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[Hmmm, I have finally passed the test of the Soul Whisperer…]

Klein breathed out a sigh and slowly turned around. While he was enjoying the tranquillity of the night and the cool breeze, he started walking towards the apartment door.

He took out the key, inserted it, and gently twisted it. As the door screeched, he could see a black and crimson blush expanding before his eyes.

Walking on the empty staircase and breathing in the cold air, Klein had an unusual feeling of earning a few more hours of life than others, such that his footsteps became brisk.

He maintained a similar mentality and opened his own house door, but before he stepped in, he saw a figure sitting quietly in the darkness in front of the desk. Her dark hair was bathed in the crimson. Her brown pupils sparkled and her face showed graceful features. It was Melissa Moretti!

“Klein, where have you been?” Melissa frowned and asked, wondering.

Not waiting for Klein to answer, she added another sentence. It was as if she was analyzing the cause and effect of the matter, providing a logical relationship to her conclusion. “I just got up, went to the washroom, and noticed that you were not at home.”

Klein had a wealth of experience in lying to parents. A thought flashed through his mind, and he quickly answered with a wry smile.

“After I woke up, I couldn’t sleep. I thought that instead of wasting my time, I should go and do some exercises. Therefore, I went out and ran a few laps. As you can see, I am sweating all over.”

He took off his coat, turned his body sideways, and pointed at the back of his shirt.

Melissa stood up and glanced at it casually. She pondered for a few seconds.

"Klein, in fact, you don’t have to be like this. Don’t give yourself too much pressure. You can definitely pass the interview at the University of Tengon. Even if you don't, eh, I mean ‘if’… you can always find something better.”

[I have not given any thoughts to the interview…] Klein nodded.

“I know.”

He did not mention that he had already received an “offer" and was in fact considering whether or not he should accept it.

Melissa took a deep look at him. She suddenly turned around, ran into the room, and took out a turtle-like item made up of gears, rusted iron, and springs.

She quickly wound up the spring and placed the item on the desk.

Ka, Ka Ka, Da, Da, Da, the “turtle” bounced and moved. It was very rhythmic and attention catching.

“Whenever I am troubled, I feel so much better watching it bounce and move. It makes you feel much more comfortable. I have experienced it many times and it is very effective! Klein, you should give it a try.” Melissa's eyes shone brightly.

Klein didn’t refuse his sister’s kindness, he placed his head closer to the “turtle” and observed it until it stopped moving. Then, he laughed.

"Simplicity and regularity can really help relaxation."

Not waiting for Melissa to continue, he pointed to the “turtle” and asked casually.

“Did you make it yourself? When did you assemble it? How come I wasn't aware?”

“I put it together with the unwanted materials from the school as well as the things I picked up from the roadside. It was only completed two days ago.” Melissa gave a nonchalant expression, but the corners of her mouth were a little curled.

“It’s amazing.” Klein praised from the bottom of his heart.

As a boy with poor mechanical skills, he couldn't even assemble a four-wheel toy car when he was a child.

Melissa lifted her chin slightly, her eyes were slightly bent, yet her tone was flat.

“It is just average.”

“Excessive modesty is bad for you.” Klein chuckled. “Is this a turtle?”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly froze. After a while, Melissa's voice came as soft as a feather.

“It is a human doll…”

[Human doll…]

… Klein smiled awkwardly and forced an explanation.

“The problem lies with the materials. That’s is why it is so rudimentary.”

Then, he shifted the topic.

“How come you are going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, isn’t there a toilet inside? Don't you always sleep until dawn?”

Melissa was stunned for a moment. It took a few seconds before she opened her mouth and tried to explain.

Just then, there was a violent sound of digestion coming from her stomach and abdomen.

“I, I will go to sleep again!”

Boom! She grabbed the turtle-like “doll”, sped back into the room, and closed the door.

[… Yesterday’s dinner was too good, she ate too much, and her stomach is not adapted…] Klein shook his head and smiled. He walked slowly to the desk and sat down on the chair in silence. As he watched the red moon drifting behind the dark clouds, he began to quietly evaluate the invitation from Dunn Smith.

The disadvantage of being a civilian staff of the Night Watcher team was very obvious.

As a transmigrator, as the initiator of the mysterious meeting, and as “The Fool”, he had a lot of secrets. It was risky to spend long periods of time under the eyes of the Night Watchers. Afterall, it was the team under the Church of the Goddess of the Night which specialized in dealing with supernatural events.

As long as he joined Dunn Smith, his goal would definitely be to become an Extraordinary. It would allow him to cover up the benefits of the “meeting”. However, his freedom would be restricted if he were to become a full member. Just as civilian staffs leaving Tengon needed to make a declaration, he would also not be able to go wherever he wanted to go. There would be many missed opportunities.

