LOM: Lord of Mysticism

Tap! Tap! The sound of footsteps echoed through the dark, narrow corridor. Klein kept up with the priest's pace and did not pose questions or chat idly with him, remaining silent like a windless body of water.

After passing through the heavily guarded passageway, the priest opened a secret door with a key and pointed down a stairwell. "Turn left at the intersection to reach Chanis Gate."

"May Goddess bless you." Klein gestured the sign of the crimson moon on his chest.

Commoners practiced etiquette while the religious partook in ritual blessings.

"Praise the Lady." The priest returned with the same gesture.

Klein did not speak further as he walked down the dark stone stairwell with the aid of the refined inlaid gas lamps on both sides of the wall, leading him to the intersection.

He did not turn towards Chanis Gate because Dunn Smith, who had recently finished his shift, was definitely not there. Instead, he turned right and saw the familiar path. Klein went back up another flight of stairs and appeared inside Blackthorn Security Company.

Seeing doors that were tightly shut or half closed, he went to the reception and saw a brown-haired girl reading a magazine.

"Hi, Rozanne." Klein came to her side.

Knock! Rozanne stood up in a fluster. "Hi, nice weather today. Y-you, Klein, why are you here?"

"I need to find Captain," Klein answered simply.

"You gave me a fright. I thought Captain came out." Rozanne glared at Klein. "Don't you know how to knock!? Hmph, you should be thankful that I'm a tolerant and kind woman. Is there a reason why you are looking for Captain? He's in the room opposite Mrs. Orianna."

"A secret." Klein said before bidding her farewell. He went through the reception's partition and knocked on the door of the first office on the right.

"Come in." Dunn Smith's voice sounded.

Klein pushed the door open; he took off his hat and bowed. "Good morning, Captain."

"Good morning, how can I help you?" Dunn said, dressed in a white shirt and black vest.

"Someone is following me." Klein answered without any embellishments.

Dunn leaned back and clasped his hands together, looking at Klein. "You came from the cathedral?"

"Yes," Klein answered.

Dunn nodded gently. "It might be that Welch's father doesn't believe the cause of death that we reported and had hired a private investigator from Wind City to investigate the matter."

Midseashire's Constant City was also known as Wind City. It was a region with extremely advanced coal and steel industries and one of the top three cities of the Loen Kingdom.

Dunn continued, "It might also be a result of that notebook. Heh, we have been investigating where Welch received the Antigonus family's notebook, and of course, we can't eliminate other people or organizations that might be seeking out this notebook."

"What should I do?" Klein asked. He hoped that it was the first reason.

Dunn raised his coffee mug and took a sip. "Return the way you came, then do anything you wish."

"Anything?" Klein asked.

"Anything." Dunn nodded. "Of course, do not scare them off or violate the law."

"Alright." Klein bade him farewell and left the room, then went back underground, turned left at the intersection, and arrived silently to the empty passageway.

Soon, Klein arrived at the stairwell. He went forward and saw a shadow standing there—the middle-aged priest.

The two did not say a word when they met; the priest turned around in silence, and Klein proceeded before returning to the prayer hall.

The circular holes behind the arched altar were still as pure and bright, while the darkness and silence of the building's interior remained. There were still men and women lining outside the confessional, but much fewer than before.

Klein left the prayer hall with his cane and newspaper as though nothing had ever happened, finally leaving Saint Selena Cathedral.

The moment he walked out, he saw the bright sun. He regained the familiar feeling of being observed, and a question surfaced in his mind.

Why didn't the "observer" follow me into the cathedral to monitor me by pretending to pray? However, if the person has some dark history, he would be hesitant of entering the Church and meeting a bishop, knowing that they have the powers of a Beyonder.

Klein took a casual stroll before going around and to the back of Zouteland Street, finally stopping at an ancient-styled building with mottled walls. The address on the door was '3.' Its name was the Zouteland Shooting Club.

Part of the police department's underground shooting range was opened to the public as a way to earn some additional funds. Klein went in and took this opportunity to hand over his Special Operations Department badge to the attendant.

After a short verification, he was led underground to a small, confined shooting range.

"Ten-meter target." Klein informed the attendant simply. Next, he retrieved the revolver from his underarm holster and the box of brass bullets from his pocket.

After the attendant left, he flicked open the cylinder, removing the silver demon hunting bullets, and filled it with normal brass bullets.

Click! Klein closed the cylinder. He held the gun in both hands, raised it up straight, and aimed at the target more than ten meters away.

He got into the standard firing position and pulled the trigger.

Bang! His arm moved back from the recoil. The bullet missed the target.

Bang! Bang! He shot again and again until all six rounds were finished.

Click! He swung the cylinder out, allowing the six shells to fall to the ground, and then inserted the remaining brass rounds in.

Ringing shots echoed as the target shook. Klein practiced and expended all thirty normal rounds and the remaining five from before.

He lowered his head and inserted the demon hunting bullets. After putting the revolver back into his holster, Klein walked out of the shooting range, returning to the streets.

He slowly walked to Champagne Street and spent four pence on a tracked carriage to return to Iron Cross Street before arraving to his own apartment. Taking out his keys, he opened the door to see a short-haired man nearing his thirties, seated at a desk.

Klein greeted with a smile, "Good morning—no—good afternoon, Benson."

This man was Klein's and Melissa's elder brother, Benson Moretti. He was only twenty-five this year; he had black hair and brown eyes, but his receding hairline and decrepit appearance made him look nearly thirty.

"Good afternoon, Klein. How was the interview?" Benson stood up as he grinned.

"Horrible," Klein replied in a deadpan manner.

He chuckled and added, "In fact, I didn't even participate in the interview. I found a job before that, and it pays three pounds a week."

A pound exchanges for twenty soli, and one soli exchanges for twelve pence.

Benson's expression calmed down as he shook his head with a laugh. "It feels like I'm seeing a child grow up... Well, this job is pretty good. It's great that the first thing I heard is such good news after being away for work."