Klein tried hard not to act abnormally, and asked with genuine curiosity:
"What abilities does a 'Seer' have?"
"Your question isn't precise enough. It should be, what abilities will one gain after taking the 'Seer' potion?" Dunn Smith shook his head with a smile, his gray eyes and face all hidden in the shadows, backlit by the crimson moon. "Astrology, card divination, pendulums, spiritual vision, and many, many similar things. Of course, it's not that the moment you take the potion, you immediately understand and master them. The potion merely gives you the qualifications and ability to learn them."
"Because you lack direct means of confronting an enemy. Ah, as you can probably imagine, ritualistic magic requires too much preparation and is completely unsuitable for an encounter. Correspondingly, in terms of mystical knowledge, a 'Seer' will be more learned and professional than a 'Mysticologist'."
*It sounds like it meets my requirements too... but the lack of direct means to fight an enemy makes me hesitate... And the Church of the Evernight Goddess most likely doesn't have the subsequent Sequences... The 'Sanctuary' probably refers to the Church headquarters, the Chapel of Silence... A low-Sequence's direct means of fighting an enemy might not necessarily compare to a gun...* Klein fell silent, a scale swinging back and forth in his mind, sometimes favoring "Mysticologist," sometimes "Seer." As for "Corpse Collector," he had already dismissed the thought.
Seeing this, Dunn Smith smiled and said:
"Don't rush your choice. Tell me your answer on Monday morning. Whether you choose either, or decide to give up entirely, there will be no extra judgment from us Nighthawks."
"Calm yourself. Ask your own heart."
Having said that, he took off his hat, gave a slight bow, and slowly walked past Klein towards the stairwell.
Klein said nothing. He didn't give an answer immediately. He silently bowed in parting and silently watched him leave.
Although he had constantly yearned to become a Beyonder, when the opportunity truly lay before him, he was filled with hesitation. The lack of subsequent Sequences, the various cases of losing control among Beyonders, the credibility of Emperor Roselle's diary, and the maddening, corrupting illusory whispers—all these mixed together to form a swamp blocking his path forward.
He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.
"It's comparable to a mediocre student filling out their college entrance exam preferences..." Klein laughed at himself, reining in his scattered thoughts. He quietly opened the door, went back home, and lay down on the bed.
He lay there, eyes open, quietly staring at the bottom of the upper bunk stained with faint crimson light.
Outside the window, a drunkard staggered by. In the distance, a carriage sped along the empty street. These various noises did not break the silence of the night; instead, they made it more profound and deeper.
Klein's emotions settled. He thought of various memories from his past life on Earth. He thought of his father, who loved to work out and always spoke with a booming voice. He thought of his mother, who had a chronic illness but loved to busy herself for him. He thought of his close friends, who grew up together, evolving from kicking a football and playing basketball together to playing video games and mahjong. He thought of the girl he confessed to who failed, her face now blurred... These memories flowed quietly like a river, without many ripples, without deep melancholy, yet they silently flooded his heart.
Perhaps only when one loses something does one learn to cherish it. When the crimson faded and the sky was burning with golden sunrise, Klein had already made his choice.
...
He got up, went to the public washroom to wash his face and freshen up, then took a 1-Soule note and bought 8 pounds of rye bread for 9 pence from Mrs. Wintry to replenish the staple food he had finished last night.
"The price of bread is starting to stabilize..." After breakfast, Benson commented as he changed clothes.
Today was Sunday. He and Melissa finally had a chance to rest.
Klein, who had long been dressed in formal attire, sat on a chair, flipping through the old newspapers he had brought back yesterday. He said with some surprise:
"There's a housing rental ad here: No. 3, Wendell Street, North Borough. A standalone house, two floors total. Six rooms upstairs, three washrooms, two large balconies. Downstairs, a dining room, a living room, a kitchen, two washrooms, two guest rooms, and a basement storage room... Outside the house, there's a 2-are private lawn in the front and a small garden in the back. Can rent for one, two, or three years. Weekly rent is 1 pound 6 Soule. Interested parties please go to 16 Champagne Street and ask for Mr. Gushov."
"This is our future goal." Benson put on his black half-high top hat and said with a smile. "The rents for houses in the newspaper are all inflated. The 'Tingen Municipal Housing Improvement Company' has cheaper options that aren't much worse."
"Why not look for the 'Tingen Workers' Housing Improvement Association'?" Melissa, holding her old gauze hat, wearing a gray-white light dress that had been mended several times but was still the most presentable one she owned, came out from the other room.
She was quiet and reserved, but could not hide her youthful aura.
Benson laughed heartily:
"Who did you hear about the 'Tingen Workers' Housing Improvement Association' from? Jenny? Mrs. Rocher? Or your good friend Selena?"
Melissa looked to the side and replied in a low voice:
"Mrs. Rocher... When I was washing up last night, I happened to run into her. She asked about Klein's interview. I told her a bit, and then she suggested we look into the 'Tingen Workers' Housing Improvement Association'."
Seeing that Klein also looked puzzled, Benson smiled and shook his head:
"This is a housing association for the poor, ah, to be precise, the lower class. The houses they build and renovate are mostly the shared washroom type, offering only three choices: one-bedroom, two-bedroom, and three-bedroom. You two want to keep living in a place like that?"
"The 'Tingen Municipal Housing Improvement Company' has the same business, but it also provides options for the lower-middle class. To be honest, we are a bit better off than the lower-middle class now, but we are a bit worse off than the true middle class. It's not a problem with our salary, it's mainly because we haven't had enough time to accumulate savings."
Klein understood. He put away the newspaper, picked up his hat, and stood up:
"Then let's go."