The Coincidence of Dates

"Where did you come from? What's your purpose?"

Hearing those words, the gray-clad man slumped against the wall and tried to brace himself on the floor to sit up a little straighter.

"Don't move. Hands up," Fan Ning snapped coldly.

Facing the pitch-black muzzle aimed at him, the gray-clad man slowly raised his hands.

"Hiran, throw that dagger out the window first." Fan Ning's voice turned gentler.

"Okay." The girl's voice trembled slightly.

"Be careful. Go around from behind—yes, turn around. Don't put yourself on the straight line between the dagger and this guy." Fan Ning kept his gun trained on the gray-clad man while reminding her from the corner of his eye.

For now, this Knower seemed able to hide and travel through mirrors, manipulate blades from afar, and wield firearms with practiced skill.

Those abilities were bizarre and hard to guard against. He had to carefully eliminate every possible risk.

"Smash that mirror into even smaller pieces."

Hiran did exactly as she was told.

"Crack, crack—" Part of the ice on the gray-clad man's mask had melted and dripped away from the water vapor of his breath. Fan Ning exchanged temperatures with the ice on the roof again, thickening it to further obstruct his vision.

Even though his Inspiration was nearing exhaustion, the back of Fan Ning's head throbbed in wave after wave of pain.

Behind his mask, the man's expression was ashen with despair. This boyish-looking Knower seemed to possess even stronger Inspiration than he did, and he left no stone unturned, thoroughly destroying every condition needed for his abilities. He had not left him the slightest opening!

"Why can you instantly control both fire and frost? Is your rank even higher than mine?" The man could not help asking, his voice slightly hoarse.

Clearly, though, he could not understand that Fan Ning's mysterious ability was actually "the exchange of temperature."

"I'm the one asking the questions." Fan Ning raised the revolver again. "Where did you come from? What's your purpose?"

"What background could so-called Taboo-Touchers like us possibly have?" There was scorn and self-mockery in the man's tone. "Knowers who move through the shadows, accepting commissions and exchanging resources and Hidden Knowledge at all kinds of underground gatherings, barely dragging out an existence amid the risks of 'Aberration' and 'Lostness.'"

"Compared with blissfully ignorant people, we are merely a swarm of vermin who have glimpsed the cruel essence of the world's will."

Taboo-Touchers... Fan Ning had heard another new term.

He naturally linked the term to the Special Inspection Office.

Did the Special Inspection Office suppress and control Knowers in unofficial organizations?

Was it because their supernatural powers could easily cause social unrest? Or because secret organizations in the dark had grown too rampant and threatened the Empire? Or because the conditions or effects of certain rituals were exceptionally evil?

Then what about the Knowers in churches and schools? Did the Special Inspection Office regulate them too?

Fan Ning suppressed the questions in his heart without changing expression and continued, "So you accepted some sort of commission. What was your purpose? To kill us?"

The gray-clad man said, "Didn't you accept a commission too? Our purposes were simply opposite."

Fan Ning stared at him. "Tell me, why did you aim at a nonlethal spot when you shot at her, but target my head when you shot at me?"

"Don't tell me it was because your aim was bad and you just fired at random."

"The commission was to take her away?" Fan Ning's tone abruptly turned cold.

The gray-clad man snorted. "You're quite observant."

"Who was the client? How did you accept the commission?"

"If I tell you the truth, will you let me go?" After a moment of silence, the gray-clad man asked tentatively.

"That depends on the value of your information." Fan Ning wiped away the blood flowing from his nose with his other hand.

"That depends on whether you believe me," the gray-clad man replied.

"I am not bargaining with you!!" Fan Ning suddenly raised the gun, his voice so sharp it seemed ready to devour someone.

He did not hide his fury or killing intent at all.

"Fine." Cold sweat streamed down the gray-clad man in wave after wave. "The gathering's organizer is a woman named 'Sylvia.' Of course, that's fake."

He hurriedly added, "I don't mean I'm lying to you. I mean that woman's self-proclaimed name is definitely false. We don't know her background either."

"How do you join the gathering?" Fan Ning asked again.

"She should have several layers of intermediaries. Before each gathering, the time and place are spread through uncertain channels in uncertain forms. If you learn about it, are willing to come, and are a Knower, you can attend. There are no other thresholds. The participants are highly fluid, and the gatherings are usually short—half an hour at the least, an hour at most."

"The times and locations are uncertain. The information has to pass through layer after layer of referrals, and those intermediaries secretly investigate potential participants beforehand. I can tell you the channel through which I received information before. It won't hurt, but it won't help either."

The gray-clad man then openly gave an address for a small tavern in a rural town on the outskirts of Ufransel.

So mysterious...

Yet the gathering was open? And secret?

Fan Ning had thought he might obtain information directly connected to the incidents he had experienced.

Instead, the trail only kept stretching longer...

Fan Ning frowned deeply.

Should he continue asking who the intermediary spreading the gathering information was?

There was no point. Even the organizer's name, "Sylvia," was meaningless. The only thing with even a little value might be her gender.

