Chapter 201: Inquiry

Chapter Two Hundred One
Inquiry

Leaning against the wall, staring into the darkness on the other side of the corridor, Klein instinctively held his breath.

What is the Captain doing?

What happened to the Captain?

Was he drinking blood?

Is he showing early signs of losing control?

Thought after thought surged up. His mind was a chaotic mess, completely unable to produce effective thinking.

After more than ten seconds, Klein gritted his teeth. Borrowing the Clown’s control over his body, he silently moved to the staircase.

Then he deliberately made his footsteps heavier, walked back, and once again arrived at Madam Sharon’s bedroom door.

He looked inside and saw the Captain standing there, wrapping Sealed Artifact 3-0217 layer after layer in black cloth. Dunn’s expression was heavy, his gray eyes deep, and his face clean.

What Klein had seen moments ago seemed to have been merely an illusion.

From the corner of his eye, Klein saw that Kernli’s corpse showed nothing newly abnormal. It remained as it had been before.

He secretly inhaled, then asked, “Captain, how should I confirm whether those servants are asleep? Relying only on spirit vision does not seem accurate enough. They may produce different emotional reactions because of dreams, showing corresponding colors.”

Holding the Spirit Medium’s Mirror, Dunn Smith remained silent for several seconds. His voice was hoarse as he said, “I am sorry. I forgot. I have made far too many mistakes tonight.

“You do not need to check. I will confirm it.”

He raised one hand and pressed it to the center of his brow. Then he closed his eyes, allowing invisible ripples to spread circle after circle toward other rooms and toward the first floor.

Whether someone was asleep or not was perfectly clear before a Nightmare.

Klein stared blankly at this scene. Slowly, his eyelids lowered, and he bit hard against the inside of his lip.

Captain, you really were only trying to send me away just now…

What exactly were you doing? Do you know what you were doing?

He abruptly turned his head and looked toward the window. That crimson moon hung high above, seemingly unchanged for thousands upon thousands of years.

After settling himself for a while, Klein used the excuse of collecting tarot cards, revolvers, half-top silk hats, and other items to carefully examine the bodies of Kernli and Madam Sharon again.

They retained the appearance they had at death. Their skin had turned pale at a speed exceeding that of ordinary people, carrying a faint bluish-purple color.

A little strange. They seem to be missing something… not a specific object, but a certain feeling…

Klein silently murmured to himself. The cool wind blowing in from the shattered window made the fine hairs on his body rise one by one.

At that moment, Dunn opened his eyes and said in a low voice, “They are all still sleeping. Only a few are close to waking.”

“That is good. That is good…”

Klein looked at the Captain, not even knowing what he was answering.

Dunn swept his gaze around and said, “Handle the items at the scene, then go to the nearest police station and have people come over. Hm, while you are at it, return to Zouteland Street and have Frye come help.”

Klein looked deeply at the Captain. With clenched teeth, he nodded.

“Mm.”

With Dunn’s help, he quickly dealt with the scene, then left Madam Sharon’s house through the main entrance.

Crossing the garden and arriving outside, Klein could not help glancing back. The small building still crouched quietly within the darkness, without the slightest light.

He turned heavily and, relying on memory, swiftly found the nearest police station—common knowledge every Nighthawk had to remember.

Dang, dang, dang. Klein knocked on the iron gate.

Before long, the policeman on night duty carried a storm lantern across the small courtyard and opened the gate, examining Klein suspiciously.

“What is the matter?”

Klein could not force out any expression. With a heavy face, he took out his identification, opened it, and displayed it before the policeman’s eyes.

“A serious murder has occurred at 15 Orsna Street. Immediately call your colleagues and go there to assist!”

The policeman lifted the storm lantern and carefully examined the identification. Then he snapped his legs together, raised his hand, and saluted.

“Yes, sir!”

After handling that matter, Klein took a rental carriage back toward Zouteland Street.

Along the way, he sat in the dark carriage compartment, his thoughts both tangled and scattered.

Kernli is dead…

I remember that he had just gotten engaged… His parents are still alive…

What exactly was the Captain doing just now…

Could he have been craving blood…

Or was there some other purpose…

His memory is still so poor and has not shown obvious improvement. That means, that means he has not displayed early signs of losing control!

But he has also known about the acting method for a while. Does the lack of improvement in his memory likewise indicate some hidden problem…

No! It must be that the Captain is still exploring how a Nightmare should act!

…Right. One of the important reasons Kernli died was Sealed Artifact 3-0217, which the Captain handed to him…

What am I thinking? That was the necessary choice at the time!

…It was also the Captain who proposed using Sealed Artifact 3-0217…

Calm down. Calm down. I cannot think wildly, and I cannot wait either. Otherwise, the situation might worsen!

