"Very well." Klein bowed slightly, removing his modest hat and placing it back on his head. Yet his mind was more occupied with imagining the appearance of the sealed item "0-08."
Was it simply an ordinary quill pen?
Was it for writing without the need for ink?
Then what was its true purpose? So confidential, deemed "extremely dangerous"?
Could it be a pen of causality, writing the fate of who lives and who dies?
No, that would be too preposterous. There's no need for Ernst Zangweil to go into hiding...
Just as Klein was about to turn and leave, Dunne Smith suddenly called out to him from behind:
"Wait a moment, I forgot something."
"What?" Klein turned back, his eyes filled with curiosity.
Dunne adjusted his pocket watch and smiled:
"You need to remember to see Mrs. Accountant Oriana, advance four weeks' salary, totaling 12 pounds, and thereafter only collect half the salary each week until it's fully repaid."
"That's too much, unnecessary," Klein instinctively replied.
He didn't object to the advance, especially since he didn't even have the fare for the public carriage back home. But receiving such a large sum of 12 pounds at once was somewhat intimidating.
"No, it's necessary," Dunne shook his head, smiling. "Think about it, do you still want to continue living in your current apartment? Sharing a washroom with several households, considering not just yourself but also the ladies... And..."
Seeing Klein nod in agreement, Dunne paused, smiling as he looked over Klein's attire, suggesting:
"And you also need a cane, and you'll need to purchase formal wear again."
Klein hesitated for a moment, then realized, his face flushing because his outfit was cheap.
Normally, a proper gentleman's attire consisted of a silk hat valued at 5 to 6 sullers, a tie worth 3 sullers, a silver-handled cane priced at 7 to 8 sullers, a shirt for 3 sullers, pants, a waistcoat, and a tailcoat for around 7 pounds, leather boots for 9 to 10 sullers. Altogether, it amounted to more than 8 pounds and 7 sullers. Of course, a respectable gentleman also needed a watch chain, pocket watch, and a wallet.
Initially, the original owner scrimped and saved with his brother Benson, saving up some money. They went to a hat and clothing shop to inquire, but left without daring to even talk about the price, going to a cheap store near Iron Cross Street to each buy a set, totaling less than two pounds.
It was because of this incident that the original owner's impression of clothing prices was deeply ingrained.
"Very well, very well," Klein replied slightly hesitantly.
Like the original owner, he too was concerned about his reputation.
Dunne took out his pocket watch again and glanced at it:
"Or perhaps you should go see Mrs. Oriana first? I don't know how long you'll be staying with Old Neil, but if you wait a little longer, Mrs. Oriana will be returning home."
"Very well," Klein agreed, feeling impoverished and not opposing.
Dunne returned to his desk, pulled one of the hanging ropes:
"I'll have Roselle take you."
The rope moved, gears turned, and Roselle from the reception hall of the Blackthorn Security Company heard the faint ringing of the bell beside her and quickly stood up, cautiously descending the stairs.
Not long after, she appeared in front of Klein.
Dunne Smith humorously remarked:
"Didn't disturb your rest, did I? Well, take Moretti to Mrs. Oriana."
Roselle discreetly rolled her eyes and replied with a "delightful":
"Very well, Captain."
"Just that?" At this point, Klein couldn't help but express his surprise.
To advance salary to "Finance," didn't it require the Captain's authorization and some paperwork?
"So?" Dunne asked, puzzled.
"I mean, to advance salary to Mrs. Oriana, don't you need to sign something?" Klein asked in plain language.
"Oh, no, that's not necessary. Roselle can confirm it," Dunne Smith replied, pointing to the brunette girl.
Captain, our "financial management" here hardly manages anything... Klein resisted the urge to complain and followed Roselle out of the room.
At that moment, he heard Dunne call out again:
"Wait, there's one more thing."
Can't we say everything at once? Klein smiled and turned back:
"What is it?"
"I forgot just now, when you go to Old Neil's, remember to pick up ten 'demon hunting bullets.'"
"Me? Demon hunting bullets?" Klein asked in surprise.
