Klein tried not to show any abnormal behavior and asked out of genuine curiosity:

"What abilities does the 'Fortune Teller' have?"

"Your question is not accurate enough. It should be about what abilities you will gain after taking the 'Fortune Teller' potion?" Dunn Smith shook his head and smiled. His gray eyes and face were facing away from the red moon, hiding in the shadows. "Astrology, card divination, pendulum, clairvoyance, and many other similar things. Of course, it doesn't mean that you will immediately understand and master them after taking the potion. The potion only gives you the qualifications and ability to learn these things."

"Because of the lack of direct means to fight the enemy, oh, you should be able to imagine that ritual magic requires too much preparation and is not suitable for encounters at all. Therefore, accordingly, in terms of mystical knowledge, the 'diviner' will be more knowledgeable and professional than the 'secret peeper'."

It sounds like it meets my requirements, but the lack of direct means to fight the enemy makes me hesitate. Moreover, the Church of the Evernight Goddess is likely to not have the "sequence" later. The "temple" should refer to the church headquarters, the Tranquility Church, and the low-sequence direct means to fight the enemy may not be comparable to the firearms. Klein fell silent, and the balance in his mind swayed left and right, sometimes "secret peeper", sometimes "fortune teller", as for "corpse collector", he no longer considered it.

Seeing this, Dunn Smith smiled and said:

"Don't rush to choose. Tell me the answer on Monday morning. No matter which one you want to choose, or if you plan to give up directly, there will be no additional opinions among us Nighthawks."

“Calm down and ask your heart.”

After saying this, he took off his hat, bowed slightly, and slowly walked past Klein toward the stairs.

Klein did not speak, nor did he give an immediate answer. He saluted in silence and watched them leave in silence.

Although he had always hoped to become an Extraordinary, he was still full of hesitation when the opportunity really came: the lack of "Sequence", the various out-of-control of the "Extraordinary", the credibility of Emperor Roselle's diary, and the illusory whispers that drove people crazy and corrupted, all mixed together to form a swamp that hindered his progress.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“A student who is neither good nor bad is filling out his college entrance examination application.” Klein laughed at himself, restrained his divergent thoughts, quietly opened the door, returned home, and lay down on the bed.

He lay there with his eyes open, quietly looking at the bottom of the upper bunk that was stained with a faint crimson.

Outside the window, a drunk staggered past, and in the distance, a carriage was speeding on the empty street. All these noises did not destroy the tranquility of the night, but made it more remote and deeper.

Klein's emotions settled down. He recalled the past events on Earth. He remembered his father who liked to exercise and always spoke loudly. He remembered his mother who had a chronic disease but liked to run things for him. He remembered his best friends who grew up together, from playing football and basketball to playing games and mahjong. He remembered the person whose face he had forgotten but failed to confess to. These things were like a quietly flowing river, without many ripples or deep sadness, but they silently drowned the soul.

Perhaps only when you lose something will you know how to cherish it. When the crimson faded, the sky burned, and golden yellow emerged, Klein had already made his choice.

He got up and went to the public bathroom to wash his face to refresh himself, then took Suler's banknotes and went to Mrs. Wendy to buy a pound of rye bread with pennies to replenish the staple food he had eaten last night.

"The price of bread is starting to stabilize," Benson commented as he changed his clothes after breakfast.

Today was Sunday, and he and Melissa finally got a chance to rest.

Klein, who was already dressed in formal attire, sat on a chair and flipped through the outdated newspaper he brought back yesterday. He said in surprise:

"Here is an advertisement for a house for rent: No. 3 Wendel Street, North District, a single-family house, two floors in total, six rooms upstairs, three bathrooms, two large balconies, a dining room downstairs, a living room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, two guest rooms, and a basement storage room. There is a 2-acre private lawn in front of the house and a small garden in the back. It can be rented for one, two or three years. The weekly rent is 10 pounds sous. If you are interested, please go to No. Champagne Street and ask for Mr. Gushev."

"This is our future goal." Benson put on his black half-high hat and said with a smile, "The house rents in the newspaper are all too high. The Tingen City Housing Improvement Company has cheaper options that are not much worse than them."

"Why don't you go to the Tingen Working Class Housing Improvement Association?" Melissa walked out of the cubicle holding the worn-out gauze hat and a gray-white light dress that had been patched several times but was still the best.

She is quiet and reserved, but her youthful aura cannot be concealed.

Benson laughed and said:

"Who did you hear about the Tingen Working Class Housing Improvement Association from? Jenny? Mrs. Rochelle? Or your good friend Selena?"

Melissa glanced at the side and replied in a low voice:

"Mrs. Rochelle happened to meet her when she was washing up last night. She asked about Klein's interview. I told her a little bit about it, and then she suggested looking for the Tingen Working Class Housing Improvement Association."

