While muttering to himself, Azk looked at Quentin Cohen unconsciously, seemingly seeking a hint or inspiration.
With sunken eyes and deep blue eyes, Cohen shook his head without hesitation and said:
"I have no memory of it at all." "... "Well, perhaps it's just a matter of similar root structures." Azek lowered his left hand and smiled wryly.
Klein was slightly disappointed by this result, but couldn't help adding:
"Professor, Mr. Azek, as you know, I'm very interested in exploring and reconstructing the history of the Quaternary period. If you have any thoughts or have obtained any other materials, could you write to me?"
"No problem." Because of today's incident, Professor Cohen, the senior associate, was quite satisfied with Klein.
Azek nodded in agreement and said:
"Your address is still the same, right?"
"Temporarily yes, but I'm moving soon. I'll write to you then." Klein replied respectfully.
Professor Cohen, the senior associate, shook his black cane and said:
"Indeed, it's time to change to a better environment."
At this moment, Klein glanced at the newspaper in Azek's hand and deliberated before saying:
"Professor, Mr. Azek, what did the newspaper say about Welch and Naya? I only learned a little from the police in charge of the investigation."
Azek was about to answer when Professor Cohen, the senior associate, with his silver hair, suddenly, along the golden chain on his black tailcoat, took out a watch.
Click!
He turned it on and pointed his cane forward:
"Meeting is about to start, Mr. Azek. We can't delay. Give the newspaper to Moretti."
"OK." Azek handed the newspaper he had finished reading to Klein. "We have to go upstairs. Remember to write to you. My and Professor Cohen's addresses haven't changed. It's still the History Department Office of Hoy University. Ha ha."
He smiled and turned around, leaving the room together with Cohen.
Klein removed his hat and saluted, watching the two gentlemen leave. Then he said goodbye to the owner of this office, Harvin Stone, and walked slowly along the corridor, out of the grey three-story building's gate.
Under the sunlight, he picked up his cane, unfolded the newspaper, and saw at the top:
"Thuringia Morning Post."
There are so many newspapers and magazines of all kinds in Thuringia... Morning Post, Evening Post, Honest Man Newspaper, Beckland Daily, Tasok Newspaper, Family Magazine, Story Review... Klein casually recalled, and seven or eight names came to mind in his mind. Of course, some of them were not from the local area and came from the "distribution" based on steam trains.
In today's era when industrial papermaking and printing have become increasingly advanced, the price of a newspaper has dropped to 1 penny, and the coverage area has thus become wider and wider.
Klein didn't carefully read the other content, quickly found the "Housebreaking and Murder Case" report in the "News Section"; "... According to the police department, the scene inside Mr. Welch's house was horrifying beyond description. All the gold, jewels, and banknotes, as well as all valuable and easily portable items, were gone, not even a single copper penny remained. There is reason to believe that this was a group of cruel and vicious criminals who would not hesitate to kill innocent people they saw, such as Mr. Welch, or Ms. Naya.
"This is a violation of the law of the kingdom! This is a provocation to public safety! No one wants to encounter something like this! Of course, the good news is that the police department has identified the perpetrators and caught the main offender. We will provide follow-up reports as soon as possible."
"Reporter, John Browning."
He had dealt with and concealed it... Klein walked along the avenue, giving a barely noticeable nod.
He casually flipped through the newspaper, strolling while reading other news and serialized stories.
Suddenly, all the hairs on his back stood up, as if there were needles pricking there.
Is someone watching me? Judging me? Monitoring me?
One after another, thoughts arose, and Klein vaguely gained enlightenment.
During his time on Earth, he had also felt an intangible gaze, eventually discovering the source of the gaze, but never once had it reacted as clearly and clearly as it did now. "Conclusion" was definite!
The same events in the original owner's memory fragments were also like this!
Was it a time travel, or that strange "transference ritual" that made my "sixth sense" stronger?
Klein suppressed the urge to search for the watcher, learned from novels, movies, and TV series, slowly stopped walking, put away the newspaper, and looked towards the Hoy River.
Immediately after, he turned his head slightly in various directions, then naturally turned around, taking in the situation around him with his eyes.
There was no one here except for trees, grass, and students passing by in the distance.
However, Klein was certain that someone was still watching him!
This...
Klein's heart raced, and his blood surged and flowed in intense thumps.
He unfolded the newspaper, half-covered his face to avoid being noticed for any misshapen expression.
At the same time, he clenched his walking stick and prepared to draw his gun.
One step, two steps, three steps, Klein moved slowly, just as before.
The feeling of being spied on and scrutinized still remained, but no sudden danger erupted.
His body walked the avenue stiffly, reaching the waiting point for the public carriage, and fortunately, he found that a carriage was coming just then.
"Iron... Zott... No, Champagne Street." Klein successively rejected his own thoughts.
He initially intended to go home directly, but was afraid of leading that unknown and purposeless watcher to the apartment, then to Zottlan Street, to "night watchmen" or colleagues for help, but was worried that the other party was baiting him, causing him to expose himself voluntarily. So, he had to randomly choose a location.
"Six pence." The toll collector replied familiarly.
