Chapter 28: The Secret Order

Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Secret Order

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Klein’s heart suddenly began beating with ferocious force. It clenched into a tight knot, then swelled violently outward, making his body tremble faintly along with it.

For an instant, he almost forgot what he needed to do, what he ought to do. Only when the intruder’s figure suddenly paused and tilted his head slightly, as if hearing some change in the room, did the “blood” seem to flow back down from Klein’s brain. His basic ability to think returned.

His hand slipped beneath the pillow and closed around the revolver’s wooden grip.

The hard, smooth touch steadied him at once. Slowly and soundlessly, he drew out the pistol and aimed it at the back of the intruder’s head.

To be honest, he had no confidence at all that he could hit the man. He had become capable of putting bullets on a target earlier, yes, but a moving person and a fixed target were entirely different concepts. Klein was not so arrogant as to confuse the two.

Still, he vaguely remembered something from his previous life—a saying whose general meaning was that a nuclear weapon was most powerful before it was launched.

At this moment, under these conditions, the principle was the same. A bullet was most intimidating before it left the barrel.

If he did not pull the trigger, if he did not fire blindly, then the other party would not know for certain that Klein was a novice who would most likely miss. The intruder would worry. He would be afraid. He would consider too many possibilities, and in doing so bind himself with restraints.

In that instant, thought after thought surfaced. Klein made a decision immediately. It was not that he was the kind of person who became calmer the more dangerous things grew. Rather, he had already imagined the possibility of facing the watcher, had already prepared a plan based not on attack, but on intimidation.

There was an idiom from the great foodie nation: preparedness averts peril!

When Klein’s muzzle settled on the intruder, the thin man abruptly stiffened, as if he had sensed something.

Immediately after, he heard a voice containing a light laugh.

“Good evening, sir.”

The thin man’s hands quietly clenched. His body seemed to draw taut. Klein sat on the lower bunk, the revolver aimed at the man’s head. His tone was as leisurely and natural as he could make it.

“Please raise your hands and turn around. Slowly, if you please. To be frank, I am a timid person, and I get nervous easily. If you move too quickly, I may be frightened. I cannot guarantee there will not be an accidental discharge. Yes. Just like that.”

The thin man raised both hands halfway beside his head and turned bit by bit. First, Klein saw a black close-fitting outfit with its buttons neatly fastened. Then he saw a pair of dense, sharp brownish-yellow brows.

In those blue eyes, Klein saw no fear. What he felt instead was the gaze of a savage beast: as though if Klein made even the smallest mistake, the man would pounce and tear him to pieces.

His grip tightened around the pistol. He forced his expression to remain calm and composed.

Only when the thin man had fully turned toward him did Klein lift his chin slightly and indicate the doorway. His voice was soft and mild.

“Sir, let us talk outside. We should not disturb other people’s pleasant dreams. Mm. Move slowly. Step lightly. That is the most basic courtesy of a gentleman…”

The thin man’s cold eyes shifted. They swept over Klein once. Still with both hands half-raised, he walked step by step toward the door.

Under the revolver’s aim, he twisted the handle and slowly opened it.

Just as the door had opened halfway, he suddenly crouched and rolled forward. At the same time, the door seemed to be dragged shut by a violent gust of wind. With a bang, it closed again.

“Mm…”

The enormous sound startled Benson on the upper bunk. Half-asleep, half-awake, he was about to rouse.

At that moment, a melodious, tranquil tune drifted in from outside. A deep, soothing voice began to chant:

“Ah, threat of terrors, crimson hope—
At least one thing is true: this life flies by.
One thing is true, and all the rest are lies:
The flower that once has bloomed will die…”

The poem seemed to possess the power to calm and soothe. Benson on the upper bunk, Melissa in the inner room, and the other tenants all sank back into muddled sleep.

Klein’s body and mind were also filled with quiet. He nearly yawned.

The thin man’s movement just now had been so agile that Klein had not even had time to react.

Looking at the closed door, he smiled faintly and muttered to himself, “You may not believe this, but that chamber was actually empty.”

The empty chamber meant to prevent accidental discharge!

Next, Klein listened to the midnight poem and waited patiently for the battle outside to end.

Less than a minute later, the peaceful melody, like moonlight on a still lake, ceased. The night returned to its deepest silence.

Klein soundlessly turned the cylinder, moving the empty chamber away, and waited for the result to appear.

That wait lasted ten whole minutes. Just as his unease grew and he began hesitating over whether he should go out to investigate, Dunn Smith’s steady, gentle voice finally came from beyond the door.

“It is resolved.”

Hoo. Klein breathed out. Holding the revolver carefully, he took his key, left his feet bare, and approached the door with great caution. Soundlessly, he opened it and stepped outside. Across from him stood Dunn Smith, black windbreaker reaching his knees, half-top hat in place, gray eyes deep and calm.

