Sis, could you please not bring up the one thing I don't want to talk about... Klein grumbled inwardly, feeling his head begin to throb again.
The knowledge the original owner had forgotten was not a great deal, but it certainly was not a little, either. With the interview the day after tomorrow, how could he possibly have time to catch up...
And he had become entangled in a bizarre, terrifying incident. How could he possibly be in the mood to "review"...
After giving his sister a few perfunctory replies, Klein began pretending to study. Melissa brought over a chair, sat beside him, and started her homework by the light of the gas lamp.
The atmosphere was peaceful and comfortable. At nearly eleven, the siblings said good night and went to their respective beds.
Thump!
Thump, thump!
A series of knocks woke Klein from his dreams.
He glanced at the dawn outside the window and sat up, his head still somewhat muddled.
"Who is it?"
What time is it already? Why didn't Melissa wake me?
"It's me, Dunn Smith," a steady male voice answered from outside.
Dunn Smith? I don't know him... Klein shook his head, got out of bed, and walked toward the door.
He pulled it open and saw the gray-eyed police officer from yesterday.
"Has something happened?" Klein asked warily.
The gray-eyed officer answered with a grave expression.
"We found a coachman. He confirmed that you visited Mr. Welch's residence on the 27th, the day Mr. Welch and Ms. Naya died. Mr. Welch even paid your fare."
Klein froze for a moment, without the slightest fear or guilt of someone whose lie had been exposed.
He had not been lying at all. If anything, he felt that the evidence provided by the gray-eyed officer, Dunn Smith, was just as he had expected.
On June 27th, the original owner really did visit Welch's residence. Then he killed himself the very night he returned, just like Welch and Naya!
Klein opened his mouth, then said with a wry smile:
"That isn't strong enough evidence. It doesn't directly prove I had anything to do with Welch's and Naya's deaths. To be honest, I also want to know what happened and find out what befell my two poor friends. But, but I really can't remember. I've forgotten almost everything I did on the 27th. You might not believe it, but only through my own notes could I barely piece together that I might have visited Welch's residence on the 27th."
"You have good psychological resilience." The gray-eyed officer, Dunn Smith, nodded without anger or a smile.
"You should be able to hear my sincerity." Klein looked straight into his eyes.
Everything I'm saying is true. Of course, it's only part of the truth!
Dunn Smith did not answer immediately. He swept his gaze around the room before speaking leisurely.
"Mr. Welch was missing a revolver. I imagine I should be able to find it here, shouldn't I, Mr. Klein?"
As expected... Klein finally understood where the revolver had come from. Thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning, and he instantly made his decision.
He half raised his hands and retreated step by step, clearing the way, then pointed his chin at the bunk bed.
"Underneath the bedboard."
He did not specify the lower bunk, because no normal person would hide anything beneath the upper bedboard, where visitors could see it at a glance.
The gray-eyed officer, Dunn, did not step forward. The corner of his mouth twitched.
"Nothing else to add?"
Klein answered without hesitation:
"Yes!"
"When I woke up in the middle of the night before last, I found myself slumped over the desk, with a revolver beside me and a bullet at the foot of the wall. It looked like I'd attempted suicide, but perhaps I was inexperienced and had never used a gun, or perhaps I got scared at the last moment. In any case, the bullet didn't have the intended effect. My head was still intact, and I've survived until now."
"And from that point on, I've been missing some memories, including what I did and saw at Welch's residence on the 27th. I'm not lying. I really don't remember."
To clear himself of suspicion and resolve the bizarre incident that had entangled him, Klein revealed almost everything, except his transmigration and the "gathering."
He also adjusted his wording so that every sentence could stand up to scrutiny. For instance, he did not say the bullet had missed his head, only that it had not achieved its intended effect and that his head had remained intact afterward.
To other people, the two statements would convey almost the same meaning, but in reality, they were completely different.
The gray-eyed officer, Dunn, listened quietly to the end, then spoke in a low, measured voice.
"This is very much in line with the sequence of events I inferred, as well as the underlying logic of previous similar incidents. Of course, I don't know how you survived."
"As long as you believe me. I don't know how I survived, either." Klein breathed a slight sigh of relief.
"But," Dunn introduced a turn, "my believing you is of no use. You are currently under considerable suspicion. You must be assessed by an 'expert' to confirm that you truly forgot what happened to you, or that you really didn't directly cause Mr. Welch's and Ms. Naya's deaths."
