Decision

After briefly meditating to clear her mind and avoid being affected by negative emotions, Angel turned her attention to the right side of the imaginary table in her mind.

There were naturally quite a few benefits to joining the Nighthawks. According to Dunn, the salary for official members was double what she currently earned—six pounds a week, equivalent to an annual income of over three hundred pounds. That did not include the "extra income" she had earned from completing Mrs. Green's commission last week, and the weekly salary would gradually increase with years of service.

In this era, an annual income of over three hundred pounds was already quite substantial. Ordinary workers earned only around one pound a week, while dockworkers and other temporarily employed, unstable occupations earned even less.

If she refused to become an official member, then forget six pounds a week—even the three pounds she earned as an unofficial member would probably slip away from her.

The more than two hundred pounds in savings she had inherited from Cole Granger would likely not last long. Besides, the Potion materials required for advancement were not cheap. Even for just the Sequence 8 Instigator Potion, any one of its Main Materials cost more than her entire fortune.

Of course, if she left the Nighthawks, she could find another job to support herself. It was not as though she would simply sit around and spend away all her money.

She was an excellent shot and no slouch in close combat. She could become an ordinary mercenary. She had heard that Security Companies and Private Detectives throughout Tingen City were overwhelmed with work; joining one now might be a good option.

Or she could learn from Emperor Rosell, her transmigrator predecessor, and sell some of the advanced knowledge and ideas in her mind. It was not impossible that she might become rich overnight.

After hesitating for a moment, she wrote the first word on the right: "Stable income."

Besides income, the benefits of being a Nighthawk were something she had deeply appreciated over the past few days.

The more than one hundred bullets she had used up practicing her shooting these days were probably worth several pounds alone. That did not even include her free use of the shooting range through her Police Badge. Other people had to pay three Soule per hour to use it.

Weapons could also be collected for free. A Revolver cost a full three pounds. From what Old Neil had said, as long as a weapon showed even slight wear, it could be replaced for free. That alone would save quite a bit.

If she became an official Nighthawk, she would also receive the status of "Probationary Inspector." It sounded like no minor police rank, and it would be highly useful in daily life and when handling ordinary disputes. So long as she produced her Police Badge, ordinary citizens would naturally see her as being on the right side.

There were also all kinds of materials for practicing mystical rituals, most of which could be claimed through reimbursement. This time, because the success rate for making Storm Convergence and Phantom Phosphor Eruption bullets had exceeded expectations, quite a few materials had been left over. Converted into cash, they might not even be worth less than her fixed income.

And she had heard there was a substantial death benefit? But she had no family or relatives, so what did that have to do with her?

Angel thought of Cole's younger sister, who was attending university in Backlund—the nominal cousin of "Angel Granger." If she died in the line of duty, the compensation should go to her, right?

Setting aside that rather inauspicious thought, Angel wrote down her third word: "Safety," corresponding to "Danger" on the left.

This was not contradictory. Joining the Nighthawks did indeed involve danger, but she had not forgotten that she had killed Mrs. Sharon and was now on the Witch Sect's radar.

Mrs. Sharon had once revealed the scale of the sect to Cole Granger. It had more than one Sequence 4 Beyonder—powerful figures at the Demigod level. The fact that Angel was still alive probably meant the other side had not had time to deal with a minor character like her, not that she was already safe and sound.

As one of the North Continent's notorious cults, the Witch Sect had committed crimes including, but not limited to, assassinating political figures, conducting Sacrifice Rituals, and carrying out mass slaughter. Every Orthodox Church had blacklisted them. Once she joined the Church of the Night Goddess's Beyonder forces, even high-ranking members of the Witch Sect would have to weigh the consequences before killing an Official Extraordinary on the records. Her safety would undoubtedly receive greater protection.

At the very least, when facing pursuit, having some Beyonder teammates was better than fighting alone. Several Low Sequence Beyonders working together could surpass a single Middle Sequence Beyonder in combat power. The battle that killed Mrs. Sharon had proven that well enough.

Speaking of other Beyonders, Angel suddenly recalled the method Old Neil had taught her for making charms, as well as the "Divination lessons" Klein had promised her.

Beyonders from different Sequences could not only coordinate in battle, but also complement one another in mystical knowledge. Cole Granger had originally been an Assassin, while Mrs. Sharon, his mentor and superior, had also advanced through the Assassin pathway. The knowledge she could teach him was limited to assassination and Instigation. He had effectively been trapped in an information cocoon, shutting himself off.

But within the Nighthawks, there were not only Beyonders from several different pathways who could exchange what they had, but also internal Church documents to read and all manner of mystical knowledge that outsiders found difficult to obtain.