Klein closed the door behind him and followed Dunn to the end of the corridor, where they stood in the faint crimson moonlight.

“It took some time to enter his dream,” Dunn said calmly, gazing through the window at the red moon outside.

“You know where he came from?” Klein relaxed considerably.

Dunn gave a slight nod.

“An ancient organization called the Secret Order. It was established in the Fourth Epoch and is connected to the Solomon Empire and to some of the fallen nobles of that age. Heh. The Antigonus family notebook came from them. Because of one member’s carelessness, it entered the antiques market and was obtained by Welch. They had no choice but to send people everywhere to search for it.”

Before Klein could ask anything, Dunn paused, then continued.

“Using the clues, we will in turn capture some of their members. Mm, the outcome may not be especially good. These fellows are like rats in a sewer, highly skilled at hiding. But at least they will understand that the Antigonus family notebook has very possibly fallen into our hands—or that we have grasped the crucial clues. In that case, unless the item is extremely crucial, extremely important, they will give up the operation completely. That is their philosophy of survival.”

“…And if the notebook is extremely crucial and extremely important?” Klein asked, worried.

Dunn smiled but did not answer. Instead, he said, “We know very little about the Secret Order. This success owes a great deal to your quick thinking. That counts as merit belonging to you. Taking into account the possible hidden dangers and the aid that heightened inspiration may provide in searching for the notebook, you have a chance to choose.”

“A chance to choose?” Klein could vaguely guess what Dunn meant. His breathing unconsciously grew heavier.

Dunn withdrew his smile. His expression became solemn and serious.

“Do you wish to become a Beyonder? A Beyonder who can only choose the starting point of an incomplete sequence.

“Of course, you may also give up this opportunity and choose to accumulate merit instead, waiting until it is enough for you to become a Sleepless—the beginning of the complete sequence controlled by the Church, the first of the Goddess’s own Night Guardians.”

As expected…

Joy rose in Klein’s heart. For the moment, no hesitation appeared. He took the initiative and asked, “Which Sequence 9 options can I choose from?”

Only with detailed information could he decide whether to refuse, accept, and which option to accept.

Dunn turned around. Draped in the fallen crimson “gauze,” he looked into Klein’s eyes and slowly said, “Aside from Sleepless, the Church possesses three other Sequence 9 potion formulas. One is called Mystery Pryer—the ability Old Neil has. Heh. Rozanne has probably mentioned it to you. She never quite manages to control that mouth of hers.”

Klein smiled awkwardly and had no idea how to reply. Fortunately, Dunn did not mind. He continued.

“Our Mystery Pryer formula, along with the disconnected parts that follow it, was obtained from the Moses Ascetic Order. Back then, it is said, they had not yet fallen. They still upheld morality and discipline, still pursued knowledge, and kept secrets strictly. Every initiate, after becoming a Mystery Pryer, had to remain silent for five years, learning silence in order to cultivate themselves and improve concentration. The Mystery Pryer maxim ‘Do what thou wilt, but harm none’ came from them.”

“A Mystery Pryer possesses broad but preliminary understanding and mastery of mystical knowledge such as magic, witchcraft, and astrology. They know quite a few ritual magics. However, they can easily perceive certain existences hidden behind things, and must therefore act cautiously, always maintaining reverence toward extraordinary power.

“We lack most of this sequence, to the point that the scattered portions cannot form a chain. For instance, we do not have its Sequence 8. Of course, perhaps the Sanctuary does.”

This almost fits everything I want…

Klein nodded slightly. He felt an urge to choose it.

Fortunately, he still remembered that there were other options.

“And the other two?”

“The second is called Corpse Collector. Many cultists from the Southern Continent who worship Death choose this path. After drinking this potion, unintelligent undead will mistake you for one of their own and refrain from attacking you. You will be able to endure cold, rot, and the corrosion of deathly aura. You will be able to see some evil spirits directly, understand the traits and weaknesses of many undead creatures, and gain some improvement to your physical abilities. We possess its following Sequence 8 and Sequence 7. Heh. You should be able to guess its Sequence 7: Spirit Medium. That was Daly’s choice.”

Dunn described it in considerable detail.

Spirit Medium really does look mysterious and cool, but what I want most is mastery of mystical knowledge…

Klein said nothing. He merely listened quietly.

Dunn Smith turned his head slightly and looked toward the crimson moonlight.

“As for the third, we only have Sequence 9. Whether the Sanctuary has anything more hidden away, I do not know. It is called Seer.”

Seer?

Klein’s pupils contracted slightly. He thought of the regret Emperor Roselle had left in his diary.

Roselle had regretted not choosing from among Apprentice, Marauder, and Seer!

Note:
The poem is adapted from Edward FitzGerald’s English rendering of the Rubáiyát.