Tap, tap, tap. The footsteps echoed through the dark and narrow corridor, spreading out in the silence and leaving no other sounds. Klein straightened his back and followed the middle-aged priest steadily, without asking questions or chatting idly, remaining calm as if it were a still lake. Passing through the heavily guarded passage, the middle-aged priest used the key to open a secret door and pointed down to the stone steps: "The cross road to the left is the Charnis Gate." "May the goddess protect you," Klein marked four times on his chest, outlining the red moon's "shape". Secular with secular etiquette, religious with religious rituals. "Pray to the goddess," the middle-aged priest responded with the same gesture. Klein said no more and followed the stone steps, using the elegant gas lamps embedded on the walls on both sides to move deeper into the darkness. Halfway through, he subconsciously turned his head and saw that the middle-aged priest was still standing at the door, at the top of the steps, in the shadow of the gas light, as if it were a statue that couldn't move. Klein withdrew his gaze and continued downward. Not long after, he touched the cold stone floor and reached the crossroads. He didn't turn towards the "Charnis Gate" direction because the person who had just finished their shift, Dunn Smith, was definitely not there. Following the familiar path on the right, Klein climbed another set of steps and appeared inside the "Black Thorn Security Company". Seeing the doors either tightly closed or half-open, he didn't rush to search but entered the reception hall and saw a sweet-haired girl with brown hair reading a magazine intently. "Hi, Rosan," Klein came to the side and deliberately tapped the table lightly. Clang! Rosan suddenly stood up, knocked over the chair, and hurriedly said: "Hi, the weather is nice today. You, you, Klein, why are you here?" She covered her chest with her hand and took two breaths, like a little girl afraid of being caught being lazy by her father. "I have something to talk to the captain about," Klein replied briefly. "... It scared me to death! I thought the captain had come out." Rosan glared at Klein. "You didn't even knock! Hmph, you should be grateful that I'm a kind and gentle lady. Well, I prefer the word 'girl'... What do you want with the captain? He's in the room opposite Mrs. Oliona." Even though he was rather tense, Klein was amused by Rosan and smiled after a moment of thought: "Secret." "..." Rosanne's eyes were wide open, unable to believe it. Meanwhile, Klein bowed slightly and quickly left. He re-entered through the partition door of the reception room and knocked on the door of the first office on his right. "Come in," a deep and gentle voice of Dunn Smith rang out. Klein pushed the door open, closed it behind him, and bowed his head to greet: "Good morning, Captain sir." "Good morning, what's the matter?" Dunn's black windbreaker and hat were hanging on the nearby coat rack, his body was only wearing a white shirt and a black vest. Even with the receding hairline and the deep, dark eyes, he looked much more refreshed. "There's someone following me," Klein replied truthfully, without any embellishment. Dunn leaned back, clasped his hands together, and looked calmly into Klein's eyes through his deep grey eyes. He didn't follow the tracking topic. Instead, he asked: "Did you come from the church?" "Yes," Klein replied affirmatively. Dunn nodded slightly, not saying good or bad. Turning back to the main topic, he said: "It might be that Welch's father didn't believe the cause of death we reported and hired private detectives from Wind City to investigate." Conston City, also known as Wind City, is an area with extremely developed coal and steel industries, ranking among the top three cities in the Kingdom of Ruan. Before Klein could express his opinion, Dunn continued: "It might also be from the source of that notebook. Ha, we are currently investigating where Welch obtained the Antigonus family notebook. Of course, we can't rule out other individuals or organizations pursuing this notebook." "How should I do?" Klein asked in a low voice. Without a doubt, he hoped it was the first reason. Dunn didn't answer immediately. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, his grey eyes showing no ripple as he said: "Return along the previous route and do whatever you want." "Any?" Klein asked in reply. "Any." Dunn nodded affirmatively. "Of course, don't scare the other party away and don't violate the law." "OK." Klein took a breath and left the room, turning around and returning to the underground level. He turned left at the crossroads, bathed in the gas light beams on both sides, walking quietly in the empty and dark corridor without anyone else around. The clicking sound repeated, becoming more lonely and terrifying. Soon, Klein approached the stairs, step by step, and saw the middle-aged priest standing in the shadow, at the door. When they met, neither spoke. The middle-aged priest turned silently and moved aside to clear the way. Silently moving forward, Klein returned to the Great Prayer Hall. The light from the arched altar remained pure and bright, the darkness and tranquility of the room remained the same, the gentlemen and ladies queuing outside the confessional remained the same, but there were fewer of them. After waiting for a while, Klein, holding a walking stick and a newspaper, walked out of the Great Prayer Hall as if nothing had happened, leaving St. Serena Church. As soon as he stepped out, he saw the bright sun, and immediately felt the familiar feeling of being watched again. He felt like he was like a prey caught by an eagle. Suddenly, a doubt emerged in his mind: "Why didn't the spy follow me into the church before? Although in that case, I could still use the dim environment and the priest's help to deceive him for a short period of 'disappearance', but is it difficult for him to pretend to pray and follow the surveillance? Without doing anything wrong, it's perfectly legal to go in openly, right?" Unless he had a dark history, afraid of the church, afraid of the bishop, knowing that the other party might have extraordinary abilities... In this case, the possibility of a private detective is very low... Sigh! Klein exhaled, no longer as tense as before. He walked leisurely, circling