Chapter 184: Behind the Door

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Four
Behind the Door

“Come in.”

Dunn Smith’s mellow, warm voice came from inside.

Klein turned the handle, pushed open the door, and saw the Captain enjoying breakfast. To Dunn’s right sat coffee giving off a rich aroma. Before him was a plate holding white bread, toast, and bacon.

Dunn put the remaining buttered toast into his mouth and silently pointed toward the chair opposite his desk.

Klein did not disturb the Captain’s meal. Wearing a faint smile, he sat down and waited patiently.

Seeing that he was in no hurry, Dunn relaxed his straightened back, lifted his coffee, took a sip, and swallowed everything in his mouth.

He pulled out a soft paper napkin, wiped the corner of his mouth, and asked, “What is it?”

Klein nodded seriously.

“I have met Daxter Guderian—the asylum doctor, the member of the Psychology Alchemists.”

As he spoke, his peripheral vision swept over the Captain’s desk and noticed an open magazine lying there as well.

“What information did he provide?” Dunn asked in realization, interlacing his fingers.

Klein described it briefly.

“He told me that before Hood Eugen went mad, there was someone who frequently visited him. That person was named Lanevus.”

“Lanevus…”

Dunn raised a hand and rubbed the corner of his brow.

“I seem to have heard that somewhere…”

“The swindler who ran off with at least ten thousand pounds,” Klein reminded him.

Dunn wore a serious expression and thought for a moment, then shook his head to indicate that he had no impression.

Captain, you really are not sensitive to money at all!

Klein muttered inwardly, then selected the important parts and recounted matters related to Lanevus.

“This swindler falsely claimed that he had surveyed and purchased a high-quality, high-reserve iron mine. In Tingen City, he privately raised funds for development and stole more than ten thousand pounds. A friend I met at the Divination Club suffered losses from this. In addition, there was a young lady whom he deceived into becoming engaged to him, and she became pregnant with his child.”

“He visited Hood Eugen several times before the man went mad…” Dunn said thoughtfully. “A Sequence 8 Beyonder, Swindler? The Thief pathway…”

Captain, your memory is very good when it comes to things like this…

Klein sighed with amusement and lightly nodded.

“That is also my guess.”

“Because the steel company Lanevus established was in the South Borough, and because the victims held all sorts of different beliefs, this matter was not ultimately transferred to us. Even if the police department discovered some supernatural traces, they would hand it to the Mandated Punishers’ team instead.”

Dunn finally understood the whole matter. With deep gray eyes, he looked at Klein and asked, “What do you want to do?”

Cough. Captain, there is no need to be so perceptive…

Klein answered with perfect seriousness.

“I want to use a spirit-channeling ritual to communicate with Hood Eugen, to figure out why Lanevus went looking for him, and whether this directly caused his insanity.”

Dunn nodded slightly.

“Even if you had not applied, after confirming that Hood Eugen is truly mad, I would have attempted something similar.

“However, Daly once told me that such matters carry no small risk. Are you certain you have confidence? Or shall I request assistance from the Backlund diocese? A delay of a few days should not matter.”

Klein’s primary motivation for becoming a Beyonder was to study mysticism and find a way home. Now that there was an opportunity for practical experience, and given his own strong confidence, he naturally did not wish to give it up.

“Captain, I have already grasped the knowledge in this area. I have a certain degree of confidence.

“Of course, I will need the assistance of Amantha hydrosol, Eye of Spirit potion, and Tranquility Potion.”

“Tranquility Potion…”

Dunn chewed over the name, confirming Klein’s professionalism.

He remembered Daly mentioning before that this was a comparatively obscure yet very useful potion in the field of spirit channeling.

After considering for more than ten seconds, Dunn Smith leaned back against his chair and said, “Then write an application. Go behind Chanis Gate and retrieve the corresponding potions. Uh… I do not know whether finished potions are still available. If not, retrieve the corresponding materials and mix them yourself.”

“All right,” Klein answered with delight.

But he did not rise. His rear remained firmly planted in the chair.

Seeing this, Dunn raised a hand and rubbed the corner of his forehead, thinking carefully.

“Starting this afternoon, it will be my turn to monitor the asylum… We cannot go directly to Hood Eugen. No one knows whether there are still members of the Psychology Alchemists hidden among the asylum’s doctors, nurses, orderlies, or patients. No one knows whether the Psychology Alchemists are also secretly monitoring Hood Eugen. Our movements must be concealed enough. We cannot expose the fact that Daxter Guderian has become our informant.”

“…We will go before dawn. We will infiltrate secretly.

“Mm, I will stand watch nearby to guard against accidents.”

That is for the best! If Hood Eugen is only pretending to be mad and I use spirit channeling on him, would that not be equivalent to climbing into a zoo and dancing in front of a tiger?

Klein set his mind at ease and said sincerely, “Yes, Captain!”

He stood, turned, and walked toward the door.

Just then, his peripheral vision swept across the title of the article in the open magazine before the Captain:

“The Sap of the Doningsman Tree in the Southern Continent’s Rainforest Has an Obvious Effect in Promoting Hair Growth.”

…

Klein withdrew his gaze with pity and pulled open the door, leaving the Captain’s office.

Suddenly, an amusing thought flashed through his mind.

Actually, Beyonders do not need to go through such trouble. If Old Neil were still here, he would probably suggest designing a hair-growth ritual magic and praying to the Goddess for help. As for whether one would end up covered in body hair and become a curly-haired baboon, that would be another question entirely… And how would the Goddess react? If it were me, I would definitely say: What the hell…

That thought immediately stained Klein’s happiness with sorrow, and filled his sorrow with a sense of absurd comedy.

He entered the civilian staff office, sat before the Akerson 1346 mechanical typewriter, and swiftly tak, tak, tak-ed out the application.

