Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the dark and narrow corridor, spreading far and wide in the silence. There was no other noise.
Klein straightened his back and followed the middle-aged priest at an unhurried pace. He didn't ask any questions or engage in idle chatter. He was as calm as a windless lake.
After passing through the heavily guarded passageway, the middle-aged priest used a key to open a secret door.
He pointed at the stone staircase and said, "To the left of the cross-shaped road is Chanis Gate."
"May the Goddess bless you." Klein tapped his chest four times, outlining the shape of the crimson moon.
The secular world used secular etiquette, while the religious used religious rituals.
"Praise the Goddess." The middle-aged priest returned the gesture.
Klein didn't speak further. He followed the stone staircase and walked into the darkness with the help of the elegant gas lamps embedded in the walls on both sides.
Midway, he subconsciously turned his head and saw the middle-aged priest still standing by the door. He stood at the top of the staircase, standing in the shadows of the gas lamps like an immobile wax statue.
Klein retracted his gaze and continued walking. Before long, he touched the cold stone floor and came to a crossroad.
He didn't turn in the direction of Chanis Gate because Dunn Smith, who had just been on duty, definitely wouldn't be there.
Following the familiar path on the right, Klein climbed another staircase and appeared inside the Blackthorn Security Company.
Seeing that the doors were either closed or ajar, he didn't rashly search for them. Instead, he entered the reception hall and saw a brown-haired girl with a sweet smile, engrossed in reading a magazine.
"Hi, Roshan." Klein came to the side and deliberately knocked on the table.
Creak!
Roshan suddenly stood up and knocked over the chair.
She said in a panic, "Hi, the weather is nice today. You, you, Klein, why are you here?"
She held her chest and panted like a little girl afraid of being caught slacking by her father.
"I have something to discuss with Captain," Klein answered briefly.
"… You scared me. I thought Captain had come out." Roshan glared at Klein. "You don't even know how to knock! Hmph, you should be glad that I am a generous and kind lady. Hmm, I prefer the word girl … Why are you looking for the captain? He is in the room opposite Madame Orianna. "
Even though he was rather tense, Klein was amused by Roshan. He pondered for a moment and said,
"Secret."
"…" Roshan's eyes widened in disbelief. Klein bowed slightly and quickly took his leave.
He re-entered the reception room and knocked on the door of the first office on the right.
"Please come in." Dunn Smith's low and gentle voice rang out.
Klein pushed the door open and closed it. He took off his hat and bowed.
"Good morning, Captain."
"Good morning, what can I do for you?" Dunn's black windbreaker and hat were hanging on the coat rack next to him. His exposed body was only wearing a white shirt and a black vest. Even though his hairline was a little high and his gray eyes were deep, he still looked a lot more refreshed.
"Someone is following me," Klein answered truthfully without any embellishments.
Dunn leaned back and clasped his hands together. His deep gray eyes looked into Klein's eyes.
He didn't continue the topic of stalking.
Instead, he asked, "You came from the cathedral?"
"Yes," Klein answered with certainty.
Dunn nodded slightly and didn't comment on the matter. He returned to the topic at hand.
"Perhaps Welch's father doesn't believe the cause of death we reported and hired a private detective from the Wind City to investigate."
Midseashire's Constant City was also known as the Wind City. It was an area with an extremely developed coal and steel industry. It was ranked in the top three among all the cities in the Kingdom of Rouen.
Without waiting for Klein to express his opinion, Dunn continued, "It might also come from the source of the notebook.
Heh, we are currently investigating where Welch obtained the Antigonus family's notebook. Of course, we can't eliminate the possibility of other individuals or organizations pursuing this notebook. "
"What should I do?" Klein asked in a deep voice.
Without a doubt, he hoped it was the first reason.
Dunn did not reply immediately. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. His gray eyes did not ripple at all.
His gray eyes remained calm as he said, "Follow the previous path back and do whatever you want."
"Anything?" Klein returned with a question.
"Anything." Dunn nodded affirmatively. "Of course, don't scare them away, and don't break the law."
"Alright." Klein took a deep breath, bade farewell, and left the room before returning to the basement.
He turned left at the intersection and bathed in the light from the gas lamps on both sides. He quietly walked through the empty, dark, and cold passageway.
The echoes overlapped, making him feel lonelier and more terrified.
Soon, Klein approached the staircase and walked up step by step. He saw the middle-aged priest standing in the shadows by the door.
The two met without a word. The middle-aged priest turned around in silence and made way for him.
As he walked in silence, Klein returned to the prayer hall. The round holes behind the arched altar were still as pure as before. The room was still dark and quiet, and the line of gentlemen and ladies outside the confessional was still the same, except that there were fewer of them.
After waiting for a while, Klein held his cane and newspaper as though nothing had happened. He slowly walked out of the prayer hall and left Saint Selena Cathedral.
The moment he walked out and saw the blazing sun, he immediately felt the familiar feeling of being watched. He felt like he was prey that was being watched by an eagle.
Suddenly, a doubtful point appeared in his mind.
Why didn't the Voyeur follow me into the cathedral? Although I could've used the dark environment and the priest's help to temporarily "disappear" without his knowledge, would it have been difficult for him to pretend to pray and follow the surveillance? He didn't do anything bad, so what's wrong with entering openly?
