Chapter 44

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Leonard’s voice flowed like a lullaby, gently resonating between the two doors on either side and through the wooden stairwell.

Klein felt as if his mind were in a daze, as though he were gazing at silent moonlight reflecting on a serene lake. His eyelids grew heavy, as if he might fall asleep while standing.

Amid these indistinct sensations, he felt a strange, formless, indifferent gaze from behind him. He felt as though he were wandering the spirit world.

A baffling sense of déjà vu suffused him until he suddenly regained his train of thought. With his powerful spiritual perception and thorough meditation practice, he managed to escape the influence of the Midnight Recital. Still, his mind remained quiet, unable to generate any other emotions.

Soon, Leonard stopped singing and turned his head with a smile. “I’m considering putting in an application for a Feynapotter lute. How can I sing without accompaniment? Heh-heh, just kidding. They’re all asleep now.”

The dark-haired, green-eyed Nighthawk—Leonard, with his poetic demeanor—briskly approached the door that separated them from the kidnappers and hostage. Suddenly, he swung his arm and threw a punch at the lock on the door.

Crack!

The wooden board around the lock shattered, the sound somewhat muffled.

“This requires precise control,” Leonard said as he turned, giving Klein a smile. Then he reached his hand through the hole and opened the door from the inside.

Klein, who had regained full consciousness, was not as confident. He reached into his shoulder holster and drew his gun. He turned the cylinder to ensure he could shoot at a moment’s notice.

As the door swung open, Klein saw a man slumped unconscious over a table with a gun on the floor by his feet. Another man was rubbing his eyes in a daze while trying to stand up.

Bam!

Leonard lunged forward and, with a punch, knocked the dazed man unconscious.

Klein was just about to follow Leonard inside when something suddenly tickled his senses. He turned abruptly toward the stairwell.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps echoed from below, growing clearer as they approached. A man in a brown coat with no hat was coming around the turn in the stairs, climbing toward the third-floor landing. He clutched a paper bag of bread to his chest.

Suddenly, he stopped. He saw the glistening metallic barrel of a gun pointing at him from above. His eyes reflected a young man in a short top hat, black suit, and matching bow tie, as well as the cane resting along the rail and the dangerous revolver.

“Stop what you’re doing and put your hands up. Three, two, one...” Klein’s voice was low and relaxed.

He held the revolver with both hands, imagining the man as a target from his practice sessions.

Amid the tense atmosphere, the man in the brown coat dropped the bag and slowly raised his hands. “Sir, has there been a misunderstanding?” he asked, staring intently at the finger Klein rested on the trigger, forcing a smile.

Klein, temporarily unsure whether the man was an accomplice of the kidnappers or merely a neighbor, maintained a stern expression. In a deep voice, he continued, “Do not resist. Someone will be here shortly to determine if this is indeed a misunderstanding.”

At that moment, Leonard, having finished dealing with the kidnappers inside, walked out and noticed the man in the stairwell. He said casually, “So it seems the kidnappers have another accomplice responsible for purchasing food and making external contact?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. Lifting his foot, he kicked the bag of bread up in an attempt to obscure Klein’s vision.

Seemingly unfazed, Klein calmly pulled the trigger as he did during his practice.

Bang!

A cloud of blood sprayed from the man’s left shoulder. He staggered and rolled away, attempting to flee to the second-floor landing. However, Leonard had already pushed off the handrail and vaulted over it, descending onto the man from above with a dull thud.

After the man passed out, Leonard swatted away some blood spatters and looked up at Klein, chuckling. “Not a bad shot.”

I was trying to hit his legs...

The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched just before he caught the faint smell of blood. Despite lacking any enhancements to his visual, auditory, or tactile senses after consuming the Seer potion, he realized he could still “see” objects behind obstructions and “hear” faint footsteps, allowing him to make preemptive judgments.

Is this within the scope of spiritual perception?

Klein nodded contemplatively as he watched Leonard search the man and discover a sharp dagger before dragging him through the door on the third floor. With his gun in one hand and his cane in the other, Klein followed him inside. Elliott Vickroy had jolted awake at the sound of the gunshot. Slowly, the boy sat up straight.

Leonard had securely tied up the three kidnappers with the rope they’d originally used on Elliott. Where the rope wasn’t long enough, he compensated by tearing strips from their clothes. The bundled-up captives were thrown into a corner. Leonard was busy bandaging the shoulder of the unconscious man who had been shot; seemingly against the idea of getting his hands too dirty, he didn’t even bother to extract the bullet.

“A-are you...?” Elliott stammered in surprised delight as he looked on.

“Yes, you guessed right. Absolutely correct,” Leonard answered casually, still crouching.

Who would have thought that this guy could have a sense of humor...?

Klein lowered his revolver and said to Elliott, “We are mercenaries hired by your father. You can also call us security personnel.”

“Phew, really? Have I been saved?!” Elliott exclaimed, his voice trembling with joy as he dared not move.

It was evident that he had suffered more than a little in the few short hours since his kidnapping; he didn’t even exhibit the impulsiveness expected of someone his age.

Leonard then stood up and faced Klein. “Go downstairs and find a patrolling policeman. Tell them to inform the tobacco merchant. I don’t want to walk out of here with the child and four idiots, looking like a kidnapper.”

Klein, still pondering the aftermath, nodded. He put away his revolver, picked up his cane, and headed for the staircase. As he descended, a nagging feeling told him he had forgotten something. In addition, he heard Leonard say to Elliott, “Don’t be nervous. You’ll see your father, mother, and your old butler, Klee, soon enough. Why don’t we play a round of Quint?”