The Night Watcher was a strict and formal organization. Once there was a task, he would need to wait for the arrangements. He would have to accept the assignments and would not be able to refuse them.

Extraordinaries also had the risk of getting out of control.

Noting the disadvantages in mind, Klein started to consider the benefits.

[From the “luck conversion ritual” and other encounters, I can guess that I am not one of the lucky ones in the 80% mentioned by Dunn. There will inevitably be follow-ups of strange incidents. There will be many incoming dangers. The only ways to defend against them are either to become an Extraordinary or join the Night Watchers.

To become an Extraordinary, "meetings' alone are insufficient. While it is not problematic to lay hands on potion formulas, there are serious obstacles in getting the corresponding materials, mixing the potions, and learning about pieces of common knowledge of Extraordinaries in their daily practices. It is impossible to ask “Justice” and “The Hangman” everything, or exchange with them for materials. This will not only tarnish the image of “The Fool”, but also make them suspicious. Additionally, there is not so much time to communicate on the finer details. Lastly, the biggest problem is that I cannot offer anything that they are interested in.

In addition, material exchanges will leave traces of my real identity. At that time, it will be a huge problem if the “online disputes” turn into “offline conflicts”.

Joining the “Night Watchers” will inevitably expose me to the common senses and relevant channels of the mysterious world. It will allow me to accumulate enough useful relationships. Using this as a pivot to initiate “meetings”, I can make the best of the exchanges with “Justice” and “The Hanged Man”. The gains can feedback to improve my situation in real life and it can form a "virtual cycle" to obtain more resources.

Of course, I can also go to the 'Psychic Alchemists' group that was mentioned by Dunn, or similar organizations that have been suppressed by the major churches. However, becoming a member of them will also equate to losing one's freedom, and I will probably have to stay in fear all the time. The biggest problem is that I don't even know where to search for them. Even if I obtain the corresponding information from "The Hanged Man", making contacts can have life-threatening risks.

By becoming a civilian staff, it leaves opportunities for buffer and exit. The Night Watcher's identity can also be a good cover.

In the future, among the chiefs of the tribunal departments, who can imagine that I am a heresy, the hidden boss behind the secret organization?]

The dawn lights shone into the window, and the crimson blush disappeared. Klein stared at the golden sky and made up his mind.

[I will go to Dunn Smith today and become a civilian staff of the Night Watchers!]

“You didn’t sleep?” At this moment, Melissa got up again and pushed the door open. She was surprised to see her brother yawning beside the table.

“Thinking about something.” Klein smiled and relaxed.

Melissa thought for a moment.

“Whenever I meet a difficult decision, I will list the advantages and the disadvantages one by one. After the list is finished, you can compare it and you will get a 'hint' on what should be done."

“Good habit, I did the same.” Kleins smiled.

Melissa did a stretch and didn’t say much more. She took a few large, yellowish sheets of paper and washing items and headed to the public washroom.

After breakfast, Melissa left the house. Klein was not in a hurry to go out. Instead, he took a pleasant nap. It was because he was aware that almost all the pubs wouldn’t open for business in the morning.

At two in the afternoon, Klein smoothed the pleats of the top hat with a small brush. With a handkerchief, he removed the dirt to turn it clean and tidy. Then, he went out in formal attire, just as if he was going to an interview.

Besiki Street was a little far away. Klein was afraid to miss the “working hours” of the Night Watchers. Therefore, instead of walking, he waited for the arrival of the public carriage at the intersection of Iron Cross Street.

In the Kingdom of Ruen, there were two types of public carriages, the untracked and the tracked. The former consisted of two horses, it could seat twenty people factoring in the top of the carriage. It served only general routes, with no specific stations, and flexible operations. You could stop it whenever you want unless it was full.

The latter was operated by the Orbital Carriage Company. First, a railway-like track was laid on the main street. The horses moved on the inside and the wheels ran on the tracks. It was easy and labor-saving. Therefore, they could handle a larger double-decker carriage that sat up to 50 guests. The problem was that the routes were fixed, the stations were fixed, and it could not go to many places. It was a less flexible form of transport.

After ten minutes, the sounds of the wheels hitting the tracks appeared in the distance. Soon, a double-decker carriage stopped in front of the station at Iron Cross Street.

“To Besiki Street,” Klein said to the coachman.

“You have to go to Champagne Street, but when you get there, it is only ten minutes walk to Besiki Street.” The coachman explained the route.

“To Champagne Street then.” Klein nodded.

“It is more than 4 kilometers. 4 pence.” A young man with a clean face standing next to the coachman extended his hands.

He was the staff responsible for collecting money.

“Okay.” Klein took out four copper pennies from his pocket and handed it to the other party.

He walked into the carriage and noticed that there were not many passengers. There were quite a few vacancies on the first floor.

[There are only 3 pence left on me. Thus, I will have to walk back.] Klein pressed his hat and sat down firmly.

