Chapter 44: Fate

Chapter Forty-Four
Fate

Leonard’s chanting was like a song of sleep. It echoed lightly between the doors on either side, and through the winding wooden stairwell.

Klein’s mind immediately blurred. He seemed to see quiet moonlight, seemed to see a peaceful lake with ripples trembling faintly across its surface.

His eyelids grew heavy at frightening speed, as though he could fall asleep standing upright.

Within that dim, muddled perception, he once again sensed the invisible, eerie, indifferent gaze coming from behind him, as if he himself were wandering through the spirit world.

A strange, indescribable feeling of familiarity rose. Klein abruptly recovered his thoughts. Relying on his powerful inspiration and the meditation technique with which he had already grown extremely familiar, he barely broke free from the influence of that “Midnight Poem.”

Even so, his body and mind remained tranquil, making it difficult for any other emotion to arise.

Soon, Leonard stopped chanting. He turned his head sideways and smiled.

“I am considering applying for a Feynapotter lute. How can there be singing without accompaniment?”

“Heh. I am joking. I heard them all fall asleep.”

The black-haired, green-eyed member of the Nighthawk team, who possessed the air of a poet, strode forward and reached the door behind which the kidnappers and hostage were located.

Suddenly, he swung his shoulder and snapped out a punch, smashing it into the lock.

Crack!

The wooden boards around the lock splintered. The noise was remarkably soft.

“This requires precise control,” Leonard said with a backward glance and a casual laugh. Then he reached through the hole and opened the door from inside.

Klein, now fully awake, did not possess Leonard’s confidence. He slipped his hand under his arm, drew out the revolver, and adjusted the cylinder so that it could fire immediately.

As the door retreated, he saw a man lying asleep across the table, his pistol dropped near his feet. He saw another man rubbing his eyes in confusion, trying to stand.

Thud!

Leonard slid forward in a single step and knocked out the kidnapper who was about to awaken.

Klein was just about to follow him inside when he suddenly sensed something. He turned around sharply and faced the stairway.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Footsteps came from below, growing clearer as they climbed upward. A man wearing a brown coat and no hat, holding a paper bag of bread in his arms, rounded the corner of the stairs and headed toward the third floor.

Suddenly, he stopped.

He saw a gun muzzle, metallic and cold, staring down at him.

Reflected in his pupils was a young man in a black formal suit and matching bow tie, wearing a half-top silk hat. Beside him, leaning against the banister, was a cane. In his hands was that dangerous revolver.

“Stop all movement and raise your hands. Three. Two…” Klein’s voice was low and soothing.

He gripped the revolver with both hands, trying to treat the man as a practice target.

In the tense atmosphere, the man in the brown coat dropped the bag of bread and slowly raised both hands.

“Sir, have you misunderstood something?” he asked with a forced smile, his gaze fixed on Klein’s finger resting on the trigger.

For the moment, Klein could not judge whether this man was another kidnapper or a neighbor from across the hall. Outwardly, however, he did not reveal the slightest uncertainty. In a deep voice, he said, “Do not try to resist. Someone will come in a moment to determine whether this is a misunderstanding.”

At that moment, Leonard, having finished handling the kidnappers inside, came out. He glanced at the man by the stairwell and said leisurely, “So the kidnappers had another accomplice, responsible for receiving them and buying food?”

Hearing that, the man in the brown coat’s pupils contracted. All at once, he kicked the paper bag of bread at his feet into the air, trying to block Klein’s line of sight.

Klein acted as if entirely unaffected. Calmly, as though during practice, he pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A bloom of blood burst from the man’s left shoulder.

Using the force, the man rolled and tried to flee down to the second floor. But Leonard had already pressed one hand against the banister and vaulted over.

With a muffled thud, Leonard descended from above and landed on the man’s body.

The man fainted. Leonard brushed away a few flecks of blood, lifted his head, and looked at Klein with a chuckle.

“Not bad marksmanship.”

I was aiming for his leg…

The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. At his nose, he smelled the faint scent of blood.

He discovered that after taking the Seer potion, although his sight, hearing, and touch had not improved, he could still “see” things hidden behind obstructions and still “hear” faint footsteps, enabling him to make judgments in advance.

Does this belong to the category of “inspiration”?

Klein nodded thoughtfully and watched as Leonard found a sharp dagger on the kidnapper accomplice. Then he watched Leonard “drag” the man into the room.

With a gun in one hand and a cane in the other, Klein stepped into the room where the kidnappers had kept their hostage. He saw Elliott Vickroy awakened by the gunshot, his curled-up body slowly straightening as he sat up.

The original three kidnappers had been tightly bound by Leonard using the ropes they had used on Elliott. They were tied together in a string and tossed into a corner. Where rope proved insufficient, strips torn from their own clothing served as replacements.

The man shot in the shoulder was unconscious and receiving a rough bandage, but Leonard disliked the dirtiness and had not helped him remove the bullet.

“You—you are?” Elliott stammered, hidden joy visible in his voice.

“Yes. Your guess is very correct. Extremely accurate,” Leonard answered casually while half-crouched.

I did not expect this fellow to actually have some sense of humor…

Lowering the revolver, Klein looked at Elliott and said, “We are the mercenaries your father hired. You may also call us security personnel.”

“Hoo, really? Have I been rescued?” Elliott asked, full of delight yet not daring to move randomly.

It was obvious that in the few short hours since his kidnapping, he had suffered quite a bit. The impulsiveness expected of a child his age had vanished.

Leonard stood and said to Klein, “Go downstairs and find the patrolling police. Have them inform that tobacco merchant. I have no wish to look like a kidnapper myself by taking a child and these four fellows outside.”

