Time passed steadily, and Tingen sent off the tail of summer, arriving in mid-August, with the temperature stable at around twenty-six to twenty-seven degrees Celsius.
Splash! Klein suddenly stood up from the bathtub, stepping out, bringing with him a shower of water droplets.
He stood there naked, looking down at his abdomen. With a slight flex, he could clearly see the outline of his abdominal muscles.
This was the result of his persistent training these past days. Besides that, he also seemed much more energetic.
And as of today, his combat instructor, Gowen, had begun teaching him basic boxing footwork and techniques for exerting force.
Slap, slap, slap. Klein’s bare feet padded across the bathroom floor, sometimes sliding forward, sometimes retreating rapidly, sometimes dodging right, all while mimicking punches and blocks.
Hoo, he stopped, exhaling in delight. He grabbed a nearby towel and began to dry himself.
In the more than two weeks since contacting the lunatic asylum doctor Dust Goodrich, Klein seemed to have escaped all coincidences and the strange circle of always encountering supernatural events. Life had become steady, as he methodically drew his salary, delved deeply into mysticism, practiced shooting and combat, developed new recipes, accumulated decent tableware and furnishings bit by bit with his brother Benson and sister Melissa, learned from his captain Dunn and teammate Leonard about past extraordinary cases, went to the club to help people with divination, and strictly followed the rules he’d derived himself.
All this settled his mind. If it weren’t for occasionally thinking of Earth in the dead of night, if the matter of the red chimney was still not cleared up, if the patterns passed by the cursed doll still appeared in his dreams occasionally, he would have started to get used to and even cherish his current life.
During this time, the "
Meanwhile, "The Hanged Man" also said that he had returned to land and was handling some matters. As soon as he was free, he would immediately start searching.
In addition, "Justice" felt that the two new Beyonders she met were both worth developing as targets. For example, they had decent public identities for cover, each had certain resource channels of different types, and each had their own principles and characteristics. They weren’t the type to casually betray secrets. The only problem was that they were both only Sequence 9, not suitable for a high-end and strict secret organization like the "Tarot Club."
"A high-end organization? I think it feels more like a pyramid scheme..." The Fool Klein just wanted to cover his face and sigh. He found himself at a loss for words in response to Miss Justice’s self-satisfaction. He could only allow her to further observe those two Beyonders.
Of course, "Justice" was no longer the naive, romantic girl from the beginning. She was cautious not to mention the names and characteristics of the two Beyonders, afraid that "The Hanged Man" might deduce her identity from them.
"Miss Justice said she clearly felt signs of the potion being digested. Maybe in another three or four weeks, she’ll be able to complete the acting of 'Spectator'... The recipe for 'Mind Reader' needs to be put on the agenda..." Klein, now dry, put the towel aside, and while putting on his underclothes, thought about the matter from the day before yesterday’s "Tarot Club" meeting.
In the past twenty days or so, he had only met Dr. Dust Goodrich once. With the thought that haste makes waste, he only talked about the other’s state and asked some insignificant questions about the Psychology Alchemy Society.
And the speed at which "Justice" was digesting the potion forced him to consider in advance how to obtain the Sequence 8 "Mind Reader" recipe from Dust.
Buttoning up his shirt one by one, Klein picked up another dry towel, wrapped it around his head, and absorbed the moisture from his short hair.
Compared to "Justice," the speed of his digestion of the "Seer" potion was only faster, not slower. By this week, during meditation and spirit vision, there were no longer instances of hearing sounds he shouldn’t hear or seeing scenes he shouldn’t see.
Folding the towel, Klein wiped his hair again, looked up at the door, and muttered to himself: "My summarized 'Seer’s Rules' are indeed effective. Next week... next week, I should be able to completely digest the potion... The Hornacis gray goat’s horn crystal and the human-faced rose needed for the 'Clown' recipe still don’t know where to get... Maybe I can learn from Miss Daly and submit a special application... But that would definitely attract the attention of the higher-ups... I only want to develop in a low-key way now... The Aurora Society’s believer among the police has also been found, but I still don’t know who
"Henry said he could complete the 'Red Chimney' commission before the end of this week... My secret savings have recovered to a little over 7 pounds, so I don’t have to worry about how to pay the final installment..."
"The information on some of the houses and tenants he gave earlier doesn’t seem problematic for now, and I don’t have time to check them one by one..."
"Maybe I can first look at which houses with red chimneys have changed tenants recently?"
"Mm, that’s an idea."
...
Sitting in silence for twenty or thirty seconds, he put on his gray-black trousers, adjusted his bow tie, fastened his gun holster, tossed his worn knight practice uniform into the laundry basket, and opened the door to leave the bathroom—he had just finished his Wednesday afternoon combat training not long ago and was still at his teacher Gowen’s house.
"Good day, Mr. Moretti." Gowen’s maid happened to be passing by and quickly bowed in greeting.
Klein nodded slightly, pointed to the messy, wet bathroom, and said: "Please clean this up."
"That is my duty. The clothes will be handled by the laundress; she comes at six." The maid lowered her head and replied.
Laundresses were not provided with room and board and were paid very little, so they wouldn’t work for just one household. They would often take on the laundry of several nearby residences, either rushing from one house to another every day, or collecting all the laundry and handling it at home before returning it in turn. Only this way could they barely survive.
Klein said no more. He went to the living room and took his leave of the owner, who was sitting in a rocking chair.
He saw Gowen, his temples graying, nod listlessly, a light brown blanket spread over his legs, and holding a copy of the "Ahoa Evening News."
Klein knew that the man basking in the setting sun was actually just over fifty, but he seemed as lifeless as a man of eighty or ninety.
During their usual combat training, Gowen also remained silent, speaking only when instruction was needed, never saying anything extra or engaging in casual chat. Klein, exhausted to the point of near collapse every day, had no desire to initiate conversation, so their relationship remained cold to this day.
"Watching Teacher Gowen’s demonstrations, his strength is still quite impressive, and his footwork is agile enough. He could probably take three guys like me... He has a salary from the police department and also bought some land in the countryside outside Tingen, which brings in a fixed rent... He hires a cook, a maid, and a laundress... Back on Earth in the great foodie country, a gentleman of fifty or sixty with such assets would have already traveled the world..."
Klein withdrew his gaze from Gowen, shook his head inwardly, then walked over to the coat rack and took down his semi-tall silk hat and black thin trench coat.