A task to be assigned… perhaps this gentleman came to the wrong place. The "security company" sign outside was merely a facade for official purposes.
Hearing the visitor's words, Klein was filled with a sudden urge to unleash a stream of sarcastic remarks, regretting that there was no forum or comment section here to share his thoughts.
However, he quickly recalled once asking his captain a similar question, and the answer he got was clear: if the team had spare time, why not take on such tasks? The extra earnings could go to the team's reserve funds and serve as a bonus for participating members.
Rosanne's eyes shifted, considering something as she replied, "All our security personnel are currently on assignments. The earliest any of them will be back is in about an hour, so if your matter isn't urgent, you may wait until then."
Of the six formal members of the Night Watcher squad, Captain Dunn Smith had been summoned by the bishop to the cathedral for an unknown discussion, while Leonard Mitchell was currently guarding the "Chanis Gate." "Corpse Collector" Frye and "Sleepless" Luo Yao Laiting had gone to the Golden Sycamore District to assist the police department in investigating a recent case of theft with suspected cult elements. Another "Sleepless," Coenley White, was on a day off, and the "Midnight Poet," Seeger Thorne, was performing a regular patrol at Rafael Cemetery on the outskirts of the northern district.
As for the two other extraordinary members, Old Neil, weakened by age, had not been on a mission in years, while Klein, still a novice, was barely even a half-trained asset at this point.
"So, no one's available…" The tall, slim man with graying sideburns and an umbrella in hand gave a faint look of disappointment. He took off his hat, bowed slightly, and said, "Thank you for your time. I apologize for disturbing you."
Turning around, he walked out, braving the sounds of pouring rain and gusty wind as he descended the stairs, leaving 36 Zotland Street behind.
"Such a shame," Rosanne sighed, watching the gentleman leave, regret evident in her voice. While she wouldn't receive a portion of any possible commission, she could certainly look forward to sharing in a good meal as a bonus.
"It couldn't be helped. The Chanis Gate must always be guarded," Klein said, contentedly setting down his cutlery. Despite not being overly fond of turnips or vegetable-laden soups, he'd finished every last drop. "Or would you rather have Breit take on the mission? Or perhaps yourself?"
Rosanne's eyes twinkled mischievously as she replied, "Breit's out of the question, but you certainly could, 'Mr. Diviner'..."
Her words trailed off as she suddenly realized the open door and promptly fell silent. If any passerby or visitor overheard matters related to the extraordinary, that would amount to a serious breach of confidentiality.
"Good thing the Captain's not around…" Rosanne glanced at the door and, sticking her tongue out playfully, muttered, "Or I'd be sent to atone for my mistake once again!"
Breit and Klein burst into laughter, exchanging amused looks before tidying up the dishes together.
After everything was in order, with the rain still pounding outside and no umbrella to his name, Klein opted to stay at the Blackthorn Security Company.
He picked up a newspaper, settled comfortably onto a plush, springy sofa, and began his "lunch break."
"Airship route opens between Backlund and Dixie Bay…"
"Collected edition of *Detective Munson* set for publication…"
"Advertisement from Lorglass Arms: Standard revolver with six rounds for 3 pounds 10 shillings, double-barrel shotgun for 2 pounds…"
…
Klein flipped through the *Tingen Honest Newspaper* and came across a particular news article:
"…The criminals responsible for the murders of Mr. Welch and Ms. Naya have all been apprehended. It is believed that the prevailing sense of panic in the North District, Golden Sycamore District, and East District will be greatly alleviated… Mr. Welch's father, Mr. McGovern, a banker, is escorting his youngest son's remains back to Conston City, where a solemn funeral will be held…"
After reading it over several times, Klein sighed.
It seemed that Welch's father had accepted the police's explanation, choosing not to hire a private investigator for further investigation…
The pain of losing his youngest son probably didn't compare to the grief my parents would have felt losing their only child…
Feeling a wave of melancholy, Klein sat there, unmoving for a while.
As for the lack of invitation to Welch and Naya's funeral, he wasn't surprised and didn't feel disappointed.
*When things settle down, I'll find a chance to lay flowers at their graves…* he thought, just as he prepared to take a short nap in the break room. But then, a knock suddenly echoed from the front hall's door.
"Come in," Rosanne, who had been nodding off, immediately perked up.
The slightly ajar door opened, and the same tall, thin man with graying sideburns and a formal suit entered once again.
"May I wait here for a while? Your mercenaries—no, security personnel—should be back soon, correct?" he asked, struggling to hide his urgency.
"Of course, please take a seat over there." Rosanne gestured to a nearby sofa.
Curious, Klein asked, "Where did you hear about our security company? Did someone refer you?"
*To come twice in this downpour and still be willing to wait?* he thought, *It must be because the Night Watchers always solve problems that others consider impossible, building quite a reputation for us…*
The tall, thin man placed his umbrella outside the door. Walking toward the sofa, he replied with a wry smile, "I went to every mercenary group—uh, security company and private detective agency in the nearby streets, and yours was the only one with potential availability. They all had no personnel left for additional tasks… Honestly, if I hadn't met a food delivery worker, I'd never have known there was even a security company here."
*…This is entirely different from what I imagined…* Klein thought, momentarily taken aback.
Rosanne chimed in, "They're that busy? That many tasks?"
