Chapter 21: An Old Friend in a Foreign Land

Chapter Twenty-One
An Old Friend in a Foreign Land

For an instant, Klein almost thought he had transmigrated back. But the elegant gas lamp enclosed in a brass lattice before him, and Old Neil’s silver-inlaid tin can for hand-ground coffee, made him recognize reality.

So Emperor Roselle, this transmigrating predecessor, really was a compatriot?

He had used simplified Chinese, a script that did not exist in this world, to record his secrets?

Carrying an indescribable feeling—like meeting an old friend in a distant land—Klein rapidly scanned the three pages of manuscript in his hands.

“November 18. Truly a marvelous thing. A wild experiment and an accidental mistake led me to discover a poor fellow trapped in storms and lost in the depths of darkness. He can only draw a little closer to the real world during the full moon each month, yet still cannot transmit his cries inside. He is fortunate. He met me, the protagonist of this age.”

“After writing the paragraph above, I read it through myself and suddenly felt a bit melancholy. Even when writing in Chinese characters, I have unconsciously acquired a strong translated tone. Forty years pass in the blink of an eye. My memories of the past truly seem like a dream now.”

“January 1, 1184. A splendid New Year’s ball. Madame Flonar is truly a stunner.”

“January 2. The gentlemen of my diplomatic committee are all donkeys!”

“January 3. My choice back then was far too hasty. Looking at it now, whether Apprentice, Seer, or Marauder, any of them would have been far better. Unfortunately, there is no turning back.”

“January 4. Why are my children so stupid? I have said it ten thousand times: do not be fooled by those charlatans. No, perhaps the charlatans themselves have been fooled as well. The key to potions is not mastery, but digestion! Not excavation, but acting! And the name of the potion is not merely its core symbol; it is also a concrete image, and even more than that, it is the ‘key’ to digestion!”

“September 22. The alliance against me is forming. From Feysac in the north, Loen in the east, to Feynapotter in the south, my enemies have finally come together. But I do not fear them. I will use facts to tell them that the gap in weapons and vision cannot be made up by numbers or low-sequence Beyonders. Besides, it is not as if I have none under me. And at the high end—heh. Have they forgotten who I am?”

“September 23. I have lost contact with the ship searching for the ‘Land Abandoned by God.’ I should consider inventing the wireless telegraph. I only hope it will not be affected by storms.”

“September 24. Miss Ithaca is more enchanting than Madame Flonar. Or perhaps I am simply longing for youth.”

Because these were copied manuscripts, and because of the complexity of Chinese characters, each character had been enlarged quite a lot. As a result, there was not much content on each page. For preservation and research, even the backs had been left blank. Yet even so, Klein’s heart surged as he read, especially when Emperor Roselle described the key to potions. The words gave him the wild joy of finding a path through a problem, of grasping a priceless secret.

“Perhaps this will be the guiding light of my future Beyonder pathway!”

“Mm. The three pages are diary entries from different periods. It can be seen that Emperor Roselle only had the habit of writing the year at the beginning of a year. The November and September pages cannot be dated for now…”

“Who was the poor fellow he discovered?”

“What exactly do digestion and acting mean?”

“Where is the Land Abandoned by God?”

…

Question after question boiled in Klein’s heart alongside his joy. He could hardly wait to gather all of Emperor Roselle’s diaries and read them from beginning to end.

“Klein?”

At that moment, Old Neil spoke from across the table, puzzled.

Klein snapped awake and hurriedly covered with a smile.

“I thought I might be the most special one. I wanted to try deciphering and interpreting it.”

“Ah, young people.” Old Neil laughed and nodded. “I once thought I was the most special one as well.”

Klein flipped through the three manuscript pages in his hands. After confirming that he had missed nothing, he handed them back, then asked as if casually, “Are these the only pages we have?”

I want to see more of Emperor Roselle’s diary!

“You thought there would be many?”

Old Neil stroked the pages and gave a scoffing laugh that deepened the wrinkles on his face.

“There are not many incidents involving the extraordinary and the mysterious each year to begin with. And idiots who worship Emperor Roselle are a minority among minorities. For us to obtain three pages of manuscript is already quite good… Hmm. Other cathedrals or dioceses should have more…”

He muttered a few words, picked up the approval note Klein had long since placed on the table, and glanced at it.

“Pistol bullets, rifle bullets, or ammunition for a high-pressure steam gun?”

“A revolver,” Klein answered according to the truth.

