Chapter 12: Visiting Again

Chapter 12: Another Visit

"Sis, can we not bring up things that are better left unsaid..." Klein muttered to himself, feeling his head start to throb again.

The knowledge forgotten by the original owner was not exactly small, and it certainly wasn't insignificant. With the interview coming up the day after tomorrow, there was no time to catch up...

Besides, he had been dragged into a bizarre and terrifying incident; how could he possibly have the heart to "review"...

After brushing his sister off with a few words, Klein began to pretend to read. Melissa pulled up a chair, sat beside him, and began doing her homework by the light of the gas lamp.

The atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. By nearly eleven o'clock, the siblings wished each other goodnight and went to their respective beds.

…………

Thump!

Thump, thump!

A series of knocks sounded, and Klein woke from his dream.

He glanced at the morning light outside the window, his head feeling slightly muddled as he rolled over and sat up.

"Who is it?"

What time is it? Why didn't Melissa wake me up?

"It's me, Dunn Smith," a calm male voice replied from outside the door.

Dunn Smith? I don't know him... Klein shook his head, got out of bed, and walked toward the door.

He pulled the door open and saw the police officer with the gray eyes from yesterday.

"Has something happened?" Klein asked, feeling guarded.

The gray-eyed officer replied with a serious expression

"We found a carriage driver who confirmed that on the 27th—the day Mr. Welch and Ms. Naya died—you went to Mr. Welch's residence, and it was Mr. Welch who paid your fare."

Klein froze for a moment, feeling not a shred of panic or guilt at having a lie exposed.

Because he hadn't been lying at all; in fact, he felt that the evidence provided by the gray-eyed officer, Dunn Smith, was exactly as he had expected.

On June 27th, the original owner had indeed gone to Welch's residence, and on the night he returned, he had committed suicide—exactly the same as Welch and Naya!

Klein opened his mouth and gave a wry smile

"That isn't strong enough evidence to directly prove that I had anything to do with the deaths of Welch and Naya. Honestly, I would also like to know what happened and figure out what my two poor friends encountered. But, but, I really can't remember. I have almost completely forgotten what I did on the 27th. You might not believe it, but I only managed to guess that I might have gone to Welch's residence by relying on my own notes."

"Good psychological composure," the gray-eyed officer, Dunn Smith, nodded without anger or a smile.

"You should be able to tell that I'm being sincere," Klein looked directly into the man's eyes.

Everything I said is the truth—well, at least a part of the truth!

Dunn Smith did not respond immediately. His gaze swept around the room before he said slowly

"Mr. Welch lost a revolver. I think I should be able to find it here, right, Mr. Klein?"

As expected... Klein finally figured out the origin of the revolver. Thoughts raced through his mind like lightning, and he made a decision in an instant.

He half-raised his hands, stepped back step by step to clear the way, and then pointed his chin toward the bunk bed

"On the back of the bed board."

He didn't specify which bunk, because no normal person would hide something on the back of the top bunk's board; that would make it immediately obvious to any visitor.

The gray-eyed officer, Dunn, didn't move forward. He twitched the corner of his mouth and said

"Nothing else you want to add?"

Klein answered without hesitation

"Yes!"

"I woke up in the middle of the night the night before last and found myself slumped over my desk. Beside me was the revolver, and there were bullets in the corner. It looked like I had attempted suicide, but perhaps I was inexperienced, had never used a gun before, or lost my nerve at the last moment. In any case, the bullet didn't achieve the intended effect. My head is still intact, and I've lived until now."

"And from that moment on, I forgot some memories, including what I did at Welch's residence on the 27th and what I saw. I am not lying; I really don't remember."

To clear his name and resolve the bizarre incident that had latched onto him, Klein revealed almost everything, save for his transmigration and the "gathering."

Furthermore, he had carefully worded his statement so that every sentence could withstand scrutiny. For instance, he didn't say the bullet missed his head, only that it didn't achieve the intended effect and that his head remained intact afterward.

To others, these two phrases meant almost the same thing, but in reality, they were completely different.

The gray-eyed officer, Dunn, listened quietly and then spoke in a slow, steady voice

"This aligns with the development I inferred, and it also fits the hidden logic of similar past events. Of course, I don't know how you survived."

"As long as you believe me, that's fine. I don't know how I survived either," Klein breathed a slight sigh of relief.

