Chapter 136: Klein’s Dilemma

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six
Klein’s Dilemma

No way…

Could Mr. Azik be the so-called first Baron Lamud?

That would make him someone from fourteen or fifteen hundred years ago…

No, wait. How could I be certain the person in the portrait is the first Baron Lamud?

Klein stared at the oil painting, his mind descending into chaos, as though he had suddenly discovered that everyone around him had turned into monsters, or that the entire world was merely a dream dreamed by some deity.

He abruptly lifted his head, stared at the yellow-haired middle-aged man before him, and drew the revolver from the holster beneath his arm. In a low voice, he said, “This is not an antique. If you do not explain the situation clearly, I will arrest you on charges of fraud and prosecute you!”

He did not care whether prosecution fell under the police department’s authority. He had only one purpose: to frighten the man and obtain information.

At the same time, Klein lightly tapped the teeth on the left side of his mouth twice, activating spirit vision and monitoring the changes in the target’s emotional colors.

The yellow-haired middle-aged man jumped in fright and answered in terrified incoherence, “No, I do not know whether it is an antique either. No, I heard it was an antique, but I do not understand these things. I truly do not understand. I do not even recognize many words. Mm, words.”

His eyes rolled about as he glanced around, seemingly wanting to shout for help.

But at that very moment, he saw Klein adjust the cylinder and trigger of his revolver, taking on the posture of someone about to shoot a suspect resisting arrest.

The man straightened his back with a whoosh and no longer dared to look anywhere else.

“Where did you obtain this oil painting?” Klein asked, his heart heavy.

The yellow-haired middle-aged man’s lips moved. Wearing a fawning smile, he said, “Officer, my grandfather found it in the old castle. More than forty years ago, the outer wall and the rooms on the second floor collapsed, and some objects appeared—objects that people in the past had not found. Among them was this oil painting. No, no, no, not this oil painting. The original painting was already very badly damaged and could not be preserved at all, so my grandfather hired someone to imitate it and paint another. Mm, the one you saw just now. I did not lie to you. A painting from over forty years ago can indeed be counted as an antique…”

“Then are you certain this is the portrait of the first Baron Lamud?”

Klein rubbed the trigger, leaving the man unable to move his gaze in the slightest.

The yellow-haired middle-aged man laughed awkwardly.

“I am not certain. But that is my inference.”

“Reason?”

Klein nearly laughed at the man’s shamelessness.

“Because there was no name written on the oil painting.”

The yellow-haired middle-aged man answered with rare seriousness, “It is just like how people call me Rascal Gray, my father was called Curly Gray, but only my grandfather was the real Gray.”

…

Klein silently exhaled.

“Where is your grandfather?”

“In the cemetery. He has been buried there for nearly twenty years. Beside him is my father, who was buried three years ago,” the yellow-haired middle-aged man answered very honestly.

Klein questioned him from several more angles, then, in front of the yellow-haired middle-aged man, adjusted the revolver’s cylinder and put it back into the holster beneath his arm.

Putting away his police identification, he turned around in his thin black windbreaker and walked toward the inn with both hands in his pockets, advancing in silence beneath the weak light spilling from houses on either side.

“It cannot be confirmed whether the portrait belongs to the first Baron Lamud… I do not know whether the town has precise historical records regarding the castle…

“But no matter what, the gentleman in the portrait is certainly an ancient person—someone from at least a thousand years ago…

“He is almost identical to Mr. Azik, aside from hairstyle. Is this what they call reincarnation?

“When Mr. Azik gave up positions at other universities in Backlund and came to Tingen, perhaps he was driven by some residual instinct…

“Mm, there is another possibility. For example, the person in the portrait is Mr. Azik. Mr. Azik is him!”

At that thought, Klein shuddered in terror and nearly tripped over the steps ahead.

He paced back and forth under a damaged gas streetlamp, combining what he knew from the information-explosion era with his earlier guess and analyzing further.

“Could Mr. Azik have turned into some kind of undead creature for some reason, such as a vampire, and therefore lived from ancient times until now?

“No, there is no such thing as a bronze-skinned vampire…

“And when I shook hands with Mr. Azik, I could clearly feel his body temperature and feel blood flowing inside him.

“Although he dislikes the heat of the south, he is not afraid of sunlight. He once rowed with other teachers under the blazing sun…

“Mm, another possibility: Mr. Azik’s Sequence potion, or some other factor, granted him a long life. The price is losing his memories. Hiss… Considering those completely different dreams of his, can I assume that his memory loss is cyclical? Every few dozen years, he forgets the past and gains a new life, while each of those dreams is one real life he once experienced… Heh. I feel like I have read novels like that before…

“To verify this matter, divination alone is not enough. I must find traces of Mr. Azik’s successive lives—traces that lack childhood and youth, beginning directly from adulthood!”

