Decision

After briefly meditating to clear her mind and avoid being affected by negative emotions, Angel turned her gaze 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, a full member's salary would be double what she earned now—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 pay would gradually increase with years of service.

In this era, an annual income exceeding three hundred pounds was already quite generous. Ordinary workers earned only around one pound a week, while unstable jobs like dock work, which relied on temporary employment, paid even less.

If she refused to become a full member, forget six pounds a week—she would probably lose even the three pounds she received as an unofficial member, wouldn't she?

Relying solely on the more than two hundred pounds she had inherited from Cole Granger would not last very long. Besides, the Potion ingredients needed for advancement were far from cheap. Even for just the Sequence 8 Instigator Potion, any one of the Main Materials cost more than her entire fortune.

Of course, if she left the Nighthawks, she could still find another job to support herself instead of simply living off her savings.

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 across Tingen City were overwhelmed with work; joining one now might be a good choice.

Or she could learn from Emperor Roselle, the Transmigrator before her, and sell some of the advanced knowledge and ideas in her head. It was not impossible that she might become rich overnight.

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

Aside from income, the benefits of being a Nighthawk were something she had keenly felt over the past few days.

Just the hundred-odd bullets she had fired while practicing shooting these past few days were probably worth several pounds. That did not even include the shooting range she could use for free with her Police Badge. Other people had to pay three soli per hour to use it.

Weapons could also be claimed for free. A revolver alone 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 would save quite a bit as well.

If she became a full Nighthawk, she would also receive the rank of "Probationary Inspector." It sounded like no minor police rank, and it would be very useful in daily life and in handling ordinary disputes. As long as she showed her Police Badge, ordinary citizens would naturally see her as being on the right side.

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

And she had heard there was a substantial death pension? But she had no family or relatives, so what did a pension 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 pension should probably go to her, right?

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

This was not contradictory. Joining the Nighthawks certainly involved danger, but she had not forgotten that she had killed Mrs. Sharon and was already on the Demoness Sect's radar.

Mrs. Sharon had once revealed the scale of the sect to Cole Granger. It had more than one Sequence 4 Beyonder—powerhouses at the Demigod level. The reason Angel was still alive was probably that they had not had time to deal with a minor figure like her yet, not because she was already safe and sound.

As one of the North Continent's notorious cults, the Demoness Sect had committed acts including, but not limited to, assassinating officials, conducting Sacrifice Rituals, and carrying out large-scale massacres. It was blacklisted by every Orthodox Church. As long as she joined the Church of the Evernight Goddess's Beyonder forces, even the Demoness Sect's higher-ups would have to weigh the consequences before killing a registered official Beyonder. Her safety would undoubtedly receive greater protection.

At the very least, if she faced pursuit, having some Beyonder teammates would be better than fighting alone. Several Low Sequence Beyonders working together could surpass a single Mid Sequence Beyonder in combat strength. That had been proven quite clearly in the battle against Mrs. Sharon.

Thinking of other Beyonders, Angel suddenly recalled the Charm-making method Old Neil had taught her, as well as the "Divination lessons" Klein had promised her.

Beyonders of different Sequences could not only cooperate in battle, but also complement each other in mystical knowledge. Cole Granger had originally been an Assassin, and Mrs. Sharon, his mentor and superior, had also advanced through the Assassin pathway. The only things she could teach him were related to assassination and Instigation. It was like being trapped in an information cocoon, closed off from everything else.

But within the Nighthawks, there were not only Beyonders from several different pathways who could exchange knowledge, but also internal Church documents that granted access to all kinds of mystical knowledge difficult for outsiders to obtain.

Remembering the Hanged Man speaking so eloquently at the Tarot Club, and comparing him to her own ignorant self when exchanging information, Angel wrote down the fourth term in the table: "Mystical knowledge."

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

Likewise, on the scales in Angel's heart, both choices weighed 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 a full member and fight alongside the teammates she had gradually grown familiar with over these past few days?

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

Her gaze wandered between the two ends of the crossroads, unable to make up her mind.

This could not go on. She could only add a ninth word to the center of the table: "Home."

Yes, home.

She had been in "this world" for over ten days. She had gained an identity, a temporary job, eliminated her greatest threat, and made quite a few friends.

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

But Angel had no idea how to begin her journey home.

She had carefully studied the life of Roselle Gustav the Great. This most famous ruler of the Fifth Epoch was likely... no, certainly a Transmigrator. His life had been magnificent and tumultuous.

According to the records, Emperor Roselle had continued creating works and making technological innovations beyond the era right up until his old age, when he was assassinated before White Maple Palace. That showed that he had never found a way "home" either, instead spending his entire life in this world.

Of course, perhaps after his death, Emperor Roselle's soul, which did not belong to this world, had returned to Earth. But there was no way to verify such a thing, and such an "attempt" only came with one chance. Angel did not intend to try it so soon.

Then the only remaining option was to search for answers in mysticism.

Perhaps the major Churches possessed records of Transmigrators? Or perhaps they had left behind methods for traveling to other worlds? If she took that path, joining an Orthodox Church would undoubtedly be a good start. As long as she accumulated contributions and rose through the ranks step by step, she should gradually gain access to such hidden knowledge.

Or she could try finding other Transmigrators who were still alive. If there was one, there could be two; if there were two, there could be three. This world already had Emperor Roselle and herself. There might well be a Third Transmigrator.

She could place a missing-person notice in the newspaper in English, buy an entire page to print a huge nuclear radiation warning symbol, or use memes that only modern people would understand. As long as it was knowledge that did not belong to this world, it would draw the attention of any hidden Transmigrators.

