LOM: Lord of Mysticism

"Okay." Klein bowed slightly. However, his mind was preoccupied with how Sealed Artifact 0-08 looked.

It appears to be just your everyday quill that writes without ink? Then, what is its actual use that makes it classified at the highest level of confidentiality, deeming it Extremely Dangerous? Could it be a pen that kills anyone whose name is written?

'No, that would be way too heaven-defying. Ince Zangwill wouldn't need to escape and hide away if that were the case...

Just as Klein turned around to leave, Dunn shouted out to him. "Hold on. I forgot something."

"What?" Klein turned his head puzzled.

"Later, remember to visit the accountant, Mrs. Orianna, and get an advance payment of four weeks—a total of twelve pounds. After that, you'll earn half your salary every week until the difference is covered."

"That's too much. There's no need for this; the amount should be reduced," Klein said.

He had no objection towards an advanced payment. After all, he didn't even have the money needed to pay for the public horse carriage trip home. However, to receive twelve pounds at once left him a little afraid.

"No, it's necessary," Dunn said. "Think about it. Do you still wish to continue living in your present apartment? One that needs you to share a bathroom with so many other tenants? Even if you aren't taking yourself into consideration, think about the lady. Besides…"

He paused when he saw Klein nod in agreement. "Besides, you need a cane, and you should buy a new suit."

Klein's face burned with embarrassment since the suit he was wearing was cheap and of inferior quality.

Typically, a top hat was made of silk, costing five to six soli. A bow tie was three soli, a walking cane inlaid with silver was seven to eight soli, a shirt was three soli, while pants, a vest, and a tuxedo were around seven pounds in total. Leather boots were nine to ten soli. As such, an entire suit cost more than eight pounds and seven soli. Of course, to be a presentable gentleman, one needed a watch chain, a pocket watch, and a wallet.

Back then, the original Klein and Benson scrimped and saved before managing to save up a pool of money. When they went to a clothing store to check the price, they left without bothering to haggle. Each bought a set at a bargain shop near Iron Cross Street for a total of less than two pounds.

It was also because of that incident that he had a deep impression of the prices of clothes.

"O-Okay," Klein stammered a reply. He was like the original Klein, who cared about his appearance.

Dunn took out the pocket watch again and clicked it open to take a glance at it.

"Perhaps you should find Mrs. Orianna first? I know you'll spend quite some time at Old Neil's while Mrs. Orianna will likely be returning home soon."

"Alright." Klein was acutely aware of his state of poverty and did not refuse.

Dunn returned to the table's side and pulled at a few hanging ropes. "I'll get Rozanne to bring you there."

The ropes began their operation as the gears ground, producing a chime from a bell at the reception area of Blackthorn Security Company. When Rozanne heard it, she hurriedly stood up and carefully made her way down.

It did not take long before she appeared in front of Klein again.

Dunn said humorously, "I did not disturb your rest, right? Oh, bring Moretti to Mrs. Orianna."

"Alright, Captain."

"Is that all?" At that moment, Klein blurted out.

To get his advance payment from finance, isn't there a need to get an approval letter from the Captain? Shouldn't you write something?

"So?" Dunn returned with a question.

"I mean—won't I need your signature to claim an advance payment from Mrs. Orianna?" Klein tried his best to use simple language.

"Oh, no. There's no need. Rozanne is proof enough." Dunn pointed at the brown-haired girl.

Captain, it seems there's almost zero management of your finances. Klein resisted his urge to deliver a sarcastic comment before turning to leave the room with Rozanne.

At that moment, he heard Dunn say again. "Hold on. There's still another thing."

"Yes?" Klein turned back, smiling.

"When you meet Old Neil, remember to collect ten demon hunting bullets."

"Me? Demon hunting bullets?" Klein said.

"Welch's revolver is still with you, right? There's no need for you to turn it in.

With the demon hunting bullets, if you were to face a paranormal danger, you will be able to protect yourself. Uh, it will give you some courage at the very least."

"Alright. I'll remember to do so!" Klein answered.

"This will require me to write a formal document. Wait a moment." Dunn sat down, picked up the fountain pen, and scribbled a 'note,' signed it, and then stamped it.

"Thank you, Captain." Klein received it sincerely. He slowly walked back before turning around.

"Hold on," Dunn said one more time.

Captain, you look to be in your thirties. Why do you have the symptoms of dementia? Klein squeezed out a smile and turned around to ask, "Anything else?"

"I forgot earlier that you are not trained in shooting, so getting demon hunting bullets would be useless. Let's do this: collect thirty normal bullets every day. Take the opportunity when you are out to go to the street corner—the underground shooting range at No. 3 Zouteland Street. Most of it belongs to the police department, but there is one that is specially for us Nighthawks. Oh, right, you also need to get a badge from Old Neil. Otherwise, you won't be able to enter the shooting range." Dunn smacked his forehead, took back the note from Klein, then added the information and stamped it with another seal.

"A good marksman is produced by expending bullets. Do not think lightly of it." Dunn handed the modified note back.

"Got it." Klein, who was fearful of danger, yearned to visit the shooting range that very day. He took two steps towards the exit before turning around halfway. "Captain, is there anything else?"

"No." Dunn nodded firmly.

Klein heaved a sigh of relief and walked straight out the door.

"Captain has always been this way. He often forgets things." As Rozanne walked by his side, she softly disparaged the captain, "Even my grandma has a better memory than him. Of course, he only forgets the trivial stuff. Yea, trivial stuff. Klein, I'll call you Klein in the future. Mrs. Orianna is a very affable person, and it's easy to hit it off with her."