Once Dunn Smith had signed and stamped it, Klein took the application, went deep underground, and followed the corridor lit by gas lamps step by step toward Chanis Gate.

Only then did Klein think of one matter:

This would be the first time he entered beyond that mysterious great door!

“I wonder what it looks like behind the door…”

Carrying hidden anticipation, he quickened his pace and arrived before the pair of black iron doors that made one instinctively look upward.

After first handing the application to Siga Teon, who was on duty there today, and having her register it, Klein retrieved the document now bearing another signature and knocked on Chanis Gate with thud, thud, thud. He felt the echo inside was empty and distant.

After waiting several dozen seconds, and without hearing footsteps, he saw the double doors inscribed with seven dark Sacred Emblems open heavily with a creak.

Chanis Gate opened only wide enough to allow one person through before stopping. Using the light from the gas lamps on either side of the corridor, Klein saw the scene close by.

Standing behind the door was an old man with deep wrinkles and sparse hair. He wore a black classical robe and carried a lantern.

The dim-yellow candlelight passed through the glass, casting alternating brightness and shadow across his expressionless face, making his pale-blue eyes seem like blocks of ice frozen for a thousand years.

“Document,” he said hoarsely, uttering a single word.

Klein had seen this old man before, because at the end of every dusk, he and his companions would emerge from behind Chanis Gate, pass the guard room, and turn toward Saint Selena Cathedral.

They were aged Nighthawks—voluntary internal guards.

As far as Klein knew, there were five such guards.

“This is my application.”

He handed the document to the old man before him.

The internal guard with pale-blue eyes raised the lantern and carefully examined the document. Only after confirming there was nothing wrong did he step aside and allow Klein through.

Klein slowly entered Chanis Gate. Before he even had time to examine his surroundings, he felt an indescribable chill.

It was not the brutal cold of winter, but an icy sensation that made even his spirituality tremble.

Raising his gaze, Klein saw candlestands one after another on the walls. He saw silver candles carved with patterns. The flames burning upon them all had an eerie blue color, without the slightest flicker.

Creak!

The guard closed Chanis Gate. Everything around them instantly became extremely quiet.

Before Klein stretched a broad passage paved with old stone slabs.

On both sides of the passage were stone doors, marked respectively with words like “Materials,” “Potions,” and “Archives.”

At the end of the passage, a stairway led downward, stretching into darkness as though heading into the abyss.

That should connect to the different sealing points of different Sealed Artifacts. It is said to be divided into several levels… I wonder which level holds Saint Selena’s ashes…

Klein had just adapted to the brightness behind the door when he suddenly felt something invisible in the air scrape across his skin, one line after another, cold enough to seep into his bones.

He shivered and could not help activating spirit vision.

Then he saw the surroundings. He saw that the entire space behind Chanis Gate was filled with strands of black thread. They swayed gently, sometimes gathering into clusters, sometimes stretching outward, packed so densely that they left no empty space.

This… Is this the sealing power behind Chanis Gate?

Klein nodded almost imperceptibly, restrained his thoughts, and followed the guard into the “Potion Room” behind a heavy stone door.

He quickly found Amantha hydrosol, Eye of Spirit potion, and Tranquility Potion by their initial letters.

He had seen the first two before, but this was his first time coming into contact with the latter. Inside the translucent glass vial, an eerie blue liquid swayed gently. Merely looking at it made one feel as though they had returned to their mother’s embrace.

A label was pasted on the bottle, noting the date of production and the warning that it was effective for half a year.

Good. It is usable…

Klein put away the three small bottles of potion. Accompanied by the guard, he left Chanis Gate, escaping that coldness that sank deep into the soul and the bizarre sensation of being swept by black threads.

After Chanis Gate closed, he could not help looking back at it, muttering inwardly:

“Staying inside for long periods of time must affect both body and soul, right?

“No wonder the guards have to volunteer…”

…

In the hour before dawn, Klein locked his bedroom door using a special method, pushed open the oriel window, and leaped downward.

The height of the second floor posed no danger at all to the current him. He landed steadily, without the slightest sway.

The Nighthawks’ carriage was already waiting across the street.

Without unnecessary conversation, Klein soon arrived at Tingen City Asylum in the North Borough. Following instructions, he circled to an unlit corner of the perimeter wall and saw Dunn Smith waiting there.

“Let us go in.”

Dunn nodded slightly.

“I have confirmed that no one is nearby.”

“All right.”

Klein quickly drew closer.

Go in… As a Clown, entering an asylum… This always makes me think of a famous line: like coming home…

He mocked himself silently.

Then he followed Dunn. Borrowing certain protrusions on the wall, he lightly and swiftly climbed over the asylum wall, his movements agile and his balance excellent.

Dunn turned back and glanced at him, then nodded faintly in approval.

Both of them lowered their backs, passing through shadows and quiet corners across the lawn and activity grounds. They entered the asylum’s three-story building and arrived at Hood Eugen’s room on the top floor.

After going mad, Hood Eugen had displayed a certain aggression, so he had been arranged into a single room. The Nighthawks’ monitoring during this period had not been wasted. They had long since copied a key.

Click!

Amid the faint sound of the door opening, Dunn entered first. Klein’s gaze crossed over his figure and saw a person sitting on the bed.

Hood Eugen had a long, thin face, deeply sunken eye sockets, and messy pale-yellow hair draped over his head.

With gray-blue eyes, he was gazing at the window with iron bars—at the crimson moon outside.

Klein closed the door and chuckled, asking casually, “Why are you not asleep yet?”

Dunn froze for a moment, then remembered that Klein was now a Sequence 8 Clown. He kept silent and retreated into a corner.

Hood Eugen turned his head, looked at Klein, and gave a silly smile.

“I am waiting for my cake.”