Chapter 117: Contact

Chapter One Hundred Seventeen
Contact

“Daxter Guderian. A doctor at Greenhull Asylum…”

Klein silently repeated Detective Henry’s words, beginning to consider how he should approach this doctor who was suspected to be a Spectator and possibly a member of the Psychology Alchemists.

In this matter, he did not wish to take too great a risk. He did not wish to let the Nighthawks discover something was wrong with him, nor did he wish to lose his current life over intelligence and resources that were merely meant for exchange.

Moreover, that gentleman was very likely a Spectator. Unless one had undergone special training, it would be almost impossible to hide one’s true purpose and thoughts in front of him.

“Find someone to act as intermediary and make it a little mysterious? No, the more people involved, the more likely something will go wrong… Hm… Perhaps I can consider hiding the truth within the truth, letting that doctor see that my expressions and body language are all reactions to my true thoughts, while still not showing him all of my thoughts…”

As Klein listened to Detective Henry introduce Daxter Guderian’s relevant circumstances, he thought over what method would best avoid risk without affecting his goal.

Gradually, he found inspiration from the police and spy films he had once watched.

“Mm… I can try doing it this way. But beforehand, I will need to rehearse it again and again…”

Klein nodded inwardly and shifted his full attention back to Detective Henry’s words.

“Cough…”

Henry cleared his throat.

“As for the red chimney commission, we are still working on it. You should know that there are quite a few similar buildings in Tingen. Of course, if you can provide any other clues, matters will become much simpler.”

Klein gave a hoarse laugh.

“If I had other clues, I would not need to hire you.”

To be honest, after such a long search and investigation, he was rather pessimistic about the result, because the mastermind behind the scenes had clearly noticed his divination and had plenty of time to move away.

Therefore, he only hoped to find further clues from corresponding tenant information.

And this is worth seven pounds… It hurts just thinking about it…

After Detective Henry finished speaking, Klein picked up his cane, said farewell, and left.

…

Saturday morning, eight forty. Inside a doctor’s office at Greenhull Asylum.

Daxter Guderian, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and possessing an outstanding air, removed his coat and hat, hanging them on the coat rack.

He had only just picked up the tin can containing coffee powder when he heard a knock at the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” Daxter said without much concern.

Then he saw the half-closed door pushed open, and a young man wearing a black windbreaker that reached past his knees walked in.

Because the other person was unfamiliar, Daxter asked in confusion, “Good morning. You are?”

Klein casually closed the door, removed his hat, pressed it against his chest, and bowed.

“Good morning, Dr. Daxter. Please forgive my presumptuous visit. I am Probationary Inspector Klein Moretti of the Awwa County Police Department. This is my identification and badge.”

“Inspector?” Daxter murmured, accepting the other party’s identification and badge.

“Special Operations Division…”

He slowly lifted his head. His gaze was so calm that not the slightest ripple moved within it, as though he were examining something.

Short black hair, pupils slightly darker than brown, a somewhat scholarly air, calm and composed. For now, I see no malice…

Daxter returned the objects in his hand. After some consideration, he pointed toward the chair opposite his desk.

“Please sit, Officer. What brings you to me?”

Klein sat down, placed his cane properly, and slowly put away his identification and badge. Smiling, he said, “Please allow me to introduce myself again.”

“I am also a member of Tingen City’s Nighthawk team, responsible for handling matters involving extraordinary factors.

“Good morning, Mr. Spectator.”

Before his voice had even faded, he saw Daxter’s pupils shrink, and the doctor’s hand pull back in a posture that seemed ready to seize an opportunity and flee.

“Officer, I do not understand what you mean,” Daxter said, forcing himself to continue. He almost failed to maintain his state. “I do not like this sort of joke. Perhaps I should call for the guards.”

Klein slowly took the revolver from the holster beneath his arm. His smile remained unchanged.

“Mr. Daxter, I know you can see my confidence, and you can see that I bear no malice. Heh. To be honest, at first, I was still somewhat uncertain, but your reaction gave me the answer.”

Every sentence above is true…

Klein silently added in his heart.

Daxter relaxed slightly. The corner of his eye glanced at the other man’s revolver as he asked in puzzlement, “I find it difficult to understand why you came to me… I do not believe I have exposed anything…”

Klein smiled.

“This was merely an accident. Perhaps fate arranged for us to know one another.

“In fact, we have met before in the underground market beneath the Dragon Bar. But at the time, you did not notice me.

“You very cleverly purchased the supplementary ingredients for your Sequence potion separately. But to me, who just happened to understand that formula as well, that was still enough to draw attention.”

Daxter suddenly exhaled, as though losing the motivation to argue.

“So that was it…”

“I thought I had acted cautiously enough. I never expected… never expected…”

After murmuring a few words, he stared into Klein’s eyes and said, “Officer, I know you did not come to arrest me. What is your true purpose?”

