In fact, I'm not even sure if that notebook was destroyed or just hidden… But let's think this through logically: if destruction was the goal, it could have been done on the spot; there was no need to have me take it away… Klein activated his "detective mode" in response to Leonard's question and said thoughtfully:
"Perhaps the unknown entity we encountered not only relishes the 'sacrifice' of life but also wants to ensure there are future opportunities for similar events. So, knowing that the 'suicide incident' would be discovered, it had me take the notebook away and hide it, preparing for a second 'feast.' Something must have gone wrong along the way, though, which is why I didn't succeed in committing suicide."
This was a reasonable deduction Klein drew from knowledge of evil rituals in the books, novels, movies, and TV series he had seen in his past life.
As for what went wrong, Klein was quite clear on that point—it was his own "variable" as a transmigrator.
"An interesting theory," Leonard acknowledged. "But I think there might be another possibility. Welch and Naya's sacrificial suicides might have allowed that unknown entity a chance to manifest. Perhaps the notebook itself harbors or cultivates that evil, and by having you take it away and hide it, it was ensuring that the notebook wouldn't be destroyed before it could 'awaken' or gain strength."
Leonard gazed intently into Klein's eyes, smiling slightly as he added, "Of course, the notebook could also have been destroyed intentionally to conceal its contents and hide the true vessel or incubator of that evil. In that case, your failure to commit suicide would make sense."
What's he implying? Does he suspect me? That the original body might be harboring or cultivating some kind of evil? No… all it's hosting is a transmigrator… Klein thought, almost amused by the word "incubator," but responded thoughtfully:
"I won't defend myself. I honestly don't remember that period, but both the Captain and Ms. Daly have confirmed that I don't have any other issues. Your speculation isn't very amusing."
"I'm only exploring possibilities. It's also possible that the entity encountered some resistance when it tried to descend, which resulted in your failed suicide. We should trust that the Goddess continues to watch over us," Leonard said, smiling as he shifted the topic. "Did you discover anything this afternoon?"
After this exchange, Klein felt a stronger sense of caution toward Leonard but maintained a calm exterior, answering smoothly, "Nothing. I'll try a different route tomorrow."
He gestured toward the partition. "I need to collect my ammunition from the armory."
The Shooting Club stayed open until nine in the evening, as many of its members were only free after work.
"May the Goddess watch over you," Leonard said, smiling as he drew a symbol of the Crimson Moon over his chest.
As he watched Klein walk through the partition and heard him descend the staircase, the smile on Leonard's face gradually faded, replaced by a look of puzzlement in his green eyes.
He muttered something under his breath, his tone tinged with discontent.
…
Descending the staircase, Klein turned down the gas-lit corridor toward the armory, material, and archive room.
The iron door was open, and Rosanne, the brunette girl, stood by a long table, chatting with a middle-aged man who wore a high-crowned hat and sported a thick black mustache.
"Good afternoon—well, evening really. It always feels like midnight down here. Klein, Old Neil said you've become an extraordinary? A… Seer?" Rosanne turned to him, her words coming out quickly.
She didn't try to hide her curiosity and concern.
Klein smiled and nodded. "Good afternoon, Miss Rosanne. Though it's always dark here, it feels quite peaceful. Your description wasn't entirely accurate. I should say that the potion I consumed is called the 'Seer.'"
"So, you really chose to become an extraordinary…" Rosanne sighed, momentarily lost in thought.
Klein glanced at the middle-aged man beside her and politely asked, "And who might this be?"
Another member of the Night Watchers, or perhaps one of the two other clerical staff I haven't met?
Rosanne pursed her lips briefly before replying, "This is Brett, our colleague. He's trying to switch his duty schedule with mine so he can free up the evening after tomorrow. He wants to take his wife to the North District Theater to see *The Arrogant One* to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary. Quite the romantic gentleman."
Brett smiled and extended his hand. "With Miss Rosanne here, there's no need to repeat anything. Nice to meet you, Klein. I didn't expect you to become an Extraordinary so quickly. As for me… well, I might never have the courage for that."
"Perhaps it's just ignorance that makes me fearless," Klein replied with a touch of self-deprecation, shaking Brett's hand.
"That's not necessarily a bad thing." Brett shook his head with a smile. "Once, an Extraordinary told me on his deathbed to never delve into strange and dangerous matters. The less you know, the longer you live."
At this, Rosanne interjected, "Don't worry too much, Klein. From what Old Neil told me, your 'Seer' path is supportive and relatively safe, as long as you don't attempt to communicate with unknown entities. But… what's with your outfit? Not gentlemanly at all! And why are you here?"