Unless he has a dark history and is afraid of the Church and the bishop, knowing that the other party might have Beyonder powers …
From the looks of it, the possibility of him being a private detective is very low …
Phew! Klein exhaled, no longer as tense as before. He walked leisurely and circled to the back of Zouteland Street.
He stopped in front of an ancient-looking building with mottled walls. The house number was "3," and the name was "Zouteland Shooting Club."
The underground shooting range of the police department was open to the "public" to earn extra funds.
The moment Klein entered, the feeling of being watched immediately disappeared. He took the opportunity to hand his Special Operations Department badge to the attendant in charge of reception.
After a brief verification, he was led underground to a small, sealed shooting range.
"Ten-meter target." After giving the attendant a simple instruction, Klein took out his revolver from his holster and took out the box of brass bullets from his pocket.
The sudden stare made his desire to protect himself overcome his procrastination. Hence, he couldn't wait to practice his marksmanship.
Pa!
After the attendant left, he threw out the revolver and ejected the silver demon hunting bullets one by one. Then, he picked up the normal brass bullets and stuffed them into the cartridge.
This time, he didn't leave any empty spots to prevent accidental shots, nor did he take off his formal jacket or half top hat. He wanted to practice in his most ordinary attire. After all, he couldn't possibly shout, "Please stop for a moment, let me change into something lighter" after encountering an enemy or danger.
Click!
Klein closed the revolver and slid it with his thumb.
Suddenly, he held the gun with both hands and raised it up, aiming at the target ten meters away.
But he wasn't in a hurry to shoot. Instead, he seriously recalled the experience of missing the target during military training, as well as the three-point line and the recoil of firing a gun.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Amidst the sound of clothes being tugged, Klein practiced aiming and holding the gun over and over again. He was so serious that he was like a child taking his college entrance examination.
After a few repetitions, he retreated to a spot against the wall and sat on a soft bench. He put the revolver aside, massaged his arm, and rested for a while.
After spending a few minutes to recall what had just happened, Klein picked up the gun with the wooden grip and bronze revolver again. He went to the shooting position, made a standard posture, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
His arm trembled, and his body leaned back slightly. The bullet missed the target.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Having learned from his previous experience, he shot again and again. He fumbled with the feeling in practice until he finished shooting all six bullets.
It's time to hit the target … Klein retreated and sat down again, catching his breath.
Pa! He threw out the revolver, letting the six bullet casings fall to the ground. Then, without a change in expression, he continued to insert the remaining brass bullets.
After stretching and relaxing his arms, he stood up again and returned to his shooting position while summarizing.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gunshot reverberated, and the target shook. Klein practiced and rested again and again, emptying the thirty normal bullets he had received and the remaining five. Gradually, he landed on the target steadily and began his quest for a high score.
Shaking his sore arm, he poured out the last five bullet casings, lowered his head, and inserted the silver demon hunting bullets with complicated patterns one after another. He also left a spot for an accidental hit.
After putting the revolver back into his armpit holster, Klein patted the dust off his body and walked out of the shooting range with a relaxed body. He then returned to the streets.
The feeling of being observed surfaced once again, but Klein felt calmer than before. He slowly walked to Champagne Street and spent four pence to take a tracked public carriage back to Iron Cross Street. He then entered his apartment.
The feeling of being observed disappeared without a trace. He took out his key and opened the door. He saw a short-haired man in his late thirties, dressed in a linen shirt, sitting in front of a desk.
His heart tightened, but he quickly relaxed. Klein greeted him with a smile.
"Good morning, no, good afternoon, Baansen."
The man was his and Melissa's elder brother, Baansen Moretti. He was only twenty-five years old this year, but due to his receding hairline and aged appearance, he looked to be in his late thirties.
He had black hair and brown eyes, resembling Klein to some extent, but he didn't have the faint scholarly air.
"Good afternoon, Klein. How was the interview?" Baansen stood up and revealed a smile.
His black coat and half top hat were hanging from the protrusion of the bunk bed.
"Very bad," Klein replied without any expression.
Seeing Baansen stunned, Klein added with a chuckle, "In fact, I didn't even participate in the interview.
I found a job ahead of time, with a weekly salary of three pounds … "
He repeated what he had said to Melissa.
Baansen's expression eased as he shook his head and smiled.
"It feels like watching a child grow up … Yes, this job isn't bad."
He sighed and said, "That's right.
"I heard such good news right after I came back. That's great. We should celebrate tonight. Shall we buy some beef?"
Klein smiled.
"Okay, but I think Melissa will feel bad. Shall we go shopping together in the afternoon? Bring at least three soli? Uh, to be honest, one pound for twenty soli, one soli for twelve pence, and there are also half-pence and quarter-pence. Such a currency system goes against my intuition and is very troublesome. I think it must be one of the stupidest currency systems in the World. "
After saying that, he saw Baansen's expression suddenly become serious. He suddenly felt a little nervous and wondered if he had said something wrong.
Could it be that, in the memory fragments of the original owner, Baansen was a pure, extreme supporter of the kingdom, and could not tolerate the slightest negation from others?
Baansen paced a few steps and retorted with a serious expression,
"No, not one of them."
The only one … Klein was stunned for a moment, but he quickly recovered and smiled at his brother.
It was indeed the sarcastic humor that Baansen was good at.
The corners of Baansen's mouth curled up as he added in all seriousness,
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