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Finally home after a long and strenuous day, Klein tossed his suit jacket on the coat rack by the front door. It was then that he allowed his shoulders to slump down in exhaustion, his carefully maintained posture and scholarly air vanishing in an instant as he wallowed in misery and self-pity.
Why had he been reduced to such a state? The answer was obvious.
Ever since his transmigration, this keyboard warrior had been dragged into all sorts of strange and terrifying events. And after running into an out-of-control Sirius just an hour before, Klein’s mild-tempered composure finally snapped.
He needed a way to raise his combat level and stat– but that was where the real issue lay.
Kicking off his shoes, Klein began ascending the stairs towards his bedroom. At the moment, he longed for the comfort of his bed. Afterward, he would consider a nice, relaxing bath to help alleviate his nerves.
And food. His stomach grumbled for sustenance that he had no energy to produce.
Collapsing upon his cotton-covered mattress, Klein’s mind circled back to his earlier thoughts.
These coincidences seem to be becoming more frequent, Klein thought drearily, remembering a certain someone’s words. Maybe Leonard is right. Trouble seems to find me.
My digestion of the Seer Potion is going smoothly, but with the rate things are going, it doesn’t seem fast enough. And my intuition tells me whatever is behind these disturbances is more than the current Nighthawks can handle. In this case, reaching sequence 8 or 7 won’t be sufficient.
The Seer sighed, burying his head into his arms. “Life really isn’t giving me any breaks, is it?”
He considered his options.
Advancement is still a priority, but even with the acting method, it’ll take months before I can reach a high enough sequence where I won’t have to constantly worry about my own safety. Additionally, if I digest the potions too fast, I’ll fall under the Church’s suspicion and then have to deal with being under constant surveillance instead. And that’s not even taking into account the time it would take to rack up the necessary merits for promotion…
Yeah, so that option’s out.
Klein uncovered his face, letting his gaze roam. His eyes fell on the cane he had forgotten to put down by the coat rack and winced. He still needed to clean and sanitize it after having used it as a weapon against the mutated Sirius. As much as he joked about using it in the past, the poor cane did not deserve the abuse it went through. Actually-
What about a weapon? Beyonder items and sealed artifacts exist in this world. As long as I can get my hands on one, then that’d be a massive improvement to my arsenal overall.
The only problem is how one goes about acquiring one.
Sealed artifacts are kept strictly behind Chanis Gate, and you need both clearance and a reason to take one out. Plus, I imagine personal weapons need special permissions to be carried. Not only that, one needs to take into account the weapon's drawbacks…
Beyonder tools and items are a bit different.
Turning on his back, Klein looked at the ceiling in thought.
From the documents I found in the archives, these items are much like charms, made through the use of ritual magic. Similarly, their power and efficiency decrease over time. The good news is that they have few side effects. The bad news is that they’re costly or handmade. Finding one in the underground market and being able to afford it is already a fool’s dream.
Heh.
And the other option is making one myself. But finding the corresponding knowledge, the tools, and the materials is far beyond my abilities at the moment. However, this might not be the case in the future.
Is there really no better way?
Klein pulled his pillow down from the headboard and covered his face as he groaned in frustration. After a minute, he pulled the soft mass away and stared out the window where the day’s light was beginning to fade as dusk approached. On his desk, small vials of essential oils glimmered as their glass containers caught the remaining light.
Unlike the rest of his ritual items, he didn’t bother to hide these in particular because they were both harmless and unassuming. Since they were widespread among the masses and used as sleep aids and stress relievers, it wasn’t unusual for a hardworking archivist slash history consultant to have them. One would only need to think about the amount of paperwork they had to do in such an occupation, and their shoulders would surely tense up in sympathy!
Klein huffed to himself in amusement as he continued looking at the oils in thought when a startling idea arose.
Hold on! What if I prayed to the Goddess for help?
As usual, he turned the option over in his head and dissected it before coming to a conclusion.
If he prayed to the Goddess, not only would he be drawing ‘Her’ gaze towards him, but he would essentially be shining a spotlight on the matters concerning the Tingen Nighthawks as a whole. There also came the risk of incurring ‘Her’ wrath, considering he would be doing the equivalent of calling the company's top boss over a small matter.
I mean… Old Neil survived asking the Goddess to settle his 30-pound I.O.U. Klein slowly convinced himself. In this case, it's not a matter of whether the act itself is blasphemous, but whether the Goddess would even deign to answer. Surely ‘She’ wouldn’t smite me for asking for a way to better defend myself? I’m just a poor, defenseless sequence 9. Isn’t it normal for a believer to ask their deity for protection?
He clenched his hand in determination.
Right, it’s settled then, I’ll pray to the Evernight Goddess!
With a surge of renewed energy, Klein jumped up from his bed and made his way to his desk, setting up an altar. He arranged the corresponding candles, oils, and symbols, and set up a spiritual barrier before settling into a prayer position.
