Plop!
Klein stumbled back a step. For a fleeting moment, he couldn't tell whether he was still dreaming or had finally awakened.
The shadow at the end of the hall removed his black top hat and gave a faint, courteous bow.
"Allow me to reintroduce myself," the man said, his voice low and even. "Nighthawk. Dunn Smith."
Nighthawk… The word sent a jolt through Klein's mind. That was one of the codenames used by the Evernight Church's Beyonder teams — the same "Nighthawks" mentioned by Justice and the Hanged Man! Realization struck him all at once.
"You can control dreams?" Klein blurted. "That entire dream — it was your doing?"
Dunn replaced his hat, his gray eyes calm as ever. "Not quite," he said evenly. "I didn't control your dream. I merely entered it… and guided it where necessary."
His voice filled the dim corridor, deep and resonant, but somehow gentle — a tone that soothed without stirring those still sleeping nearby.
"In dreams," he continued, "our suppressed emotions and the darker corners of our minds surface — exaggerated, erratic, often absurd. Yet they remain rooted in truth, for all dreams are born from reality. To a veteran like me, that chaos is clear. I trust the truth in your dreams more than the words of your waking self."
Klein's breath caught.
What kind of human can enter another man's dream like that?
A cold thought crept through him. If I had dreamed of Earth… would he have seen it too?
But something about that didn't fit. He remembered the dream vividly — how lucid he'd been, how aware. He had known what to say and what to hide. It hadn't felt like a dream at all.
So… he only saw what I wanted him to see?
The thought flickered through him like a spark. Perhaps this was a benefit of his transmigration — a quirk of his soul, or the lingering effect of that ritual he'd performed to enhance his luck.
"So, Mr. Smith," he asked carefully, regaining composure, "you believe now that I truly lost my memory?"
Dunn didn't answer right away. He simply studied him, gaze steady.
"You don't seem particularly surprised by all this," he observed. "Most people, when faced with proof of the Beyonders' power, can't bring themselves to accept it. They'd rather think they're still dreaming."
"Perhaps," Klein admitted softly, "I've always been praying for such power to exist — something beyond what I can explain."
An almost imperceptible smile tugged at Dunn's lips. "An interesting perspective. Maybe your survival wasn't just luck after all." His expression hardened again. "In any case, I can confirm you've lost part of your memory — specifically the portion connected to that incident."
Klein's heart lifted slightly. "So… I can go now?"
Dunn slipped a hand into his pocket, strolling closer. The surrounding shadows seemed to still in deference to him.
"No," he said gently. "You'll still have to come with me to see the expert."
Klein froze. "Why? You don't trust what you saw in my dream?"
Panic flickered behind his eyes. If this 'expert' specializes in hypnosis or mind-reading, won't my biggest secret be exposed? The thought alone chilled him to the bone.
"I trust my own work," Dunn said calmly, "but key matters demand confirmation. And her abilities are… of a different nature. She may even help you recover what you've lost."
His tone deepened. "After all, you're connected to the missing Antigonus family notebook."
"What?" Klein's breath hitched.
Dunn halted before him, gray eyes boring into his. "At the scene of Welch's death, the notebook was gone — vanished. Welch is dead. Naya is dead. You're the only lead left."
"…Understood," Klein murmured after a pause, the words tasting bitter. The missing notebook… how did I not think of that before?
Dunn nodded once, as if that settled it. "Lock your door and come with me. The expert's waiting at Welch's apartment."
Klein drew in a quiet breath, pulse quickening. His mind screamed to refuse — to run. But after what had just happened, he knew Dunn would be on high alert. And against a Beyonder, a normal man like him wouldn't stand a chance.
He probably has a revolver too… and the skill to use it.
Resigned, Klein nodded. "Alright."
One step at a time, he told himself. Maybe that strange power in my dream will help again.
"Then let's go," Dunn said, voice flat, final.
Klein followed him — but after a few steps, he hesitated.
"Mr. Smith," he said awkwardly, "I'd like to use the bathroom first. That was… actually why I came out."
Dunn regarded him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "No problem. Go ahead. But believe me, Klein—" his voice lowered, dark and confident, "I'm far stronger in the night than you can imagine."
That quiet warning sent a chill through Klein. In the dark night… he repeated inwardly, filing away the phrase.
He didn't dare attempt escape. Instead, he relieved himself, splashed his face with cold water, and steadied his breathing. Then, dressing quickly, he followed Dunn down the narrow stairs toward the street below.
Halfway down, Dunn's voice cut through the silence.
"At the end of the dream," he said, "why did you try to escape? What were you afraid of?"
Klein didn't miss a beat. "Because I can't remember what happened at Welch's. I don't know if I was involved in their deaths. If I was… I'd rather take my chances and run. Start over in the Southern Continent."
Dunn's lips quirked slightly. "I'd have done the same." He pushed open the door, letting the cool night air wash over them, carrying away the stale warmth of the building.
Outside, a four-wheeled carriage waited — the same one from Klein's dream, down to the crest of crossed swords beneath a crown. Dunn gestured for him to enter.
Inside, the air was warm, the floor lined with soft carpet, the faint fragrance of tobacco and sandalwood mingling together. Klein sat, forcing himself to speak casually.
"Mr. Smith… if the 'expert' confirms my memory loss, and there's no evidence I'm involved — will that be the end of it?"
"In theory," Dunn said with an enigmatic smile. "We'll continue searching for the notebook. It will surface eventually. But first, we must ensure you bear no curses, no trace of demonic influence. Only then can we let you live in peace."
Klein frowned slightly. "In theory?"
"Yes," Dunn said softly. "In our line of work, there's rarely such thing as closure. Some things linger — twist — return."
The horse's hooves echoed through the empty street. Dunn pulled a pipe from his coat, turning it idly between his fingers.
"For instance," he began, voice low and steady, "a few years back we dismantled a small cult. They worshiped a false god — their leader's invention, nothing more than greed and madness. No Beyonders among them, just lost souls. Two of us, with the police, wiped them out."
He paused, letting smoke drift from the unlit pipe. "One of the cultists escaped — reported them himself. We checked everything. He wasn't cursed. Not touched by demons. Perfectly sane. He rebuilt his life, started a family, thrived."
Dunn's smile darkened. "Then this March — wealthy, successful, with a loving wife and two children — he strangled himself in his office."
The crimson moonlight through the carriage window washed Dunn's face in red, and his faint, almost mocking smile sent a shiver down Klein's spine.
Strangled himself… Klein swallowed. Even if I escape now, will it just happen later?
Is there any true way to be free of it?
Perhaps… by becoming a Beyonder myself.
The carriage fell silent, the rhythmic clop of hooves the only sound. Klein's thoughts churned in the stillness until the driver called out,
"Mr. Smith, we've arrived — Welch's apartment."
"Good." Dunn straightened his coat, preparing to disembark. "Before we go in, a word of introduction — the 'expert' is known publicly as Awwa County's most renowned spirit medium."
Klein blinked. "And privately?"
Dunn half-turned, his gray eyes glinting under the moonlight.
"Privately," he said, his voice like a whisper through fog,
"she's a true Spirit Medium."