Chapter 13: Nighthawk

Chapter Thirteen
Nighthawk

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Klein could not help taking a step backward. For a moment, he did not know whether he was awake or still inside the dream.

The figure removed his black top hat and bowed slightly. With a deep smile, he said, “Allow me to introduce myself again. Nighthawk, Dunn Smith.”

Nighthawk?

The code name of the Church of the Evernight Goddess’s team of Beyonders that Justice and the Hanged Man had mentioned?

Klein understood something at once. Connecting it to what had just happened, he blurted out, “You manipulate dreams? You made me have that dream just now?”

Dunn Smith, the Nighthawk, put his black hat back on, concealing his slightly high hairline. In his deep gray eyes lay a hint of a smile.

“No. I merely entered your dream and provided the necessary guidance.”

His voice was rich and gentle, echoing through the dim corridor without disturbing anyone else’s beautiful sleep.

“In dreams, emotions normally suppressed during waking hours and all manner of dark psychological impulses are magnified, making everything appear chaotic, absurd, and mad. Yet truth still exists, still hidden within. For an old hand like me, everything is obvious and easy to see. Compared to the waking you, I trust the dreaming you more.”

This…

What normal person can control their own dreams? If I had dreamed of things from Earth, would Dunn Smith not have discovered them?

Klein was startled, and a chill of delayed fear ran through him as he thought of what had happened in the dream.

Yet very quickly, he tasted something strange about it. He remembered being perfectly clear-headed in the dream, perfectly rational, aware of what he ought and ought not to say.

Put simply, it had not felt like dreaming at all.

So Dunn Smith only “saw” what I wanted him to see?

Klein’s thoughts turned rapidly, and a vague understanding began to form.

Was this a benefit that came with transmigration—some peculiarity of the spirit itself? Or was it an additional influence from that “luck-changing ritual”?

“So, Mr. Smith, you are certain that I truly lost my memories?” Klein asked after arranging his words.

Dunn Smith did not answer directly. Instead, he looked at him deeply.

“You are not surprised by this sort of thing?”

“Most people I have dealt with, even after just dreaming, refuse to believe in extraordinary power. They would rather assume they have not truly woken up.”

Klein gave a soft “hmm” and said, “Perhaps because I have been praying, hoping, for such a power to help me.”

“A rather interesting line of thought… Perhaps you survived for more than mere luck.”

Dunn nodded without much of a smile.

“I can now confirm that you truly lost part of your memory because of this incident—especially the part related to the incident itself.”

“Then I can go back?” Klein let out a long breath inwardly and asked tentatively.

With one hand in his pocket, Dunn walked toward him at a measured pace. The night around him seemed to become quiet and soft.

“No. You still need to come with me to meet the ‘expert.’”

The corner of his mouth rose politely.

“Why?” Klein asked without thinking, then hurriedly added, “You do not trust your own dream guidance?”

Are you joking? If that “expert” specializes in hypnosis, mind reading, or something like that, won’t my greatest secret be exposed?

The consequences were beyond imagination.

“I am always modest,” Dunn answered calmly, “but when it comes to dreams, I do possess some confidence. However, with crucial, important matters, confirming them once more is no bad thing. Besides, what she excels at is quite different from what I do. Perhaps she can help you recover a certain portion of your memories.”

Before Klein could say anything more, his voice deepened.

“After all, you are connected to the whereabouts of that Antigonus family notebook.”

“What?” Klein was stunned.

Dunn stopped before him. His gray eyes fixed on Klein’s.

“That Fourth Epoch notebook was not at the scene. It was nowhere in the entire house. Welch is dead. Naya is dead. You are the only clue.”

“…All right.” Klein was silent for a moment, then breathed out.

The notebook is missing… That really is bizarre.

I actually never thought about where that Fourth Epoch notebook had gone!

Dunn nodded almost imperceptibly. As he passed Klein, he said, “Lock your door. Come with me now to Welch’s residence. The ‘expert’ is waiting for us there.”

Klein inhaled soundlessly. His heart beat uneasily, full of apprehension.

He wanted to refuse. He even wanted to run. But after the precedent of the dream, he believed Dunn Smith must certainly have raised his guard. And considering the difference in strength between an ordinary person and a Beyonder, forcing his way out offered little chance of success.

He must still have a pistol on him… and he is probably the sort who has practiced shooting many times.

All manner of thoughts clashed fiercely in his mind. In the end, Klein chose to recognize reality.

“All right.”

Sigh. I can only take this one step at a time. Maybe the special state I had in the dream will work again…

“Then let us go,” Dunn said, his tone completely level.

Klein turned and followed for two steps, then suddenly stopped.

“Mr. Smith, I… I would like to use the washroom first.”