Klein, who had been considering how to handle the follow-up, nodded. He put away the revolver, lifted his cane, and walked toward the stairs.

As he descended step by step, he faintly felt he had forgotten something. Behind him, he heard Leonard say to Elliott, “Do not be nervous. You will soon see your father, mother, and old Butler Klee. How about we play a round of Gwent?”

…

Holding back laughter, Klein walked into the street outside. Following directions from passersby, he found two patrol officers.

He did not use the badge or credentials of the Special Operations Department. Instead, under the identity of a professional security worker, he explained the entire matter from beginning to end.

As for the issue of carrying a firearm, he was not worried at all, because the day before yesterday he had just received an all-category weapon permit. Through internal channels, approval had been extremely fast.

The two officers exchanged a glance. One split off to inform reinforcements and the Vickroy family, while the remaining officer followed Klein back to the room where the kidnappers were located.

After waiting for more than forty minutes, Leonard seized an opportunity when the police were not paying attention. He signaled to Klein with his eyes, telling him to follow, and slipped out of the room.

“Trust me. Going to the police station is a tremendous waste of time. Let us leave first,” the poet-like Nighthawk explained with an easy expression.

Since Klein held the attitude that if the sky collapsed, taller people would hold it up first, he did not object and simply followed.

Nearly five minutes later, several racing carriages stopped before the kidnappers’ building. Old Butler Klee accompanied his plump master, Vickroy, as they stepped down.

Even at that moment, he remained in a daze, unable to believe that good news had arrived so quickly—so quickly it felt like a dream.

Suddenly, he heard a sharp snap. By instinct, he turned his head and looked over.

A two-wheeled carriage passed by. Its window was open, and Leonard Mitchell, black-haired and green-eyed, snapped his fingers again.

Only after passing the Vickroy family’s carriage did Leonard close the window and turn back toward Klein.

Smiling, he raised his right hand.

“Happy working with you.”

We are not exactly familiar…

Klein politely clapped palms with him.

He had not expected the kidnapping case to be solved so swiftly either, and could only sigh inwardly that Beyonders really were Beyonders. Even he, a half-baked Sequence 9, could accomplish many unbelievable things.

“This is how nobles celebrate after fencing,” Leonard explained with a smile.

“I know,” Klein answered.

He had known quite a few noble classmates.

He glanced outside the window, frowned slightly, and said, “Shouldn’t we confirm things with Mr. Klee? If he believes it was the police who rescued Elliott, our payment will be reduced by half.”

A full one hundred pounds!

As for providing the kidnappers’ location, there would be no doubt about that after the “meeting” just now.

“No need to care. For our lives, money is not that important,” Leonard said with a spreading smile.

…For me, it is extremely important!

Klein squeezed out a polite smile.

“Quite a few poets died young because of poverty.”

Leonard laughed.

“I believe Elliott will not lie about this. I can tell he still retains some innocence. Besides, even if we receive the two-hundred-pound reward, you will not receive much of it.”

“How much can I get?” Klein asked at once.

“According to the usual unwritten rules, half the payment is handed over to Mrs. Orianna as the team’s additional funds. The remainder is divided among the participating members. Unfortunately, you are not an official member. You will probably receive only ten percent.”

Ten pounds? That is not bad…

Klein pretended his heart was not aching and changed the subject.

“Are you not worried that after the kidnappers wake up, they will realize they were affected by extraordinary power?”

“They will not suspect anything. They will only think the weather was too fine, too suitable for sleep, and that they could not resist dozing off. They may even believe the chanting existed only in a dream. This is something we have verified before,” Leonard answered with great confidence. “On the other hand, that Demon-hunting Bullet of yours may strike them as strange. Of course, a strange man who loves mysticism is a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“Mm.”

Klein let go of his worries. Still, he felt as though he had forgotten—or overlooked—something.

…

After returning to Zouteland Street, Klein did not wait for Klee to come by. Instead, he strolled to Welch’s residence, took a different route back home, and conveniently bought beef, cabbage, and other ingredients for dinner.

As usual, dinner was pleasant. As usual, the three siblings enjoyed leisurely conversation while studying. The only addition was a visitor who knocked on the door.

He was a worker who had come to remove all the one-penny copper coins from the gas meter.

The night deepened. The three siblings wished one another good night and returned to their respective rooms.

Klein was sleeping soundly when he was suddenly awakened by rustling noises outside. Puzzled, he opened the door and arrived outside the unoccupied bedroom.

Pushing open the mottled door, Klein saw a gray desk.

On the desk lay a notebook. Its cover was made of hard paper, dyed completely black.

An inexplicable sense of familiarity surfaced in his heart. Klein walked over and opened the notebook.

The page spread before him bore an illustration: The Fool, dressed in splendid clothing and wearing a brilliant headdress.

Beneath The Fool was a line written in Hermes:

“Everyone will die, including me.”

Klein’s heart lurched. Suddenly, he discovered that the corners of The Fool’s mouth had curled upward.

Whoosh!

He sat bolt upright. He saw the crimson moonlight filtering through the curtains, saw the bookshelf and desk, saw the outline of his own bedroom, and realized he had had a nightmare.

As a Seer, he understood that dreams always revealed something. Thus, he seriously went over it again.

In the midst of recollection, Klein abruptly stiffened, because he knew what he had overlooked today.

While immersed in Leonard’s chanting, he had been watched by an invisible, indifferent gaze from behind.

That gaze was different from what he experienced during normal meditation or when using spirit vision. It had given him an indescribable sense of déjà vu.

And according to Captain Dunn, when a similar feeling appeared, it often meant…

Klein sat upright at once and confirmed the sensation.

Yes. It is that. That notebook. The Antigonus family notebook!