Chapter 108: Late Night

Chapter One Hundred Eight
Late Night

In the small hours of the morning, beneath the earth, where ventilation was good yet silence ran deep, yellow gaslight, protected by glass, shone steadily without flickering over empty, peaceful corridors.

Klein sat inside the duty room, casually flipping through the newspapers, magazines, and books piled before him. At the same time, he kept a small portion of his attention on the outside, guarding against anyone rushing toward Chanis Gate.

His coat and top hat hung on the coat rack by the entrance. His cane rested quietly against the wall, positioned where he could easily reach it.

A rich fragrance of coffee spread through the room. Klein instinctively inhaled, pinched his temples, and used the sensation to fight the heaviness in his head and the fatigue in his body.

Back when he had attended university on Earth, he had often been the kind of mighty man who slept at five in the morning and woke at noon. During the two or three years after he began working, he had also occasionally stayed up all night and still gone to the office the next day looking energetic. But all of that had depended on games being too fun, novels too good, films, variety shows, and television dramas too interesting.

This world clearly lacked all those essential supplies for staying up late.

“Emperor Roselle too… If he wanted to show off, he should have shown off properly. He should have devoted his limited life to an infinite cause and led the people of another world, step by step, into the information age!”

Klein silently grumbled, then could only console himself that at least there were still newspapers, magazines, and increasingly abundant novels.

He had originally planned to conquer drowsiness by studying with absolute concentration, but practice had shown that this conflicted with his duty. Once he entered that focused state, it became very easy to ignore movements outside and to overlook the situation at Chanis Gate.

Hoo.

Klein lifted his coffee cup and cautiously blew across it.

He took a small sip, letting the fragrance linger in his mouth and allowing the liquid to flow slowly down his throat.

“Fermo coffee from the Paz Valley. Very bitter, but very good for staying awake.”

Klein praised it and set down the cup.

The Paz Valley was in the Southern Continent, a high-quality coffee-growing region currently contested by the Intis Republic and the Loen Kingdom. Each had established colonial regimes on the valley’s left and right banks, destroying the original Kingdom of Paz.

In that scalp-tingling silence, Klein casually picked up a magazine and discovered it was Ladies’ Aesthetics, a publication about fashion and matching outfits.

“This definitely came from Rozanne…”

He laughed softly and flipped through it with interest.

Perhaps influenced by the rapid development of camera technology in the past decade or so, Ladies’ Aesthetics not only made extensive use of illustrations, it also imitated newspapers by incorporating black-and-white photographs into its content.

Very fashionably, they had invited famous theater and opera actresses to display the charm of clothing and the magic of coordination. In only seven short years, it had grown from a new regional magazine in Backlund into a mainstream periodical distributed throughout the entire nation.

“This dress is rather nice. The model too…”

Klein browsed leisurely, not concealing his appreciation for beauty.

He was a man whose body and mind had developed normally. He had always appreciated beautiful young women. It was simply that he had long set his goal on finding a way home, and so he did his best to keep a distance from members of the opposite sex. He did not want to delay them, nor did he wish to leave behind emotional debts.

As for visiting streetwalkers, he had a small measure of fastidiousness in that regard.

Benson and Melissa are bonds that already exist, impossible to sever. I can only think of some way to make it up to them in the future…

Klein suddenly felt heavy. He could not help sighing.

The longer one was away from home, the more one felt that sorrow in the stillness of the night.

He instantly lost interest in admiring beautiful women. Setting down the magazine, he picked up a novel instead.

“Stormwind Mountain Villa. Author: Fors Wall.”

Klein read aloud the main text on the cover.

The peaceful late night, the yellow light, and a book with a proper cover made him remember the days when he had rented books as a child. He began reading with a touch of nostalgia.

Stormwind Mountain Villa told the story of Miss Sissy, who was one meter sixty-five tall and weighed ninety-eight pounds, entering Villa Fleiss as a governess.

“One pound is about one jin… Is this the otherworldly version of Jane Eyre?”

Klein rubbed the comfortable paper between his fingers and formed some guesses about the plot to come.

Yet when he thought it was a romance novel, “evil spirits” appeared. When he began believing it was a supernatural novel, Miss Sissy revealed her identity as a detective and delivered a magnificent chain of deduction.

Just when Klein thought there was no doubt that this was a detective novel, the male lead suffered a heavy blow to the head, lost his memories, and entered a tear-jerking arc.

“…So in the end it is still a romance novel.”

Klein closed the book and drank a mouthful of coffee with a headache.

Thump!

Thump! Thump! Thump!

A violent knocking suddenly rang out, echoing through the yellow, silent corridor and through the almost deserted underground.

Klein was so startled that his nerves went taut at once.