“Good. I will fetch them. Ahem. Do you have an underarm holster? As a gentleman, one cannot allow anything from the waist down to bulge in public.”

Old Neil made a joke all men could understand.

“Heh. No. Do I need to find the Captain and have him write it in?” Klein smiled and played along.

Old Neil stood.

“No need. As long as it is recorded properly. It belongs to the category of ‘supporting items.’ Repeat after me: supporting items.”

“Were you a teacher before?” Klein asked, amused.

“I spent some time at the church’s Sunday school and free school.”

Old Neil waved the note, took a key from the drawer, and opened the iron door leading to the inner room.

Beyonders do not seem that different from ordinary people…

Klein muttered silently, then turned his gaze again to the three diary pages on the table.

Emperor Roselle was indeed involved with the mysterious domain…

His diary is priceless…

To others, it is nothing but sheets of waste paper. Who knows when they will ever decipher it? To me, it is a treasure trove.

I wonder where the rest of the diary is…

I must think of a way to find more…

His thoughts rose and fell, impossible to calm, until Old Neil came out from the inner room and locked the iron door behind him.

“Ten Demon-hunting Bullets, thirty pistol bullets, one cowhide underarm holster, and one badge for the Seventh Group of the Special Operations Department. Count them and try them on, then sign the record book.”

Old Neil placed the items in his hands on the table.

The pistol bullets were packed in a paper box, divided into three layers and arranged neatly. Like the bullets at Klein’s home, they were bright yellow and slightly slender.

The Demon-hunting Bullets, however, were held in a small iron box. Their shape was the same as ordinary pistol rounds, but their surfaces were silver-white. On closer inspection, they bore complex, dazzling patterns, and even the base of each bullet was engraved with the small sacred emblem of a “crimson half-moon against a black field of stars.”

The cowhide holster felt solid to the touch, with buckled straps. Beside it lay a badge about half the size of a palm. Its base was iron-colored, and in silver-inlaid letters were the words “Awwa County Police Department” and “Special Operations Department, Seventh Group.” The text formed two nearly closed rings around the emblem of “crossed swords supporting a crown.”

“A pity it is not a Nighthawk badge,” Klein said, half sighing, half probing.

Old Neil smiled and merely urged him to try on the underarm holster.

Klein removed his coat and struggled for quite a while before he finally fastened the holster close beneath his left arm.

“Not bad.”

He did not take it off again, and simply put his formal coat back on.

Old Neil examined him twice, then nodded in satisfaction.

“Very suitable. My eye remains as accurate as ever.”

Klein pocketed the other items, signed his name in the record book, and chatted idly with Old Neil for a while before saying goodbye and leaving.

Halfway out, he suddenly felt vexed and slapped his own forehead.

“I forgot to ask for more information about sequences and potions. It is all Emperor Roselle’s diary’s fault…”

Even now, he still did not know the starting point of the complete pathway controlled by the Church of the Evernight Goddess—that is, the Sequence 9.

Rozanne seemed to have mentioned it once… Sleepless?

Just as Klein slowly walked toward the stairs, a figure came down with quick, thudding steps.

He wore tight trousers convenient for movement, and his white shirt had not been tucked in. He possessed an obvious romantic air of a poet. It was the black-haired, green-eyed police officer who had searched Klein’s home earlier, and whom Klein had seen upstairs just now without speaking to.

“Good afternoon,” the poet-like young Nighthawk greeted him with a smile.

“Good afternoon. I suppose I do not need to introduce myself?” Klein replied with humor.

“No need. You left quite a deep impression on me.”

The young Nighthawk extended his right hand.

“Leonard Mitchell, Sequence 8, Midnight Poet.”

Sequence 8… So he really is a poet…

Klein shook his hand lightly and asked back with a smile, “A deep impression?”

Leonard Mitchell’s green eyes were profound, and his smile very faint.

“You possess a special kind of temperament.”

…That sounds suspiciously gay…

The corner of Klein’s mouth moved. He forced a smile.

“I do not think so myself.”

“To encounter such an incident, yet not accept our protection at the first opportunity—and still remain alive—that itself is special enough.”

Leonard pointed ahead.

“I must go relieve the Captain. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Klein stepped aside to let him pass.

After Klein disappeared step by step at the end of the stairs, Leonard Mitchell suddenly turned around. He gazed at the dim yellow light and the stone floor, then spoke softly to the empty air.

“Did you see anything…?”

…

“As expected, there is nothing special about him…”