Klein, who had always believed in making bold assumptions and carefully seeking proof, began leaning toward the latter guess. Yet the possibility of reincarnation could not be eliminated for now.

He collected his chaotic thoughts and seriously considered whether to report the matter to Captain Dunn.

“If Mr. Azik truly is an ancient Beyonder who has lived for over a thousand years, then his strength is far greater than I imagined…

“His earlier reminders to me were made out of goodwill. But after I found clues to his past, it is difficult to say whether he will still maintain that goodwill…

“But Mr. Azik has always treated me very well. Rashly involving the Nighthawks may very well endanger him…

“Hoo. I should go above the gray fog and perform a divination without interference. That is what a Seer ought to do!”

Having made his decision, Klein quickened his pace and returned to the inn.

Taking advantage of Dunn and Frye not yet having returned, he spent one soli to rent another room.

After entering, Klein used Holy Night Powder to create a wall of spirituality. Then he walked four steps counterclockwise, passed through the mad ravings, and arrived above the gray fog.

The majestic, towering palace stood in silence, while the ancient, mottled bronze long table and the twenty-two high-backed chairs had not changed in the slightest.

Klein sat at the seat of honor and let yellow-brown parchment and a black, round-bellied fountain pen appear before him.

Picking up the pen, he wrote with great care:

“I should tell Dunn Smith about Mr. Azik’s matter.”

Then he removed the citrine pendant hidden inside his left sleeve cuff and performed a pendulum divination.

This time, the pendant’s answer was a counterclockwise rotation: he should not tell him.

Setting down the citrine pendant, Klein, always one to follow his heart when necessary, thought for several seconds and decided to switch to dream divination as well, seeking greater certainty.

This time, his divination statement became:

“The consequences of hiding matters related to Mr. Azik from the Nighthawks.”

Holding the parchment and silently reciting the statement seven times, Klein leaned back. With the aid of meditation, he entered sleep.

Inside that illusory, hazy, fragmented world, he saw himself struggling as he sank into a sea of blood.

At that moment, a hand reached out and pulled him from the blood sea. The hand’s owner was Azik, with bronze skin and a small black mole near his ear.

The image shattered, then reformed. Klein saw himself inside a dark, cold mausoleum. Coffins stood open all around him.

Azik stood beside him, gazing toward the very front, seemingly searching for something.

At that point, Klein abruptly left the dream and once again saw the illusory, gray-white, boundless fog.

“The symbolism of that dream was: if I conceal the related matters for Mr. Azik, then in some future crisis, I will receive his help. Heh. And that crisis may very well appear precisely because I helped him keep it hidden… What does the final image mean? I will explore some mausoleum with Mr. Azik? Mm. The mausoleum may also carry a different symbolic meaning…”

Klein interlaced his fingers and rested them against his chin, interpreting the contents of the dream divination.

Combining it with the result of the earlier pendulum divination, he decided not to report his guess to the Captain. He would merely mention roughly that a town resident had produced a portrait said to depict the first Baron Lamud, and that it somewhat resembled Azik, the history instructor from Hoy University.

Klein could not be certain whether Dunn might hear about this matter from somewhere else, so he had to give a partial explanation.

Of course, without Azik’s own account of his strange dreams, and not being familiar with him, Dunn would find it very hard to connect anything. Klein even suspected that the Captain no longer remembered Instructor Azik’s appearance very clearly.

Thinking this, he collected his thoughts and prepared to leave the space above the gray fog. But at that moment, he discovered that the crimson star which had been quiet for a long time had once again begun to faintly contract and expand.

Interested, Klein extended his spirituality. Once more, he saw the young boy who spoke Giant language. He saw him kneeling before a pure crystal ball.

The young boy still wore the black close-fitting clothing unlike the styles of any country on the Northern Continent. His appearance remained blurry and twisted, showing only faint traces of brownish-yellow hair.

He knelt there, his tone filled with extreme pain as he prayed again and again.

Klein turned his ear and listened. Relying on the Giant language he had finally begun to learn, he barely understood what the boy was saying.

“Great deity, please turn Your gaze once more upon this land You have abandoned.

“Great deity, please allow us, the people of darkness, to escape the curse of fate.

“I am willing to offer my life to You, to please You with my blood…”

…

The abandoned land… the people of darkness… great deity…

Klein silently repeated those key words. Suddenly, he remembered a place the Hanged Man had once mentioned.

“The Forsaken Land of the Gods!”

Roselle’s diary had mentioned it before as well. He had even dispatched a fleet in search of it, but had gained nothing…

Klein narrowed his eyes, uncertain whether his guess was correct.

His finger tapped the edge of the bronze long table. After three taps, he reached a decision. He extended his right hand and touched that illusory crimson star.

The crimson mass immediately erupted, its light flowing like water.