"Isn't Welch's revolver still with you? You don't have to hand it over." Dunne stuck his hand in his pocket. "With the 'demon hunting bullets,' if you really encounter any strange danger, you can protect yourself. Well, at least it can give you courage."
No need for the last half of the sentence... Klein was already worrying about this aspect and promptly replied:
"Very well, I'll remember!"
"This requires me to write a formal document, wait a moment," Dunne Smith sat down, picked up a dark red fountain pen, and wrote a "note," signed and sealed it.
"Thank you, Captain," Klein earnestly accepted.
He stepped back slowly, then turned around again.
"Wait."
Once again, Dunne called out.
...Captain, you're only in your thirties. Why do you seem to have signs of aging before your time? Klein forced a smile and turned back to ask:
"Is there anything else?"
"I just remembered, when you go to Old Neil's, remember to pick up thirty regular bullets. Take the opportunity when you're out to practice shooting on the street, namely at the underground shooting range at No. 3 Zottlan Street. Most of it belongs to the police department, but there's an area specifically for us night watchers. Oh, right, you also need to get a badge from Old Neil, or else you won't be able to enter the shooting range." Dunne tapped his forehead, took the "note" back from Klein, added some content and another seal.
"Good marksmen are raised with bullets. Don't underestimate it." Dunne handed the revised "note" back to Klein.
"I understand." Klein, fearing danger, was eager to go today.
He took two steps out, then cautiously half-turned his body, considering his words carefully:
"Captain, is there nothing else?"
"Nothing." Dunne nodded decisively.
Klein breathed a sigh of relief and walked all the way to the door, almost wanting to turn back again and ask, "Really nothing else?"
He resisted this impulse and finally "smoothly" left the "duty room."
"The Captain is always like this, often forgetting things." Roselle walked beside him, murmuring softly, "My grandmother has a better memory than him. Of course, he only forgets minor things, well, minor things. Klein, I'll call you Klein from now on. Mrs. Oriana is a kind person, very easy to get along with. Her father is a watchmaker, very skilled..."
Listening to the casual chatter of the chestnut-haired girl, Klein ascended the stairs and returned to the upper level, where he met Mrs. Olyanna in the outermost office on the right-hand side.
She was a lady dressed in a long skirt with ruffled edges, her black hair framing her face elegantly. She appeared to be in her thirties, with fashionable curls and clear, smiling emerald eyes, exuding grace and refinement.
After hearing Rosanne relay Dunne Smith's arrangements, Olyanna took out a slip of paper and wrote a promissory note: "Please sign here. Do you have a seal? If not, just leave a fingerprint."
"Of course," Klein smoothly completed the formalities.
Olyanna produced a brass key and opened the safe in the room, counting out the sovereigns with a smile. "You are quite fortunate to have enough cash today. By the way, Klein, were you invited by the captain because of your involvement in occult events and your unique abilities?"
"Yes, madam, your intuition is remarkably accurate," Klein didn't hesitate to praise.
Olyanna handed him four banknotes with light gray backgrounds and dark black patterns, then locked the safe again. As she turned around, she smiled and said, "Because I am also like that."
"Is that so?" Klein expressed appropriate surprise.
"Do you remember the sensational serial killer in Tinggen City sixteen years ago?" Olyanna handed Klein the four sovereigns.
"...I do! The 'Bloody Butcher' who killed five girls, some with their hearts taken, others with their stomachs removed? When I was young, my mother often used this incident to scare my sister," Klein replied after a moment of thought.
Taking the banknotes, he found two 5-pound notes and two 1-pound notes, all with gray backgrounds and black patterns, with intricate designs and special watermarks in each corner.
The larger ones featured the fifth king of the Rune Kingdom, a direct ancestor of King George III, Henry Augustus I. Despite his serious expression, with a white wig and a round face, his narrow eyes, Klein felt an inexplicable closeness.
This was a 5-pound note!
Equivalent to nearly four weeks' salary in Benson!
The center of the 1-pound notes depicted George III's father, the former King William Augustus VI. This "strongman" had thick beards and a determined gaze. During his reign, the Rune Kingdom broke free from its old shackles and once again rose to the top among nations.