Instinctively, he took the revolver from the holster beneath his arm, adjusted the cylinder and trigger, and slowly approached the doorway, searching for the source of the sound.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The knocking grew more and more violent. Following the sound, Klein looked over and saw the black iron double doors painted with seven Sacred Emblems.

“The sound is coming from behind Chanis Gate?”

His eyes narrowed, and his heart beat like a drum.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Klein saw Chanis Gate shake slightly, sensing the tremendous force it was enduring.

“Surely not… It is my first day guarding this place, and something happens? Did I gain a constitution for bad luck after transmigrating?”

Cold sweat formed on Klein’s right hand, which gripped the gun.

But very quickly, he remembered the Captain’s instruction: no matter what sound you hear, no matter what happens, do not open Chanis Gate unless it is opened from inside.

Uh. Is this a normal phenomenon?

Klein calmed considerably all at once.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang! Clang! Clang! The disturbance behind Chanis Gate grew louder and louder, yet the heavy black iron double door only shook. No other abnormality appeared.

“So it really is normal. That scared me to death…”

Klein muttered, preparing to return to the duty room.

Just then, he heard an ear-piercing scraping sound. He saw Chanis Gate slowly push outward, opening a narrow crack.

Skraaape!

Amid a raw, tooth-aching sound, Klein’s nearly frozen eyes saw a figure. It was about as tall as the forearm of an ordinary adult man, dressed in a black, elegant, miniature court gown. The hem of the dress bore obvious stains.

It had a face that could not be called delicate, deep black eyes, and tightly pressed lips.

It was a doll.

A toy doll.

Almost the instant Klein subconsciously raised his gun to aim, the doll in the black court gown pressed itself tightly, forcefully, against the opened Chanis Gate and spread out the paper held in its hands.

Upon the paper were many hidden symbols, some Klein recognized and some he had not yet mastered. Together, they formed a vertical eye.

Before Klein could even think about what was happening, the court doll was abruptly dragged back behind Chanis Gate. It was pulled back with force by something invisible!

Clang!

Chanis Gate shut again.

There was no more knocking. No more pounding.

The underground returned once more to its usual peace and silence, as though nothing at all had happened.

“Chanis Gate was opened from inside, so I should report to the Captain… But it has already closed again…”

Only then did Klein recover his thoughts. He was shocked, afraid, and bewildered all at once.

A few seconds later, he remembered exactly what the doll in the black court gown had been, because as an official Nighthawk, he had long since gained the right to learn about the Grade 3 Sealed Artifacts kept behind Tingen’s Chanis Gate.

“Serial number: 0625.

“Name: Misfortune Puppet.

“Danger Level: Grade 3. It possesses a certain danger and must be used carefully. Only operations involving three or more people may apply to use it.

“Confidentiality Level: Official Nighthawks and above.

“Sealing Method: It only needs to be isolated from humans.

“Description: This doll wears a court gown fashionable around the year 1300. The hem bears stains that cannot be washed away. It is impossible to confirm whether these existed from the beginning.

“In several tragedies in Tingen City caused by family financial crises, the police noticed the existence of this doll. It was always placed inside a child’s bedroom, on the cabinet beside the bed.

“Several Nighthawks accepted the commission and investigated the doll.

“Preliminary confirmation: it brings misfortune, gradually making people around it suffer bad luck, fall into crisis, and ultimately die one after another. The test subject took only two weeks to approach the brink of bankruptcy.

“This doll does not possess living characteristics and has no tendency to attempt escape from sealing.

“After long-term testing, we discovered that as long as one’s daily accumulated time within ten meters of it does not exceed half an hour, one will not be contaminated by misfortune. If one is already entangled by misfortune, transferring it to another owner will improve the situation.

“Appendix: This doll first appeared at the home of Old Mrs. Tess on Lower Street, West Borough, Iron Cross Street. She was a toy-making craftswoman who, because of old age, her husband’s severe illness, and the early deaths of both her children, had no choice but to move to Lower Street, Iron Cross Street.

“This was the last toy she sold. She exchanged this doll for a small amount of hemlock juice, ending the lives of herself and her husband after more than three days of hunger.”

As Klein recalled the information on Sealed Artifact 3-0625, even more questions and fear rose in his heart.

“Didn’t it say this doll does not possess living characteristics? Didn’t it say it has no tendency to attempt escape from sealing?

“Then what did I just see?

“And what was the thing that dragged it back in the end?

“What exactly does the pattern drawn on the paper it unfolded represent?

“That scene just now really felt like some perverted serial killer inside was dealing with a victim. The victim struggled to knock on the door and desperately call for help, only to be dragged back again…”

As thoughts surged one after another, Klein decided not to act on his own.

He returned to the duty room and pulled a rope.

The rope moved. Gears turned. On the second floor, inside Blackthorn Security Company, an urgent bell abruptly rang.

Inside the entertainment room, Leonard Mitchell and the other Sleepless immediately put down their cards and rushed toward the underground.