Chapter 28: The Secret Order

Chapter Twenty-EightThe 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…