Are You a Newcomer Too?

Early in the morning, Angel was awakened by the sound of knocking downstairs.

"Mm..."

For the past few days, Angel had been busy until late at night, sometimes even until dawn, and had not gotten a full night's sleep. Last night, she had finally dealt with Madam Sharon, the only person who knew of her relationship with Cole, lifting a heavy weight from her heart. After hurrying home and taking a bath, she had slept until now.

Cole's younger sister, Lily Granger's room, had already been cleaned again. The sun-dried bedding gave off a distinctive fragrance, like gentle hands cradling Angel in bed.

Even though the sunlight outside was already bright, she did not want to get up just yet.

"Sorry, I'm coming in!" The voice of Tromi, the maid, came from outside the window, followed by the sound of a key unlocking the door.

Cole trusted Tromi greatly. He had even made her a copy of the front door key so that she could come in and clean whenever he was out.

Although the house temporarily belonged to Angel now, she had not taken back Tromi's key. Her reasons were much the same as Cole's: she often went out too, and the home needed a maid to come in regularly and clean. A maid who had worked there for years was certainly more trustworthy than a stranger.

Hearing the rustling sounds downstairs, Angel decided to pull the covers over her head and sleep for another hour. She had already come to another world. She was no longer a Templar Knight who had to go to the cathedral for morning prayers every day. What was wrong with sleeping another hour? What difference would it make if she slept until the afternoon?

Wait, I seemed to have agreed to join the Nighthawks yesterday. I was supposed to report in this morning...

Angel quickly climbed out of bed and went downstairs in her pajamas, startling Tromi, who was wearing an apron and had a dust cloth wrapped around her head.

"Mr. Granger?"

After recognizing the person before her, her originally excited expression instantly turned dejected.

"Ah—so it's you. Sorry, Miss... It seems the rumors were true. Has he really gone missing?"

Faced with such differential treatment, Angel guessed that Tromi might harbor feelings for her employer that went beyond their employment relationship, though she had no further evidence.

Seeing the maid grow increasingly saddened, she could only offer a few comforting words and assure her that even if Cole Granger was temporarily absent, she would continue employing her. A raise could be discussed as well.

After much persuasion, she finally soothed Tromi. Then she hurriedly washed up, changed into a lightweight outfit, and left the house.

It had been nearly a week since she had transmigrated, yet Angel still had not grown accustomed to women's clothing. She chose loose shirts and trousers that allowed easy movement instead of the dresses commonly worn by women of this era.

Yet even such a simple outfit took half an hour to put together. Getting ready before going out was far too troublesome for women, but going to work bleary-eyed and disheveled would be improper too... Angel complained inwardly as she briskly headed toward the street corner's tram stop.

Fortunately, the tram arrived quickly. She boarded, paid 4 pence, and found herself a seat in the corner.

The morning rush hour had already passed, so there were not many passengers in the carriage. The middle-aged man across from her, who was reading a newspaper, casually glanced up when someone sat down, then lowered his head again—only to sneak another look at her from the corner of his eye.

"Wait, hold on!" A shout came from outside the carriage. Accompanied by the approaching sound of leather shoes running, a man squeezed into the tram.

"Zouteland Street, thank you." The man who had caught the tram wore a tailcoat and silk top hat, as though he were on his way to a ball. He fished out some coins and handed them to the worker outside the front window of the carriage. Only then did he let out a long breath and wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Dressing so heavily in this heat—he really cared more about style than comfort...

Huh, he looked a little familiar?

Looking closer, Angel realized that he was the Nighthawks newcomer she had met at the entrance yesterday morning when she had been "escorted" back to Blackthorn Security Company. His name seemed to be Klein?

It seemed he had rented a house on Daffodil Street and moved onto this street.

Klein also noticed Angel sitting in the corner. He stood by the entrance for a moment before deciding to come over and sit beside her.

"Hello."

Seeing Klein sit down beside her, Angel took the initiative to greet him. He had clearly recognized her, and they would be colleagues in the future. Building a good relationship was necessary.

"Hello." Klein replied. After sitting down beside Angel, he seemed somewhat uneasy. "I saw you on Daffodil Street yesterday. Your name is..."

"Angel Granger. You're Klein Moretti, right? Um... a newcomer at Blackthorn Security Company?"

Angel's attitude put him considerably at ease, and the two continued chatting. Although it was inconvenient to discuss matters involving the mystical on a Public Carriage, she still managed to learn quite a bit about Klein.

Klein Moretti was a graduate of Khoy University's History Department. He had an older brother and a younger sister, who were probably the two people she had seen with him yesterday. He had just been caught up in a Beyonder incident last week and, as the sole survivor of a "multiple suicide case," had been recruited into the Nighthawks as a clerical worker.

Angel recalled Leonard mentioning "a newcomer like you" yesterday. Had he been referring to Klein?

Surely not all the Nighthawks members joined this way, right?

Amid their small talk, they arrived at Zouteland Street.

Klein said goodbye and got off the tram. Standing by the roadside, he adjusted his top hat and let out a long breath, only to discover that Angel had gotten off as well.

"Miss Granger, you're getting off here too? Could it be...?" Klein raised his eyebrows and asked in surprise.

"That's right. I'm going to Blackthorn Security Company too, so we happen to be headed the same way."

Angel answered with a smile. For the time being, she did not intend to reveal the answer to that mystery.

