"Guardians… yet also pitiable souls forever combating peril and insanity."
The words lingered in the warm, yellow-lit room, echoing off the cold stone walls of the closed hallway beyond. Each phrase seemed to weigh on Klein's heart, leaving him temporarily at a loss for words.
Seeing Klein's silence, Dunn shook his head with a wry smile.
"Feeling disillusioned, are you? The life of a Beyonder isn't as glamorous as you might've imagined. We walk hand-in-hand with danger."
Klein steadied himself, choosing his words carefully.
"Every gain must come with a price."
He hadn't expected that the extraordinary life of a Beyonder, so alluring and filled with mystery, also bore such perils. But perhaps it was the mere act of hearing these dangers rather than confronting them firsthand—or maybe it was because he was already swept up in this vortex, aware that some eerie fate loomed ever closer. Whatever the case, fear and hesitation inched back, settling to manageable levels within him.
"Not bad," Dunn acknowledged. "Quite mature, rather level-headed… But let me be clear: Beyonders aren't as powerful as you might think. You see, lower-sequence Beyonders… well, it's always seemed strange to me that we use 1 for the highest and 9 for the lowest ranks. It defies common logic and intuition. When I say 'lower-sequence,' I mean a lower rank, a higher number—the starting point on the path."
"Now, where was I? Oh, right—Beyonders are far from invincible. A low-sequence Beyonder's power is often no match for firearms, let alone cannons. What they wield isn't raw strength but rather something more peculiar, harder to anticipate. Should you ever have the chance to become a Beyonder, keep my words in mind. Don't rush. Don't be reckless."
Klein gave a self-deprecating chuckle.
"Who knows when I might even get the chance?"
If he did, Klein knew he wouldn't turn it down lightly. Many of the dangers—choosing the wrong potion, risking a higher-level concoction—were hazards he could avoid with preparation. The main challenge would lie in managing the subtler influences of each potion and coping with the heightened awareness of unseen "dangers" that came with increased sensitivity.
Besides, Klein vividly remembered the near-madness of his "luck enhancement ritual," the way the whispered murmurs had nearly driven him to the edge, his mind on the brink of explosion. Simply avoiding the Beyonder path wouldn't save him from such encounters, so why not seek a means to defend himself?
With this thought, the benefits and drawbacks seemed clearer than ever, and the remnants of his hesitation began to fade.
Dunn picked up his pipe again, a hint of a smile in his gray eyes as he said, "As for becoming a Beyonder, there's no certain answer. You could earn enough merit—perhaps you'll decipher an important ancient text tomorrow or provide some invaluable insight into our cases. Or maybe the higher-ups will have a change of heart; who knows?"
"Now that you have a clearer understanding of what it means to be a Beyonder, you'll likely avoid making any impulsive decisions. Let me give you an overview of the administrative tasks within our Night Watcher squad."
Standing up, he walked over to the door and gestured toward the opposite end from "Chanis Gate."
"We have an accountant and a supply manager who handles purchasing necessities and receiving provisions from the Church and police department, and who occasionally drives for us. These are specialized roles, so they don't rotate. They get Sundays off. The remaining three administrative members—Rosanne, Brett, and Old Neil—rotate through other tasks: greeting visitors, maintaining room cleanliness, drafting case reports and inventory lists, and overseeing the weapons, materials, and archives, where strict records of entries and returns are kept. They each take one day off per week, aside from Sunday, and manage their night duty and rest rotations among themselves."
Klein shifted his focus from thoughts of Beyonders and asked, "I'll be doing the same tasks as Rosanne and the others?"
Dunn gave a light laugh. "No, not exactly. You're our specialist, after all. For now, you'll have two main tasks. First, each morning or afternoon, take a walk. Focus on the routes from Welch's residence to your home."
"What?" Klein's face reflected his confusion.
What kind of "work" is this?
Dunn slid his hands into the pockets of his black coat. "Now that we've confirmed your memory loss, Welch and Naya's case is closed, as is the search for the Antigonus family diary. However, we suspect you may have unknowingly hidden it while heading home after leaving Welch's place, which would explain why we didn't find any trace of it at your residence. It might also clarify why you weren't found at the scene but ended up 'attempting suicide' at home."
"Even though you were affected by something mysterious and have completely forgotten that part of your memory, the mind and spirit are strange things," Dunn said, his voice thoughtful. "There may still be faint traces of it left. Just because Daly's methods as a 'Seer' couldn't extract them doesn't mean they aren't there. Perhaps in familiar places, or places with significance, you might feel a sense of déjà vu, as if you've seen or done something there before."
"That's exactly what we're hoping for," he added.
"I understand," Klein said, nodding in realization.
The Night Watchers' theory about the diary's disappearance was certainly plausible. Of everyone present, only he had survived, and only he would have had the time and "motive" to take the diary and hide it on the way home!
"If you can locate the diary that way, you'll probably gain enough merit to become a Beyonder," Dunn offered, hinting at the diary's importance.
