Chapter 250: The Destination

Chapter 250: The Destination

Desi County, Conant City, 67 Red Sycamore Street.

Wearing a face commonly seen in the Loen Kingdom, Klein took a step forward and rang the doorbell.

Less than a minute later, the door opened with a creak. A maid in a black-and-white dress poked her head out and examined him for a few seconds before asking in confusion, “Good evening. Who are you looking for?”

“I am looking for Madam Nilu. I am a friend of her father, David Raymond,” Klein answered calmly.

David Raymond was the Nightmare Klein had released from Creeping Hunger, one of the Red Gloves among the Nighthawks. His final concern had been his daughter, Nilu Raymond. He felt extremely guilty that he had been unable to accompany her while she grew up, leaving her to lose not only her mother but nearly her father as well. Klein had promised him at the time that, if he had the chance, he would come to this beautiful seaside city and see how his daughter was doing.

Through prior inquiries, Klein had already obtained a general understanding of Nilu Raymond’s circumstances. After graduating from grammar school, this young woman had entered the Church of Evernight’s Care for Women and Children Foundation, earning a weekly salary of 2 pounds, 10 soli. She was the envy of her neighbors.

She had also inherited a sum from her “merchant” father. The exact amount was not clear to outsiders, only that she was richer than most members of the middle class.

Normally, a young woman with sufficient wealth would be very cautious regarding marriage. She would repeatedly choose and observe, so often ended up marrying late. But only one year after starting work, Nilu married a government employee.

Because both of them believed in the Evernight Goddess, she had not taken her husband’s surname. She was still Nilu Raymond, still living at 67 Red Sycamore Street, and had not moved away.

Hearing Klein’s answer, the maid hurriedly asked him to wait, then turned and entered the sitting room to report.

Before long, a woman in a home dress walked toward the entrance. She had black hair and blue eyes, somewhat long and thin cheeks, and decent features. She bore a certain resemblance to David Raymond.

“Good evening, sir. I am David Raymond’s daughter, Nilu. May I ask when you met my father?” Nilu Raymond asked politely but warily.

Klein removed his hat and smiled.

“At sea. It has already been several years.”

Nilu Raymond glanced at him with obvious vigilance.

“Perhaps you do not know, but he has already passed away.”

Klein sighed.

“I know. I met him in that disaster. At the time, he said some things. I originally did not pay them much attention, but over the past few years, the more I thought about it, the more I felt you should know them.”

“Is that so?” Nilu whispered. After thinking, she said, “Please come in. Do you mind if my husband listens as well?”

“This only concerns your decision,” Klein replied frankly.

Nilu nodded and led Klein into the study. Her husband, an ordinary-looking government employee with a refined air, put down his newspaper and followed.

After both sides sat down, Klein looked at the couple on the sofa opposite him. Weighing his words, he said, “Mr. David Raymond once experienced a disaster. He lost his father, mother, wife, brothers, and sisters.”

Nilu nodded without much expression.

“I know.”

Klein thought for a moment, then continued, “On the surface, he was a merchant. In truth, he was pursuing the murderers who caused that disaster.”

“I know.” Nilu spoke with little reaction.

Klein glanced at her and went on.

“He poured his entire heart into that matter. He regretted not being able to properly accompany you while you grew up, making you lose not only your mother, but almost your father as well.”

Nilu fell silent for a second, then answered quickly, “I know!”

Klein’s gaze swept over the old books around them. He sighed soundlessly.

“He said his greatest wish was to see you, under the Goddess’s witness, have your own marriage and family, and no longer be alone. I think he should be very relieved now.”

Nilu’s gaze slowly moved away from Klein’s face. Her mouth opened slightly. After a two-second pause, she answered, “…I know.”

Klein leaned forward slightly and clasped his hands.

“He said he might die at sea, and asked me to tell you that his death was an accident. All the previous murderers have already been punished. You no longer need to hate anyone.

“He also said that he loves you very much, and that he is sorry.”

Nilu was silent for several seconds. She blinked, turned her head to the side, and gave a faint, emotionless laugh.

“I understand…”

Klein looked deeply at her and slowly stood.

“I have finished conveying his words. I should leave.”

The response from the opposite side was silence. Nilu’s husband gave a slight nod, indicating his thanks.

Klein turned and walked toward the study door. Just as he turned the handle, Nilu Raymond’s voice suddenly sounded behind him, deep and hoarse.

“What kind of person do you think he was?”

Klein was silent for one second. Then he turned back, curled the corners of his mouth, and smiled.

“A guardian.”

He lingered no longer. Opening the study door, he walked to the coat rack.

