Chapter 124: Wrapping Up

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four
Wrapping Up

Hidden in the shadow of a building dozens of meters away, Klein kept staring toward the target house concealed in darkness. He vaguely heard a violent rush of wind and clearly distinguished the bang, bang, bang of gunshots.

“If the enemy flees toward where I am, should I draw my gun and put on an act, or pretend I never saw anything?”

His body trembled slightly. Sweat seeped from his palms as that thought crossed his mind.

A Beyonder capable of using various means to shorten the lives of those near death absolutely could not be merely Sequence 9 or Sequence 8. This was not an opponent a Seer like him could face directly. Even if he sacrificed himself, he might still be unable to slow the other party enough to create a chance for Dunn, Leonard, and the others to catch up.

Fortunately, the Evernight Goddess, who held misfortune in Her grasp, seemed to hear the prayer of Her “faithful” guard. From beginning to end, no one fled toward Klein’s hiding place.

After several minutes, he heard song drift from the target house.

Turning his ear and listening carefully, Klein confirmed that it was the folk tune Leonard Mitchell often hummed—one filled with vulgar lines.

Hoo. He exhaled in relief. Holding his gun in one hand and his cane in the other, he stepped out from the shadow and approached the target building.

That folk tune was the meeting signal he had agreed on with Dunn and the others.

He had only taken two steps when he suddenly stopped, leaned his cane against the iron fence nearby, and switched the revolver to his other hand.

Then he unfastened the silver chain inside his sleeve and let the citrine pendant hang naturally.

After exchanging the positions of revolver and spirit pendulum, Klein waited until the citrine’s swaying became stable. He immediately half-closed his eyes, entered a meditative state, and silently recited the divination statement:

“The song just now was an illusion.

“The song just now was an illusion.

“…”

After seven repetitions, he opened his eyes and saw the pendant rotating counterclockwise.

“It was not an illusion…”

Klein’s heart settled back into place. He put away the pendulum, picked up his cane, and quickly approached the arched iron gate of the target building. Then he passed the black, silver-inlaid cane to his right palm, holding it together with the revolver.

Just as he reached out to touch the bars and push the gate open, he suddenly felt a bone-chilling cold surge toward him, as if someone had stuffed a handful of ice down the back of his neck without warning.

Hiss!

Klein abruptly withdrew his hand, baring his teeth.

“It is like winter here…”

By the faint starlight and distant gas lamps, he looked past the iron gate toward the garden behind it. The vines there had withered, the flowers had shriveled, and quite a few leaves, stained white with frost, had fallen upon the black-brown soil.

Impressive…

Klein sighed inwardly, then tapped the space between his brows twice and activated spirit vision.

He recovered the black, silver-inlaid wooden cane with his left hand, braced it against the gate, and exerted force, pushing open the half-closed gate.

Amid the creak, he turned sideways to pass through and stepped onto the stone path leading directly to the grayish-blue house. On both sides, plants loomed indistinctly in the night like ghosts.

The scene immediately made Klein think of all kinds of ghost stories and supernatural films.

He subconsciously slowed his breathing and quickened his pace. But after walking only several meters, something abruptly patted his left shoulder.

Thump! Thump!

Klein’s heart first stalled, then began pounding violently.

He lifted his right hand, aimed the revolver in that direction, and slowly turned around.

In the dim light, he saw a tree branch wobbling, nearly falling.

“Is this what they call scaring yourself?”

The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched. He swung his cane and knocked down the branch.

Continuing forward, he began hearing faint, almost nonexistent sobs and wails by his ears. In his eyes appeared one transparent, blurry, nearly invisible “phantom” after another.

Those phantoms sensed the aura of the living and the warmth of flesh and blood. They surged toward him one after another.

Klein was badly startled. He immediately ran, thud, thud, thud, rushing through the front door of the grayish-blue house.

So this is what the Captain meant by experiencing the atmosphere? It really is much more terrifying than when we helped Sir Deweyville… Resentments are clearly more rigid than these “phantoms.” They do not actively attack…

Thinking this, he walked toward the altar located at the center of the sitting room. It was a round table covered with crudely made wooden dolls. There were also three extinguished candles.

Dunn Smith stood before the altar with his back to Klein, picking up the wooden dolls one by one to inspect them.

Frye the Corpse Collector quietly watched the drifting phantoms, trying to reach out and soothe them. Yet his hand could only pass helplessly through them. The phantoms, meanwhile, did not attack him either, seeming to regard him as one of their own kind.

Seeing Klein arrive, Leonard Mitchell’s tone changed. His voice grew low and magnetic.

“This is a morn serene and still,

“Befitting grief yet stiller made;

“One hears through every withered leaf

“The chestnut softly strike the ground…”

…

Within that slow, gentle, peaceful recitation of poetry, Klein seemed to see a lake shimmering beneath moonlight. He seemed to see the crimson moon hanging quietly high in the sky.

Those phantoms calmed and no longer chased the aura of the living or the warmth of flesh and blood.

Dunn set down the wooden doll in his hand, turned back, and said to Klein, “This was a terrifying curse ritual. Fortunately, we have already destroyed it.

“First, arrange a ritual to soothe the remaining spirituality. Then attempt spirit channeling and see whether you can obtain clues from them.”

