Phew, he had finally made it past the medium…
Klein exhaled a mouthful of stale breath. He turned around slowly and strolled toward the entrance of the apartment, enjoying the quiet night and the refreshing cool breeze.
He took out his key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it gently. The darkness mingled with crimson expanded with a creak.
Walking up the empty stairs and breathing the cold air, Klein inexplicably felt as if he had gained a few extra hours of life compared to others. This feeling made his steps light.
With a click, he maintained this mindset and opened his door. However, before he could step in, he saw a figure sitting quietly in the darkness in front of the desk. Black hair bathed in red, bright brown eyes… a delicate face. It was unmistakably Melissa Moretti!
"Klein, where did you go?" Melissa relaxed her brow and asked in confusion.
Without waiting for Klein's reply, she added another sentence, as if wanting to clearly lay out the sequence of events and the logical relationship. "I just got up to go to the bathroom and realized you weren't at home."
Klein had extensive experience in deceiving his parents. His mind worked for a moment, then he calmly replied with a bitter smile:
"I woke up once and couldn't fall back asleep. I thought it was a waste of time to just lie there, so I went out for a few laps. Look, I'm drenched in sweat."
He took off his coat, half-turned his body, and pointed at his back.
Melissa stood up, took a cursory glance, and after a moment of hesitation, said:
"Klein, you really don't have to put so much pressure on yourself. You'll definitely pass the interview at Tingen University. Even if you don't… um, I mean, if it doesn't work out, you can find something better."
I haven't even considered the interview… Klein nodded and said, "I understand."
He didn't mention that he had already received an "offer," as he hadn't yet decided whether to accept it.
Melissa took a deep look at him, then suddenly turned and trotted into the inner room. She came out holding an item shaped like a turtle, pieced together from gears, rusted iron, springs, and clockwork.
Quickly winding it up, she placed the item on the desk.
Click-clack, clatter. The "turtle" hopped and moved with a steady rhythm, involuntarily drawing attention to itself.
"When you feel troubled, watching it move like this will make you feel a lot better. I've been doing this a lot lately; it's really effective! Klein, give it a try." Melissa invited him with bright eyes.
Klein didn't refuse his sister's kindness. Leaning in to watch the "turtle," he waited until it stopped before smiling. "Simplicity and rhythm can really bring about a sense of relaxation."
Without waiting for Melissa to speak again, he pointed at the "turtle" and asked casually, "Did you make this yourself? When did you make it? How come I didn't know?"
"I made it using materials the school threw away and things I picked up on the street. I finished it a couple of days ago," Melissa replied with a normal expression, a slight curve at the corner of her lips.
"That's really impressive," Klein praised sincerely.
As a boy who was clumsy in mechanics, he could barely even assemble toy cars when he was a child.
Melissa slightly raised her chin, her eyes curving a little, and answered in a flat tone:
"Not bad, not bad."
"Excessive modesty is a bad character trait." Klein chuckled. "This is a turtle, right?"
The atmosphere in the room suddenly dropped. Melissa's voice drifted softly, like a wisp of crimson gossamer.
"It's a puppet."
Puppet…
…Klein smiled awkwardly and forced an explanation: "It's the material… it's too crude."
He then smoothly changed the subject: "Why did you go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? There's a toilet in there, right? And aren't you usually able to sleep straight through till morning?"
Melissa was stunned for a moment, then opened her mouth to explain.
Just then, a loud rumbling sound of digestion came from her chest and stomach.
"I… I'm going back to sleep!"
Bang! She grabbed the turtle-shaped "puppet" and ran back into the inner room, slamming the door shut.
…Yesterday's dinner was too good, he ate too much, his stomach wasn't used to it… Klein shook his head with a wry smile, walked slowly to the desk, and sat down silently. Gazing at the crimson moon peeking out from behind the clouds, he quietly pondered Dunn Smith's invitation.
Becoming a clerical assistant for the Nighthawks team. The disadvantages were very obvious.