These were "good kings"... Klein faintly smelled the delightful aroma of the banknote ink.
"Yes, if it weren't for the night watchmen arriving in time, I would have been the sixth victim," Mrs. Olyanna's tone still contained a hint of fear, even though this incident had occurred over a decade ago.
"Sounds like that serial killer, or rather, butcher, was extraordinary?" Klein carefully folded the banknotes and placed them in the inner pocket of his suit, then felt around nearby to confirm they were still there.
"Yes," Mrs. Olyanna nodded heavily. "He had killed many people before that incident, and the reason he was caught was because he was preparing a demonic ritual."
"No wonder he needed different internal organs... I apologize, madam, for reminding you of unpleasant things," Klein apologized sincerely.
Olyanna laughed softly. "I'm not afraid anymore... I was studying accounting at business school at the time, and then I came here. Well, I won't keep you any longer. You still need to see Mr. Neil."
"Goodbye, madam." Klein took off his hat and bowed before leaving the office. Before descending the stairs, he couldn't help but touch the inner pocket to confirm that the 12-pound banknotes were still there.
He turned right at the intersection and soon saw a half-open iron door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Amidst the knocking, an elderly voice from inside said, "Come in."
Klein pushed open the iron door and found himself in a narrow room, barely able to accommodate a table and two chairs.
On the other side of the room, there was another tightly closed iron door. Behind the table sat an old man with white hair, dressed in a classical black robe, reading several yellowed pages under the glow of a gas lamp.
He looked up and said to the door, "You must be Klein Moretti? Miss Rosanne just told me that you are very polite."
"Miss Rosanne is indeed a friendly person. Good afternoon, Mr. Neil," Klein greeted, tipping his hat.
"Please, have a seat." Neil gestured to the intricately patterned silver tin on the table. "Would you like a cup of hand-ground coffee?"
The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth were deep, and his slightly reddened eyes seemed murky.
"It seems you haven't been drinking?" Klein keenly noticed that Neil's ceramic cup contained only water.
"Haha, it's my habit. I don't drink coffee after 3 p.m.," Neil explained with a smile.
"Why is that?" Klein asked casually.
Neil smiled and looked into Klein's eyes. "I'm afraid I won't sleep well at night, and I'll hear some inexplicable whispers."
...Klein didn't know how to respond for a moment, so he changed the subject. "Mr. Neil, what literature and documents should I read?"
As he spoke, he took out the "note" written by Dunne Smith.
"Related to history, complex, fragmented... To be honest, I've been trying to learn, but I can only grasp the basics. The rest is too complicated. Diaries of people from that time, popular books, epitaphs, etc., etc.," Neil complained. "For example, what I have here requires more detailed historical records to deduce specific content."
"Why?" Klein was a little confused by what he heard.
Neil pointed to the yellowed pages in front of him. "These are the diaries lost before Rosell Gustav died. To maintain secrecy, he recorded them with strange symbols he invented himself."
Rosell Emperor? A predecessor of Transmigrators? Klein was stunned for a moment, then focused on listening.
"Because many people believe that he did not truly die, but became a secret god, there have always been cultists who worship him and hold various rituals, trying to gain power. Occasionally, we come across such things and obtain a few original or copied notes," Neil shook his head, "Until today, no one has been able to decipher the true meaning of those special symbols, so the 'Sanctuary' allows us to keep copies for research, hoping for unexpected surprises."
At this point, Neil showed a proud smile. "I have already deciphered a few symbols and confirmed that they are numerical expressions. Look, what have I found? This is actually a diary! Well, I hope to use historical events from different dates, especially those around the emperor, to compare with the records on the corresponding days in the diary and decode more symbols."
"A genius approach, isn't it?" The old man with white hair and deep wrinkles looked at Klein with shining eyes.
Klein nodded in agreement. "Indeed."
"Haha, you can take a look too. You'll have to start helping me with this tomorrow." Neil pushed the yellowed pages to Klein.
Klein turned them around and took a quick
glance, but he froze on the spot!
Although the "symbols" were poorly drawn and somewhat distorted, he would never mistake them...
Because it was his most familiar script:
Chinese!
And it's simplified characters!