Klein, who had read quite a few magazines, knew that the social circle he wanted to enter often held balls, so he wasn't surprised by his butler
With that, he turned to his valet
Klein remembered very clearly that his main goal was to play the role of a devout believer of the Goddess of the Night, get in touch with the right clergy, and find a way to slip into the
«Yes, sir,» Richardson replied respectfully.
Before long, Klein put on his coat and hat and boarded a rented luxury four-wheeled carriage, enjoying the scenery outside while sipping black tea with lemon slices.
There was actually a small bar in the carriage, stocked with distilled spirits like Gold Langze and Winter Highlands prepared by Butler Walter, as well as various red and white wines from Intis.
But Klein didn’t really like drinking. As a Beyonder, he also disliked the feeling of being drunk—it easily reminded him of losing control. So, using the excuse that he couldn't drink before going to church, he had his valet Richardson prepare a pot of Marquis black tea in advance.
«If I could, I’d actually rather have a sweet iced tea. That’s the taste of the south,» Klein joked to Richardson.
«I’ll prepare it next time,» Richardson replied immediately.
Klein smiled and shook his head: «No, don’t. That isn’t dignified enough. When I get to know the neighbors here, I’ll throw a banquet with a Dixie flair. We’ll have sweet iced tea then, hehe. I think their kids will love it.»
Realizing he had misunderstood his employer’s intention, Richardson said a little nervously: «I’ll remember that.»
From 160 Berklund Street to Saint Samuel Church on Peacefield Street was only a twenty‑minute walk. If it weren’t for the sake of appearances and the fact that he had already rented a carriage and hired a driver, Klein would have preferred to walk—it helped him digest his food and stay fit.
Soon the carriage stopped at the edge of the square outside the church. Klein, carrying his gold‑inlaid cane, got out and paused to watch the doves dance.
He entered the church, went into the Great Prayer Hall, handed his hat and cane to Richardson, and found a seat near the aisle. He bowed his head, clasped his hands, and began to pray earnestly and quietly.
Richardson sat a little behind and to the side, set down the belongings, glanced at the Dark Sacred Emblem on the altar, and closed his eyes as well.
In the peaceful, silent atmosphere, Klein sensed a slight diffusion of his spirituality. He wasn’t surprised—the faithful praying in the church all experienced the same thing: a small amount of spiritually infused with devout belief gathered drop by drop, providing power for the seal of the underground Chanis Gate.
After some time, his spiritual intuition was suddenly stirred. He quietly opened his eyes and secretly looked to his left‑front.
Standing there was an old man in a black clerical robe. His hair was thin and frost‑white, his face pale as a corpse.
From a distance, he exuded a chilling stillness and was utterly expressionless, seeming to merge with the dim light of the Great Prayer Hall.
Internal Watcher… Klein only took a quick look before making the judgment, then closed his eyes and resumed praying. Yet he had already memorized the man’s features: a big nose, gray‑blue eyes, sagging skin on his face, and no beard.
The old man in clerical garb also sat down and began to pray intently to the Goddess. In the whole hall, only a few openings high on the front wall let in pure light that, like brilliant stars, made the dark setting feel soft and sacred.
Minutes ticked by. Klein’s spiritual intuition was touched again.
He cautiously opened his eyes and saw the black‑robed Internal Watcher leave his seat and enter a side corridor.
That probably led to the back of the church… Did the Internal Watchers all live in the church? They had no relatives, no family, no homes of their own? Given their condition, that didn’t seem too surprising; besides, having those who guarded the inside of the Chanis Gate under the supervision of bishops was a perfectly normal measure. That meant he really needed to become friends with the bishops and priests of Saint Samuel Church and gain the freedom to come and go in the back areas… Klein didn’t stare. He shut his eyes and pondered various issues.
After another long while, he slowly rose, walked to the altar, stood in front of the offering box, took out 50 pounds in cash, and reverently dropped it in.
This made the bishop and priest on duty look over. Their gazes became friendly, and they committed his face to memory.
Having done that, Klein gave a slight nod to the clergy, turned, and walked along the aisle toward the exit. Richardson followed behind, carrying his hat and cane.
Leaving the Great Prayer Hall, he made his way among the exquisite murals and the light filtering through the high stained‑glass windows, heading for the main entrance.
Just then, several figures came in. The one in front was a middle‑aged man with long sideburns and soft features, wearing a black trench coat, no gloves, and no cane.
To his left and slightly behind him was a young man also in a black trench coat. He had black hair, green eyes, and a handsome face, but his hair looked a bit messy, as if he hadn’t bothered to comb it after getting up.
His appearance, his silhouette—Klein knew them intimately, yet at the same time felt as if he hadn’t seen them for years or even decades:
Klein’s eyes narrowed, but his stride didn’t falter. He kept his pace and heading toward the Nighthawks in black trench coats.
Yes, Klein confirmed they were Nighthawks!
When they passed each other, Klein casually scanned Leonard and the others, then walked past them and headed for the door.
The door stood open. Outside, the clouds were thin, the sunlight pure, and doves danced in the air.