After pouring away the coffee and returning to the armory to take the thick stack of historical materials and explanatory transcripts from Old Neil, Klein followed the wall of lights up the staircase to the Blackthorn Security Company.

Tap. Tap. Tap. His footsteps echoed in the sealed and quiet basement.

After Klein left the spiral staircase, he pushed open the door and identified his bearings before heading for the second office opposite of him.

After familiarizing himself for two days, he had a general understanding of the layout of the Blackthorn Security Company.

The entrance brought visitors to a huge reception hall with sofas and tables. Through the partition, there was an inner region. To the left of the corridor were three rooms. From the nearest to the furthest, they were Mrs. Orianna’s account room, a rest room with a few sofa beds, and the staircase that led underground.

On the right were three rooms. From the nearest to the furthest was Captain Dunn Smith’s office, a civilian staff office with a typewriter, and the entertainment room for formal members of the Nighthawks team.

Klein had previously seen Leonard Mitchell playing cards with two other teammates in the entertainment room. He guessed that they were playing Fighting the Landlord. Of course, Emperor Rochelle had already given it a new name—Fighting Evil. However, the way it was played was identical to what Klein knew.

Bredt was entitled to a day of sleep after a night shift. Rozanne was at the reception desk. The carriage driver who was in charge of procuring necessities and collecting supplies, Cesare Francis, was out as usual. When Klein opened the door to the civilian staff office, the three desks inside were empty. Only the typewriter sat there silently.

“Akerson Company’s Model 1346 typewriter…” Klein, who had seen similar objects in his mentor’s office and Welch’s place, muttered. He felt that the complicated mechanisms inside were filled with the beauty of machinery.

He walked to the desk with the typewriter. After preparing himself, he attempted to type something on air.

In the beginning, he often converted the local language to Chinese ‘pinyin’ instinctively. Only after he was familiar with it did he ‘digest’ the original Klein’s corresponding memory fragment and no longer made mistakes.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The rhythmic tapping on the typewriter sounded like a melody composed from the heavy marriage of metal and industry. Under this melody, Klein quickly typed the expenditure application.

However, he was in no hurry to meet Dunn Smith. Instead, he focused his mind and read the materials provided by Old Neil seriously. It was both revision and new material.

When it was almost noon, he stretched his neck and put away the documents. He then read and consolidated what he had learned on mysticism in the morning.

Only after all that did he take his application to the office next door and knocked on the door gently.

Dunn was waiting for lunch to be delivered. When he saw Klein hand him the document, the corners of his mouth curved up.

“Did Old Neil teach you this?”

“Yes.” Klein did not hesitate to betray Old Neil.

Dunn picked up his dark red fountain pen and signed it.

“I happen to be applying for funding for the months of July, August, and September from the Church and the police department. I’ll add yours in. When it’s approved, get the money from Mrs. Orianna. You can draw the spirit pendulum in the afternoon.”

“Alright,” Klein answered simply and vigorously.

tone and eyes were obviously filled

casually, “Shouldn’t the budget for July, August, and September be applied for by

are you applying for July’s budget

for a few seconds before sipping his

three cases in June. I was

and his poor memory… Klein knew he had asked a question he should not

He would spend half an hour in the early morning Cogitating. He would have two hours of mysticism lessons in the morning and an hour and a half of studying the historical documents.

place, which was not too far. He would then change routes and return to Iron Cross Street. That way, he could

a private chemistry laboratory

the cup in her hand. There were countless bubbles

the liquid in the cup precipitated into a

I was worried of

the items she took from her family’s vault or exchanged them with others. She took a

moment, barking sounded from outside the laboratory. Audrey

of silver liquid in a dark corner, turned around and headed to the

who’s here?” Audrey turned the doorknob and asked the golden retriever sitting in front of the

tail in an obsequious manner. Her personal maidservant, Annie,

walked out of the laboratory and closed the door. She looked at Annie and

vexed Annie answered, “But there’s an invitation from the Duchess,

a

hire the services of the palace’s baker, Madam Vivi, and plans to invite you and Madam to afternoon tea,”

I’m a little dehydrated because of the scorching sun. Please get her to convey my apologies

she spoke, she acted

tea, but a literature salon,” added

that won’t treat my dizziness. I need rest,” rejected Audrey

she muttered deep down. If they insist, I’ll faint for all of you to see.

and said. “Do you need me

clean up the laboratory first.” Audrey was yearning to

only returned to the laboratory’s entrance

waiting outside,

sound? Not good!” Audrey heard crisp

was the cups shattered on the

at the

looked at her owner

island perennially enveloped in storms. An ancient sailboat was docked at its

in a robe with lightning patterns was looking at Alger Wilson opposite to him. He asked, perplexed, “Alger, you could have returned to the kingdom and become a captain of a Mandated Punisher team or a reputable bishop. Why did you choose to

wore a stoic expression on his rough face. He replied solemnly, “The sea belongs to the Storm. This is the Lord’s kingdom. I’m willing to abide by

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