Ta-da, ta-da, ta-da.

The footsteps echoed in the dark and narrow corridor, and spread far away in the silence without any other noise.

Klein stood up straight and followed the middle-aged pastor at a moderate pace. He did not ask questions or chat, and was as calm as a lake without wind.

Passing through the heavily guarded passage, the middle-aged priest opened a secret door with a key and pointed to the stone staircase leading down:

"To the left at the crossroads is the Chanis Gate."

“May the goddess bless you.” Klein tapped his chest four times, outlining the “shape” of the scarlet moon.

The secular world uses secular etiquette, and the religious world uses religious rituals.

"Praise the goddess." The middle-aged priest responded with the same gesture.

Klein said no more. He walked down the stone stairs, using the elegant gas lamps embedded on the walls on both sides, and walked step by step into the darkness.

Halfway through the walk, he subconsciously turned around and saw that the middle-aged pastor was still standing at the door, at the top of the stairs, in the shadow of the gas lamp, like a motionless wax figure.

Klein retracted his gaze and continued to descend. Not long after, he touched the ground paved with cold stone slabs and arrived at a crossroads.

He did not turn in the direction of "Chaness Gate" because Dunn Smith, who had just taken his turn, would definitely not be there.

Following the familiar path on the right, Klein climbed another staircase and appeared inside the Blackthorn Security Company.

Seeing that the doors were either closed or half-open, he did not look for them rashly, but entered the reception hall and saw a brown-haired girl with a sweet smile reading a magazine attentively.

"Hi, Roxanne." Klein came to the side and tapped the table deliberately.

Bang!

Luo Shan stood up suddenly, knocked over the chair, and said hurriedly:

"Hi, the weather is nice today. You, you, Klein, why are you here?"

She put her hand on her chest and took two breaths, like a little girl who was afraid of being caught slacking by her father.

“I have something to ask the captain.” Klein replied briefly.

"...I was so scared. I thought the captain had come out." Roxanne glared at Klein. "You didn't even knock on the door! Humph, you should be thankful that I'm a generous and kind lady. Well, I prefer the word 'girl'... What do you want from the captain? He's in the room opposite Mrs. Orianna."

Even though he was quite nervous, Klein was amused by Roxanne and smiled. He pondered for a moment and said:

"secret."

"..." Roshan's eyes widened in disbelief. Klein bowed slightly and quickly said goodbye.

He passed through the partition door of the reception room again and knocked on the door of the first office on the right.

"Come in." Dunn Smith's low and gentle voice sounded.

Klein pushed the door open, clasped his hands together, took off his hat and saluted:

"Good morning, Mr. Captain."

"Good morning, what can I do for you?" Dunn's black windbreaker and hat were hanging on the coat rack next to him. He was only wearing a white shirt and a black vest on his exposed body. Even with his high hairline and deep gray eyes, he looked a lot fresher.

"Someone is following me." Klein answered truthfully without any unnecessary embellishment.

Dunn leaned back, clasped his hands together, and looked quietly into Klein's eyes with his deep gray eyes.

He did not follow up on the topic, but asked:

"You came from church?"

“Yes.” Klein answered affirmatively.

Dunn nodded slightly, without saying whether it was good or bad, and returned to the topic:

"It's possible that Welch's father didn't believe the cause of death we reported, so he hired a private detective from the Windy City to investigate."

The city of Constantin in Jianhai County, also known as the Wind City, is a region with extremely developed coal and steel industries, and ranks among the top three cities in the Kingdom of Loen.

Without waiting for Klein to comment, Dunn continued:

"It could also be from the source of that notebook. Haha, we are looking for where Welch got the Antigonus family notebook. Of course, we cannot rule out other individuals or organizations that are pursuing this notebook."

"What should I do?" Klein asked in a deep voice.

No doubt he hoped it was the first reason.

Dunn did not answer immediately. He picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. His grey eyes did not show any ripples as he said:

"Return the way you came and do whatever you want."

"Any?" Klein asked back.

“Anything.” Dunn nodded affirmatively. “Of course, don’t scare the other party away, and don’t break the law.”

“Okay.” Klein took a breath, said goodbye, turned around, left the room, and returned to the basement.

He turned left at the intersection, bathed in the light of the gas lamps spaced on both sides, and walked quietly in the empty, dark and cold passage.

The overlapping echoes make the scene more lonely and frightening.

Soon, Klein approached the stairs and went up step by step, and saw the middle-aged priest standing in the shadows at the door.

When the two met, neither spoke. The middle-aged pastor turned around silently and made way.

Walking silently all the way, Klein returned to the large prayer hall. The light from the round holes behind the arched altar was still pure, the darkness and tranquility in the room was still there, and the men and women queuing outside the confessional were still there, but there were fewer of them.

After waiting for a while, Klein took his cane and newspaper and slowly left the prayer hall and St. Selina's Church as if nothing had happened.

As soon as he went out and saw the scorching sun, he suddenly had the familiar feeling of being watched, and felt like prey being stared at by an eagle.

Suddenly, a doubt emerged in his mind:

Why didn't the "voyeur" follow me into the church before? Although I could still hide from him by using the dark environment and the help of the priest and "disappearing" for a short time, was it difficult for him to pretend to pray and follow the surveillance? If I didn't do anything bad, what's wrong with entering the church openly?

Unless he has a dark history, is afraid of the church, is terrified of the bishop, and knows that the other party may have extraordinary abilities...