I will write to Madam Daly later and see whether she knows what this condition represents. Even if she does not know the exact answer, she will definitely understand the danger contained in it and inform the Sanctuary in time…

That should be able to strangle the problem in the cradle and let the Captain return to normal!

No. The Captain might not have any problem. Perhaps I misunderstood something. Let us see what Madam Daly says…

…

By the time the rental carriage reached 36 Zouteland Street, Klein had already thought of a countermeasure, made a decision, and no longer felt as panicked and helpless as before.

He climbed the stairs, his steps heavy, to the entrance of Blackthorn Security Company, took out his key, and opened the door.

The familiar furnishings and familiar scenes before him calmed him somewhat, just like the feeling he had every time something happened and he went to find the Captain.

Taking a breath, Klein arrived at the Nighthawks’ recreation room and saw Frye reading alone beneath the gaslight.

Frye turned his head toward Klein. On his cold, gloomy face appeared clear concern and tension.

“What happened?

“Where are the Captain and Kernli?”

Klein answered in a low, hoarse voice, “Kernli is dead. He died at Madam Sharon’s hands. We all made mistakes…

“The Captain is guarding the scene there. He wants you to go help.”

Before setting out, Dunn had told Frye the exact situation and explained that if they did not return within two hours, he should immediately telegraph the Sanctuary. Likewise, because they had needed to apply for Sealed Artifact 3-0217 and enter Chanis Gate at night, Royale, who was taking the shift in the guard room, also knew what mission they would carry out. According to Nighthawk internal rules, opening Chanis Gate at night required the Captain’s permission, and if the Captain was present, only the Captain could enter.

Frye froze for a moment, then sighed softly and drew a crimson moon over his chest.

He put on his coat, wore his hat, and walked toward the door. When he brushed past Klein, he suddenly spoke in a low voice.

“You do not need to blame yourself. Mistakes can never be entirely avoided.

“We always trust our teammates.”

“Mm…”

Klein closed his eyes, and even his vision seemed to blur.

He and Frye first went underground and informed Royale, then locked the front door of Blackthorn Security Company and hurried to Madam Sharon’s house on Orsna Street.

By the time they carried back Kernli’s remains and Madam Sharon’s horrific corpse with half her head missing, it was already past midnight.

Dunn, wearing a thin black windbreaker, stood before the door of that “morgue,” silently gazing inside. After a long while, he turned his head slightly toward Klein and said, “Go home first. You just experienced an intense battle, so you must be very tired.”

“All right.”

Klein did not refuse.

He pressed his lips together, looked at the Captain once, then quietly left Blackthorn Security Company and took a rental carriage back to Daffodil Street.

Following the same procedure as last time, he easily entered his bedroom and truly locked the door.

Drawing out the ritual silver dagger, Klein created a wall of spirituality sealing the room. Then he sat before his desk, spread out a sheet of paper, picked up his fountain pen, and urgently wrote:

“Honored Madam Daly:

“I discovered the Captain has been somewhat abnormal recently. During a mission, he quietly…”

Writing up to this point, Klein’s pen suddenly stopped. His mind went blank. He did not know how to continue. He did not know how to describe it.

Pap!

He abruptly threw down the fountain pen, grabbed the paper before him, crumpled it into a ball, then slammed his fist hard against the desk.

Amid the echoing thud, Klein closed his eyes and covered his face with one hand. For a long time, he did not move, as if he had become a statue.

After five full minutes passed, he sighed, lowered his right hand, and used spirituality to ignite the ball of wasted paper, watching it turn into ash and fall into the trash bin.

After organizing his thoughts, Klein spread out a new sheet of paper and began writing again:

“Honored Madam Daly:

“We have just concluded a mission and grievously lost one teammate. The exact situation is as follows…”

“…At the time, I realized that with my current level of spirit vision, I could not confirm whether the servants were asleep, and divining them one by one would be extremely troublesome. Therefore, I went back, intending to ask the Captain for advice. At that moment, through the reflection of a mirror, I saw the Captain half prone beside Kernli’s corpse, with dark-red blood around his mouth.

“I do not know what happened, nor do I know what state the Captain was in. I hope you can give me an answer.”

…

After finishing the letter, Klein read through it once with a heavy heart and folded the paper.

Then he arranged the ritual, activated spirit vision, and summoned Daly’s messenger—the strange face without eyes or nose, with only a mouth.

Looking at the vivid red tongue that was spat out, covered in irregular sharp teeth, and at the five thin, pale fingers at the tip of the tongue, Klein silently handed the letter over.

After everything returned to normal, he sat down again and continued writing.

This time, he wanted to ask Mr. Azik:

“…During a recent mission, my superior displayed certain abnormal behavior. He sent me away, then half crouched beside a teammate’s corpse, with dark-red blood around his mouth.

“In your memories, have you encountered anything similar? How should I help my superior?”