For a moment, Klein thought he had somehow traveled back to his original world. But the brass gas lamps with their elegant grilles and the ornate coffee tin on Old Neil's desk brought him back to reality.
Could Emperor Roselle, this predecessor from his homeland, also be a fellow traveler?
Did he actually use simplified Chinese characters, which didn't exist in this world, to record his secrets?
With a sense of indescribable nostalgia at this "encounter with an old friend in a foreign land," Klein quickly scanned the three manuscript pages in his hands:
"November 18th: What an extraordinary event! A wild experiment and an accidental misstep led me to discover a poor soul trapped within the storm, lost in the depths of darkness. He can only come close to the real world on full moon nights, though he's still unable to bring his cries across. He's lucky to have met me, the protagonist of this era."
"Reading this entry back to myself, I feel a bit sentimental. Even in my native script, it seems I've unconsciously adopted a tone heavy with translation. Forty years have passed in the blink of an eye, and those old memories feel like nothing more than dreams."
"January 1st, 1184: The grand New Year's Eve ball… Madame Fronarl is truly an enchantress."
"January 2nd: The men in my diplomatic council are all fools!"
"January 3rd: My initial choice was too hasty. In retrospect, both 'Apprentice' and 'Diviner,' or even 'Thief,' would've been better options. Sadly, there's no turning back now."
"January 4th: Why are my children so foolish? I've told them a thousand times, don't be swayed by those fanatics. Perhaps those priests are also deluded themselves. The key to the potion is not control, but digestion! Not excavation, but acting! The name of the potion is not just a core symbol but a specific image and even the key to digestion!"
"September 22nd: An alliance against me is forming, from the northern Feysac and eastern Loen, to the southern Feynapotter. My enemies have finally joined forces, yet I feel no fear. I will show them that the difference in weaponry and knowledge cannot be compensated by sheer numbers or low-level Sequence holders. Besides, it's not as if I lack high-ranking subordinates. Heh, have they forgotten who I am?"
"September 23rd: I lost contact with the ships searching for the 'Forsaken Land of the Gods.' Perhaps it's time to invent wireless telegraphs, hopefully unaffected by storms."
"September 24th: Miss Isaka is even more charming than Madame Fronarl… perhaps I am merely nostalgic for my youth."
Since these were transcriptions, the complex Chinese characters were enlarged to preserve accuracy. Each page contained only a few entries, with the back left blank to ensure preservation and study. Yet even with just these few pages, Klein's mind was racing with excitement, especially over Roselle's insights into potions. They felt like he had stumbled upon a roadmap, a priceless secret.
"Perhaps this could be the guiding light for my own path as an Extraordinary!"
"Hmm, each page contains entries from different times. It seems Emperor Roselle only marked the year at the beginning of each year. The entries from November and September don't indicate which year they belong to…"
"Who was this unfortunate person he discovered? What do digestion and acting specifically mean? Where is this Forsaken Land of the Gods?"
One question after another filled his mind, making Klein yearn to collect Roselle's entire diary and read it from start to finish.
"Klein?" Old Neil's puzzled voice brought him back to reality.
Klein snapped out of his thoughts and, covering with a smile, replied, "I thought I might be special enough to attempt deciphering it."
"Young people," Old Neil chuckled, shaking his head. "I once thought I was special too."
Klein flipped through the three pages again, making sure he hadn't missed anything before handing them back. He asked casually, "Is this all we have?"
"You thought we'd have more?" Old Neil scoffed, rubbing the pages in his hand. Deep lines crinkled around his mouth. "There are hardly any Extraordinary or mysterious incidents these days. The Northern Continent is losing its magical creatures, and without them, there are fewer potions, and fewer Extraordinary people. Over these centuries, dragons, giants, and elves have all become just words in books. Even the Sea Folk no longer appear near the coasts."
Klein chuckled at the thought of an idea and said, "I think it's time to establish a 'Dragon and Giant Conservation Society.'"
Old Neil looked blank for a moment, then finally understood. He patted the table, laughing heartily and somewhat inelegantly, "Ha! Klein, you truly have a sense of humor. That's a tradition here in Loen. A bit of humor is good for young people. But it shouldn't just be dragons and giants. We could call it the 'Magical Creatures Conservation Society.'"
"No, no, no. How could we forget the poor plants?" Klein shook his head with mock seriousness.
At this, he and Old Neil exchanged a glance and said in unison:
"The Association for the Protection of Magical Creatures!"
As soon as they spoke, they shared a knowing smile, and the earlier stiffness between them eased noticeably.
"Not many young people with a sense of humor like yours these days…" Old Neil chuckled, the wrinkles on his face deepening. "Where was I? Ah, yes, every year, truly mystical and supernatural events are few and far between. Followers of Emperor Roselle are an even rarer breed among the fanatics. Just getting our hands on three of his manuscripts is already quite fortunate... Hmm, I imagine other cathedrals or parishes might have some, too..."