"Let's hope so," Klein replied with a smile.
Dunn shifted the topic back to Klein's role: "Second, you'll have one day off per week, and for now, you can decide which day that will be. When you're not out for observations, spend time in the armory, reading through the documents and books we have on hand. That's where your expertise in history comes in. Once you've finished those, you'll rotate into duties with Old Neil and the others."
"All right, that sounds manageable." Klein felt a sense of relief. It wasn't too challenging.
Dunn then half-turned, gesturing toward the large iron double doors with seven holy emblems carved into them. "This is the 'Chanis Gate,' named after the modern Night Watcher system's founder, Archbishop Chanis. There's one under the central cathedral in every major city."
"It's guarded by rotating Night Watcher members, with at least two internal 'Wardens' from the Church and a series of traps. Don't go near it casually—it's said to bring misfortune."
"Sounds pretty impressive," Klein remarked.
"It contains a few areas: certain sequence potion formulas, various extraordinary materials, temporary holding cells for heretics, abnormals, cultists, and members of secret organizations. They're eventually sent to the Sanctum," Dunn explained.
The Sanctum? Klein thought, recalling the Church of the Goddess's headquarters in the kingdom's north, in Winter County—the "Cathedral of Serenity."
"There are also copies of highly classified books and documents," Dunn continued after a pause. "Once your clearance is high enough, you might have access to them. And in the lower level behind the Chanis Gate, there are some Sealed Artifacts."
"Sealed Artifacts?" Klein echoed, tasting the term on his tongue. It sounded like a technical term.
"Among the extraordinary items we've collected, some are extremely important or highly potent. If they fell into the wrong hands, they could wreak incredible havoc. These items require strict secrecy and even stricter containment. Even for us, their use is highly regulated, and…" Dunn hesitated before continuing, "some of them are unique. They seem to have a 'living' quality—tempting their guards, influencing their surroundings, escaping on their own, or causing catastrophic results. They must be tightly controlled."
"Incredible," Klein murmured in amazement.
"The Night Watcher headquarters classifies these Sealed Artifacts into four levels. 'Level 0' indicates extreme danger, the highest priority, and the highest confidentiality. They are never to be discussed, disclosed, described, or observed and must be sealed beneath the Sanctum," Dunn explained. "'Level 1' Artifacts are highly dangerous and may be used with limited access. The confidentiality level is restricted to diocesan bishops and Night Watcher prelates. Diocesan headquarters in cities like Backlund can keep one or two, but the rest must go to the Sanctum."
"'Level 2' Artifacts are classified as dangerous. Cautious and restrained use is allowed, with access limited to bishops and Night Watcher team captains. Each large city's central cathedral may keep three to five, with the rest sent to the Sanctum or regional headquarters. 'Level 3' Artifacts have moderate risk, requiring careful use and a minimum of three people to authorize an application. The confidentiality level for these artifacts is limited to official Night Watcher members."
"From now on, when you come across a document with a numbered code, you'll understand its meaning. For example, '2-125' signifies Dangerous Level 125 Sealed Artifact," Dunn explained.
As he spoke, he turned abruptly, heading back into the room. He rummaged through the bottom drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper.
"Oh, and take a look at this," he said, handing it over. "Three years ago, a newly appointed archbishop lost control. Somehow, he broke through multiple layers of security and vanished mysteriously with a 'Level 0' Sealed Artifact. Study his photo. If you spot him, do not approach or disturb him. Just report back immediately. If you engage, there's a one thousand percent chance you'll be killed."
"What?" Klein took the paper, noting there was no heading, only a black-and-white photograph and a few lines of text:
"Ince Zangwill, male, forty, former archbishop, failed promotion to 'Gatekeeper,' succumbed to demonic temptation, corrupted into evil, and fled with Sealed Artifact '0-08.' Specific characteristics…"
In the photo, Ince Zangwill wore a double-breasted black clerical robe with a soft hat. His hair was dark gold, his eyes an intense blue that nearly looked black, and he had a high-bridged nose and firmly pressed lips. His face, classically sculpted and unlined, was marked by a striking feature: he was blind in one eye.
"There's such detail about the fallen man, but for the Sealed Artifact, there's only a code number," Klein remarked, voicing his immediate impression.
"That's why it's the highest security classification. The details of the search for '0-08' are only communicated verbally, never written down, and we only know a little about it," Dunn sighed. "'0-08' is in the shape of a common quill pen, requiring no ink for writing—that's all we know."
Dunn didn't elaborate further. Following the golden chain on his black coat, he pulled out an equally ornate gold pocket watch. Clicking it open, he checked the time and then pointed outside.
"I've covered everything I needed to. Now, head over to the armory to find Old Neil. He'll set you up with specific readings. He's not an ordinary clerical worker—he used to be an active member but retired as he got older, couldn't advance further, and his health declined. He's not suited to fieldwork anymore, and he refused to take on an internal 'Warden' role or retire at home. Instead, he prefers spending his time with documents and books."