Chapter 20: 20. Chapter 20: Forgetful Dunn (Third update, requesting recommendation votes)

Chapter 20: Forgetful Dunn (Third update, requesting recommendation votes)

"Alright." Klein bowed slightly, taking off his modest top hat and placing it back on his head, while his mind drifted toward imagining the appearance of the Sealed Artifact "0-08."

A seemingly ordinary quill pen?

It writes without ink?

Then what is its true function? To the point where it must be kept highly confidential and deemed "extremely dangerous"?

It couldn't be some kind of causality pen that writes down how someone dies, could it?

No, that would be too heaven-defying; if it were, there would be no need for Ince Zangwill to be on the run...

Just as Klein turned to leave, Dunn Smith suddenly called out to him from behind

"Wait a moment, I forgot something."

"What is it?" Klein turned back, his eyes full of confusion.

Dunn put away his pocket watch and smiled.

"Remember to find the accountant, Mrs. Orianna, later to request an advance on four weeks' salary—a total of 12 pounds. After that, you will only collect half your salary each week until it is fully repaid."

"That's too much, it's not necessary. It can be less," Klein said instinctively.

He didn't oppose the advance—after all, he didn't even have enough for a public carriage ride back—but receiving a massive sum of 12 pounds all at once still made him feel a bit uneasy.

"No, it is necessary." Dunn shook his head with a smile. "Think about it. Do you want to continue living in your current apartment? You even have to share a washroom with several other households. Even if you don't consider yourself, you must consider the ladies. And besides..."

Seeing Klein nod in agreement, he paused, smiled as he appraised the other's clothing, and said meaningfully

"And you also need a walking stick, and you'll need to buy new formal wear."

Klein froze for a second before realizing the implication. His face flushed slightly because the set he was wearing was cheap.

Normally, a top hat should be made of silk, costing 5 to 6 shillings; a bowtie, 3 shillings; a silver-inlaid walking stick, 7 to 8 shillings; a shirt, 3 shillings; trousers, a vest, and a tailcoat would cost around 7 pounds; leather boots, 9 to 10 shillings. All in all, a complete set would total over 8 pounds and 7 shillings. Of course, a decent gentleman would also need a watch chain, a pocket watch, and a wallet.

Back then, the original owner and his brother Benson had lived frugally to save up a sum of money. They went to a clothing store to inquire, but they were so intimidated by the prices that they left dejectedly without even attempting to haggle. Instead, they had cobbled together a set each from cheap shops near East End Street, costing less than two pounds in total.

It was because of this incident that the original owner's impression of clothing prices was extremely profound.

"O-okay," Klein replied with a slight stutter.

Like the original owner, he was a man who cared about his dignity.

Dunn took out his pocket watch again, opened it, and glanced at it.

"Or perhaps you should go to Mrs. Orianna first? I don't know how long you'll be staying with Old Neil. If you wait a little longer, Mrs. Orianna will be heading home."

"Alright." Feeling the weight of his poverty, Klein offered no objection.

Dunn walked back to the desk and pulled one of the hanging ropes.

"I'll have Roselle take you."

As the rope moved and the gears turned, Roselle, who was in the reception hall of the "Blackthorn Security Company," heard the light ring of the bell hanging nearby. She hurriedly stood up and carefully walked downstairs.

Before long, she appeared before Klein.

Dunn Smith said with a humorous smile

"I hope I didn't disturb your rest? Hmm, take Moretti to Mrs. Orianna."

Roselle pursed her lips silently and answered "pleasantly"

"Yes, Captain."

"That's it?" At this moment, Klein blurted out in surprise.

To go to "Finance" to advance salary, didn't the Captain need to sign a slip or write something?

"And?" Dunn asked back in confusion.

"I mean, to go to Mrs. Orianna for a salary advance, don't you need to sign for it?" Klein asked in the simplest terms possible.

"Oh, no, it's not necessary. Roselle can vouch for you," Dunn Smith replied, pointing to the brown-haired girl.

*Captain, our "financial management" almost has no management at all...* Klein suppressed the urge to complain and followed Roselle out of the room.

Just then, he heard Dunn call out once more

"Wait, one more thing."

*Can we please finish everything in one go?* Klein turned back with a smiling face.

"Please, go ahead."

Dunn pressed his temple and said

"When you go to Old Neil's, remember to collect ten rounds of 'Demon Hunter Bullets'."