As a transmigrator and the founder of the mysterious gathering "The Fool," he harbored many secrets. The risk of hovering around the team specifically tasked with handling supernatural incidents for the Church of Evernight was considerable.
If he joined Dunn Smith and the others, his ultimate goal would certainly be to become a Beyonder, thereby concealing the benefits he gained from the "Gathering." However, becoming an official member would restrict his freedom. Just as a clerical assistant had to report leaving Tingen, he wouldn't be able to go wherever he wanted or do whatever he pleased, and he would miss many opportunities.
The Nighthawks were a rigorous organization. Once a mission was assigned, he could only wait for the arrangement, receive the order, and couldn't refuse.
Beyonders risked losing control.
…
After listing the disadvantages in his mind, Klein turned to consider the necessity and the benefits.
Judging from the "Transference Ritual" and other experiences, he wasn't one of the eighty percent lucky ones Dunn had mentioned. Strange and dangerous events would inevitably fall upon him in the future. Only by becoming a Beyonder or joining the Nighthawks could he gain the strength to resist.
To become a Beyonder, relying solely on the "Gathering" was impossible. The potion formula wasn't a big issue, but he faced severe obstacles in finding the corresponding ingredients, obtaining them, concocting the potion, and in the common knowledge of a Beyonder's daily practice. He couldn't possibly ask "Justice" and "The Hanged Man" about everything and trade everything with them. This would not only damage the image of "The Fool" and raise their suspicions, but also, he simply didn't have that much time to communicate such detailed issues. Moreover, he didn't have anything they were particularly interested in.
Furthermore, increased material exchanges would leave traces of his real-world identity, turning an "online dispute" into an "offline conflict" – which would be a massive problem.
On the other hand, joining the "Nighthawks" would undoubtedly give him access to the common knowledge of the mystical world and related channels, allowing him to accumulate a sufficient network of connections. With this as a fulcrum, he could leverage the "Gathering" and gain the maximum benefit from "Justice" and "The Hanged Man." This, in turn, would elevate his real-world status, providing more resources and forming a virtuous cycle.
Of course, he could also try to find and join the organization Dunn had mentioned, the "Psychology Alchemists," a group suppressed and encircled by the major churches. But becoming one of its members would equally deprive him of his freedom and keep him in constant fear. An even more important problem was that he had no idea where to find them. Even if he managed to extract the information from "The Hanged Man," rashly contacting them would put his life in danger.
Becoming a clerical assistant offered a buffer and an opportunity to withdraw.
"The small hermit hides in the wild, the medium hermit hides in the city, the great hermit hides in the court." An identity as a Nighthawk might be the better protective coloring.
In the future, if he became a high-ranking member of the Tribunal, who would suspect him of being a heretic and the mastermind behind a secret organization?
…
Dawn arrived, and the crimson faded away. Looking at the golden light on the horizon, Klein made up his mind.
He would go find Dunn Smith today and become a clerical assistant for the Nighthawks!
"You didn't sleep?" At this moment, Melissa had woken up again. She pushed the door open and was surprised to see her brother stretching without any regard for his image.
"Thinking about some things," Klein revealed a smile, feeling completely at ease.
Melissa thought for a moment and said, "When I'm troubled, I list the pros and cons one by one. After listing them, I compare them, and I get a 'guide' on what to do."
"Good habit. I do the same," Klein responded with a smile.
Melissa's expression relaxed. Without another word, she picked up the yellowing large sheet of paper and her toiletries and headed to the public washroom.
After breakfast, with his sister gone, Klein didn't rush out. In a good mood, he caught up on some sleep, because, as far as he knew, almost all taverns were closed in the morning.
At two in the afternoon, he used a small brush and a handkerchief to smooth out the wrinkles on his top hat, removing the dirt and restoring its neatness. Then, wearing his full formal suit, he left the house, as if heading to an interview.
Berkley Street was quite far. Klein was afraid of missing the Nighthawks' "office hours," so he didn't walk there. Instead, he waited for the public carriage at the intersection of Iron Cross Street.