The notebook of the Antigonus family was in the room opposite the kidnappers! Though this seemed coincidental, Klein trusted his instincts without hesitation.
He immediately rolled out of bed, shedding his worn-out sleepwear with a couple of swift movements. Grabbing the nearby white shirt, he draped it over himself, deftly buttoning it up from top to bottom.
One button, two buttons, three... Suddenly, he noticed a missing button and a lack of symmetry on both sides. Upon closer inspection, Klein realized he had misbuttoned the shirt from the start, causing it to distort.
He sighed in resignation, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, employing some meditation techniques to restore a certain level of calmness within himself.
Once dressed in the white shirt and black trousers, he reluctantly adjusted the shoulder straps beneath his arms, retrieving the revolver hidden beneath the soft pillow and placing it inside.
With no time for a tie, he donned his suit, grabbing his hat and cane before heading to the door.
Donning the half-height silk top hat, Klein gently turned the handle, opening the door and stepping into the corridor.
Carefully closing the bedroom door behind him, he descended the stairs almost noiselessly, leaving two lines of words with a pen and paper from the living room, indicating he had forgotten to mention a company matter last night and needed to arrive early today.
Stepping out of the door, Klein immediately felt a refreshing cool breeze, calming his entire being.
The street before him was dim and quiet, devoid of pedestrians, with only the gentle glow of gas street lamps illuminating the surroundings.
From the inner pocket, Klein retrieved his pocket watch, clicking it open to find it had just struck six o'clock. The crimson moonlight had not yet fully faded, but a hint of dawn was evident on the horizon.
As he contemplated seeking an expensive hired carriage, Klein suddenly spotted a four-wheeled public carriage drawn by two horses approaching.
"Public carriages this early?" Klein remarked, slightly surprised, as he waved to signal it to stop.
"Good morning, sir," the coachman skillfully halted the horses.
Beside him, the fare collector stifled a yawn with his hand.
"To Zottlan Street," Klein said, fishing out two pennies and four half-pennies from his pocket.
"Four pennies," the fare collector replied promptly.
Handing over the fare, Klein boarded the carriage, finding it empty inside, conspicuously desolate in the dimness.
"You're the first one," the coachman remarked with a smile.
The two chestnut horses began to trot, moving relatively briskly.
"To be honest, I didn't expect public carriages to be available this early," Klein said, taking a seat near the coachman, casually responding to divert attention and ease his inner tension.
The coachman chuckled self-deprecatingly, "From six in the morning until nine at night. But my weekly wage is only a pound."
"No time for rest?" Klein inquired, surprised.
"We rotate resting one day a week," the coachman's tone grew heavy.
His fare collector beside him added, "We're on duty from six in the morning until eleven in the noon, then it's lunchtime, followed by a break until dinner, which is at six in the evening... Even if we don't need rest, the two horses do."
"It wasn't always like this, but since some coachmen became too exhausted, leading to unwarranted mistakes causing the horses to lose control and the carriage to overturn, the rotation was introduced... How could those vampires suddenly become benevolent!" the coachman scoffed.
In the glow of dawn, the public carriage made its way toward Zottlan Street, with only seven or eight passengers along the route.
Klein, having eased his tension slightly, fell silent, closing his eyes and replaying yesterday's events frame by frame, searching for any potential oversights.
By the time the sun had fully risen, casting its bright light across the sky, the public carriage arrived at Zottlan Street.
Pressing his hat with his left hand, Klein alighted from the carriage with a skip and a jump.
He briskly entered number 36 Zottlan Street, ascending the stairs to reach the exterior of Blackthorn Security Company.
At this moment, the gate remained closed, yet to be opened.
Klein retrieved his keychain from his waist, locating the corresponding brass key and inserting it into the keyhole with a satisfying click.
Pushing it forward, he allowed the door to swing open slowly, revealing Leonard Mitchell with his black hair and green eyes, casually sniffing at the latest popular cigarette.
"In truth, I prefer cigars... You seem rather urgent?" the poet-like night watchman asked in a relaxed manner.
"And the captain?" Klein countered instead of answering directly.
Leonard gestured towards the partition, "In his office. As an extraordinary promoted to 'insomniac', he only needs two hours of rest during the day. I imagine those factory owners and bankers must favor such elixirs."
Klein nodded, briskly passing through the partition to see Duncan Smith had already opened the office door, standing at the entrance.
"What's the matter?" he asked, clad in a black overcoat and carrying a cane adorned with inset gold, his expression solemn and serious.
