"Why?" Klein couldn't help but blurt out, as Dunn's words stirred a storm of confusion within him.
Was there such a serious risk in becoming an Extraordinary? Could it be that even the church's internal disciplinary forces, tasked with handling supernatural occurrences, were prone to issues?
Dunn Smith stepped into the carriage, took his previous seat, and spoke in his usual tone, calm and even.
"This isn't something you need to understand now, nor something you can understand—unless you become one of us."
Klein, momentarily speechless, sat down across from Dunn, half-amused and half-puzzled. "How can anyone make a decision to join without understanding all this?"
But if joining is required to gain such knowledge, it's a catch-22...
Dunn took out his pipe again, holding it up to his nose and inhaling without lighting it. "You might have misunderstood. Being one of us includes civilian positions."
"So, you're saying that by becoming a civilian member, I'd gain access to certain information, enough to understand the dangers and risks associated with being an Extraordinary, and only then consider moving forward?" Klein reiterated, piecing together Dunn's implication in his own words.
Dunn chuckled. "That's right—except for one thing: just because you're interested in becoming an Extraordinary doesn't mean you'll be able to. In this, all major churches are strict."
Well, of course, they're strict… Klein thought, and asked, emphasizing his point with a gesture, "And what about civilian roles? That must also be pretty selective, right?"
"For you, it shouldn't be a problem," Dunn replied, partially closing his eyes as he relaxed, savoring the faint aroma from his unlit pipe.
"Why?" Klein found himself bewildered once more.
He internally joked, Maybe my 'specialness,' my 'transmigrator aura,' shines like a firefly in the night—so obvious and eye-catching?
Dunn opened his eyes slightly, and his gray gaze seemed as deep as before. "First, surviving a situation like this without our intervention shows you possess certain qualities others don't—such as luck. And lucky people tend to be welcome."
Seeing Klein's stunned expression, Dunn smiled briefly. "Fine, take it as a bit of humor. Second, you're a history graduate from Hoy University, and that's something we highly value. While Lormir, that follower of the Lord of Storms, has terrible views on women, his insights into society, culture, economics, and politics are still sharp. He once said, 'Talent is the key to sustaining a competitive edge and achieving robust growth.' I agree with that."
Noticing Klein's slight frown, Dunn elaborated casually, "You can imagine—we frequently encounter documents and artifacts from the Fourth Epoch and even earlier. Numerous cults and many heretical groups attempt to draw power from these items. At times, these items themselves bring about strange and horrifying events."
"Apart from Extraordinary specialists, most of us aren't adept at studying—or rather, we're beyond that age," Dunn gestured towards his head, his mouth curving in self-deprecation. "Those tedious, dull details can make anyone want to fall asleep. Even the Sleepless can't resist. Previously, we collaborated with historians and archaeologists, but that carried risks of leaking secrets and sometimes brought unfortunate incidents to professors and lecturers. So, having a qualified professional join us directly is… hard to refuse."
Klein nodded thoughtfully, accepting Dunn's explanation. He let his mind wander for a moment before asking, "Then, why haven't you simply… recruited someone sooner?"
Dunn continued speaking to himself:
"This brings me to the third and most crucial point: you've already been exposed to incidents of this nature, so inviting you doesn't breach confidentiality. Recruiting others, if it fails, would leave me responsible for any information leaks. Most of our members, including civilian personnel, come directly from within the church."
After listening quietly, Klein asked curiously, "Why are you so strict about secrecy? If more people knew about these things, wouldn't it prevent similar mistakes from happening? The greatest fear comes from the unknown; we could turn the unknown into the known."
"No. Humanity's foolishness surpasses your imagination. That approach would only result in more imitation, greater chaos, and more severe incidents," Dunn replied, shaking his head.
Klein murmured in understanding, "The only lesson humanity learns from history is that we never learn from history and are doomed to repeat the same tragedies."
"Indeed, a very insightful remark from Emperor Roselle," Dunn agreed.