...

Klein suppressed a laugh as he walked out onto the street. After asking for directions, he found two patrolling policemen.

He didn’t use his badge or identification as a member of the Special Operations Department; instead, he identified himself as part of a professional security company and recounted everything that had transpired.

As for his gun, he wasn’t worried. He had obtained an all-purpose weapons permit the day before yesterday. The approval process had been quick, thanks to internal channels.

The two policemen exchanged glances before one left to gather reinforcements and inform the Vickroy family while the other followed Klein to where the kidnappers were held.

After another forty minutes, Leonard signaled to Klein with his eyes when the policemen’s attention waned, and Klein stealthily slipped out of the room after him.

“Trust me, going to the police station would be an extreme waste of time. Let’s go,” Leonard explained nonchalantly.

Since Leonard would take responsibility should there be any repercussions, Klein had no reason to refuse, so he followed.

Almost five minutes later, several carriages rushed to the front of the building where the kidnappers were held. Klee, the old butler, disembarked along with his portly master, Mr. Vickroy.

Up until this moment, Klein was still in a daze. He could scarcely believe that the good news had come so fast. It felt like a dream.

Suddenly, he heard a crisp snap. Instinctively, he turned toward the sound.

A two-wheeled carriage drove past with its windows open. The dark-haired, green-eyed Leonard snapped his fingers again.

After passing by Vickroy’s carriage, Leonard closed the window, turned around, and looked at Klein. He raised his right hand and said, “It was a pleasure working with you!”

“I don’t think we’re that close...,” Klein replied, politely slapping his palm.

He hadn’t expected the kidnapping case to be resolved so quickly. All he could do was quietly marvel at the abilities of Beyonders. Even though he was just a newly minted Sequence Nine, he was already capable of many incredible feats.

“This is a celebratory gesture aristocrats like to do after a round of fencing,” Leonard explained with a smile.

“I know.” Klein had many aristocratic classmates.

Glancing outside the window, he said with a frown, “Shouldn’t we confirm with Mr. Klee? If he thinks the police rescued Elliott, our commission will be halved.”

A total of one hundred pounds!

Although there was no doubt they had provided the kidnappers’ whereabouts, due to their “meeting” just now, the commission might suffer.

“Don’t worry. For people like us, money isn’t that important,” Leonard chuckled and shrugged.

...To people like me, it's very important!

Klein forced a polite smile and said, “Many poets die early from poverty.”

Leonard laughed. “I believe Elliott wouldn’t lie about this. I can tell he still has some innocence left in him. However, you won’t get much of the two-hundred-pound commission anyway.”

“How much would I get?” asked Klein immediately.

“As the unspoken rule goes, half of the commission is handed to Mrs. Orianna as additional funding. The remainder is split among the participating team members. It’s a pity you aren’t a formal member yet—you’ll only get about ten percent of that remaining half.”

Ten pounds? That isn't bad, either...

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Klein pretended not to feel the pinch as he pressed on, “Aren’t you worried that the kidnappers will realize they were under the influence of a Beyonder’s powers when they wake up?”

“They won’t suspect a thing. They’ll only think the weather was too conducive for sleep, which is why they dozed off. They might even believe that the song existed only in their dreams. This is something we’ve verified before,” Leonard answered confidently. “But rather, it’s your demon-hunting bullets that might arouse some suspicion. Of course, you being a peculiar person with an affinity for mysticism makes that a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“I see.” Klein felt relieved yet couldn’t shake the feeling that he had forgotten or overlooked something.

...

After returning to Jutland Street, Klein did not wait for Klee’s arrival but continued with his routine. He strolled to the Welch residence and took a different route home. On the way, he bought some beef and cabbage for dinner.

The meal was enjoyable as always, accompanied by the same leisurely conversation between the siblings. Only this time, there was an unexpected visitor at the door—a worker responsible for collecting pennies from the gas meter.

As evening fell and darkness deepened, the siblings bade each other good night and returned to their rooms.

Klein was sleeping soundly when he was suddenly awoken by a shuffling sound outside. Puzzled, he opened his door and walked to the unoccupied bedroom. Pushing open the mottled door, he saw a gray desk inside. On the desk lay a notebook, its cover made of hard cardboard and entirely black in color.

An inexplicable sense of déjà vu washed over him as he approached and opened the notebook. The page he flipped to featured a drawing: a figure dressed in lavish clothes and wearing a splendid headdress— The Fool!

Beneath the drawing was a line of text in Hermes:

Everyone will die, including me.

Startled, Klein suddenly noticed that the corners of The Fool’s mouth were curving upward!

Gasping for breath, Klein bolted upright in bed and saw the crimson moonlight filtering through his curtains, dimly outlining the shapes of his bookshelf, desk, and the rest of his room. Only then did he realize it had been a nightmare.

As a Seer, he knew that dreams were revealing. He began to carefully reflect on the dream. As he recalled the details, Klein suddenly froze. He knew what he had missed out on today!

While he was immersed in Leonard’s singing, he had sensed a cold, formless gaze from behind him—a feeling of being observed unlike anything he usually experienced during his trances or when he used his spirit vision. It evoked a strong sense of déjà vu.

According to Captain Dunn, if he ever felt anything similar, it probably meant...

Klein suddenly straightened up. He knew what it was.Yes—it's that notebook! That Antigonus family's notebook!