"To pick up today's thirty rounds," Klein answered, ignoring her comment on his attire.
He figured she would soon forget about it.
"Alright then." Rosanne pointed to the table. "Brett, it's all up to you. You know where the keys and bullets are. And ugh, Old Neil is so stingy—he didn't even leave his coffee grinder. He promised I'd get my fill today…"
Amid Rosanne's chatter, Klein received his rounds.
The two then left the underground together, parting ways on Zotland Street—one headed home by public carriage, while the other made his way into the "Shooting Club."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Grip the gun, raise his arm, shoot, flick out the cylinder, eject the spent casings, reload… Klein repeated this sequence, familiarizing himself with the feel of shooting.
Of course, he took several breaks in between to reflect and adjust his form.
After finishing his practice, Klein took advantage of the facility to do some physical exercises, similar to push-ups and other drills, working to improve his physique.
By the time he returned home via the trolleybus, it was nearly seven o'clock, and dusk had already settled.
Just as Klein was considering heading to the market or a nearby stall to buy ingredients for dinner, he noticed the door open and saw Melissa returning with a bag of stationery and books.
Along with that, she was carrying a fair amount of groceries.
"…I figured you and Benson would be home late, so I took one soli from the stash this morning," Melissa explained as she caught her brother's curious gaze, her tone as meticulous as ever.
"If you had money, why didn't you take the public carriage to school?" Klein asked, recalling the morning's events.
Melissa frowned slightly and said, "Why would I take the public carriage? It's 4 pence to school, so that's 8 pence for a round trip. Including you and Benson, we'd be spending 24 pence a day on the carriage—2 soli! In a week, well, excluding Sundays, that's 12 soli, which is nearly equal to our rent!"
"Alright, alright, stop showing off your math skills…" Klein chuckled, gesturing with his hand to slow her down.
Melissa paused, then added, "I'm fine walking to school. My teacher says everyone should exercise regularly, and I can find some broken parts along the way."
Klein chuckled and said, "Well, let's calculate again. Carriage fare is 12 soli, rent is 12 soli and 3 pence—that's only 1 pound, 4 soli, and 3 pence. Benson's salary covers that easily, with plenty left over. Plus, I receive 1 pound, 10 soli a week. Even with daily meals that include meat, plus gas, coal, firewood, spices, and so on, we still have some to spare. We could even subscribe to the *Tingen Morning Post*, which is just 1 penny a day."
"In two months, once I've paid off my salary advance, I can save up to get you and Benson some new clothes."
"But we have to plan for unexpected costs," Melissa insisted on her cautious approach.
Klein smiled at her. "In that case, we could just cut back a bit on meat. But don't you think spending fifty—no, a hundred minutes a day walking is a waste of time? You could use that time to read more books, think over what you learned, and improve your grades."
"With that, you'd graduate with top marks, find a well-paying job, and then, what would we have to worry about?"
"…"
Klein, using his experience in debating on online forums, finally persuaded Melissa to agree to take the carriage to school.
Whew, finally got her… no, that's not the right term—it's called convincing with reason. Klein chuckled to himself, took the groceries from Melissa, and sighed, "Remember, tomorrow, get some beef or lamb, maybe some chicken… Eating well gives you the energy and sharp mind you need to handle tough studies."
Just saying it made his mouth water a little…
Melissa pursed her lips, paused for a few seconds, and then said, "Alright."
"Today, we'll cover some complex foundational knowledge," Old Neil replied, drawing out his words. "But first, I'll teach you an interesting technique."
He gestured to the silver chain wrapped around his wrist, the end of which dangled a clear white crystal.
Klein's curiosity piqued as he observed the crystal. "What kind of technique?"
Old Neil gave a mysterious smile. "A pendulum technique that many diviners use. It can help you answer yes-or-no questions by tapping into your spirituality, allowing your body to act as a channel for subtle influences from your higher self or other spiritual entities."
As he spoke, Old Neil unwrapped the silver chain from his wrist, holding it up so the crystal dangled in front of Klein.
"You'll hold it like this," he demonstrated, "just letting it hang freely from your fingers. Then, you focus on a question, something simple with a yes-or-no answer. The pendulum will begin to move in one of two directions: clockwise or counterclockwise, indicating 'yes' or 'no' based on your personal connection."
Klein nodded, intrigued by the simplicity of the technique and the idea of a tool that could help him intuitively access answers.
"Would you like to give it a try?" Old Neil asked, holding the chain out to him.