"I've had that 'deja vu' feeling again, it must be from that notebook, the Antigonus family's notebook," Klein struggled to control himself, making his response sound coherent.
"Where is it?" Duncan Smith's expression remained unchanged.
But Klein's intuition told him there was a noticeable, intangible fluctuation in the other party, perhaps a glimmer of the spirit, or maybe a shift in emotions.
"It's in the room opposite where Leonard and I rescued the hostages yesterday. I didn't notice it at the time, only until I had a dream and received enlightenment," Klein revealed without any concealment.
"It seems I missed out on a very significant achievement yesterday," Leonard, who had somehow arrived at the partition, chuckled lightly.
Duncan nodded slightly, solemnly instructing, "Have Cohenre replace Old Neil to guard the armory, and let Neil, Fley, and us go together."
Leonard ceased his levity and promptly informed Cohenre and Fley in the entertainment room inside the night watchmen's quarters. One was an 'insomniac', the other a 'corpse collector'.
Five minutes later, the double-wheeled carriage belonging to the night watchman team sped off quickly in the still sparse morning, Leonard donning a felt hat, dressed in a shirt and waistcoat, temporarily acting as the coachman, occasionally cracking the whip out of thin air to make it snap.
Inside the carriage, Klein and Old Neil sat on the same side, facing Duncan Smith and Fley.
This 'corpse collector' had skin so fair it seemed he hadn't seen the sun in ages, or perhaps suffered from severe anemia. He was about thirty years old, with black hair and blue eyes, a high nose bridge, thin lips, a cold and gloomy demeanor, seemingly exuding a faint odor of touching corpses for years.
"Could you please recount the matter in more detail?" Duncan straightened the collar of his black overcoat.
Klein fiddled with the yellow crystal pendant hidden by his sleeve, narrating from accepting the commission to the dream. Old Neil beside him chuckled, "It seems you have some kind of fateful bond with that Antigonus family's notebook to keep encountering it."
Indeed, it's too coincidental! If Leonard hadn't mentioned it just now, and the preliminary interrogation of Elliot's kidnapping case didn't suggest the involvement of any hidden or mysterious forces, only a straightforward act of risking it all for money, I would have doubted if someone had deliberately arranged it... Klein found it all rather strange.
Too coincidental!
Duncan remained silent, as if pondering something, while Fley, the "corpse collector," clad in his unchanging black overcoat, maintained his silence as well.
It wasn't until the carriage came to a halt and the building Klein had mentioned appeared outside the window that this contemplative atmosphere was broken.
"Let's go up, Klein. You and Old Neil walk at the back. Be cautious, must be cautious," Duncan disembarked from the carriage, pulling out a peculiar revolver with an obviously long and thick barrel from his pocket.
"Alright," Klein didn't dare to rush to the front.
After Leonard found someone to watch over the carriage, the five extraordinary individuals entered the stairwell in an orderly fashion, arriving lightly on the third floor.
"Is this it?" Leonard pointed to the room opposite where the kidnappers were.
Klein lightly tapped his forehead twice, activating his clairvoyance.
In this state, his intuition was heightened again, feeling that the door seemed familiar, as if he had entered it before.
"Yes," he affirmed with a nod.
Old Neil also activated his own clairvoyance, observing carefully before saying, "There's no one inside, and no magical aura."
The "corpse collector" Fley added hoarsely, "No malevolent spirits."
He didn't need to activate his clairvoyance to see many spirits, including malevolent spirits and wraiths.
Leonard took a step forward and, like yesterday, punched the door lock.
This time, not only did the surrounding wooden boards shatter, but even the door lock flew off with a snap and clattered to the ground.
Klein felt a certain invisible seal disappear in an instant, followed by a strong smell.
"Corpses, rotting corpses," the "corpse collector" Fley stated coldly.
He showed no signs of disgust.
Duncan extended his right hand, adorned with black gloves, and slowly pushed open the door. What first caught everyone's eyes was a fireplace, emitting an unusual heat in the early July weather.
In front of the fireplace was a rocking chair, and an elderly woman in a black and white dress sat with her head drooping.
She had grown abnormally large, her skin black and green, swollen to the point of shining, as if a casual poke would burst her open, emitting a putrid smell. Maggots or parasites crawled in and out between flesh and decay, within her clothes and creases — in clairvoyance, they appeared as dots, crowding around a dim "gloom" that had extinguished.
Snap, snap.
The woman's two eyeballs fell out, rolling on the ground, leaving behind several brownish traces.
Klein felt nauseous and couldn't contain the impact of the foul smell anymore, bending over and vomiting.