The two entered the reception room on the second floor of the security company one after the other. The reception room, which had looked like a battlefield last night, had already been cleaned. The bloodstained carpet had been removed, exposing the wooden floor. Only one intact sofa remained, and together with several mismatched armchairs, it barely formed a semicircle. A low round table of unknown origin served as a tea table in the middle. The reception desk had been left in place because there was no replacement for it, and two bullet holes still marked its outer panel.

A brown-haired girl sat behind the reception desk, fiddling with a coffee pot. The rich aroma of coffee filled the entire room. At the sound of the door opening, she raised her head and looked toward them.

"Good morning, Klein. And this is?" She greeted Klein first, then looked at Angel with a puzzled expression.

"Angel Granger. Captain Dunn should have mentioned me."

The girl's eyes widened. "It's you... That's right, the captain said you would come today. He's waiting for both of you in his office."

She put down the coffee pot, came out from behind the reception desk, led them around the partition, and stopped before one of the three offices in the corridor.

"Knock, knock—" She knocked on the office door and said, "Captain, I've brought the two people you mentioned."

Dunn Smith's deep voice came from inside. "Come in."

The girl did not enter herself, merely making an inviting gesture. Angel glanced at Klein and saw that he had proactively stepped half a pace back, politely giving her room to enter first, so she went into the office ahead of him.

"Daly left Tingen early this morning." Dunn Smith sat behind a solid wooden desk. Once Angel had shut the door, he abruptly said this without any context.

Angel was taken aback. She had not expected Dunn to speak about something unrelated to work first.

"I thought she would rest for a few more days."

"She came to Tingen under another pretext in the first place, and she stayed two extra days because of Madam Sharon's case. That was already the limit. I still have to write a report to explain it."

There was amusement in Dunn's gray eyes. He clearly did not resent these tedious matters. "She thought highly of you. She said that if I hadn't already recruited you into the Tingen team, she would have taken you away."

"Maybe I should have gone back to Enmat Harbor with her. She might have given me full pay."

"Ahem... Those are the regulations. They aren't something I can change. Ask the other newcomer, Mr. Klein Moretti, who's standing outside the door. He joined even earlier than you did, yet he's still only a probationary member."

As he spoke, he took two copies of a contract from a drawer.

Angel accepted the contract, sat in the chair opposite Dunn, and carefully read through it. There were not many clauses: contract duration, salary, benefits, obligations, and so on. Most were things Dunn had already told her when inviting her to join last night, with only an additional note stating that she would need to wait for approval from the Holy Cathedral before becoming an official member.

At a glance, there were no unreasonable terms. Only the confidentiality clause was exceptionally strict. Violations did not even require prosecution; the church would directly carry out Judgment and punishment.

However, considering the Nighthawks' special nature, Angel could understand such caution.

She signed her name at the end of the contract and pressed down her fingerprint. Dunn stamped both copies and handed one back to Angel. The contract was now established.

"Then, welcome to the Nighthawks, Miss Angel Granger." After putting away the contract, Dunn stood and extended his right hand across the desk.

Angel smiled faintly, rose to her feet as well, and extended her right hand to shake his.

"Thank you, Captain Dunn Smith."

After shaking hands, the two sat down again, but Dunn's next words caught Angel off guard once more.

"Your first task is to hand over a batch of the bullets you used in yesterday's battle. What were they called again?"

Dunn shifted in his armchair to make himself more comfortable before speaking.

Although puzzled, Angel answered quickly, "They're called Storm Convergence and Phantom Phosphor Eruption. I used them all up yesterday, so I'll need to make more. Are they to be handed over to higher-ups?"

"That's right. I need to submit the battle report next week. How many bullets can you make this week?"

Neither of them specified who the "higher-ups" were.

Angel made a rough estimate. She could make around five bullets per hour, but based on her previous experience, making more than twenty would exhaust all of her spirituality. If she focused on making them once each day, she could produce around one hundred Storm Convergence bullets in a week.

Phantom Phosphor Eruption was more complicated. The bottleneck was not spirituality, but her inability to maintain concentration for long periods. She estimated that she could only make ten per day.

"If the materials are sufficient, I should be able to make one hundred Storm Convergence bullets enhanced for attack power. As for the other type, ten at most." She answered honestly. This concerned the assessment of her combat strength and value, and as a newcomer who had just joined, Angel did not lie.

Dunn nodded in satisfaction, took out a stack of slips from the drawer, and swiftly wrote on one with the fountain pen on the desk. He tore it off and handed it to Angel.

"Later, give this slip to Miss Rozanne, who's on duty today. Have her take you to Old Neil to collect the materials you need. Hand me eighty bullets next Monday. You can decide the ratio yourself, but there must be both types."

They only needed the finished products, not the formula or the method of production?

Angel suppressed her doubts and accepted the slip bearing Dunn's flamboyant handwriting.

"There's an Alchemy Room in the basement. Old Neil usually uses it, but you can use it as needed. If you lack any equipment, submit a request through him, and we'll provide it as soon as possible," Dunn instructed carefully. "Of course, you can make them in the Alchemy Room at your own home. I only need to see the results next week."

So they had searched through her entire house the night before last... Well, she had entered the dream from the basement. It was probably impossible to hide that from Dunn, who possessed Nightmare abilities.

"I'll make them at home. I'm already used to the equipment there."

After considering it carefully, Angel still decided to make the required bullets at home rather than in the Nighthawks headquarters' Alchemy Room.

"Then go take care of it. Ask Mr. Klein Moretti to come in for me." Dunn nodded, indicating his approval.