After leaving Azik’s house, Klein took a public carriage back to Daffodil Street.
As he opened the door to his house, he suddenly saw a figure sitting in his dining room.
Klein instinctively tightened his grip on the cane in his hand, but quickly realized what was going on. It wasn’t a thief, but his maid, Bella.
Bella was focused on reading a spread-out newspaper on the table. She jumped in shock when she heard the door open, quickly standing up and stammering, “I-I was just done with the tasks for the morning. I was w-waiting for the water to boil so that I could eat some bread.”
“Reading is a good habit. To be able to persist in reading, despite the busy workload, is something that’s encouraged by the Goddess.”
He used the name of the Goddess just in case Bella took his compliment as sarcasm.
He had quite a good impression of Bella.
Even though she was a little clumsy and obviously not used to the kitchen, she had shown a willingness to learn.
Bella let her hands hang down and said, embarrassed, “I didn’t have the opportunity to read many newspapers in the past. The landlord didn’t let us use old newspapers to clean the walls… I stole a glance at it when I picked up the newspapers just now to clean the coffee table. I thought that-that it was rather interesting.”
“Oh, please knock at my door at one in the afternoon, then prepare a cup of Sibe black tea, two pieces of soft white bread, a piece of wheat toast, and a small plate of butter for me.”
In order to celebrate his advancement to Sequence 8, Klein decided to spoil himself slightly. He was going to eat the white bread ahead of Benson who was planning on having it over the weekend.
“Alright,” Bella replied in surprise and joy.
Following that, she asked with a little uncertainty, “Mr. Klein, do you mean the Sibe black tea used to entertain guests?”
She called him by his first name as Moretti could be used to refer to anyone in the family.
“Yes, that shall be my usual tea in the future.” Klein waved his hand and made his way towards the stairs.
He suddenly noticed that he was in a decent financial situation after becoming a Clown.
This was partly because there were no other large expenses for the time being. He only needed to spend two soli on transport while he was investigating the houses with red chimneys, and on the materials that he needed to purchase occasionally. Claims could be made for the latter most of the time anyway.
After locking the door to his room, Klein sat on the edge of his bed and started his Cogitation. He wanted to use this method to slowly control the powers seeping out of his potion. He was very careful and very cautious.
He had thought of the term “losing control” very lightly until he saw the Mandated Punisher who had lost control.
Of course, he didn’t know that Mandated Punisher personally. He also didn’t know what had happened to him. He subconsciously thought of him as an anomaly, a rare case.
It was just like how an average person would make comments about a murder they saw on the news before forgetting about it entirely.
But what happened to Old Neil shook Klein greatly. It made him realize very clearly that losing control was always a possibility, always around him. Loss of control might descend upon him in ways he had never thought about!
He had dreamed of that scene many times in the past few days, jolting awake in the process and finding himself drenched in cold sweat.
He wasn’t only grieving Old Neil’s death, but also worried about his future. If he didn’t have Cogitation to help him sleep, he believed that there would be many sleepless nights in his future.
On the day that Old Neil passed away, Dunn’s actions and words had touched him greatly. It made him critically assess the responsibilities of a Nighthawk for the first time. It made him want to take up his responsibilities and help his Captain and teammates.
Thus, he didn’t intend to waste his afternoon. He was going to continue his combat lessons.
…
Three in the afternoon, on a crude training field.
The blond crew-cut Gawain creased his brows as he witnessed Klein slowly familiarize himself with the motions, going from the movements of a decent beginner to the movements of an apprentice knight who had been practicing for a good six months.
All this happened in the short span of forty minutes!
He called for Klein to stop and sized him up. He couldn’t help but ask, “What happened?”
Klein had already come up with an excuse. He was prepared to attribute his performance to scientific research when Gawain added, “You don’t need to answer if it’s inconvenient for you to do so.”
Gawain crossed his arms and looked at Klein seriously. He replied with a raspy voice, “Two or three days, but that isn’t enough!”
He explained, as if in thought, “Being able to take part in actual combat isn’t the same as being good at fighting. The latter would take another two to three weeks.
“Furthermore, you need to gain mastery over weapons that you can bring with you, for example, a cane, whips, daggers, and bayonets!”
Gawain swept his experienced gaze at him.
“Remember, every drop of sweat you lose here might save your life in the future.”
“Yes, Teacher!” Klein pumped himself up and answered.
…
On Sunday morning, Klein entered the Blackthorn Security Company and knocked on the door of the Captain’s office.
Dunn Smith looked up as if he was expecting this.
“I forgot to inform you yesterday. Your position at the police department has risen from probationary inspector to inspector now that you have advanced to Sequence 8. I’ll get them to issue the appropriate documents and epaulets to you as soon as possible.
“Your weekly salary will also increase from six pounds to ten pounds. The Church and the police department will each bear half of your salary. This salary is the level of an experienced Nighthawk; of course, I mean an experienced Nighthawk at Sequence 9.”
“That’s more than I imagined.”
He had imagined that his weekly salary would only increase to eight pounds.
Dunn lifted his cup of coffee and took a sip.
“The increase in salary for Nighthawks is firstly dependent on years of service, second on contribution, and third on the level of your job. The third criterion is often highly correlated with your contributions.”
A weekly salary of 10 pounds, coupled with any bonuses would mean a yearly salary of about 540 pounds. Since he didn’t need to pay any taxes, this salary was fairly high in the middle-income bracket, just lower than desirable occupations such as esteemed lawyers, famous architects, experienced surgeons, and government workers.
Before it was ten, he suddenly heard someone approaching Chanis Gate.
Soon after, Dunn appeared at the door.
“There’s a case that requires your help.”
“An incident involving Beyonders?” Klein instinctively asked.
“No, a parliamentary representative of this city, Mr. Maynard, was found dead in his house. The Tingen Police Department is under huge pressure and wants us to use a mediumship ritual to help them pinpoint the murderer. Currently, you are the only person on the team who can do that,” Dunn explained. Then he added, “The Holy Cathedral will send over a Mystery Pryer to our team next week. Actually, it should’ve been done a long time ago, but you happened to join and chose to be a Seer.”