"However," Dunn threw in a transition, "my belief is useless. You are currently a high-level suspect. You must be cleared by an 'expert' to confirm that you have truly forgotten the encounter, or that you truly did not directly cause the deaths of Mr. Welch and Ms. Naya."

He coughed, his expression turning serious

"Mr. Klein, please cooperate with the investigation and come back to the police station with us. This will likely take two to three days, provided you are indeed innocent."

"The expert has arrived?" Klein asked, stunned.

Didn't they say it would be two days?

"She arrived earlier than we expected," Dunn turned his body to the side, signaling for Klein to head out.

"I'll leave a note," Klein requested.

Benson was still away on business, and Melissa had gone to school. He could only leave a message telling them he was involved in a matter regarding Welch and asking them not to worry.

Dunn nodded, not particularly bothered

"Go ahead."

Klein returned to the desk, and while finding paper to write on, he began to think about what to do next.

Honestly, he really didn't want to meet that expert. After all, he was still hiding a much bigger secret.

In a world with the Seven Churches, and given that Emperor Roselle—a suspected "predecessor"—had been assassinated, "transmigration" would most likely land him in the Inquisition or before a tribunal!

But without weapons, combat skills, or supernatural powers, he was no match for professional police officers. Not to mention, there were several of Dunn's subordinates standing in the dim light outside the door.

If they drew their guns and fired a volley, he would be done for!

"Hah, one step at a time." Klein left the note, grabbed his keys, and followed Dunn out of the room.

In the dim corridor, four policemen in black coats with white grids stood on either side, looking very alert.

*Tap, tap, tap.* Klein followed behind Dunn, stepping down the wooden stairs one by one, occasionally hearing the creaking sounds.

A four-wheeled, single-horse carriage was parked outside the apartment building. The side of its cabin was painted with the police system's emblem—"crossed swords surrounding a crown." The surroundings were as bustling and noisy as every other morning.

"Get in," Dunn signaled for Klein to go first.

Just as Klein was about to step forward, an oyster vendor suddenly grabbed a customer, accusing him of being a thief.

The two began to scuffle, startling the horses, and the area instantly descended into chaos.

A chance!

Klein didn't have time to think. He bent over and lunged forward, diving into the crowd.

Pushing and dodging, he ran frantically toward the other end of the street.

Under the current circumstances, to avoid "meeting" the expert, his only option was to go to the docks outside the city, take a boat down the Tussock River, and flee to the capital, Backlund. It was densely populated and easy to hide in.

Of course, he could also stow away on a steam train, head east to the nearest port of Enmat, and take a sea route to Pritz before heading to Backlund.

Before long, Klein reached the end of the street and turned into Iron Cross Street, where several hireable carriages were parked.

"To the docks outside the city." Klein braced his hands and jumped onto one of them.

He had thought it through clearly: he would intentionally mislead the pursuing police, and once the carriage had traveled a certain distance, he would jump off!

"Alright." The driver pulled the reins.

*Clatter, clatter, clatter.* The carriage pulled away from Iron Cross Street.

Just as Klein prepared to jump, he suddenly noticed the carriage turning onto a different road—not the one leading out of the city!

"Where are you going?" Klein asked, stunned, the words slipping out.

"To Welch's residence..." the carriage driver replied, his tone devoid of any inflection.

What? In Klein's astonishment, the driver turned his body, revealing deep, cold, gray eyes. It was none other than Officer Dunn Smith!

"You!" Klein felt an inexplicable terror, and suddenly, the world began to spin. He sat up with a jolt.

Sat up? Klein looked around in confusion, discovering the red moon was high in the sky, and the room was draped in "light gauze."

He reached up to touch his forehead; it was damp and cold, covered in a cold sweat. His back felt the same.

"Had a nightmare..." Klein exhaled slowly. "Thank goodness, thank goodness..."

He felt that he had been quite clear-headed in his dream, even able to think calmly, which was rather strange.

After calming down a little, Klein checked his pocket watch and saw it was only past two in the morning. He quietly got out of bed, intending to go to the communal washroom to splash his face and relieve his full bladder.

He twisted the door open and stepped into the dim hallway. Guided by the faint, indistinct moonlight, he walked lightly toward the communal washroom.

Suddenly, he saw a figure standing in front of the window at the end of the corridor.

The figure was wearing black, coat-like attire that was shorter than a robe but longer than a formal suit.

The figure was half-merged into the darkness, bathed in the cold, crimson moonlight.

The figure slowly turned around, their eyes deep, gray, and cold.

Dunn Smith!