Remembering the Hanged Man speaking eloquently at the Tarot Club, compared with her own ignorant confusion when exchanging information, Angel wrote her fourth word into the table: "Mystical knowledge."

That gave each side four keywords, making the table look fairly symmetrical and pleasing.

Likewise, on the scales in Angel's heart, both choices weighed just as heavily.

She was once again facing the same choice she had faced on the day she received Mrs. Sharon's letter.

Should she refuse to join the Nighthawks and once again face this unfamiliar yet vast world alone, or become an official member and fight alongside the teammates she had gradually grown familiar with over these past days?

Dunn Smith had told her to leave the decision until the day Holy Cathedral replied, but Angel knew that if she could not decide today, she would be equally unable to choose when that day came.

Her gaze wandered between the two ends of the crossroads, unable to settle on either.

This could not go on. She had no choice but to add a ninth word to the middle of the table: "Home."

Yes, home.

She had been in "this world" for more than ten days. She had acquired an identity, a temporary job, eliminated the enemy who posed the greatest threat, and made quite a few friends.

But this was not her home. Her home was in Liverpool, England, not Tingen City in Ahova County. She was a modern person from the twenty-first century, not a resident of this... mysterious age of Steam!

But as for how to begin her journey home, Angel was completely at a loss.

She had studied the life of Rosell Gustav the Great in detail. This most famous ruler of the Fifth Epoch was suspected... no, certainly a transmigrator. His life had been magnificent and tumultuous.

According to the records, Emperor Rosell had continued creating and pursuing technological innovations beyond his era until his old age, when he was assassinated before White Maple Palace. This showed that he too had never found the road "home," and had instead spent an entire lifetime in this world.

Of course, perhaps after death, Emperor Rosell's soul, which did not belong to this world, had returned to Earth. But there was no way to verify something like that, and such an "attempt" offered only one chance. Angel had no intention of trying it so soon.

That meant the remaining methods could only be sought through mysticism.

Perhaps the major Churches contained records of transmigrators? Or methods left behind for traveling to other worlds? If she took that path, joining an Orthodox Church was undoubtedly a good start. So long as she accumulated contributions and steadily rose through the ranks, she should gradually gain access to such hidden knowledge.

Or she could try looking for other transmigrators who were still alive. If there was one, then two, there could be three. This world already had Emperor Rosell and herself; it might not lack a Third Transmigrator.

She could publish an English missing-person notice in the newspapers, buy a full page and draw a huge nuclear radiation warning symbol, or use memes that only modern people would understand. Any knowledge that did not belong to this world would draw the attention of hidden transmigrators.

If she wanted to do that, leaving the Nighthawks and regaining her freedom would be the better choice.

That put her in another dilemma...

Adding a new keyword had not made Angel's choice any easier. She sighed and decided to collect her bullets from Old Neil first, then take her time deciding.

Turning right and leaving the crossroads, she arrived before the armory's iron door. She knocked lightly, and soon received a response.

"Is that Angel? Come in."

Pushing open the door and entering the armory, Angel found Old Neil still dressed in his long robe, seated at the table and studying several pages of Emperor Rosell's manuscript. Several sheets covered in Symbols had already been laid out on the table, beside a pot of coffee that gave off a peculiar aroma as steam rose from it.

Seeing Angel enter, he did not even raise his head. "You're here to collect today's bullets, right? Wait a moment. Let me finish drawing these Symbols."

He took a pencil and wrote and sketched on a blank sheet, copying several characters from the manuscript. Angel recognized one of them as seeming to mean "Sun" or "date," but she was not sure. Her knowledge of Chinese was limited to the handful of characters used in advertisements to seem fashionable, or famous quotations tattooed on people's bodies. Faced with an entire page of square characters, she could only sigh helplessly.

After writing several Chinese characters as though he were drawing, Old Neil let out a breath, put down his pencil, and looked up at Angel.

"Klein didn't come with you today?" He leaned out to look behind Angel and, finding that she was alone, asked in confusion, "Aren't you two usually... Oh, I remember. It's his day off today."

He brushed the pencil shavings from his robe, stood, took the ring of keys beside him, and briskly entered the armory in the back.

"The usual?"

Old Neil's voice came from behind the door, but before Angel could answer, he returned to the outer room carrying a box of bullets.

"Thirty ordinary Pistol Bullets. No need to sign for them; you're the only one who uses this caliber anyway."

After handing Angel the paper bullet box, Old Neil returned to the lazy demeanor of a "Rosell scholar." He dropped back into his chair, ready to continue his deciphering work.

"Oh, right. Klein said you were very interested in Divination. I taught him just last week, so you can come listen in when you have time."

"But you go shooting with him every morning, and I hear you even taught him a few things? I think you might as well ask him directly. That young man learns quickly, and he's a Diviner. He might even teach better than I can."