“The Evernight Goddess stands higher than the Cosmos, and more eternal than eternity; the Lady of Crimson; the Mother of Concealment; the Empress of Misfortune and Horror; Mistress of Repose and Silence. I beg for your attention. I beg for your loving grace. Please help me solve the mysterious coincidences plaguing Tingen. Help me find a means to protect myself and my comrades.”
The prayer should have ended there, but for one reason or another, it didn’t. He would later ask himself if he was either possessed, in the process of losing control, or was just plain stressed, as Klein proceeded to explain the situation in extreme, agonizing detail.
In other words, he vented.
After several minutes, Klein stared down at the floor from where he kneeled before his desk altar. The sheer audacity of what he had just done was dawning on him within that moment. He had ended the prayer with a “How should I proceed?” but now Klein was asking himself the same question. What does one do after info-dumping a deity?
He remained seated like an obedient child who had just committed a heinous crime before their parent, ready to receive punishment, but as minutes continued to tick past, Klein began to wonder if it would ever come.
Eventually, Klein sighed in relief.
Well, you can't say I didn’t try. Tapping on his chest, he silently praised the Goddess for her benevolence.
As he began to stand, eyes still aimed at the floor, he heard the distinct sound of something falling. Startled, he whipped his head towards the noise, finding a silver object lying on his desk that certainly wasn’t there before. On closer inspection, he found it was a Slumber Charm. Klein blinked in astonishment.
Huh. Should I take this as the Goddess feeling sorry for me?
But before he could think more on it, another thud was heard, and another, and another. Suddenly, Klein was staring at a rapidly expanding pile of items falling onto his desk in both awe and terror. Soon, it began to overflow, falling to the ground.
Extracts, charms, Beyonder ingredients, materials, and stuff he had never seen before lay before him in mass, including what seemed to be a…
Klein squinted.
Stick.
Yeah, that’s definitely a stick. I don’t know what that stick is, but I doubt it's a normal one.
Once he was certain the items had finished appearing on the altar, Klein immediately bowed and offered his most sincere and fervent thanks before stumbling towards the door. With an unnatural calmness, he opened the door and took a deep breath before bolting outside.
He ran down the hall, carefully climbed down the stairs, skidded towards the broom closet, retrieved the biggest box there, ran back up the stairs, almost tripped up the stairs, and calmly walked back into his room. He carefully packed the items into the box and then closed the top, staring blankly into space, still reeling from the scene.
“This is… Too much,” he uttered, eyes glued to the stick that refused to stay in the box. “This is definitely too much! Is this normal? Did I accidentally express order our monthly supply of charms and other inventory items? What will we do if our next delivery has nothing in it! I’m sorry, but the order was already signed for by Klein Moretti? They’ll definitely know it was me!”
Klein grasped his head in his hands.
“I have to go deliver this right away. I don’t have a choice…”
Lifting the box, Klein made his way down the stairs again, legs already protesting from his earlier running. He had already decided to call a private carriage to take him to the Blackthorn Security Company, forgoing public transportation. The idea of traveling via public carriage with a box full of valuable, extraordinary items did not sit well with him. At worst, he could be considered reckless, but he was not dumb. Now all that remained was how he would explain the situation.
Klein sighed for the nth time that day. “Well, I’ll figure it out on the way.”
Half an hour later, Klein somehow managed to open the front door while carrying a large box. Considering the later hour, he’s not surprised to find Rozanne already gone for the day. What does surprise him is finding a certain poet reclining at the reception desk. Leonard is equally surprised to see him.
“Well, this is a surprise,” the emerald-eyed man said in good humor, “Don’t tell me you got into trouble again.” He chuckled at his own joke, prepared for the usual rebuttal, but went silent when it didn’t come. He noticed the Seer looked particularly tense.
“Wait, I was just kidding. Did you actually get into trouble?” Leonard asked with concern. He quickly stood and made his way towards his colleague. “Please tell me there isn't a body in there,” he said, pointing towards the box.
Klein shook his head rapidly. “No and– Wait.” He looked at Leonard oddly. “That’s happened before?”
The two stared at each other.
“...”
Leonard cleared his throat. “Alright, what do you have for us?”
Klein swallowed. “Before I show you, answer me this.” He gave Leonard a pleading look. “Is the Goddess usually very generous with her followers?”
The words seemed to alarm Leonard. “... Why?”
I take that as a no. Klein thought as he placed the box on the reception desk. He then turned to Leonard and said, without inflection, “Open it.”
“What?”
“Open it,” Klein repeated to the wide-eyed poet. “See for yourself.”
Leonard continued to hesitate. “This isn’t going to blow up in my face, right?”
Again, you speak like you’ve seen some shit. Klein covered his face in frustration. “Just open it.”
