Chapter 25: 25. Chapter 25: The Church

Chapter 25: The Church

As Azik muttered to himself, he subconsciously glanced at Quentin Cohen, seemingly seeking a hint or inspiration.

Cohen, whose eye sockets were sunken and whose eyes were a deep blue, shook his head without hesitation

"I have no impression of it whatsoever."

"...Alright, perhaps it is just a similarity in roots." Azik lowered his left hand and gave a self-deprecating smile.

Klein felt slightly disappointed by this result, but he couldn't help but add a sentence

"Tutor, Mr. Azik, as you know, I am very interested in exploring and reconstructing the history of the Fourth Epoch. If you happen to remember anything or obtain any other materials, could you please write to me?"

"No problem." Because of today's events, the silver-haired senior Associate Professor Cohen was quite satisfied with Klein.

Azik also nodded in agreement

"Is your address still the same as before?"

"For now, yes, but I will be moving soon. I will write to let you know when the time comes," Klein replied respectfully.

Senior Associate Professor Cohen tapped his black cane. "It is indeed time to move to a better environment."

At this moment, Klein glanced at the newspaper in Azik's hand and said deliberately

"Tutor, Mr. Azik, regarding the matter of Welch and Naya, what does the newspaper say? I only know a little from the investigating police."

Just as Azik was about to answer, the senior Associate Professor Cohen—whose wrinkles were not yet many—suddenly pulled out a pocket watch by following the gold chain on his black tailcoat.

*Click!*

He pressed it open, took a look, and tapped his cane forward.

"The meeting is about to start, Azik. We cannot delay. Give the newspaper to Moretti."

"Alright." Azik handed the finished newspaper to Klein. "We have to head upstairs. Remember to write. Mine and Cohen's addresses haven't changed; it's still the History Department office at Hoy University, haha."

He turned with a smile and left the room with Cohen.

Klein tipped his hat in a salute, watched the two gentlemen depart, and then bid farewell to the owner of the office, Haven Stone, before walking slowly down the corridor and out the door of the gray three-story building.

In the sunlight, he lifted his cane, unfolded the newspaper, and saw the masthead

"Tingen Morning Post."

There were truly many kinds of newspapers and magazines in Tingen... Morning Posts, Evening Posts, The Honest Man, Backlund Daily, Tasock News, Family Magazine, Story Review... Klein recalled them randomly, and seven or eight names surfaced in his mind. Of course, some did not belong to the local area and were "distributed" via steam trains.

In today's era of increasingly advanced industrial paper and printing, the price of a newspaper had dropped to 1 penny, and as a result, its coverage was becoming broader and broader.

Klein didn't read the other content carefully and quickly found the report on the "Burglary and Murder Case" in the "News Section"

"...According to the police department, the scene at Mr. Welch's home was horrific. All gold, jewelry, banknotes, and anything valuable or easy to carry were missing; not even a copper penny was left behind. There is reason to believe this was the work of a group of cruel and vicious criminals who would not hesitate to kill innocent witnesses, such as Mr. Welch and Ms. Naya."

"This is a violation of the laws of the Kingdom! This is a provocation against public safety! No one wishes to encounter such an event! Of course, the good news is that the police department has identified the culprits and captured the primary suspect. We will provide follow-up reports as soon as possible."

"Reporter, John Browning."

*They processed and covered it up...* Klein nodded imperceptibly as he walked along the tree-lined path.

He flipped through the newspaper casually, reading other news and serialized stories as he strolled.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as if fine needles were pricking him.

*Is someone watching me? Scrutinizing me? Monitoring me?*

As these thoughts arose one after another, Klein had a vague realization.

Back on Earth, he had also felt an invisible gaze and eventually discovered its source, but never had his reaction been this clear, nor his "conclusion" this definite!

The same thing happened in the memory fragments of the original owner!

Was it the transmigration, or did that strange "luck-changing ritual" strengthen my "sixth sense"?

Resisting the urge to search for the watcher, Klein followed the patterns of the novels, movies, and TV shows he had seen. He slowly slowed his pace, folded the newspaper, and gazed toward the Hoy River.

Immediately following that, he turned his head bit by bit as if admiring the scenery, and then turned naturally, taking in his surroundings.

Aside from the trees, the lawns, and the students passing in the distance, there was no one here.

However, Klein was certain that someone was still watching him!

This...

Klein's heart rate quickened, and his blood surged with heavy thuds.

He unfolded the newspaper to partially cover his face, fearing that someone might notice his abnormal expression.

At the same time, he gripped his cane, prepared to draw a gun.

One step, two steps, three steps—Klein moved forward slowly, just as before.

The feeling of being peered at and scrutinized remained, but no danger suddenly erupted.

Walking the tree-lined path with a slightly stiff body, he reached the public carriage waiting point and luckily found one arriving just in time.

"Iron... Zote... no, Champagne Street." Klein repeatedly negated his own thoughts.

He had initially intended to go straight home, but he feared leading the unknown watcher—whose purpose and intent were unclear—to his apartment. Next, he thought of going to Zotlan Street to seek help from the "Nighthawks" or his colleagues, but he worried that doing so would alert the enemy and cause him to expose himself prematurely. Thus, he had to pick a random location.

"6 pence," the conductor answered familiarly.

Klein had not brought gold pounds out with him today; he had placed them in his usual hiding spot and only took out two shillings in banknotes. Since he had spent the same amount when he arrived, he had exactly 1 shilling and 6 pence left. He pulled out all his coins and gave them to the conductor.