He muttered a few more words, then picked up the note Klein had placed on the desk earlier and examined it.
"Are we looking at handgun bullets, rifle rounds, or steam-powered gun rounds?"
"A revolver," Klein replied honestly.
"Good, I'll retrieve them. Oh, and do you have an underarm holster? A proper gentleman shouldn't have his lower half looking bulky in public." Old Neil added the kind of joke every man would understand.
"Ha, I don't. Should I ask the Captain to authorize it in writing?" Klein played along with a smile.
Old Neil stood up and said:
"No need, just make a note of it. It's considered 'accessory gear.' Repeat after me: 'Accessory gear.'"
"Did you use to be a teacher?" Klein asked with a grin.
"I did spend some time in the Sunday school and the charity school," Old Neil said, raising the note, then took out a key from the drawer and opened the iron door to the back room.
So Extraordinary or not, people didn't seem all that different… Klein mused silently as he glanced down at the three diary pages on the table.
Emperor Roselle was indeed involved in the arcane…
His diary could be worth a fortune.
For others, it was just a few sheets of old paper, a puzzle without a solution. But for me, it's a treasure trove!
Who knows where the rest of his diary might be…
I must find a way to access more…
Thoughts whirled through Klein's mind, keeping him from calm, until Old Neil returned from the back room and shut the iron door.
"Ten Demon Hunting Bullets, thirty regular handgun bullets, a leather underarm holster, and a badge for the Seventh Unit of the Special Operations Division. Please check them over, try the holster on, and sign the log," Old Neil said, placing the items on the table.
The handgun bullets came in a paper box, neatly stacked in three rows, with the same golden hue as the rounds Klein had at home, slightly elongated.
The "Demon Hunting Bullets" were stored in a small metal box. They were the same size and shape as normal handgun bullets, but their exterior was a gleaming silver, with intricate, mesmerizing patterns etched into the casing. At the base, there was even a tiny emblem: a black background with a constellation of stars surrounding a half-red moon.
The leather holster felt solid and well-crafted, with a buckle on the strap. Next to it was a badge about half the size of his hand. It was iron-colored with silver inlay, bearing the words "Ahowa County Police Department" and "Special Operations Division, Seventh Unit" around the edges. These inscriptions formed near-closed circles around a symbol of crossed swords encircling a crown.
"Too bad it's not the Night Watcher badge," Klein said, half in jest, half probing.
Old Neil chuckled but simply urged Klein to try on the underarm holster.
Removing his coat, Klein struggled for a moment but finally managed to buckle the holster securely under his left arm.
"Not bad," he remarked, leaving it in place as he put his coat back on.
Old Neil looked him over with a discerning eye and nodded approvingly.
"Perfect fit. My eye is still as sharp as ever."
After stowing away the rest of the items and signing the logbook, Klein chatted briefly with Old Neil before taking his leave.
Halfway down the hall, he suddenly smacked his forehead in frustration.
"I forgot to ask more about the sequences and potions… all because of Roselle's diary."
To this day, he still didn't know what the starting point of the Night Goddess Church's complete "path" was—its Sequence 9.
Rosanne had mentioned something once... the Sleepless? As Klein ambled toward the stairs, a figure hurried down, each step echoing against the stone walls.
The man was dressed in fitted pants for ease of movement, his white shirt untucked, lending him an air of poet's charm. It was the green-eyed, black-haired police officer Klein had met during the search of his home; they'd crossed paths earlier upstairs but hadn't spoken.
"Good afternoon," the young, poet-like Night Watcher greeted with a smile.
"Good afternoon. I don't think I need to introduce myself, do I?" Klein responded with humor.
"No need. I have a distinct impression of you." The young Night Watcher extended his hand. "Leonard Mitchell, Sequence 8, 'Midnight Poet.'"
Sequence 8… so he really is a poet. Klein shook his hand with a smile.
"Distinct impression of me?"
Leonard's green eyes glimmered subtly, his smile barely noticeable as he answered:
"You have a certain unique aura."
...A bit on the flamboyant side… Klein's mouth twitched slightly as he forced a smile and said, "I don't really see it myself."
"You survived such an ordeal, didn't immediately accept our protection, and you're still alive. That alone is… unique," Leonard remarked, gesturing ahead. "I need to take over for the captain. See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," Klein replied, stepping aside to let him pass.
As Leonard disappeared down the stairs, he suddenly paused, turned around, and gazed at the dim, warm light illuminating the stone floor. Speaking softly to the air, he murmured:
"Did you notice anything?"
…
"As expected, there's nothing particularly special about him…"