"Me? Demon Hunter Bullets?" Klein asked in surprise.

"Isn't Welch's revolver with you? There's no need to hand it in." Dunn put a hand in his pocket. "Paired with 'Demon Hunter Bullets,' if you encounter any truly bizarre dangers, you'll be able to protect yourself. Er, at the very least, it will give you courage."

*You didn't need to add that last half-sentence...* Klein was just worrying about such matters, so he answered without hesitation

"Alright, I'll remember!"

"In that case, I'll need to write a formal document. Wait a moment." Dunn Smith sat down, picked up a dark red absorbent fountain pen, and scribbled a "slip," signed it, and stamped it.

"Thank you, Captain," Klein said sincerely as he took it.

He stepped back slowly and turned around again.

"Wait."

Dunn called out yet again.

...*Captain, you look to be only in your thirties, why do you show signs of premature aging?* Klein forced a smile and turned back.

"Is there anything else?"

"I just remembered, you haven't practiced shooting, so holding 'Demon Hunter Bullets' won't be of much use. How about this: every day, you'll also collect thirty rounds of normal bullets. Take the opportunity when you're out to go to the underground shooting range at No. 3 Zotlan Street. Most of it belongs to the police department, but there is a section specifically for us Nighthawks. Oh, right, you also need to get a badge from Old Neil, otherwise, you won't be able to enter the range." Dunn slapped his forehead, took the "slip" back from Klein, scribbled in the other details, and added another stamp.

"Good marksmen are made by feeding them bullets. Don't underestimate it." Dunn handed the revised "note" back to Klein.

"I understand." Klein, fearing danger, wished he could go today.

He walked out two steps, then suddenly turned halfway with caution, speaking deliberately

"Captain, there's nothing else, right?"

"Nothing else," Dunn nodded affirmatively.

Klein breathed a sigh of relief and walked all the way to the door, wanting to turn back once more to ask, "Are you sure there's nothing else?"

He resisted the urge and finally "successfully" left the "Duty Room."

"The Captain is always like this, often forgetting things," Roselle whispered disparagingly as she walked beside him. "My grandmother has a better memory than him. Of course, he only forgets small things. Hmm, small things. Klein, I'll call you Klein from now on. Mrs. Orianna is a kind person and very easy to get along with. Her father was a clockmaker with excellent craftsmanship..."

Listening to the brown-haired girl's rambling chatter, Klein stepped onto the stairs and returned to the upper floor, where he met Mrs. Orianna in the outermost office on the right.

She was a black-haired lady wearing a ruffled long dress. She appeared to be in her thirties, with fashionable curly hair and clear, smiling emerald eyes, looking elegant and refined.

After listening to Roselle relay Dunn Smith's arrangements, Orianna took out a notepad and wrote an advance slip

"Sign here. Do you have a stamp? If not, just leave a thumbprint."

"Alright." Klein completed the procedure with practiced ease.

Orianna took out a brass key, opened the safe in the room, and while counting the gold pounds, said with a smile

"You're quite lucky; there's enough cash today. By the way, Klein, were you invited by the Captain because you were involved in a supernatural incident and possess special talents?"

"Yes, Madam, your intuition is very accurate." Klein did not hold back his praise.

Orianna took out four banknotes with a light gray base and dark black patterns, relocked the safe, and said with a smile as she turned around

"Because I was the same way."

"Is that so?" Klein expressed appropriate surprise.

"Do you know about the serial killer who shocked the entire Tingen City sixteen years ago?" Orianna handed the four gold pounds to Klein.

"...I remember! The 'Bloody Butcher' who killed five young girls, some by taking their hearts and others by taking their stomachs? When I was little, my mother often used that story to scare my younger sister," Klein said after a brief thought.

He took the banknotes and found they were two 5-pound notes and two 1-pound notes, both with gray bases and black patterns, with complex patterns and special anti-counterfeit watermarks on the corners.

The former was slightly larger, featuring the direct ancestor of King George III of the Loen Kingdom, Henry Augustus I, in the center. He wore a white wig, had a rounded face, narrow eyes, and an exceptionally serious expression, yet in Klein's eyes, he possessed an indescribable sense of familiarity.

This was a 5-pound note!

Equivalent to nearly four weeks of Benson's salary!

The center of the 1-pound note featured George III's father, the former King William Augustus VI. This "Strong One" had a thick beard and a resolute gaze; during his reign, the Loen Kingdom broke free from old shackles and once again rose to the top among the nations.