to the back of Zorteland Street. He stopped in front of a building with an ancient style and peeling walls. The house number was "3", and the name was "Zorteland Shooting Club". The underground shooting range of the police department has a part open to the "public" to earn additional funds. Klein entered it and immediately felt the feeling of being watched disappear. He seized the opportunity and gave the "Special Operations Department" badge to the receptionist. After a brief verification, he was led underground and came to a small enclosed shooting range. "10-meter target." Klein simply instructed the service staff and took out the revolver from the underarm holster and the box of yellowish copper-colored bullets from his pocket. Suddenly being watched made his desire for self-protection overcome his procrastination, so he couldn't wait and rushed over to practice his shooting skills. Snap! After the service staff left, he ejected the revolver and withdrew the silver hunting bullets one by one. Then he picked up the normal yellowish copper-colored bullets and inserted each one into the chamber. This time, he didn't leave any spare space for accidental firing and didn't take off his formal coat or remove his half-brimmed hat, wanting to practice in the most ordinary attire. After all, it's impossible to shout "Stop for a moment, please allow me to change into lighter clothes first" when encountering an enemy or danger. Plopp! Klein closed the revolver and slid it with his thumb. Suddenly, he gripped the gun with both hands, lifted it straight up, and aimed at the target 10 meters away. But instead of shooting immediately, he carefully recalled his experience of missing targets during military training and the common sense such as the straight line of three points and the recoil after firing. Whirr! Whirr! The sound of clothing being pulled apart, Klein practiced aiming and holding the gun position, as if he were a child taking the exam. After repeating this several times, he retreated to the wall, sat on the soft long bench, put the revolver aside, and massaged his arms, resting for a while. After spending a few minutes reflecting on the situation, Klein picked up the wooden grip and copper-colored revolver again, came to the shooting position, made the standard posture, and pulled the trigger. Bang! His arm trembled slightly, and his body slightly leaned back, but the bullet missed the target. Bang! Bang! Bang! With the experience, he fired one bullet at a time, exploring the feeling through practice, until all six bullets were fired. It's time to take targets... Klein stepped back and sat down again, took a few breaths. Snap! He ejected the revolver and made the six spent cases clink down, then remained expressionless as he continued to insert the remaining yellowish copper-colored bullets one by one. The relaxation of the arms allowed Klein to stand up again, summarize while returning to the shooting position. Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound echoed, the target shook, Klein practiced again and again, rested again and again, gradually stabilizing on the target and starting to pursue the ring score. Wiping the sore arms, he removed the last spent case, lowered his head, and inserted the silver hunting bullets with complex patterns one by one, and reserved the position for accidental firing. After putting the revolver back into the underarm holster, Klein brushed off the smoke and dust on his body, feeling relaxed, and walked out of the dedicated shooting range, back to the street. The feeling of being observed surfaced again, but Klein's mood was calmer than before. He walked slowly to Champagne Street, spent four pence on a tram with a track, returned to Iron Cross Street, and entered his apartment. The feeling of being spied on was silent and gone, he took out the key, opened the door, and saw a man close to thirty, wearing a linen shirt and short hair, sitting at the desk. His heart tightened, then relaxed. Klein smiled and greeted: "Good morning, no, good noon, Benson." This man was the brother of him and Melissa, Benson Moretti, who was only 25 years old this year. Due to receding hairline, his face looked old and he was almost 30. He had black hair and brown eyes, somewhat resembling Klein, but without that faint scholarly air. "Good noon, Klein, how's the interview?" Benson stood up and smiled at the corner of his mouth. His black coat and the half-top hat were hanging at the protruding part of the bunk bed. "Very bad," Klein replied without expression. Seeing that Benson was stunned, Klein chuckled and added: "Actually, I didn't attend the interview at all. I found the job ahead of time and my weekly salary is 3 pounds..." He repeated the words he had said to Melissa earlier. Benson's expression softened and he shook his head with a smile: "I can feel the sense of seeing a child grow up... Well, this job is not bad." He sighed and said: "When I came back from the journey, I heard such good news. That's really nice. Tonight, we should celebrate and buy some beef?" Klein smiled: "OK, but I think Melissa will be sad. Let's go to buy the ingredients together in the afternoon? Take at least 3 shillings? Uh, to be honest, 1 pound is equivalent to 20 shillings, 1 shilling is equivalent to 12 pence, and half a penny, a quarter penny. Such a currency system is completely counter-intuitive and very troublesome. I think it must be one of the most stupid currency systems in the world." After saying this, he saw that Benson's expression suddenly became serious and he felt a bit uneasy, suspecting that he might have said something wrong. Could the missing memory fragments of the original owner be that Benson was a pure and extreme supporter of the kingdom, not allowing anyone to deny it at all? Benson took a few steps and replied seriously with a serious face: "No, there is no such thing as the one and only." The one and only... Klein was stunned for a moment, then quickly realized it and smiled at his brother. This was indeed the mocking humor that Benson was good at. Benson's mouth curled up, and seriously added: "You should understand that to formulate a reasonable and simple currency system requires a premise, that is, knowing how to count and mastering the decimal system. Unfortunately, among those big shots, such people are too rare."
