After pouring coffee and returning to the armory to get the thick stack of historical materials and lecture drafts compiled by Old Neil, Klein turned along the gas lamps on the wall towards the stairs leading to the Blackthorn Security Company.
Tap, tap, tap, the footsteps echoed through the sealed and empty underground.
Klein finished climbing the spiral staircase, pushed open the door, made a brief identification, and headed straight for the second office across from him.
After two days of familiarization, he had roughly figured out the layout of Blackthorn Security Company:
Just inside the entrance was a spacious reception hall, with a set of sofas and tables. Through the partition was the inner area. On the left side of the corridor, from near to far, were the accounting room belonging to Mrs. Orianna, a rest room furnished with sofa beds, and the staircase leading to the basement.
On the right side, from near to far, were the office of Captain Dunn Smith, the clerical office equipped with a typewriter, and the recreation room for the official members of the Nighthawk team.
Klein had previously seen Leonard Mitchell playing cards in the recreation room with two other team members. He guessed it was Dou Di Zhu, but of course, Emperor Roselle had renamed it 'Fighting Evil', though the rules were no different from what Klein knew.
After his night shift, Brite would get a day off to sleep in. Rosanne stayed at the reception desk, responsible for purchasing and requisitioning supplies. The part-time coachman, Cezar Francis, was out as usual. When Klein opened the door to the clerical office, all three desks were empty, and the purely mechanical typewriters sat quietly.
'An Akesson Model 1346 typewriter...' Klein murmured, having seen similar items in his mentor's office and at Welch's home. He felt that the faintly visible complex control system was full of mechanical beauty.
He walked to the desk with the typewriter, sat down, composed himself, and tried virtual typing.
At first, he instinctively processed everything into pinyin, but once familiar, he 'digested' the corresponding memory fragments of the original owner and no longer made mistakes.
Tap, tap, tap!
The rhythmic sound of the keyboard was like a rigid piece of music from metal and industry. Accompanied by this melody, Klein quickly completed the document for applying for funds.
But he didn't rush to find Dunn Smith. Instead, he calmed down and carefully read the historical materials provided by Old Neil, both as review and learning.
Around noon, he stretched his neck, put away the materials, and based on the draft of the 'Mysticism Course', reviewed and consolidated the morning's study content.
Only then did he take the 'application' to the adjacent office and gently knock on the door.
Dunn was waiting for lunch to be delivered. Seeing the document Klein handed over, he curled his lips slightly and said:
"Did Old Neil teach you that?"
"Hmm," Klein betrayed Old Neil without any hesitation.
Dunn picked up the dark red fountain pen, signed with a flourish, and said:
"I'm just about to apply to the Church and the County Police Department for the funds for July, August, and September. I'll include yours in it. Wait for approval, then get it from Mrs. Orianna. You can get the pendulum this afternoon."
"Okay," Klein replied briefly and forcefully.
His tone and gaze were tinged with obvious delight.
Before leaving, he casually asked:
"Shouldn't the funds for July, August, and September have been applied for in June?"
How could they be applying for July funds in July?
Dunn was silent for a few seconds, then took a sip of coffee and said:
"We encountered three cases in a row in June, and we were so busy, so busy that some things were forgotten."
"As expected of a captain with poor memory..." Klein knew he had asked an inappropriate question. He chuckled dryly and quickly left the room.
And so, he began a simple and regular life: half an hour of meditation in the early morning, two hours of mysticism lessons in the morning, one and a half hours of studying historical materials, and after lunch, a nap in the rest room to regain energy.
Then, collect bullets, go to the 'Shooting Club' to practice, after practice, take a walk to Welch's residence, which wasn't too far, change routes, and walk back to Iron Cross Street. This saved a bus fare. If there was still free time, he would practice skills like Spirit Vision and Spirit Pendulum, and do some grocery shopping.
……
Inside a private chemistry laboratory fully equipped with instruments and items.
Audrey, with her tall figure and soft blonde hair, stared at the cup in her hand. Countless bubbles rose, making the atmosphere peaceful.
Finally, the liquid in the cup settled into a viscous silver white.
"Haha, I really have a talent for mysticism! I succeeded on the first try! I was worried about failure and prepared two sets of materials!" The girl happily muttered to herself.
She put away the various remaining materials taken from the family treasury and exchanged with others, took a deep breath, and prepared to close her eyes and drink the 'Spectator' potion.
Just then, from outside the laboratory came the sound of "woof woof woof". Audrey frowned.
She placed the cup with the gently rippling silver liquid in a dark corner, turned around, and walked to the door.
"Susie, who's there?" Audrey asked, turning the handle, addressing the large golden retriever sitting at the door.
The golden retriever Susie wagged her tail, looking ingratiating, while the personal maid Anne appeared in the nearby hallway.
Audrey walked out of the laboratory, pulled the door closed behind her, looked at Anne, and said:
"Didn't I say? Don't disturb me when I'm doing chemistry experiments."
Anne replied with a troubled expression:
"But you have an invitation from the Duchess, from Lady Della."
"The wife of Duke Negan?" Audrey walked a few steps forward, closer to Anne, and asked.
"Yes, she invited the court baker Ms. Weiwei, and has invited you and my lady for afternoon tea." Anne said, reading the contents of the invitation.