Chapter 15: Invitation

Chapter Fifteen
Invitation

“Why?”

At Dunn’s words, great waves surged through Klein’s heart. Instinctively, the question left his mouth.

Beyonders have serious hidden dangers? So serious that even the churches’ own judgment agencies—even Beyonders who handle evil and bizarre incidents—are prone to problems?

Dunn Smith entered the carriage and sat where he had sat before. His expression and tone remained ordinary.

“That is not something you need to understand, nor something you are able to understand—unless you become one of us.”

Klein was momentarily speechless. He followed him in and sat down. Half amused and half confused, he asked, “If I do not understand that, how could I possibly decide whether to join?”

And if he did not join, he could not understand.

That was a dead loop.

Dunn Smith once again took out his pipe and held it beneath his nose, inhaling the scent.

“You have likely misunderstood. One of us includes civilian staff.”

“In other words, as long as I become a civilian staff member, I can learn the relevant secrets, understand the hidden dangers of Beyonders and the risks they may face, and afterward consider whether to become a Beyonder myself?”

Klein organized his thoughts and restated the other man’s meaning in his own words.

Dunn smiled.

“That is correct, aside from one point: just because you wish to become a Beyonder does not mean you necessarily can. In this regard, every major church is equally strict.”

It would be strange if they were not…

Klein muttered inwardly. Then, emphasizing his words with a gesture, he asked, “And civilian staff? That should also be quite strict, should it not?”

“If it is you, there should be no major problem.”

Dunn’s eyes were half-closed, his expression slightly relaxed as he smelled the pipe, though he never lit the tobacco.

“Why?” Klein fell once more into confusion.

At the same time, he mocked himself inwardly.

Could it be that my specialness, my transmigrator’s halo, is like a firefly in the night—so bright, so outstanding?

Dunn opened his half-closed eyes. His gray gaze was as deep as before.

“First, the fact that you survived such an incident without our help means you possess qualities different from others. For example, luck. And lucky people are always very welcome.”

Seeing Klein’s somewhat wooden expression, he smiled faintly.

“All right. You may take that as a humorous way of putting it.

“Second, you are a graduate of Khoy University’s history department. That is something we very much need. Although Lormer, that believer of the Lord of Storms, holds an attitude toward women that is detestable, his views on society, the humanities, economics, and politics remain sharp. He once said that talent is the key factor in maintaining competitive advantage and healthy development. On that point, I agree with him.”

Noticing Klein’s slight frown, he explained casually.

“You should be able to imagine that we often come into contact with documents and objects from the Fourth Epoch, or even earlier. Many cults and various heretics try to obtain power from such things. Sometimes, the things themselves can also lead to strange and terrifying events.

“Apart from Beyonders of certain special domains, most of us are not good at studying—or rather, we have already passed the age for it.”

At this point, Dunn Smith pointed at his own head. The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, as if in self-mockery.

“Those dry, tedious pieces of knowledge always make one want to sleep. Even Sleepless cannot resist. In the past, we cooperated with historians and archaeologists, but that carried the risk of secrets leaking. It could also bring bad encounters upon those professors and associate professors. Therefore, having a professional join us and become one of our own is a very difficult thing to refuse.”

Klein nodded lightly, accepting Dunn’s explanation. Then his thoughts wandered, and he asked, “Then why did you not directly, mm, develop someone before?”

Dunn continued without being distracted.

“That is the third, final, and most important point. You have already come into contact with such an incident, so inviting you does not violate the confidentiality clauses. If I were to develop someone else, and the attempt failed, I would bear responsibility for the leaking of secrets. Most of our team members and civilian staff come from within the church.”

After listening quietly, Klein asked with curiosity, “Why do you keep the secrecy so strict? If many matters were made public and spread, so that more people knew of them, would that not prevent the same mistakes from happening again? The greatest fear comes from the unknown. We could turn the unknown into the known.”

“No. Human stupidity surpasses your imagination. That would instead lead to more imitation, greater chaos, and more severe incidents,” Dunn Smith answered, shaking his head.

Klein gave a thoughtful “Mm.”

“Humanity’s only lesson from history is that humanity learns no lessons from history and always repeats the same tragedies.”

“Emperor Roselle’s famous saying is indeed full of philosophy,” Dunn said in agreement.