Klein’s posture relaxed as he said, “I am different from other Nighthawks. I do not believe every Beyonder who does not belong to us is a potential criminal. That would not be fair to those who yearn for order and goodness.”

Daxter changed his sitting posture, no longer so tense.

“If other Nighthawks, Mandated Punishers, and Machinery Hivemind members could be like you, the world would be at peace.”

“You know about the Nighthawks, the Mandated Punishers, and the Machinery Hivemind?”

Klein deliberately showed surprise.

“That is not something someone who mistakenly stumbled into the Beyonder world should know. There must be an organization behind you.”

He leaned back, smiling at the corners of his mouth.

“The Psychology Alchemists?”

As he spoke, he leisurely watched Daxter’s expression turn uglier bit by bit.

“I could see that you were waiting for my answer, but I still overlooked something seemingly ordinary and fell into your verbal trap…”

Daxter muttered in vexation.

He was beginning to discover that the Spectator state was not omnipotent. Being able to see another person’s purpose did not mean one could determine the exact details.

Klein caressed the revolver’s cylinder and said, “Doctor, we must communicate honestly. This can begin with me.

“I do not believe unmanaged Beyonders are potential criminals, but I agree that every Beyonder should be registered and monitored. This is a precaution against the risk of losing control, a way to prevent more serious and dangerous situations.

“I will not disturb your normal life. I hope we can cooperate within limits.”

“Cooperate within limits?”

Daxter repeated as though thinking it over.

Klein gave a low chuckle.

“Yes. Within limits.

“For example, report your own condition to me at regular intervals. You know this: many incidents of losing control still have a chance of being rescued when they are not yet too serious. The Nighthawks have accumulated considerable experience in this area.

“For example, within your organization, among the Beyonders you know, if someone is about to endanger innocent people, provide me the clue in time.

“For example, exchange certain items for things more useful to you. Consider that a benefit. You should understand what a benefit means.

“In addition, you no longer need to worry, no longer need to fear that one day Nighthawks, Mandated Punishers, or Machinery Hivemind members will suddenly arrest or kill you. You can enjoy your life calmly and happily.

“We will give you certain objects proving your identity. They can be used at the final moment, when no other method remains.”

Daxter listened silently. After quite some time, he finally asked, “You want me to betray my organization?”

“No. This is not betrayal.”

Klein spoke with sincere earnestness.

“This is upholding justice, morality, and goodness. You would be preventing certain evil, cruel, bloody cases. Apart from matters of that nature, I will not have you sell out your organization’s secrets.”

Daxter considered this carefully. Perhaps because he now had an excuse, he seemed to feel a little better.

He was silent for several seconds before extending his right hand.

“Pleasure cooperating with you.”

Klein shook the other man’s hand with the one not holding the gun.

“Pleasure cooperating with you.”

He paused, then lightly laughed.

“Doctor, now you may tell me whether you are a member of the Psychology Alchemists.”

“Yes.”

Daxter nodded.

Klein, who had activated spirit vision before even entering the room, did not see any fluctuation in the other man’s emotional colors. He considered his wording and asked, “How did you join the Psychology Alchemists?”

Daxter looked into his eyes.

“Because of a patient in this asylum. When I treated him, I discovered that he could see through me completely. He was clear-headed and rational, nothing like a madman…”

“His name is Hood Eugen.”

Klein committed the name to memory. Then he chatted with Daxter a little more, agreeing upon a hidden method for passing requests to meet, as well as meeting locations and other arrangements.

For the moment, he did not discuss potions, formulas, rumors, or similar matters with the other party. At the appropriate time, he said farewell, put away his revolver, and left Daxter’s office.

Watching his figure disappear through the doorway, Daxter abruptly breathed out and slumped back against his chair, both pained and relieved.

…

Number 36, Zouteland Street. Inside Blackthorn Security Company.

Sitting behind his desk, Dunn swept his gray eyes over Klein and asked, “Did something happen?”

Klein, almost half an hour late, organized his words and said, “Captain, I discovered a Beyonder and confirmed that he is a member of the Psychology Alchemists.

“…He is a proper doctor and is willing to cooperate with us. I believe it would be best to maintain the current situation. This will help us learn the latest developments regarding the Psychology Alchemists in time.”

After a brief pause, Klein added, “I want to develop him into a Nighthawk informant, or a covert peripheral member.”

The word “informant” came from Intisian, and from Emperor Roselle.

Dunn slowly nodded.

“You handled it very well, but in the future, if such a thing happens again, it would be best to tell me first.

“Submit that doctor’s information and a written report of how you handled the process. I will give him certain items proving his identity.

“Also, do not tell Leonard and the others about this. Though they are all trustworthy teammates, the relevant regulations state this clearly.

“From now on, you will be responsible for contacting that doctor.”

Klein exhaled silently, his face covered in a smile.

“All right.”