein tiptoed and raised his head. He looked as far as he could and saw two strong men each dragging a sack to the side of the iron cage. They opened the 'prison door' and poured the contents inside.
They were gray, disgusting animals!
Klein carefully identified them and realized that they were rats. Dozens and hundreds of rats!
As the bottom of the iron cage was deep underground, there were no gaps. The rats scurried everywhere but were unable to escape.
At this moment, as the cage door closed, the chains on the two dogs were undone.
"Woof!" The black dog pounced over and bit a rat to death.
The black-and-white dog was dumbfounded at first, but then it excitedly played with the rats.
The surrounding people either raised their glasses, stared intently, or shouted loudly.
"Bite it to death! Kill it! "
"Doug, Doug!"
… What the f * * k is this about dogs catching rats … Klein came to a realization as the corners of his mouth twitched.
The gambling here is actually betting on which dog can catch more rats …
Maybe I can even bet on a specific number of rats …
No wonder there are people buying live rats at Iron Cross Street …
It's really unique …
Klein shook his head and retreated in amusement. He bypassed the crowded patrons and came to the front of the bar counter.
"A new face?" The bartender glanced up at him as he wiped his glass. "Rye beer is 1p a glass, Enmat beer is 2p, Southville beer is 4p, or would you like a pure malt Lentzee?"
"I'm looking for Mr. Wright," Klein said bluntly.
The bartender whistled and shouted to the side.
"Old man, someone's looking for you."
"Oh, who is it …" A muffled voice sounded as a drunken old man stood up from behind the bar counter.
He rubbed his eyes and looked at Klein.
"Lad, you're looking for me?"
"Mr. Wright, I want to hire a mercenary team for a mission," Klein answered according to Dunn's instructions.
"Mercenary team? Are you living in an adventure story? That's long gone! "The bartender interrupted with a laugh.
Wright was silent for a few seconds.
"Who told you to come here?"
"Dunn, Dunn Smith," Klein answered truthfully.
Wright immediately chuckled.
"I understand. Actually … mercenary teams still exist, but in a different form, with a more modern name. You can find one on the second floor of 36 Zouteland Street."
"Thank you," Klein thanked him sincerely and squeezed out of the bar.
As he was about to leave, the customers around him suddenly quietened down, leaving only a murmur of murmurs.
"Doug actually lost …"
"Lost …"
Klein shook his head in amusement and left quickly. After asking for directions, he arrived at the nearby Zouteland Street.
"30, 32, 34 … Here." He counted the house numbers and walked into the staircase.
Rounding the corner and going up, he saw the vertical signboard and the current name of the so-called mercenary team.
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