Klein tried hard not to show anything unusual and asked with genuine curiosity:
"What abilities does a Seer have?"
"Your question isn't precise enough. It should be, what abilities would you gain from drinking the Seer potion?" Dunn Smith shook his head with a smile. With his back to the crimson moon, his gray eyes and face were hidden in shadow. "Astrology, card divination, pendulums, Spirit Vision, and many, many similar things. Of course, that doesn't mean you'll immediately understand and master them once you drink the potion. The potion merely gives you the qualifications and ability to learn them."
"Since they lack direct means of confronting enemies-heh, as you can probably imagine, ritualistic magic requires far too much preparation and is entirely unsuitable for sudden encounters-Seers are correspondingly more knowledgeable and specialized in mysticism than Mystery Pryers."
That sounds like it fits my requirements too... It's just that the lack of direct means of confronting enemies makes me hesitate... And the Church of the Evernight Goddess most likely doesn't have the subsequent Sequences... The 'Holy Cathedral' should refer to the Church's headquarters, Serenity Cathedral... Direct combat abilities at low Sequences might not even compare to firearms... Klein fell silent, the scales in his mind tipping back and forth, sometimes toward Mystery Pryer and sometimes toward Seer. As for Corpse Collector, he was no longer considering it.
Seeing this, Dunn Smith smiled and said:
"Don't rush to choose. Give me your answer on Monday morning. Whatever you choose, or even if you decide to give up outright, none of us Nighthawks will think any differently of you."
"Calm yourself and ask your heart."
With that, he took off his hat, bowed slightly, and slowly walked past Klein toward the stairs.
Klein said nothing and gave no immediate answer. He silently returned the courtesy and silently watched him leave.
Although he had been hoping to become a Beyonder at every moment before this, when the opportunity truly appeared before him, he was still filled with hesitation. The absence of subsequent Sequences, the various ways Beyonders lost control, the credibility of Emperor Roselle's diary, and the illusory whispers that drove people mad and lured them into corruption all mingled into a swamp that barred his way forward.
He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
"This is like a student with middling grades choosing university preferences after the college entrance exam..." Klein smiled self-mockingly, reined in his wandering thoughts, quietly opened the door, returned home, and lay down on his bed.
He lay there with his eyes open, quietly looking at the underside of the upper bunk, tinged with faint crimson.
Outside the window, a drunk staggered past. In the distance, a carriage raced down an empty street. These noises did not disturb the stillness of the night, but instead made it feel even more remote and profound.
Klein's emotions settled. He recalled all sorts of things from his life on Earth: his father, who liked exercising and always spoke loudly; his mother, who had a chronic illness yet liked bustling about doing things for him; his closest friends, who had grown up with him, progressing from playing football and basketball together to battling in video games and playing mahjong; and the person whose appearance had already grown hazy, to whom he had unsuccessfully confessed his feelings... These memories were like a quietly flowing river, with few ripples and no deep sorrow, yet they silently submerged his heart.
Perhaps only after losing something could one learn to cherish it. By the time the crimson faded, the horizon burned, and golden light appeared, Klein had made his choice.
He got up and washed his face in the communal washroom to freshen himself up, then took a one-soli note and went to Mrs. Wendy's, where he bought eight pounds of rye bread for nine pence to replenish the staple food they had finished the night before.
"The price of bread is starting to stabilize..." Benson remarked as he changed clothes after breakfast.
It was Sunday, and he and Melissa finally had a chance to rest.
Already dressed in formal attire, Klein sat on a chair, leafing through the old newspaper he had brought back the day before, and said with some surprise:
"There's an advertisement for a house to let here: 3 Wendell Street, North Borough. A detached house with two stories, six rooms, three bathrooms, and two large balconies upstairs, and a dining room, a living room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, two guest rooms, and an underground storeroom downstairs... Outside the house, there's a private lawn of two ares in front and a small garden behind. Available for a lease of one, two, or three years. Weekly rent is one pound and six soli. Interested parties should visit Mr. Gusev at 16 Champagne Street."
"That's our goal for the future." Benson put on his black half top hat and smiled. "The rents listed in newspapers tend to be high. The Tingen City Housing Improvement Company has cheaper options that aren't much worse."
"Why don't we go to the Tingen Working-Class Housing Improvement Association?" Melissa emerged from the partitioned room, holding her worn gauze hat. She had changed into a light grayish-white dress that had been mended several times but was still her most presentable one.
She was quiet and reserved, but her youthful air was hard to conceal.
Benson laughed.
"Who told you about the Tingen Working-Class Housing Improvement Association? Jenny? Mrs. Rochelle? Or your good friend Selena?"
Melissa glanced aside and answered softly:
"Mrs. Rochelle... I happened to run into her while washing up last night. She asked how Klein's interview went, so I told her a little, and then she suggested going to the Tingen Working-Class Housing Improvement Association."
Seeing that Klein looked puzzled as well, Benson shook his head with a smile.