If Fan Ning discovered next time that even the distinction between men and women was unreliable in this mysterious world, he would not be surprised.

"The time and place of the next gathering?" At least that question had the most immediate value.

"Thursday night at eight. Number 225, Finlay Street, Pushoer District—the southwest corner of the second basement level in the warehouse district." Because of the gathering's openness and fluidity, and perhaps in order to cooperate, the gray-clad man answered readily enough.

"If you completed the mission, how would you hand her over?" Fan Ning tried to see whether he could dig out anything else.

"I was to take her to some secluded place and wait there."

A secluded place... They would most likely pick it at random.

Was there any need to press for the address for later investigation?

He could not possibly take Hiran there alone and risk it.

Report it to the Guidance School? He would definitely tell them about this matter.

But as for the handover location... leaving aside the lack of any clear benefit, the Guidance School would not act rashly. Even if they went to lie in wait, the other side's strength and purpose were wholly unknown... He had not even officially joined yet, and he was going to lead everyone into annihilation?

The handover location meant nothing to their side anyway.

"Good." Fan Ning nodded, then pulled the revolver's trigger.

Bang—

Hiran cried out again amid the gunshot.

The bullet pierced his skull. Blood splattered across the wall behind him. The man's head lolled to one side, his body slid downward, and he fell silent forever.

"Caloen? You really fired? You really killed him?" Hiran was still far too young, and her voice shook violently.

"I never intended to let him live."

Fan Ning's voice was calm, but he closed his eyes and crouched down, his esophagus convulsing again and again.

"His value had run out. Letting him live even one second longer would only breed endless trouble. Keeping you safe was why I came here tonight." Fan Ning buried his face in his knees as he spoke.

More than seventy-two hours after crossing over, he had personally taken someone's life—a Knower, at that.

Fan Ning truly had no intention of considering the gray-clad man's feelings before death, or what it felt like to be shot through the head.

Behind that ice-covered mask, had his expression been terror? Regret? Relief?

Or did he hate Fan Ning for firing even after he cooperated? Or perhaps he knew he was doomed from the start, and said all that only to fight for that one chance in ten thousand?

In any case, Fan Ning had not seen it.

But the sight of blood blooming like flowers and gray-white brain matter splashing across the wall replayed in his mind over and over like a death loop.

"Caloen? Are you okay? Were you hurt?" Hiran ran over and helped Fan Ning up.

Fan Ning slowly shook his head.

He stood with his eyes closed for about half a minute. When he opened them again, he coldly looked at the gray-clad man lying in a pool of blood.

If he had not decided to come here today;

If he had not advanced to become a Knower that evening;

If the gift he had received during the Migrant Surge had happened to be useless in today's fight;

If there had been no light-made barrier from "resonance or fluctuation or echo";

If he had made even the slightest delay or misjudgment in any detail...

An opponent who said not a single word was far too terrifying.

Against someone decisive in killing, one could only be even more decisive in killing.

"So even if I had to do it again..."

"I would still pull the trigger."

"I could not let him go."

Fan Ning began recalling the information he had learned from the man.

"Why did they want to take Hiran away?"

There was no way to know. That gray-clad man only knew what to do, not why.

"Thursday at eight? The warehouse district at 225 Finlay Street, Pushoer District?"

Why did that sound familiar?

Wasn't number 226 Finlay Street the address of Prudence Auction House? And wasn't Thursday night the time of the auction?

The auction began at seven in the evening. It definitely would not be over by eight.

The times were staggered by one hour? The addresses separated by one number?

Teacher Anton had acquired The Remnant of the Musical Scale at Prudence Auction House through an introduction from a man named Spinn Cecil.

And Group Leader Ram Cecil, who shared the same surname, had warned Hiran at the funeral during the day.

After clashing with Fan Ning again, he had said he would no longer interfere in the future.

These points were, after all, slowly connecting together...

Fan Ning would not let his position blind him. He began thinking from Cecil's perspective.

Hiran's cousin had not acted entirely brainlessly.

He was hostile toward Fan Ning, and he had improper motives toward Hiran as well, but his intention to warn and protect her could not be called false. He was merely using the situation to coerce the girl into submission.

Mm... Such conduct was naturally despicable too.

Yet he clearly had other matters he considered more important, and he seemed to have made some sort of choice.

Translate it for me—what did it mean to no longer "interfere"?

There was more than one force in the shadows.

What happened today was related to Cecil, but it might not have been done by his side. Rather, he had "allowed" another side to do it.

From all the scattered clues, Fan Ning arrived at this speculation.

"Caloen, now... what do we do now?" Hiran asked helplessly.

Fan Ning looked at the room in ruins: shards of glass and wood scattered across the carpet, furniture toppled everywhere, large bloodstains on the walls, and the gray-clad man's corpse...

And the six gunshots that had rung out intermittently... This was a densely populated residential area for school professors.

"What else can we do?"

What, were he and the girl supposed to clean up the scene, destroy the body and erase the evidence, then silence everyone nearby who had heard the gunshots?

Was that necessary? This man had been an intruder.

"Call the police!"