I came out to use the toilet in the first place!

Dunn did not stop him. He only looked at him deeply and said, “No problem, Klein. Believe me: in the night, I am far stronger than you imagine.”

In the night…

Klein silently repeated the words.

He did not make any reckless attempt. He honestly relieved the pressure in his lower abdomen, then washed his face with cold water, forcing himself to become thoroughly calm.

After changing into proper clothes and hat and locking his own door, Klein followed Dunn down the stairs with light steps and toward the entrance of the apartment building.

In that quiet calm, Dunn Smith suddenly spoke.

“At the end of the dream, why did you want to run? What were you afraid of?”

Klein’s thoughts flashed like lightning. While considering, he answered, “I do not remember what I did at Welch’s home. I do not remember whether I directly caused his death and Naya’s. I was afraid that in the end, it would truly be proven to be me. I did not dare gamble on it. Better to run away and go to the Southern Continent to begin a new life.”

“If it were me, I would do the same,” Dunn said, pushing open the apartment door and allowing the cool midnight wind to scatter the stuffiness inside.

He was not afraid of Klein running away. He climbed into the carriage on his own first.

It was the same carriage Klein had seen in the dream: four wheels, one horse, a driver, and the police system’s emblem carved on the side of the compartment—two crossed swords supporting a crown.

Klein followed him inside and found that the compartment was laid with thick carpeting. A calming fragrance of incense filled the air, soothing both body and mind.

Sitting down casually, Klein searched for a topic, attempting to gather more information.

“Mr. Smith, if—I mean if—the ‘expert’ confirms that I truly lost that portion of my memories, and there is no other evidence proving I was the perpetrator rather than a victim, will the matter be over?”

“In theory, yes. We will look for that notebook through other channels. As long as it still exists, it can be found. Of course, before that, we will confirm that you bear no curse, no lingering scent of evil spirits, no corresponding psychological problems, and that you can safely and healthily welcome the rest of your life.”

Dunn Smith revealed a smile—an odd one.

Klein caught the detail keenly. Without time to relax, he immediately pressed, “In theory?”

“Yes. Only in theory. In this field, there are always twisted things, things that violate common sense, things no one can bring themselves to believe.” Dunn looked into Klein’s eyes. “Their continuation, their ending—sometimes, those are not things we can foresee or control.”

“For example?” Klein found himself faintly afraid.

The almost empty street swept past outside as the carriage sped onward. Dunn took out a pipe and sniffed its scent.

“When we think a matter has ended, when everything has returned to normal, it may descend again in a terrifying, horrifying manner.

“A few years ago, we dealt with a cult case. They organized their believers to complete a living sacrifice by way of suicide, all to please an evil god. One believer, after being chosen, had his instinct to live overcome stupidity, foreign faith, and hallucinogens. He secretly ran to the police station to report the matter.

“The case was handed over to us. It was a very small task, because the cult had no Beyonders, and the god they worshiped was nothing more than something their leader made up at random for the sake of money, pleasure, and the annihilation of humanity.

“We needed only two team members, along with assistance from the police, to resolve the cult smoothly. Not a single member escaped. As for the informant, we also confirmed that no scent of evil spirits remained on him, no curse was wound around him, no psychological obstacle existed, no personality problem, no other strange traces.

“Afterward, his career developed well. He married a good wife and had a son and a daughter. Every shadow seemed to have left him; the terror and blood of the past seemed to have completely dissolved.”

At this point, Dunn Smith smiled.

“But in March of this year, that man—financially secure, deeply in love with his wife, with clever, lovely children—died. He strangled himself to death in his office.”

The crimson moonlight outside the carriage window spilled in, draping itself over Dunn Smith.

At that moment, his seemingly self-mocking smile made Klein feel a chill he could not describe.

“He strangled himself to death…”

Klein drew in a silent cold breath. It was as if he had glimpsed his own miserable end.

Even if he dodged disaster once, would it only be a temporary escape?

Was there any way to solve it completely?

Become a Beyonder himself and fight back?

The carriage fell silent. Countless thoughts rose in Klein’s mind, then fell away again.

Within that wordless stillness, the carriage traveled for a long time, and quickly.

Just as Klein made up his mind to shamelessly ask Dunn Smith whether there was any solution, the carriage stopped.

“Mr. Smith, we have arrived at Welch’s residence,” the driver’s voice came to them.

“Let us get down.” Dunn straightened the black windbreaker that reached to his knees. “Heh. I will introduce her in advance. The ‘expert’s’ public identity is the most famous spirit medium in Awwa County.”

Klein gathered away his other thoughts and asked curiously, “And her true identity?”

Dunn half-turned, looking back. His gray eyes were deep.

“A true Spirit Medium.”