As Klein listened to the girl rattle on, he stepped into the stairwell and returned to the upper floor to find Mrs. Orianna in the far office on the right-hand side.

She appeared to be a woman with black curly hair in her thirties, dressed in a flounce lace dress.

After Orianna heard Rozanne repeat Dunn Smith's instructions, she took out a note and wrote an advance slip. "Sign here. Do you have a seal? If not, you can leave a thumbprint."

"Alright." Klein, now familiar with the procedures, completed the formalities.

Orianna took out a copper key and opened the safe in the room. As she counted the pounds, she said with a smile, "You are lucky. We have enough cash today. By the way, Klein, were you invited by Captain because you were involved in a paranormal activity and the fact that you have a specialty?"

"Yes, you have impeccable intuition." Klein was not stingy with his compliments.

Orianna took out four notes, and after locking the safe, she turned around and smiled. "That's because I had a similar experience too."

"Really?" Klein showed an appropriate level of surprise.

"Do you know about the serial killer that sent Tingen City into a frenzy sixteen years ago?"

Orianna handed Klein four gold-pound notes in five-pound and one-pound denominations. The five-pound note was nearly equivalent to four weeks of Benson's salary. At the center of the five-pound note was Henry Augustus I, the direct ancestor of the Loen Kingdom's current king, George III. The one-pound note featured George III's father, the former king, William Augustus VI, who had once freed the Loen Kingdom from the shackles of the old order.

"Yes, it's the one that had five girls killed consecutively. Some had their hearts and stomachs removed by that Bloody Butcher? My mother often used that matter to scare my sister when we were young," Klein said.

"Yes, if the Nighthawks had not come in time, I would have been the sixth victim." Orianna said, remembering the incident that happened more than ten years ago.

"I heard that the serial killer—no—the Butcher was a Beyonder?" Klein carefully folded the paper notes and placed them in an inner suit's pocket.

"Yes. He had killed even more before that. The reason why he was captured was because he was preparing a ritual for the devil." Orianna gave a firm nod.

"No wonder he wanted different organs... Sorry, Mrs. Orianna, for making you recall such unpleasant memories," Klein said sincerely.

Orianna smiled. "I'm no longer afraid... I was studying accounting in business school back then. After that incident, I've been here ever since. Alright, I'll stop keeping you from what you should do. You still need to head to Old Neil's."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Orianna." Klein bowed before leaving the office.

He did a turn at a cross-junction heading right, soon arriving at a half-closed iron door.

While he knocked, an aged voice sounded from inside. "Come in."

Klein pushed open the metal door and discovered a cramped room. There was a tightly locked iron door inside the room, and behind a desk was a hoary elder dressed in a class black robe, reading from an old book with the illumination of a gas lamp.

Neil raised his head and looked at the door. His dark red pupils appeared slightly turbid. "Are you Klein Moretti? Rozanne said you were very polite when she came over a while ago."

"Miss Rozanne is really a friendly person. Good afternoon, Mr. Neil." Klein said.

"Have a seat." Neil pointed at the table. "Would you like a cup of handground coffee?"

"It doesn't seem like you drink coffee." Klein acutely noticed that Neil's porcelain cup was filled with clear water.

"Haha, it's a habit of mine. I do not drink coffee after three in the afternoon," Neil explained.

"Why?" Klein asked in passing.

Neil held back his smile. "I'm afraid that it would affect my sleep at night. That will make me hear the murmurings of unknown existences."

Klein changed the subject. "Mr. Neil, what documents and books should I read?" As he spoke, he took out the note written by Dunn.

"Anything that has to do with history or is complicated and incomplete. To be honest, I have always been trying to learn, but all I can achieve is a rudimentary grasp. It's just too troublesome for other material such as people's diaries, contemporary books, epitaphs, etc.." Neil lamented. "For example, the things I have here require more detailed historical records to determine the exact content."

"Why?" Klein asked, confused.

Neil pointed to a few yellowed pages in front of him. "These are from Roselle Gustav's lost diary before his death. In order to keep things secret, he used strange symbols he invented to take records."

Emperor Roselle? The transmigration senior? Klein was taken aback as he immediately listened attentively.

"Many people believe that he did not truly die but instead became a hidden god. Therefore, cults that revere him have always been holding various rituals to attempt at gaining power. We will occasionally encounter such incidents and obtain a few original or duplicated copies of the diary.

Till date, no one has been able to decipher the special symbols' true meaning. Therefore, the Holy Cathedral has permitted us to keep copies for research, hoping that it would bring them a pleasant surprise."

With that said, Neil revealed a smug smile. "I have already deciphered a few symbols and confirmed that they represent numbers. In the end, I discovered it's actually a diary!

Yes, I wish to use history from different periods, especially events that revolved around the emperor. By comparing those records to the ones written in the diary for the corresponding day, I can try to interpret more of the symbols."

"That's the mind of a genius, right?" The old gentleman with white hair and deep wrinkles said, looking at Klein.

"Yes." Klein nodded in agreement.

"Haha, you can also take a look at it. Tomorrow, you will have to help me with this diary." Neil pushed the few old pages towards Klein.

Klein took a glance at them. Although the 'symbols' had been badly copied to the point of looking a little distorted, there was no way he could be mistaken. These were words he was most familiar with—simplified Chinese!