"It's a housing association for the poor-er, to be precise, the lower classes. The homes they build and renovate almost all have communal washrooms. They offer only three options: one-room, two-room, and three-room units. Do you want to keep living somewhere like this?"
"The Tingen City Housing Improvement Company does the same kind of business, but it also offers choices for the lower-middle class. Frankly, we're a little better off than the lower-middle class now, but still fall short of the true middle class. It isn't a matter of wages. Mostly, we haven't had time to build up any savings."
Understanding, Klein put away the newspaper, picked up his top hat, and stood.
"Then let's go."
"I remember the Tingen City Housing Improvement Company is on Daffodil Street." Benson opened the door as he spoke. "Like the Tingen Working-Class Housing Improvement Association, they're called 'five-percent philanthropy.' Do you know why?"
"No." Klein picked up his cane and walked beside Melissa.
The girl, whose smooth black hair fell to the middle of her back, also nodded.
Benson stepped outside.
"These housing improvement associations and companies were all established under the influence of those in Backlund. Their funding comes from three sources. First, they raise money from charitable funds. Second, they apply for favorable loans from the government's public works loan commissioners, with annual interest of only four percent. Third, they accept commercial investments and pay investors a five-percent annual return by charging a certain amount of rent. That's why they're called 'five-percent philanthropy.'"
Step by step, the three siblings descended the stairs and slowly headed toward Daffodil Street. They planned to settle on a house before approaching their current landlord, Mr. Franky, to avoid ending up unable to move into the new place while having to leave this one.
"I heard from Selena that there are also purely charitable housing improvement companies?" Melissa said, as though thinking something over.
Benson chuckled.
"There are. The Deville Trust Company, founded with a donation from Sir Deville, is one. He builds apartments for the working class and provides dedicated property management, yet charges very low rents. However, the requirements are extremely strict."
"You don't sound too fond of it?" Klein keenly noticed and asked with a smile.
"No, I respect Sir Deville very much, but I don't think he knows what life is really like for the poor. His apartments' tenancy requirements are like the hopes a pastor offers-far too unrealistic. For instance, tenants must receive the main vaccinations, take turns cleaning the washrooms, not sublet the premises or use them for business, not litter, and not let children play in the corridors. Goddess, does he want to turn everyone into ladies and gentlemen?" Benson replied in his usual tone.
Klein frowned in puzzlement.
"That doesn't sound problematic at all. Those are all good requirements."
"Yes." Melissa nodded in agreement.
Benson turned his head, glanced at them, and chuckled.
"Perhaps I've protected you too well, so you've never really seen how the poor live. Do you think they have the money to get the main vaccinations? The waiting lists at free charitable medical organizations can stretch three months ahead."
"Do you think their jobs are stable rather than temporary? If they can't share out their homes for rent and collect some money, are they supposed to move out again when they lose their jobs? And many women make a living at home mending clothes and pasting together matchboxes for others. That counts as commercial use. Should they all be thrown out?"
"Most poor people spend every ounce of their energy staying alive. Do you think they have time to discipline their children and stop them from playing in the corridors? They could probably only lock them indoors, then send them somewhere willing to take child laborers once they turn seven or eight."
Benson's description used few adjectives, yet it left Klein feeling slightly chilled.
This is what life is like for the lowest classes?
Beside him, Melissa also fell silent. Only after a long while did she say in a distant voice:
"After moving to Lower Street, Jenny stopped wanting me to visit her at home..."
"Let's hope her father can emerge from the shadow of his injury and find steady work again. But I've seen far too many drunks who started numbing themselves with alcohol after that..." Benson gave a derisive chuckle, his tone heavy.
Klein did not know what to say, and Melissa seemed to be in the same state. The three siblings walked to Daffodil Street in silence and found the Tingen City Housing Improvement Company.
The man who received them was middle-aged, with a kindly smile. He wore neither formal attire nor a hat, only a white shirt and a black waistcoat.
"You can call me Scarter. What sort of home are you looking for?" He glanced at Klein's silver-inlaid cane, and his smile grew warmer.
Klein looked at Benson, who had a way with words, signaling for him to answer.
Benson spoke very directly:
"A terraced house."
Scarter flipped through the documents and files in his hands, the corners of his mouth lifting.
"There are currently five available. To be honest, we mainly serve workers and their children in genuinely difficult housing circumstances, with six, eight, or even ten or twelve people crowded into a single room. We don't have many terraced houses. One is right here at 2 Daffodil Street, one is in North Borough, and one is in East Borough... Weekly rents range from twelve to sixteen soli. You can look through the detailed descriptions."
He pushed the documents in his hands toward Benson, Klein, and Melissa.
After reading through them, the three siblings exchanged looks and pointed to the same spot on the paper.
"Let's look at 2 Daffodil Street first," Benson said, and Klein and Melissa nodded along.
This neighborhood could just about count as familiar territory to them.