Old Neil smiled and lowered his head, continuing to draw crooked Chinese Symbols.

"Thank you. I'll find a chance to ask him."

Angel's mind was currently filled with the question of whether to stay or leave. She did not dare make a promise over something like this, so she could only give him a perfunctory answer.

Carrying the bullets out of the armory, Angel returned to the second floor of Blackthorn Security Company. She had wasted quite some time worrying about her future in the basement, and was surprised to find that it was already nearly noon. Heavy strikes from Mrs. Orianna's mechanical typewriter came from her office. In the reception room, the Waiter from Old Veil Restaurant had finished noting down the number of lunches and portions and was preparing to leave when the white-haired "Miss Author," Sica Theon, saw Angel emerge from behind the partition and stopped him.

"Wait, add one more person... What set meal would you like?"

She turned and asked Angel.

Angel had eaten meals delivered from Old Veil Restaurant at Blackthorn Security Company every noon these past days, and had become fairly familiar with the other Nighthawks. She had interacted with Sica Theon the most, especially since Sica needed to "gather material" from her and always grabbed Angel to chat during meals. Other than Klein, Sica was the Nighthawk she had spent the most time with.

"No, thank you. I'll go back to eat at noon."

Angel declined Miss Theon's invitation. Today was Monday, and the Tarot Club was at three in the afternoon. To avoid delays on the road and missing the time, she decided to return to Narcissus Street for lunch.

"Oh—" The white-haired woman deliberately drew out the sound and put on a sorrowful expression. "He's on his day off today, so you won't eat here? But I knew you first..."

"Stop, stop!" Angel hurriedly interrupted her performance. "You're the third person to bring up Klein today. Can't we move on from this topic?"

"But Leonard is off today too!" Sica revealed a sly smile. "Isn't that an admission without being asked?"

"I..."

Angel was left speechless, unable to think of an answer for a moment.

"Ahem..." The Waiter from Old Veil Restaurant came to her rescue, though that had not been his intention. "If you're not adding anything, shall I get going?"

Only then did they realize there was still an outsider present. Angel shook her head and repeated, "I'm not eating here at noon. You don't need to add my portion."

Watching the Waiter leave at a brisk pace, Sica Theon turned back and continued, "I heard you're going to become official?"

The news had spread that quickly...

Surprised by how quickly office gossip traveled, Angel nodded. "The captain mentioned it to me. He said he's already applied to Holy Cathedral, but I haven't given him an answer yet."

"You do need to be careful about it. This is different from clerical work. Once you join, well... you understand."

Sica had originally wanted to say more, but seeing Angel's troubled expression, she smacked her lips and decided not to put any more pressure on her.

Looking at Sica Theon's unusual white hair, Angel had a thought and asked, "Did you hesitate before becoming an official member?"

"I didn't think that much about it, because I had no choice." The white-haired woman narrowed her eyes, seemingly lost in memory. "Unlike you, I was just an ordinary person before joining the Nighthawks. An Out of Control Beyonder from Heart of Machinery went on a killing spree in the South District. I was lucky to survive, and the captain invited me after seeing that I was quite capable."

"I had nightmares for an entire year, reliving that moment every day. When he asked whether I wanted to drink a Potion and become a Beyonder and an official member, I agreed without hesitation."

"I simply felt that... becoming a Beyonder would give me the power to protect myself, and the power to protect others. A very clichéd reason, isn't it? Like the plot of some trashy novel nobody reads."

Angel keenly sensed that Sica Theon seemed to have omitted part of the story, but she only listened quietly.

"I just think you don't necessarily have to choose what is most appropriate. Choose what you won't regret later because you didn't choose the other option," Sica concluded. "After that, I never had nightmares again."

"Sigh, the more I talk, the more it sounds like one of my novels that got rejected by an editor." As though she felt the atmosphere had grown too heavy, she abruptly changed the subject to something that interested her.

"I think it could absolutely become the plot of a bestselling novel with a few revisions," Angel teased. "You just have to be careful not to violate regulations and reveal Nighthawk or Church secrets."

"That's fine. I can make a Punyshers or Heart of Machinery member the protagonist!"

The two smiled at each other.

Leaving the reception room, Angel descended the Stairs to the first floor and looked back. The Blackthorn Security Company sign was still hanging in the corner by the turn leading upstairs. If passersby did not look carefully, they would never notice it.

"Sigh, maybe choosing this way will make me regret it someday, but if I don't choose it, I might regret it immediately?" Turning Sica Theon's advice over in her mind, Angel sighed and walked toward the Public Carriage stop on the street corner.

Under the near-noon Sun, Angel could no longer make out the imaginary table in her mind. Yet as she walked, she still extended her right hand and wrote one word into the grid that only she could see.

"Companions."