…Emperor Roselle said that too?

That transmigrating predecessor really left no angle uncovered for later arrivals to show off…

For a moment, Klein had no idea how to respond.

Dunn turned his head and looked outside the carriage. The dim yellow streetlamps interwove into the radiance of civilization.

“…Within the judgment agencies of the major churches, there is a similar saying. Perhaps this is the true main reason for strict secrecy and for forbidding ordinary people from knowing.”

“What is it?”

Klein’s spirit stirred. He felt the pleasure of peering into hidden knowledge.

Dunn turned back. The muscles of his face moved almost imperceptibly.

“Belief and fear bring trouble. More belief and more fear bring greater trouble, until everything is destroyed.”

After saying this, he sighed.

“And apart from praying for the blessings and aid of the gods, humanity cannot resolve truly great troubles.”

“Belief and fear bring trouble. More belief and more fear bring greater trouble…”

Klein silently repeated the words. He did not quite understand them. And because he did not quite understand, the unknown feeling made him afraid, as if in the shadows outside the streetlamps, in the darkness where light did not reach, there hid pairs of malicious eyes and mouths hanging open.

The horse’s hooves moved briskly; the wheels rolled onward. Iron Cross Street came faintly into view. Dunn broke the sudden silence and extended a formal invitation.

“Will you join us and become a civilian staff member?”

Thoughts surged in Klein’s mind. For a short time, he could not make a decision. After a moment, he said, “May I consider it?”

This was an important matter. He could not choose hastily or recklessly.

“No problem. Give me an answer before Sunday,” Dunn said with a nod. “Of course, remember the secrecy rule. You may not tell anyone about the matter related to Welch, including your elder brother and younger sister. If you violate this, you will not only bring trouble to them, you may also end up before a special tribunal.”

“All right,” Klein answered solemnly.

The carriage sank back into silence.

Seeing Iron Cross Street approach, and home not far ahead, Klein suddenly thought of a problem. After hesitating for several seconds, he spoke.

“Mr. Smith, what are the salary and benefits like for your civilian staff?”

This was a serious question…

Dunn froze for a moment, then smiled.

“You need not worry about that. Our funding is jointly guaranteed by the church and the police department. Newly hired civilian staff receive a weekly salary of two pounds and ten soli. In addition, there is a ten-soli confidentiality and risk allowance. Altogether, that makes three pounds—not much less than a full university lecturer.

“Afterward, as your seniority rises and you earn corresponding merit, your salary will gradually increase.

“For civilian staff, our usual contract is five years. After five years, if you no longer wish to do it, you may leave normally. You simply must sign a lifelong confidentiality clause afterward. Without our approval, you cannot leave Tingen. If you move to another city, you must immediately register with the local Nighthawks.

“Oh, yes. There are no Sundays off. Only rotating rest days. We must always ensure that at least three civilian staff are working. If you wish to go south, or to Desi Bay for a vacation, you will need to coordinate with your colleagues.”

Just as Dunn finished, the carriage stopped. The apartment building where Klein’s family lived appeared to the side.

“I understand.”

Klein turned and stepped down from the carriage, stopping beside it.

“Oh, Mr. Smith, if I have made my decision, where should I find you?”

Dunn gave a low laugh.

“Go to the Hound Tavern on Besik Street. Find their owner, Wright. Tell him you wish to hire a mercenary team for a mission.”

“Ah?”

Klein was utterly confused.

“Our address is secret as well. Before you agree, I cannot possibly tell it to you directly. Very well, Mr. Klein Moretti, I wish you another pleasant dream tonight.”

Dunn nodded with a smile.

Klein removed his hat and returned the salute, watching as the carriage departed, slowly at first, then faster.

He took out his pocket watch and snapped it open. It was only a little after four in the morning. A cool wind drifted along the street, and the surroundings were lit by dim yellow lamps.

Klein drew a deep breath, feeling the profound quiet of the night around him.

This district, so loud and chaotic in the daytime, was unexpectedly cold and still at midnight. It was utterly different from the silent gazes inside Welch’s residence, and from the dreamlike haze of spirit channeling.

Only then did he discover that the back of his linen shirt had, at some unknown time, become soaked with sweat—cold, damp, and clinging.