Discovering that he was no longer dead weight, Klein immediately straightened and answered, “Yes, Captain.”

In two or three steps, he reached the altar and swept the wooden dolls off the round table with his hand.

At that moment, from the corner of his eye, he noticed that every wooden doll had a different name and corresponding information written on it.

“Captain, did you find anyone we know?” Klein asked casually.

The question left his mouth. He looked at Dunn. Dunn looked back at him. Both sides fell silent.

I am so stupid… How could I ask a question testing the Captain’s memory!

Klein nearly covered his face and sighed.

With other superiors, I would definitely be made to suffer for that later. Thankfully, thankfully, the Captain will forget this happened… I really do not know whether that counts as an advantage or a flaw…

After more than ten seconds of silence, Dunn seemed to finally distinguish reality from dream. He opened his mouth and said, “There is one person you know.”

“Who?”

Klein stopped the motion of arranging the candles again.

“Joyce Meyer, survivor of the Clover disaster,” Dunn answered concisely.

Joyce Meyer? Anna’s fiancé…

Klein immediately connected this to the matter of Sols at the workhouse seemingly having been incited and guided into exploding early and attempting arson.

He withdrew his right hand and said in a deep voice, “Instigator Tris?”

“He used the shortened lives of those near death as sacrifices, attempting to curse every survivor of the Clover disaster? Because he did not know who discovered the problem and reported it to the police…”

And if Tris directly attacked for revenge, it would have been almost impossible for him to kill all the targets living separately across different places in one move. At most, after two or three cases, he would have drawn the attention of the Nighthawks, the Mandated Punishers, and the Machinery Hivemind, losing any chance to continue the crimes…

Klein had practically reconstructed the other party’s reasoning in his mind.

Dunn first nodded, then shook his head.

“Not every survivor—only all survivors within Tingen City. His curse ritual could affect only people within that range.

“In addition, the ritual’s host was female. Not Tris.”

Klein frowned slightly.

“Perhaps a powerful Beyonder from the Gnosis Society came to help Tris?”

“Mm. The source of the Gnosis Society may involve the Demoness Sect. It would not be strange for their powerhouses to be women.”

Dunn smiled. His voice was mellow as he said, “I agree with your judgment. Although only that woman was here, and not Tris, we may make necessary guesses. For example, perhaps they were not living together. Perhaps Tris was out searching for the soon-to-die.”

Klein said nothing more. He arranged the three candles, took out full-moon essential oil, crimson sandalwood, and other materials, and quickly prepared the altar.

Using the silver knife to create a sealed wall, he prayed to the Evernight Goddess, Lord of Sleep and Silence, completely soothing the ghosts inside and outside the house.

Unfortunately, during the spirit-channeling step that followed, Klein saw only a few scenes from when those remaining spiritualities had been alive. He obtained no useful clues.

After allowing those phantoms to truly sleep within the night, he ended the ritual, removed the wall of spirituality, and shook his head toward Dunn, Leonard, and Frye.

“This place was badly damaged by the backlash caused when the ritual was interrupted. The remaining images of its owner have been lost.”

Dunn did not seem surprised. He pointed toward the stairs.

“Then we will go to the second floor and search. Try there.”

“Mm,” Klein, Leonard, and the others immediately agreed.

The three Nighthawks followed the stairs to the second floor, splitting up to search the rooms.

In the end, they reconvened in a bedroom where faint fragrance drifted. There they saw dresses piled in disorder and box after box opened without being closed.

“Cosmetics?”

Dunn picked up a box from the dressing table and sniffed it, asking casually.

“To be precise, they are called skincare products. After Emperor Roselle, they were no longer all lumped together under one name,” Leonard corrected with a smile. “Captain, as a gentleman, it is necessary to understand basic common knowledge.”

Klein did not join their discussion. He cast his gaze toward the mirror on the dressing table.

The mirror had obvious cracks, and fragments had fallen onto the carpet.

“That Beyonder was in a hurry. She did not destroy it thoroughly enough…”

He suddenly said in a deep voice, “Perhaps we can try.”

“I leave it to you,” Dunn answered with trust.

Klein quickly brought the candles up from the first floor and lit them before the shattered mirror.

Amid the swaying yellow candlelight, he took out full-moon essential oil and other objects, constructing a wall of spirituality.

After finishing all this, Klein stood before the mirror reflecting the glow of three candles and recited in Hermes:

“I pray for the power of night;

“I pray for the power of concealment;

“I pray for the Goddess’s favor.

“I pray that this mirror be granted temporary restoration, and that it present every person it has reflected during the past month.

“…”

As the incantation was recited line after line, a powerful whirlwind suddenly rose within the wall of spirituality.

The mirror fragments were swept up and set back into their original positions, piece by piece.

Dark light floated over the cracked mirror. As Klein brushed his hand across it, a figure immediately appeared—not Klein himself, who stood directly before the mirror.

It was a young woman with a rather round face and a mild, sweet bearing. Perhaps because the mirror had been damaged, or perhaps because the backlash from the interrupted ritual had also affected the second floor, her features were blurry. The specifics of her appearance could not be seen clearly.

Yet even so, Klein still felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Note:
The poem Leonard recites is adapted from Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s In Memoriam A.H.H., Canto XI.