…Emperor Roselle said that? The predecessor in time-travel left no room for his successors to make any impressive remarks themselves… Klein found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
Dunn glanced out the carriage window, where the dim glow of streetlights melded into a halo of civilization.
"In each of the churches' judgment agencies, there's a saying similar to this. Perhaps this is the core reason for strict secrecy, and why ordinary people must be kept unaware."
"And what's that?" Klein's curiosity sparked, feeling a thrill at the prospect of learning something hidden.
Dunn turned back, the muscles of his face barely shifting.
"Faith and fear bring trouble; more faith and more fear bring greater trouble, until everything is destroyed."
He sighed after saying this and added, "And besides seeking the protection and aid of the divine, humanity has no means of addressing the truly big problems."
"Faith and fear bring trouble; more faith and more fear bring greater trouble…" Klein repeated the words, struggling to grasp them fully. The sense of mystery unsettled him, sparking an unease that made him imagine malicious eyes and open mouths lurking in the shadows beyond the streetlights.
The clip-clop of hooves and the rumble of wheels grew louder as Iron Cross Street came into view. Dunn broke the silence that had settled over the carriage and extended an invitation:
"Do you want to join us, as a civilian employee?"
Klein's mind whirled, unable to make a decision just yet. After a pause, he replied, "Can I think about it?"
This was a weighty matter; he couldn't afford a hasty choice.
"Of course. Just let me know by Sunday," Dunn nodded. "But remember, keep everything confidential. You can't tell anyone about the incident with Welch—not even your brother or sister. Violating that would not only bring trouble to them but might also land you in a special court."
"Understood," Klein answered solemnly.
The carriage fell silent once again.
As they neared Iron Cross Street, almost home, a question suddenly occurred to Klein. After a brief hesitation, he asked, "Mr. Smith, what about the pay and benefits for civilian personnel?"
This was a serious question…
Dunn paused for a moment, then smiled:
"Don't worry about that. Our funding is jointly covered by the church and the police department. The starting weekly salary for a civilian staff member is 2 pounds, 10 shillings, plus an additional 10-shilling confidentiality and risk allowance, making a total of 3 pounds. It's nearly on par with a university lecturer's salary."
"Over time, as your experience and contributions accumulate, your salary will gradually increase."
"For civilian employees, we generally operate on five-year contracts. After five years, if you choose not to continue, you may leave on good terms, though you'll need to sign a lifetime confidentiality agreement. Without our approval, you won't be able to leave Tingen, and if you relocate to another city, you'll need to register with the local Night Watchers immediately."
"Oh, and there are no Sundays off; we operate on a rotation. We must always have at least three civilian staff on duty. If you'd like to go south for a holiday or enjoy the Dixie Bay, you'll have to coordinate with your colleagues."
Just as Dunn finished speaking, the carriage came to a stop, and Klein's apartment building appeared beside them.
"I understand," Klein replied as he stepped down from the carriage and paused beside it. "By the way, Mr. Smith, if I make my decision, where should I find you?"
Dunn let out a low chuckle.
"Go to the Hound Tavern on Besik Street and ask for the owner, Wright. Tell him you want to hire a mercenary team for a mission."
"Uh?" Klein was completely bewildered.
"Our location is confidential. I can't disclose it directly until you agree. Well then, Mr. Klein Moretti, I wish you a pleasant night."
Klein removed his hat and bowed as he watched the carriage move away, gradually picking up speed.
Taking out his pocket watch, he pressed it open with a click and saw that it was just after four in the morning. A cool breeze drifted through the empty street, and the streetlights cast a dim, yellow glow.
Klein took a deep breath, taking in the quiet of the night around him.
The usually noisy and bustling neighborhood was, at this hour, so still, so silent—completely different from the silent stares and dreamlike haze at Welch's residence.
Only then did he notice that the back of his linen shirt was drenched with cold, clammy sweat.