He coughed, his expression turning serious.
"Mr. Klein, please cooperate with the investigation and accompany us to the police station. This will take approximately two to three days, provided there really is nothing wrong with you."
"The expert has arrived?" Klein asked blankly.
Didn't he say two days?
"She arrived earlier than any of us expected." Dunn turned sideways, gesturing for Klein to leave.
"Let me leave a note," Klein requested.
Benson was still away on business, and Melissa had gone to school. He could only leave them a message saying that he was involved in something concerning Welch and telling them not to worry.
Dunn nodded indifferently.
"Certainly."
Klein returned to the desk. As he found some paper and began writing, he started thinking about what would happen next.
Honestly, he very much wished to avoid meeting that expert. After all, he was hiding an even greater secret.
In a place with seven major Churches, and given that Emperor Roselle, a suspected "predecessor," had been assassinated, "transmigration" was most likely something that would land him in an inquisition and before a tribunal!
But without a weapon, fighting skills, or Beyonder powers, how could he possibly be a match for a professional police officer? Besides, several of Dunn's subordinates stood in the dimness outside the door.
If they drew their guns and fired a volley, he would be done for!
"Phew, one step at a time." Klein left the note, took his keys, and followed Dunn out of the room.
In the dim corridor, four police officers in black uniforms with white checks stood on either side, highly alert.
Tap, tap, tap. Klein walked beside Dunn, descending the wooden staircase one step at a time, occasionally hearing it creak.
Outside the apartment building stood a four-wheeled, single-horse carriage. The police emblem of "crossed swords flanking a crown" was engraved on its side. All around it was the same lively, crowded bustle as every other morning.
"Get in." Dunn gestured for Klein to go first.
Just as Klein was about to step forward, an oyster vendor suddenly grabbed a customer, accusing him of being a thief.
The two began grappling, startling the horse, and their surroundings immediately descended into chaos.
An opportunity!
Without time to think, Klein abruptly bent low and charged into the crowd.
Shoving and dodging, he fled madly toward the other end of the street.
Under the circumstances, the only way to avoid "seeing" the expert was to head to the docks outside the city, take a boat down the Tussock River, and escape to the capital, Backlund, where the vast population would make hiding easy.
Of course, he could also hop aboard a steam train and head east to the nearest port, Enmat Port, travel by sea to Pritz, and then make his way to Backlund.
Before long, Klein reached the intersection and turned onto Iron Cross Street, where several carriages for hire were parked.
"To the docks outside the city." Bracing himself with one hand, Klein leaped into one of them.
He had thought it through clearly. First, he would deliberately mislead the pursuing police. Once the carriage had traveled some distance, he would jump straight off!
"All right." The coachman tugged the reins.
Clop, clop, clop. The carriage left Iron Cross Street.
Just as Klein was preparing to jump off, he suddenly noticed that the carriage had turned onto another road, one that did not lead out of the city!
"Where are you going?" Klein froze for a moment, then blurted out the question.
"To Welch's residence..." the coachman answered in a flat voice.
What? Amid Klein's shock, the coachman turned around, revealing deep, cold gray eyes. He was none other than Officer Dunn Smith!
"You!" Inexplicably terrified, Klein suddenly felt the world spin, and he abruptly sat up.
Sat up? Klein looked left and right in confusion and discovered that the crimson moon shone brightly outside, draping the room in "gauze."
He reached up and touched his forehead. It was damp and cold, covered in cold sweat. His back felt the same.
"I had a nightmare..." Klein slowly exhaled. "Thank goodness, thank goodness..."
He felt that he had been quite lucid in his dream, even able to think calmly. It was rather strange.
After recovering a little, Klein picked up his pocket watch and glanced at it. Finding that it was only a little past two in the morning, he quietly got out of bed, intending to wash his face in the communal washroom and relieve the pressure in his lower abdomen while he was there.
Turning the door handle, he stepped into the dim corridor and approached the communal washroom with light footsteps in the faint, barely discernible moonlight.
Suddenly, he saw a figure standing before the window at the end of the corridor.
The figure wore a black, windbreaker-like garment, shorter than a robe but longer than a formal coat.
The figure half blended into the darkness, bathed in the cool crimson moonlight.
The figure slowly turned around, his eyes deep, gray, and cold.
Dunn Smith!