Once on the carriage, he found a seat. As the door closed, Klein felt that the unsettling sensation of being watched finally vanished!

He exhaled slowly, feeling his hands and feet trembling slightly.

*What should I do?*

*What should I do next?*

Klein stared out the carriage window, struggling to think of a way.

*Without knowing the watcher's purpose, assume malice first!*

Ideas surfaced only to be rejected by Klein one by one. Having never experienced anything like this, it took him several full minutes to find a line of thought.

*I must notify the Nighthawks. Only they can truly resolve this trouble!*

*But I can't just go there directly; that would expose me. Perhaps that is exactly what the other party wants...*

Following this logic, Klein crudely formulated one plan after another, and his thoughts gradually became clear.

*Whew!*

He exhaled a breath of stale air, regained basic composure, and began to seriously observe the scenery rushing past the window.

Until the carriage arrived at Champagne Street, no accident occurred. But the moment Klein pushed the door open to get off, that unsettling feeling of being stared at returned immediately!

He pretended to notice nothing, took his newspaper, gripped his cane, and walked slowly toward Zotlan Street.

However, he did not enter that street. Instead, he detoured to the back, to Red Moon Street, where there was a beautiful white square and a cathedral with a pointed spire!

St. Selena's Cathedral!

The headquarters of the Church of the Evernight Goddess in Tingen!

As a believer, it was not at all strange to come here on a day off to participate in Mass and pray.

This cathedral possessed a distinct Earth-like Gothic style. It was overall black, with a high, mottled bell tower on the front facade, situated atop a massive central buttress between red and blue checkered windows, piercing the clouds.

Klein stepped into the cathedral and walked along the aisle toward the Great Prayer Hall. Along the way, narrow high windows inlaid with blue and red patterns allowed slivers of colored light to filter in—blue so dark it was almost black, and red like the moon—making the surroundings exceptionally dim.

That feeling of being watched vanished again. Klein's expression remained normal, showing no joy, as he arrived at the entrance of the open Great Prayer Hall.

There were no high windows here; the deep darkness was the protagonist. But behind the arched altar, on the wall directly facing the entrance, there were about twenty or thirty fist-sized circular holes that pierced through to the outside, allowing brilliant, pure sunlight to shine in, condensed and luminous.

It was like a pedestrian in the night suddenly looking up to see the starry sky—seeing brilliant lights that were so sublime, so pure, and so holy.

Even though he had always believed that gods could be studied and understood, Klein could not help but lower his head.

Amidst the bishop's low and gentle sermon, he walked quietly along the aisle separating the left and right seats, found an unoccupied spot near the walkway, and slowly sat down.

Leaning his cane against the back of the chair in front of him, Klein took off his top hat and placed it on his lap along with the newspaper. He then clasped his hands together, resting them against his lowered forehead.

Throughout the process, he acted slowly and orderly, as if he had truly come to pray.

Klein closed his eyes and listened quietly to the bishop's voice in the dark

"They are naked, without clothing or food, unprotected in the cold."

"They are drenched by heavy rain, and because there is no place to take shelter, they cling to the rock."

"They are mothers whose children have been taken, they are orphans who have lost hope, they are the poor who have been driven from the righteous path."

"The Night has not abandoned them; she has granted them her grace."

... (Note 1)

The echoes overlapped, sinking into his ears. Klein's vision was a void of darkness, and his soul felt as if it were being cleansed.

He calmly experienced these words until the bishop completed the sermon and ended the Mass.

The bishop opened the door to the adjacent confessional, and gentlemen and ladies began to line up.

Klein opened his eyes, put on his hat, picked up his cane and newspaper, and rose to join the orderly queue.

After more than twenty minutes, it was finally his turn.

Stepping inside and closing the door behind him, darkness enveloped Klein once more.

"Child, what would you like to say?" The bishop's voice came from behind the wooden partition.

Klein took the badge of "Special Operations Department, Seventh Group" from his pocket and passed it to the bishop through the gap.

"Someone is following me. I want to find Dunn Smith." As if colored by the gloom, his tone also became soft.

The bishop took the badge and, after a few seconds of silence, said

"To the right of the confessional entrance, go to the end. There is a hidden door beside it. Once you enter, someone will guide you."

As he spoke, he pulled a rope inside the room, allowing a certain priest to hear the ringing of a bell.

Klein took back his badge, removed his hat, pressed it to his chest, bowed slightly, and then turned around to push the door open and exit.

After confirming that the feeling of being watched did not reappear, he put his black half-top hat back on. With no extra expression on his face, he gripped his cane and turned right, walking all the way to the side of the arched altar.

On the side wall, he found the hidden door, opened it silently, and slipped inside.

The hidden door closed quietly. A middle-aged man wearing a black priestly robe appeared in the glow of a gas lamp before Klein's eyes.

"What is the matter?" the middle-aged priest asked briefly.

Klein presented the badge and repeated what he had just said to the bishop.

The middle-aged priest asked no more; he turned around and walked forward in silence.

Klein nodded, adjusted his hat, took his black cane, and followed quietly behind him.

Roselle had said that at the crossroads leading to the "Channis Gate," turning left would lead to St. Selena's Cathedral.

(Note 1: Adapted from the Book of Job, Chapter 24 of the Old Testament.)

(End of Chapter)