The gentlemen and ladies on this floor were mostly dressed in formal attire. There were also some people wearing work attires and reading newspapers leisurely. Almost no one was chatting and it was rather quiet.

Klein closed his eyes to recharge himself. He did not want to spend time looking at the coming and going of the passengers.

As the carriage passed one stop after another, he finally heard the words “Champagne Street”.

After getting off the carriage and asking for directions along the way, he soon reached Besiki Street and saw a pub with a brown and yellow hound logo.

Klein stretched out his arm and pushed forcefully. The heavy door slowly creaked open and the noises and heat wave rushed towards him.

Although it was only in the afternoon, there were already many customers in the pub. Some of them were temporary workers looking for opportunities, waiting to be hired. There were many others doing nothing, using alcohol to paralyze themselves.

The inside of the pub was quite dim. There were two large iron cages in the center. The lower parts of the cages were semi-buried into the ground without any gap. People held wooden wine glasses and surrounded them. They were talking loudly and sometimes they cursed and laughed.

Klein curiously glanced at it and discovered that there were two dogs in it. One was black and white, like the Huskies on Earth. The other was dark, had shiny furs, and was fierce looking.

“Do you want to bet? Doug has won eight games in a row!” A short man in a brown bonnet came close and pointed at the black dog.

Bet? Klein was stunned for a moment and he immediately realized.

“Dog fighting?”

At Hoey’s University, the aristocratic students and wealthy children would always ask him contemptuously and curiously, "Do the crude workers and the unemployed hooligans like to participate in boxing and gambling in the pubs? In addition to boxing and playing cards, do gambling activities include cockfighting and dog fighting?”

The short man smiled and said.

“Sir, we are civilized people. We will not do such indecent things.”

Having said that, he whispered. “Furthermore last year, laws were introduced to ban such activities…”

“So what are you betting on?” Klein was curious.

“To bet who is a better 'hunter'." Just as the short man finished, there was a commotion on the ground.

He turned his head and rubbed his hands in excitement.

“This game has started, you can’t bet now. Let’s wait for the next round.”

As Klein heard the words, he tipped his toes, raised his head, and glanced into the distance. He saw two brawny men dragging a sack each. They came to the iron cage, opened the “prison door” and dumped the things inside.

They were gray, foul animals!

Klein carefully observed and found that they were rats. Hundreds of rats!

The bottoms of the iron cages were deep underground and there were no gaps. While the rats were running around, they could not escape.

At this time, the chains of the two dogs were untied as the cage door closed.

“Woof!” The black dog rushed over and killed a rat.

The black and white dog had a confused look on its face, then it started to play with the rats in excitement.

People standing around were either holding glasses of alcohol, gazing attentively, or shouting loudly.

“Bite it! Kill it!”

“Doug, Doug!”

[What the ***? Dogs catching rats?… ]Klein started to recognize the situation and twitched the corner of his mouth.

The gambling event here was actually betting which dog could catch the most rats…

[Maybe you can even bet how many rats are caught…

No wonder there are people buying live rats on the Iron Cross Street…

This is really unique…]

Klein shook his head and stepped back, he moved around the crowd of alcoholic people and came to the front of the bar.

"New customer?" The bartender looked up from the glass that he was cleaning. "One penny for a cup of rye beer, two pence for Enmalt beer, 4 pence for Southville beer, or would you like a cup of purely brewed malt Langi?"

“I am looking for Mr. Wright,” Klein was straight to the point.

The bartender whistled and shouted to the side.

“Old man, someone is looking for you.”

“Hey, who is that…” A vague voice came out, and a drunk old man stood up from behind the bar.

He blinked and examined Klein.

“Young man, are you looking for me?”

“Mr. Wright, I want to hire a mercenary squad to do a mission,” Klein replied in accordance with Dunn’s instructions.

“A mercenary squad? Are you living in an adventure story? We haven’t had that for a long time!” The bartender interrupted with a chuckle.

Wright was silent for a few seconds.

“Who told you to come here?”

“Dunn, Dunn Smith,” Klein answered honestly.

Wright immediately gave a laughter.

“I get it. In fact… mercenary squads still exist. They have just changed their forms and their names to something closer to the current society. You can find one on the 2nd floor of No. 36, Zouteland Street.”

“Thank you.” Klein sincerely thanked the old man. He turned and squeezed his way out of the bar.

Just as he was exiting the door, the customers around him suddenly quieted down to only a series of whispers.

“Doug has lost…”

” Lost…”

Klein smiled and shook his head in amusement. He left the bar quickly and asked for the directions to the nearby Zouteland Street.

“30,32,34…here.” He counted the house number and walked up the stairs.

Turning around the corner and stepping up the stairs, he saw a vertical sign and the current name of the so-called mercenary squad.

“Blackthorn Security Company.”

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