Leonard pulled open the box top, inclined to see what had pushed the young Seer into breaking character when his eyes landed on an unimaginable sight. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. Yes, he was indeed seeing things right.
In his head, a certain voice started causing a racket, making him wince. He turned back to Klein, who was now leaning back against the table in defeat. “Give me a moment.”
Klein watched in resignation as Leonard booked it past the partition and down the hall. After a few moments, he heard the sound of footsteps making their way towards the receiving room. Soon, a confused Dunn walked past the partition, then sighed at the sight of him.
I wish I could get mad, but after today, there’s no salvaging my reputation. I’m a walking catastrophe.
Steeling himself, Klein motioned to the box on the reception desk. “Please look inside the box, Captain. I don’t think I can explain it without doing so.”
At the same time, more pairs of footsteps came rushing down the hall. Before Klein could blink, all the Nighthawks, except Frye and Seeka, were there. Klein turned to glare at Leonard accusingly.
Did you really have to go and get everyone? Even Old Neil? Poet, why?!
In the end, Klein lowered his head and awaited his sentencing. Social death, it is then. He heard as Dunn let out a slight gasp.
“Where did you get this?” The Captain asked with a hard voice.
At his words, the rest of the audience shuffled closer to get a good look. Leonard, however, quietly made his way to Klein’s side, ignoring the other’s cold stare.
“Klein?” Dunn stressed again when he didn’t receive an answer.
Guiltily, Klein lowered his eyes again and mumbled, “I received them from the Goddess…”
The room fell silent at the admission.
“Lad!” Old Neil suddenly erupted, understanding what Klein had done. “Why in the world would you pray to the Evernight Goddess for that! Have I taught you nothing about making reasonable requests when seeking aid from orthodox deities?!”
Everyone’s heads turned to Klein, awaiting the response. In return, Klein pointed to Old Neil, cheeks becoming a startling pink.
“Didn’t you ask ‘Her’ for help with an I.O.U? I just worked within the example you set!”
The room pivoted back to the Mystery Pryer, who became flustered at the accusation.
“Really? An I.O.U?” Leonard said with a side eye.
“It was both reasonable and within the established norm!” Old Neil defended himself, ignoring the disbelieving looks. He turned back to Klein. “I did not succumb to greed, unlike someone!”
Hearing this, Klein fully sat down on the desk, burying his face in his hands. Due to its height, Klein suddenly looked many years younger as his legs dangled.
“I didn’t ask for this! I just wanted a way to better defend myself!”
Leonard, feeling pity for his fellow protagonist, rubbed Klein’s back in comfort. He leaned in and said softly, “Is this why you asked if the Goddess is often generous with her followers?”
Klein nodded, eyes glistening. Beside them, the Captain covered his mouth in thought, pondering the anomaly before him.
“Did I do something wrong?” Klein asked in a small voice. He no longer tried to maintain his gentleman's facade. The emotional rollercoaster from earlier in the day, plus the hunger, stress, and exhaustion he was feeling, left him without the energy to maintain the mask.
Behind him, Leonard had not removed his hand; instead, he had moved it to Klein’s shoulder, pulling him into a half-embrace. At that point, Klein was too distraught to care.
Exhaling, Dunn looked at Klein with kind eyes. “No, but I will have to report this to the Holy Cathedral and confiscate the items until they send a response.”
“Alright,” Klein said, relaxing.
As Dunn began walking back towards his office, he stopped, suddenly remembering something. He turned to Klein, “That’s right, you have to come too. You must submit an incident report on what happened.”
Klein deflated further in Leonard’s arms. “Yes, sir.” He hopped off the desk and headed for the door.
Dunn then turned to Kenley. “Please take the box to Chanis Gate.”
“Sure,” Kenley said, walking towards the box. Upon lifting it, his eyes suddenly fell on the odd stick protruding from one of the flaps. He turned to Klein in confusion. “Is that a stick?”
Klein shook his head helplessly. He didn’t know anything about a stick, okay! Soon, everyone started clearing out of the room, returning to where they were.
A certain parasite let out a chuckle as soon as the rest of the Nighthawks disappeared, leaving Leonard alone. “You really know how to pick them, huh?” he said in amusement. “Kid, your luck is impeccable.”
“Huh?” Leonard replied in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Pallez paused momentarily in disbelief before continuing. “Ahem. Congratulations, your… colleague, is a blessed of Evernight.”
“Blessed? Wait– Klein?!” Leonard gaped in shock. “Wow. I knew he was special, but not this special… As expected of a fellow protagonist.”
“...”
“Oh, by the way, Old Man…” Leonard said, suddenly in thought.
Pallez hummed. “Yes, what is it, boy?”
Leonard spread his hands out in question. “What’s with the stick?” In his head, the Old Man groaned.
“You don’t want to know.”