*These are all "good kings"...* Klein could faintly smell the refreshing scent of banknote ink.

"Yes, if the Nighthawks hadn't arrived in time, I would have been the sixth victim." A trace of lingering fear remained in Mrs. Orianna's tone, even though the incident had passed over a decade ago.

"It sounds like that serial killer—no, that Butcher—was a Beyonder?" Klein carefully folded the banknotes and placed them in his inner formal pocket, then patted the area several times to confirm.

"Yes." Mrs. Orianna nodded heavily. "He had killed many people before that. The reason he was caught that time was because he was preparing a demonic ritual."

"No wonder he wanted different internal organs... My apologies, Madam, for making you recall unpleasant things," Klein said sincerely.

Orianna chuckled. "I stopped being afraid long ago... I was studying accounting at a commercial school back then, and after that, I came here. Alright, I won't delay you further; you still have to find Old Neil."

"Goodbye, Madam." Klein tipped his hat in greeting and exited the office. Before going downstairs, he couldn't help but feel his inner pocket again to confirm the 12 pounds were still there.

He turned the corner at the intersection and proceeded to the right, soon seeing a half-open iron door.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

Amidst the knocking, an aged voice came from within

"Come in."

Klein pushed open the iron door and found a narrow room that could only fit a table and two chairs.

On the far side of the room was another tightly locked iron door, and behind the table, an elderly man with white hair wearing a classical black robe was reading several yellowed pages by the light of a gas lamp.

He looked up toward the door and said

"You are Klein Moretti? Little Roselle just came by and said you are very polite."

"Miss Roselle is indeed a friendly person. Good afternoon, Mr. Neil." Klein tipped his hat.

"Sit." Neil pointed to a silver-inlaid tin canister with intricate patterns on the table. "Would you like a cup of hand-ground coffee?"

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth were deep, and his dark red eyes were somewhat cloudy.

"It seems you haven't even had any?" Klein keenly noticed that Neil's ceramic cup contained only plain water.

"Haha, it's a habit of mine. I don't drink coffee after 3 PM." Neil explained with a smile.

"Why?" Klein asked casually.

Neil looked into Klein's eyes with a smile and said

"I'm afraid I won't sleep well at night, and if I don't, I might hear some inexplicable whispers."

...Klein suddenly didn't know how to respond, so he changed the subject

"Mr. Neil, which literature and classics should I be reading?"

As he spoke, he took out the "slip" written by Dunn Smith.

"Things related to history—complex, fragmented things. To be honest, I have been trying to learn, but I can only grasp the basics. Everything else is too troublesome: things like people's diaries from that time, popular books, epitaphs, and so on, and so on," Neil complained. "For example, these in my hands require more detailed historical records to deduce their specific contents."

"Why?" Klein was a bit confused.

Neil pointed to the yellowed pages in front of him and said

"This is a lost diary of Roselle Gustav before his death. To keep it secret, he recorded everything using strange symbols he invented himself."

*Emperor Roselle? A predecessor who traveled through time?* Klein froze for a moment, then listened intently.

"Because many people believe he didn't truly die but instead became a hidden deity, there have always been cultists worshipping him performing various rituals in an attempt to gain power. We occasionally encounter such things and obtain original or transcribed notes." Neil shook his head. "To this day, no one has been able to decipher the true meaning of those special symbols, so the 'Church' allows us to keep copies for research, hoping for an unexpected surprise."

Speaking to this point, Neil revealed a proud smile

"I have already deciphered a few of those symbols and confirmed they are expressions of numbers. Look, what have I found? This is actually a diary! Hmm, I hope to compare the historical events of different dates at that time—especially events surrounding the Emperor—with the records in the diary for those days, thereby deciphering more symbols."

"A genius approach, right?" The white-haired, deeply wrinkled old gentleman looked at Klein with bright eyes.

Klein nodded in agreement

"Yes."

"Haha, you can take a look too. You'll have to start helping me with this kind of work tomorrow." Old Mr. Neil pushed the yellowed pages toward Klein.

Klein turned them upright, and with just one glance, he froze in place!

Although those "symbols" were copied quite poorly and were somewhat deformed, he could absolutely not mistake them...

Because this was the script he was most familiar with

Chinese!

And it was even Simplified Chinese!

PS: Requesting recommendation votes~

(End of Chapter)