Seeing that Klein was also confused, Benson smiled and shook his head:

"This is a housing association for the poor, er, to be more precise, the lower class. The houses they build and renovate are basically the type with shared bathrooms. They only provide three options: one-bedroom, two-bedroom, and three-bedroom. Do you want to continue living in a similar place?"

"The Tingen City Housing Improvement Company has the same business as them, but it also provides choices for the lower-middle class. Frankly speaking, we are now a little better than the lower-middle class, but a little worse than the real middle class. It's not a matter of salary, but mainly because of the lack of time to accumulate."

Klein understood, put away the newspaper, picked up his hat, stood up and said:

"Then let's go."

"I remember that the Tingen City Housing Improvement Company is on Daffodil Street." Benson said as he opened the door. "They are called the same as the Tingen Working Class Housing Improvement Association, 'Five Percent Charity'. Do you know why?"

“I don’t know.” Klein picked up his cane and walked beside Melissa.

The girl with smooth black hair draped over her vest also nodded.

Benson walkway:

"These housing improvement associations and companies were all established under the influence of Backlund. They have three sources of funds: one is to raise funds from charity funds; the second is to apply for high-quality loans with an annual interest rate of only 4% from government public affairs loan officers; the third is to accept commercial investment and give the other party a 5% return every year by collecting a certain amount of rent. That's why it's called '5% charity'."

The three siblings walked down the stairs and slowly towards Daffodil Street. They planned to confirm the house before going to find the current landlord, Mr. French, to avoid the situation where they couldn't move in there yet and had to move out here.

"I heard from Selina that there are purely charitable housing improvement companies?" Melissa said as if she was thinking.

Benson laughed and said:

"Yes, the 'Deville Trust' was established with donations from Sir Deville. He built apartments for the working class and provided specialized property management, charging only very low rents. However, the requirements were very strict."

“It sounds like you don’t like it very much?” Klein noticed it keenly and asked with a smile.

"No, I respect Sir Deville very much, but I think he definitely doesn't know what the life of a real poor person is like. The requirements for moving into his apartment are like the hopes given by a priest, which are too unrealistic. For example, major vaccinations must be taken, and the bathroom must be cleaned in turns. The house cannot be sublet or used for business, and littering is not allowed, and children cannot be allowed to play in the corridor. Goddess, does he want to turn everyone into gentlemen and ladies?" Benson answered in his usual tone.

Klein frowned in confusion and said:

"It sounds like there's nothing wrong with it, they're all good requests."

"Yeah." Melissa nodded in agreement.

Benson turned his head, glanced at them, and laughed:

"Maybe I've protected you too well. You haven't really seen the lives of the poor. Do you think they have the money to get the main vaccines? The waiting list for free charity medical organizations is three months later."

"Do you think their jobs are stable and not temporary? If they can't rent out their houses and charge a certain fee, they can move out again when they lose their jobs? Moreover, many women help others sew clothes and paste matchboxes at home to make a living. This is a commercial application. Do we have to drive them all out?"

"Most poor people are trying their best to make a living. Do you think they have the time to discipline their children and stop them from playing in the corridor? They can only lock them in the house and send them to places that are willing to accept child labor when they are seven or eight years old."

Benson didn't use many adjectives to describe it, and Klein felt a little creepy.

Is this the life of the lower class people?

Beside him, Melissa also fell silent. After a long while, she said in a vague voice:

"After moving to Lower Street, Jenny no longer wanted me to visit her at her house."

"I hope her father can get over the injury and find a stable job again. But I've seen too many drunkards who have used alcohol to numb themselves," Benson sneered in a heavy tone.

Klein didn't know what to say, and Melissa seemed to be in the same state. The three siblings walked to Daffodil Street in silence and found the Tingen City Housing Improvement Company.

The person who was in charge of receiving them was a middle-aged man with a kind smile. He was not wearing a formal suit or a hat, but a white shirt and a black vest.

"You can call me Skat. What kind of house do you need?" He glanced at Klein's silver-inlaid cane and smiled even warmer.

Klein looked at Benson, who was good at speaking, and signaled him to answer.

Benson spoke very directly:

“Townhouses.”

Skat flipped through the documents and files in his hands, and said with a smile on his face:

"There are currently five properties that have not been rented out. To be honest, we are more targeting workers with real housing difficulties, six, eight, even ten or twelve workers and their children who are squeezed into one room. There are not many townhouses. One is at 2 Daffodil Street, one is in the North District, and one is in the East District. The weekly rent ranges from 2 to 100. You can take a look at the specific introduction."

He pushed the document in his hand to Benson, Klein, and Melissa.

After browsing through it, the three siblings looked at each other and pointed to a certain place on the paper at the same time.

"Let's look at No. 2 Daffodil Street first." Benson said, and Klein and Melissa nodded.

This area is barely an area they are familiar with.