Klein didn't take gold coins with him when he went out today. He placed them in his usual place to hide money, only taking two sous in paper money. And he had spent the same amount of money when he came here, so he had exactly 1 sous and 6 pence left on him. So he took out all the coins and gave them to the toll collector.
On the carriage, he found a seat and sat down. As the carriage door closed, Klein felt that the uneasy feeling of being watched finally disappeared!
He slowly exhaled, feeling his hands and feet trembling slightly.
What should I do?
What should I do next?
Klein looked out of the carriage window, desperately thinking of a solution.
Without knowing the purpose of the watcher, assume it's malicious first!
One after another, thoughts emerged, but Klein rejected them one by one. He never experienced something like this before, and it took him several minutes to find an idea.
It must be reported to the "night watchmen", only they can truly solve the problem!
But you can't just go there directly, that would expose you. Maybe this is the other party's purpose...
Following this line of thinking, Klein roughed out one plan after another, and his ideas gradually became clearer.
Whew!
He let out a thick breath, regained his basic calmness, and carefully looked at the rapidly passing scenery outside the window.
Until the carriage reached Champaign Street, nothing unexpected happened, but when Klein pushed the door open and got out, he immediately felt that uneasy feeling of being stared at and being watched!
He pretended not to notice anything, took the newspaper, held the walking stick, and slowly walked towards Zotlan Street.
However, he did not enter that street but went around to the back of Red Moon Street, where there was a beautiful white square and a tall steeple church!
St. Catherine's Church!
The headquarters of the Night Goddess Church in Tingen!
As a believer, coming to participate in the Mass on a rest day and pray was nothing strange.
This large church had a distinct Earth-Gothic style, overall black, the main facade was a tall, mottled bell tower, it was placed on the huge central pilaster between the red and blue checkered windows, reaching into the clouds.
Klein entered the church, walked along the aisle towards the large prayer hall, along the way, small narrow windows with blue and red fine patterns let in a stream of colored light, blue almost black, red like the moon, making the surroundings extremely dark.
That feeling of being watched disappeared, Klein's expression was normal, no joy, he slowly walked to the open large prayer hall.
There were no high windows, the deep darkness became the main character, but behind the arched altar, on the wall facing the entrance of the door, there were about ten or twenty fist-sized round holes penetrating outward, allowing the brilliant, pure sunlight to shine in, condensed and bright.
It was like pedestrians in the dark, suddenly looking up and seeing the stars, seeing countless brilliant, so pure, so sacred ones.
Even though he had always believed that gods could be studied and understood, Klein couldn't help but lower his head.
In the deep and gentle preaching voice of the bishop, he walked quietly along the aisle separating the left and right seats, found a place without anyone and close to the passage, and slowly sat down.
He placed the walking stick behind the front chair, took off his hat, and together with the newspaper, placed them on his lap, then crossed his hands and pressed his forehead down.
Throughout this process, he did it slowly and orderly, as if really praying.
Klein closed his eyes, listened quietly to the bishop's voice in the dark vision:
"They are naked, without clothes or food, without any cover in the cold."
"They were soaked by the rain because there was no shelter, so they hugged the rocks tightly."
"They are mothers whose children were taken away, they are orphans who have lost hope, they are poor people forced to leave the right path."
"The night did not abandon them, it bestowed upon them favor." ... (Note 1)
The echoes reverberated, each sound reaching his ears. Klein was plunged into darkness before his eyes, and his soul felt as if it had been cleansed.
He calmly contemplated these things until the bishop finished his sermon and concluded the Mass.
The bishop opened the door of the confessional room beside him, and a line of gentlemen and ladies formed up.
Klein opened his eyes, put on his hat, picked up his cane and newspaper, and followed the line to stand in order.
After about twenty minutes, it was his turn.
Stepping in and closing the door behind him, Klein's eyes once again became dim.
"Child, what do you want to say?" the bishop's voice came from behind the wooden bars.
Klein took out the "Special Operations Department Seventh Team" badge from his pocket and handed it to the bishop through the gap.
"Someone is following me. I want to find Dunn Smith." As if bathed in darkness, his tone became gentle.
The bishop took the badge, remained silent for a few seconds, and said:
"The door of the confessional room is on the right. All the way, there is a hidden door beside it. After entering, someone will lead you in."
While speaking, he pulled a rope in the room, so that a certain priest heard the sound of the bell swinging.
Klein returned the badge, took off his hat, placed it on his chest, made a slight bow, and then turned around and pushed the door open.
After confirming that the feeling of being watched no longer occurred, he put on his black half-top hat again, with no extra expressions on his face, held his cane, and turned right, walking all the way to the arched altar.
On the wall facing the side, he found the hidden door, silently opened it, and stepped inside.
The hidden door quietly closed, and a middle-aged man in a black priest's robe appeared in the glow of the gas lamp, appearing in Klein's vision.
"What is it?" The middle-aged priest asked briefly.
Klein showed the badge and repeated the words he had said to the bishop just now.
The middle-aged priest did not ask any more questions and turned his body, moving silently forward.
Klein nodded, stroked his hat, held the black cane, and quietly followed the other person behind.
Rosanne had said that at the crossroads leading to "Charnis Gate", to the left is the Church of Saint Serena.