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

That left her trapped in another dilemma...

Adding a new keyword had not made Angel's decision any easier. She sighed and decided to collect her bullets from Old Neil first, then think it over slowly.

Turning right at the crossroads, she arrived before the iron door of the armory and knocked lightly. A response soon came from within.

"Is that Angel? Come in."

Pushing open the door and entering the armory, Angel found Old Neil still dressed in the same robe, seated at his desk and studying several pages of Emperor Roselle's manuscript. Several sheets filled with symbols had already been laid out on the table, and a pot of coffee emitting a strange fragrance steamed nearby.

When he saw Angel enter, he did not even raise his head. "You're here for today's bullets, right? Wait a moment. Let me finish drawing these symbols."

Holding a pencil, he scribbled across a blank sheet of paper, copying several characters from the manuscript. Angel recognized one character that seemed to mean "Sun" or "date," but she was not sure. Her knowledge of Chinese was limited to the few characters used in advertisements to appear fashionable, or famous quotes tattooed on people's bodies. Faced with a page full of square characters, she could only sigh in frustration.

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

"Klein didn't come with you today?" He leaned out to look behind Angel, realized she had come alone, and asked in confusion, "Don't you usually... Oh, right, I remember. It's his day off today."

He brushed pencil shavings from his robe, stood up, grabbed the ring of keys beside him, and briskly entered the rear armory.

"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 using this caliber anyway."

After handing Angel the paper box of bullets, Old Neil resumed the lazy air of a Roselle scholar. He plopped back into his chair, ready to continue his decoding work.

"Oh, right. Klein said you're very interested in Divination. I only taught him last week, so you can come listen whenever you have time."

"But you go practice shooting with him every morning, and I heard you even taught him a few tricks? I think you might as well ask him directly. That young man learns quickly, and he's a Seer. 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 promises about such things and could only give a perfunctory reply.

Leaving the armory with the bullets, Angel returned to the second floor of Blackthorn Security Company. She had spent quite a while in the basement worrying about the future, and was surprised to find that it was already close to noon. The heavy clacking of a mechanical typewriter came from Mrs. Orianna's office. In the reception room, an Old Veil Restaurant waiter had finished recording the number of lunch orders and portions and was preparing to leave when the white-haired Author Miss, Seeka Tron, saw Angel emerge from behind the partition and called out to him.

"Wait, add one more person... What set meal are you having?"

She turned back to ask Angel.

Over the past few days, Angel had eaten Old Veil Restaurant deliveries at Blackthorn Security Company every noon, and had become fairly familiar with the other Nighthawks. Especially Seeka Tron—because she wanted to "gather material" from Angel, she always pulled Angel into conversation during meals. Other than Klein, she was the Nighthawk Angel had interacted with the most.

"No, thank you. I'm going back to eat lunch."

Angel politely declined Seeka Tron's invitation. Today was Monday, and the Tarot Club met at three in the afternoon. To avoid any delays on the road and missing the gathering, she decided to return to Daffodil Street for lunch.

"Oh—" The white-haired woman deliberately drew out the sound and put on a sorrowful expression. "He has the 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 has the day off today too!" Sica revealed a sly smile. "Doesn't that mean you've given yourself away?"

"I..."

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

"Ahem..." The Old Veil Restaurant waiter came to her rescue, though not intentionally. "If you aren't adding an order, should I leave first?"

Only then did the two women realize there was still an outsider present. Angel shook her head and repeated, "I'm not eating here at noon, so there's no need to add my portion."

After watching the waiter hurry away, Seeka Tron turned back and continued, "I heard you're going to become a full member?"

The news had spread that quickly...

Angel was surprised by how quickly office gossip traveled. She nodded and replied, "The captain mentioned it. He said he has already applied to the 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."

Seeka wanted to say a few more things, but seeing Angel's melancholic expression, she smacked her lips and ultimately decided not to pressure her further.

Looking at Seeka Tron's unusually white hair, Angel suddenly had a thought and asked, "Did you hesitate before becoming a full member?"

"I didn't think that much about it, because I didn't have a choice." The white-haired woman narrowed her eyes, seeming to sink into memory. "Unlike you, I was just an ordinary person before joining the Nighthawks. An out-of-control Machinery Hivemind Beyonder went on a killing spree in the South District. I was lucky enough to survive, and the captain invited me after seeing that I had some skill."

"I had nightmares for a whole year, reliving that moment every day. When he asked whether I wanted to drink the Potion and become a Beyonder and a full 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. It's a rather cliché reason, right? Like some trite novel no one would read."

Angel keenly sensed that Seeka Tron seemed to have omitted part of the story, but she merely listened quietly.

"I just think you don't necessarily have to choose the most suitable option. You should choose the one you won't regret choosing over the other afterward," Sica concluded. "After that, I never had nightmares again."

"Sigh, the more I talk, the more it sounds like one of those novels my editor sent back." As if feeling that the atmosphere had become too heavy, she changed the subject to something that interested her.

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

"It's fine. I can make the protagonists Mandated Punishers or Machinery Hivemind members!"

The two exchanged smiles.

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

"Sigh, maybe I'll regret choosing this in the future, but if I don't choose it, I might regret it immediately?" Mulling over Seeka Tron's advice, Angel sighed and walked toward the Public Carriage stop at the street corner.

Under the near-noon Sun, Angel could no longer see the imaginary table in her mind clearly. Yet as she walked, she still stretched out her right hand and wrote a word in the invisible grid only she could see.

"Companions."