From this point of view, the possibility of a private detective is very low...

Huh! Klein exhaled, no longer as tense as before, and walked leisurely around to Zouteland Street in the back.

He stopped in front of an old building with mottled walls. The house number was "3" and the name was "Zotland Shooting Club".

The police department's underground shooting range has a section open to the "public" to earn extra funds.

As soon as Klein entered, the feeling of being spied on disappeared immediately. He seized the opportunity and gave the "Special Operations Department" badge to the waiter in charge of reception.

After a little verification, he was led underground to a small enclosed shooting range.

"10-meter target." Klein briefly instructed the waiter, then took out a revolver from his armpit pouch and a box of brass-colored bullets from his pocket.

Being suddenly targeted, his desire for self-protection overcame his procrastination, and he couldn't wait to come over and practice his shooting skills.

Bang!

After the waiter left, he swung out the reel and ejected the silver demon-hunting bullets one by one. Then he picked up the normal brass-colored bullets and stuffed them into the magazine one by one.

This time, he did not leave any space to prevent accidental firing, nor did he take off his formal coat or half-top hat. He wanted to practice in the most ordinary attire. After all, it was impossible for him to shout "Please stop, let me change into lighter clothes" after encountering the enemy or danger.

Snap!

Klein closed the wheel and spun it with his thumb.

Suddenly, he held the gun with both hands, raised it straight up, and aimed at the target 10 meters away.

But he did not rush to shoot. Instead, he carefully recalled the experience of missing the target during military training and the common sense such as the three-point straight line and the recoil of shooting.

Crash! Crash!

Amid the sound of clothes being ripped, Klein practiced aiming and gripping over and over again, as seriously as a child taking college entrance exams.

After repeating this many times, he retreated to the wall, sat on the soft bench, put the revolver aside, massaged his arms, and rested for a long time.

After spending a few minutes thinking about what had just happened, Klein picked up the pistol with a wooden grip and a copper-colored revolver again, came to the shooting position, assumed a standard posture, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

His arm shook, his body leaned back slightly, and the bullet missed the target.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Having learned from experience, he fired one shot at a time, trying to get a feel for it in practice, until all six bullets were used up.

It’s time to hit the target… Klein sat back down and took a few breaths.

Bang! He swung out the revolver, letting the six shells fall to the ground with a clang, and then continued to stuff the remaining brass bullets one by one with an unchanged expression.

After relaxing his arms, Klein stood up again and returned to his shooting position while summarizing his thoughts.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The gunshots echoed and the target swayed. Klein practiced again and again, taking breaks again and again. He fired all the thirty normal bullets he had received and the five remaining bullets. He gradually stabilized his target and began to pursue the number of rings.

Shaking his sore arms, he poured out the last five shells, lowered his head, and stuffed the silver demon-hunting bullets with intricate patterns into the gun one by one, leaving room for misfires.

After putting the revolver back into the gun pouch under his armpit, Klein brushed off the gunpowder and dust on his body. Feeling relaxed, he walked out of the dedicated shooting range and returned to the street.

The feeling of being watched resurfaced, but Klein felt calmer than before. He slowly walked to Champagne Street, spent 4 pence to take a horse-drawn tram back to Iron Cross Street, and entered his apartment.

The sense of prying disappeared silently. He took out the key, opened the door, and saw a man in his late thirties, wearing a linen shirt and with very short hair, sitting at the desk.

His heart tightened for a moment, then relaxed. Klein smiled and greeted:

"Good morning, no, good afternoon, Benson."

The man was none other than his and Melissa's brother, Benson Moretti. He was only 25 years old, but with his receding hairline and old face, he looked almost 30.

He has black hair and brown eyes, and is somewhat similar to Klein, but without that scholarly air.

"Good afternoon, Klein. How was the interview?" Benson stood up with a smile on his face.

His black coat and half-top hat were hung on the ledge of the bunk bed.

“Very bad.” Klein replied expressionlessly.

Seeing Benson stunned, Klein chuckled and added:

"In fact, I didn't even attend the interview. I found a job in advance, with a weekly salary of 3 pounds..."

He repeated what he had said to Melissa before.

Benson's expression relaxed, he shook his head and smiled:

"It feels like seeing a child grow up... Well, this job is not bad."

He sighed and said:

"It's great to hear such good news after returning from such a long journey. We should celebrate tonight. Should we buy some beef?"

Klein smiled and said:

"Okay, but I think Melissa will feel bad. Shall we go shopping for food together this afternoon? Bring at least 3 soli? Well, to be honest, 1 pound is exchanged for 20 soli, 1 soli is exchanged for 12 pence, and there are also half a penny and a quarter penny. This currency system is simply counterintuitive and very troublesome. I think it must be one of the stupidest currency systems in the world."

After he finished speaking, he saw Benson's expression suddenly become serious. He felt a little uneasy and wondered if he had said something wrong.

Could it be that in the missing memory fragments of the original owner, Benson was a pure and extreme supporter of the kingdom who would not tolerate any denial from others?

Benson paced a few steps and retorted seriously:

"No, there is none."

No doubt about it... Klein was stunned for a moment, but he quickly reacted and smiled at his brother.

It was indeed the sarcastic humor that Benson was good at.

Benson raised the corners of his mouth and added seriously:

"You should understand that in order to formulate a reasonable and simple currency system, there is a prerequisite, that is, knowing how to count and mastering the decimal system. Unfortunately, such talents are too rare among those bigwigs."