When he put on his hat and left 67 Red Sycamore Street, a thin, fiercely suppressed sob suddenly entered his ears.

Silently shaking his head, Klein left the neighborhood and entered a Church of Evernight cathedral.

Passing through the deep, tranquil aisle, he sat in the seventh row from the back. Facing the dark sacred emblem of half a crimson moon and glittering stars, he removed his hat, lowered his head, clasped his hands, and held them before his mouth, just like most believers here.

In soundless silence and peace, time passed swiftly. Klein slowly opened his eyes and stood with very gentle movements.

On the seat where he had sat remained an object wrapped in paper.

Klein followed the aisle out of the prayer hall and arrived at the cathedral entrance.

With his back to the inside, he put on his hat, lifted his right hand, and snapped his fingers.

Pa!

The paper at his previous seat suddenly ignited, drawing the priest’s attention. By the time the gentleman rushed over, the flames had already gone out, leaving behind a deep-black, dark, gem-like gel.

“This is…” Although the priest did not know what the gel-like object was, his spiritual intuition told him it was important!

When he and the other priests chased outside the cathedral, the gentleman in tailcoat and half top hat had already vanished.

The next morning.

Having obtained a new identity through the local black market, Klein arrived at the steam train station.

In one hand, he held a second-class ticket worth 18 soli and his identity documents. In the other, he carried a black leather suitcase. Standing upright on the platform, he waited for the train to Backlund.

At present, he appeared to be a middle-aged gentleman nearing forty, slightly over 1.8 meters tall. His black hair was streaked with traces of silver. His blue eyes were deep like a lake at night. His features were quite handsome, carrying a mature flavor and a refined temperament.

Lowering his head to glance at the identity documents in his hand, Klein’s eyes reflected his current name:

“Dwayne Dantès.”

After thinking for a moment, he placed the suitcase on the ground, opened it flat, and stuffed all the identity documents inside.

Within this suitcase was a small black wooden box. Inside it were the ashes of former Loen soldier Longzel Edwards.

Just as Klein finished organizing the suitcase, a wooing whistle sounded beside his ears. A steam train, smoke billowing, clattered into the station and slowed to a stop.

He raised his head and cast his gaze forward, quietly studying it for two seconds. Then he whispered to the suitcase, “It’s time to go back…”

He straightened, picked up his belongings, and walked step by step toward the opened carriage doors.

…

Backlund, Cherwood Borough, 26 Kingster Street.

As Benson removed his hat and took off his coat, handing both to the maid, he looked toward his sister Melissa, who was focused on reading in the sitting room.

“The entrance exams are in June. At last, you can experience the pain of studying seriously that I once suffered.”

Melissa did not raise her head. She continued reading and said, “I study seriously every day.”

“Be humorous, Melissa. Humorous. What is the difference between a person who doesn’t understand humor and a curly-haired baboon?” Benson said with a smile.

Melissa casually glanced at him.

“You didn’t say that before.”

She did not dwell on where exactly the difference between a human and a curly-haired baboon lay. Instead, she asked, “Do government employees also finish work this late?”

“No. It’s only that there have been many matters recently. You know—oh, you don’t know. During major reforms like this, transferring work before and after, straightening out different relationships, all of it is extremely troublesome.” Benson’s gaze swept over a mirror in the sitting room. He could not help lifting a hand to tidy his hair, his expression somewhat displeased. “Although I am only a minor employee in the Ministry of Finance, that does not stop me from having a great deal of work. The only thing that comforts me is that I have finally gotten through that damned internship period. From now on, I will have a weekly salary of 3 pounds!”

Melissa put down her book and walked toward the dining room while saying to Benson, “It is time for dinner.”

She paused, then said very seriously, “I read in the newspaper before that something called Doningsman tree sap is very effective for hair growth.”

Benson’s expression immediately became very complicated.

…

Woo!

Amid the whistle, the long steam train clattered into Backlund.

Klein carried his suitcase and once again set foot upon the land of this “City of Cities,” this “Land of Hope.” He discovered that the fog was far thinner than before and no longer had an obvious pale-yellow tint. The gas streetlamps on the platform had not been lit early to disperse gloom and dimness.

After looking around, Klein left the steam train station, switched to subway and carriage, and went directly to a Church of Storms cemetery outside the West Borough.

Then he spent a small amount of money to place Longzel Edwards’s ashes into a niche.

By now, more than 165 years had passed since this Loen soldier had left Backlund.

Taking one step back, Klein gazed at it deeply for a while. Then, turning paper into iron, he engraved words upon the niche door:

“Longzel Edwards.”

He closed his eyes, then wrote again:

“Every journey has a destination.”

(End of Volume 3)