The man with graying sideburns sat down, sighed, and replied, "You're a mercenary group… no, a security company… so I assume you've heard of the recent burglary-homicides in the Howes District?"
*Howes District… burglary-homicide… alright, as it turns out, I was one of the victims…* Klein felt a sense of gravity as he nodded slightly. "Yes."
"Due to the cruelty and viciousness of the criminals, the wealthy throughout Tingen City, especially in nearby neighborhoods, have been terrified. They've not only increased their private security but have also hired extra security personnel and private investigators, creating a noticeable shortage in the field," the man answered clearly.
*The standard ripple effect,* Klein thought, exchanging a self-deprecating glance with Rosanne. Both saw the wry smile on the other's face.
The security industry was entering a "golden age," yet Blackthorn hadn't felt even a hint of it. This spoke volumes about how poorly their company was run.
Of course, from a certain perspective, it also proved just how well the Night Watchers maintained their hidden operations.
After waiting for more than twenty minutes, Klein noticed that the storm seemed to be subsiding. He decided to tidy up and head to the "Shooting Club" to practice with his revolver.
As soon as Leonard Mitchell emerged from the partition, his dark hair and green eyes glinting with curiosity, he looked towards the couch and asked, "Who is this?"
"A client. Has the captain returned?" Rosanne asked, her tone full of hope.
"Returned?" The tall, thin man looked confused.
He had been sitting there, watching the entrance the entire time, yet he hadn't noticed anyone come in.
Rosanne's expression froze for a moment before she quickly let out a laugh. "As a security company, we don't just have a front door."
"I see," the tall man said, nodding in understanding.
As for the title of "captain," he didn't find it strange at all. Security companies were often evolved forms of former mercenary groups or small guilds, so having a "captain" was quite normal.
Leonard, with his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his black vest casually thrown on, looked at the man and snapped his fingers, saying, "I'm a security agent with Blackthorn. How should I address you? And what kind of job are you looking to commission?"
Perhaps due to previous experiences with mercenaries' unconventional behavior, the tall, thin man didn't feel insulted by Leonard's informal demeanor. Instead, he appeared relieved.
As Leonard took a seat, the man gathered his thoughts and explained, "My name is Kerley, and I am the butler of Mr. Vickroy, a tobacco merchant. This morning, his only son, young Elliott, was kidnapped. We've already informed the police and received significant attention, but Mr. Vickroy remains uneasy. He hopes to employ your security agents and leverage your familiarity with Tingen's underworld to investigate this matter from a different angle and ensure young Elliott's safe return."
"If you're able to locate the kidnappers' hideout, Mr. Vickroy is willing to offer a reward of 100 pounds. If you're able to assist in Elliott's safe recovery, he will double the reward, offering 200 pounds in total."
Leonard Mitchell chuckled lightly and remarked, "It sounds like Mr. Vickroy only wants us to find the kidnappers' location. Otherwise, he wouldn't consider his only son to be worth just 100 pounds. A tobacco merchant with close ties to southern plantations should have access to more than 200 pounds."
"No, Mr. Vickroy is simply an ordinary businessman, not a tycoon, and he believes that the police are more adept at the rescue itself," Butler Kerley answered calmly.
"Understood, no problem." Leonard snapped his fingers again.
His emerald eyes turned to Rosanne. "Lovely lady, could you prepare a contract for us?"
"Stop pretending to be a poet. In reality, all you ever do is recite others' work," Rosanne shot back, forgetting momentarily that there was a client present. She was used to trading barbs with Leonard.
Of course, Blackthorn Security didn't particularly care about impressing their clients. If they got a commission, great. If not, no big deal.
Rosanne stepped away from the reception desk, heading into the clerical office where the rapid tapping of keys soon sounded.
Klein couldn't help but feel a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. This place seemed hopelessly unprofessional.
*They don't even have standardized, ready-made contracts!*
"This is truly a tragic situation…"
"But what's more tragic is that I somehow ended up working for such an unprofessional company…"
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Rosanne finished typing up a contract with just a few brief clauses and returned, allowing both Butler Kerley and Leonard Mitchell to sign.
Once Kerley had stamped it, Rosanne took the contract to the accounting room to have Mrs. Orianna affix the official Blackthorn Security seal—an item that held little real authority and was usually left with Mrs. Orianna by Dunn. On Sundays, it was handed over to Rosanne or the other staff.
"Looking forward to your success." Taking one copy of the contract, Butler Kerley stood up, doffing his hat and bowing politely.
Leonard remained silent, as if deep in thought for a few seconds before suddenly turning to Klein with a slight smile.
"I need your help," he said.
"Huh?" Klein was taken aback.
"I mean, we'll complete this task together," Leonard clarified with a faint smirk. "I'm skilled in hand-to-hand combat, shooting, climbing, sensing, chanting, and various support tasks, but tracking someone down is not my forte. You wouldn't want Old Neil to be out in this weather, would you?"
As he mentioned "sensing," his voice grew indistinct, almost unintelligible.
"All right," Klein agreed, feeling both the thrill of testing new "skills" and a touch of caution toward Leonard Mitchell.
*Well, here's hoping we pull this off smoothly… I wonder how much my Seer abilities will come into play…* he thought, a mix of excitement and curiosity bubbling within him.