Aren't We the Good Guys?

Leon stepped down from the carriage. He had changed into a black overcoat with a cape, and a dark brown deerstalker concealed his eyes and brows.

Klein, meanwhile, wore a coarse, worn yellow coat and a round-brimmed felt hat of the same color.

The two got off before reaching their destination. By the time they arrived at Old Neil's house, the sky had turned dusky yellow.

Persuading Rozanne to visit another day had gone more smoothly than expected.

After speaking with Leon, the understanding woman had hesitated only briefly before agreeing.

Although it would have been best to make further preparations for any unexpected developments, they both knew that delays could lead to trouble, so they decided to act after work.

That disrupted their original plan, but plans could never keep up with changes.

Leon stood outside the wrought-iron gate, studying the detached, two-story house.

Vines covered the exterior walls, and warm yellow light shone through the small windows. As the residence of a veteran Nighthawk, it exuded middle-class comfort from every corner.

He reached into his coat and pulled out an exquisite pocket watch. Its cover sprang open, revealing a silvery dial.

After checking the time, he looked at Klein, who was surveying the area beside him.

"There are very few spirits around. I can even sense them deliberately keeping away from this area."

Klein emerged from his meditative state and opened his eyes, keeping his voice very low.

His brow was slightly furrowed, as though he were struggling to process the flood of information.

Leon put away his pocket watch and said, "Let's begin. Try not to provoke him at first."

He paused, then added, "You knock. I'll try to control him and keep things from getting worse."

Control.

When Klein heard that word, his fingers tightened involuntarily around his cane.

Several questions flashed through his mind: the missions they had carried out recently, and how the captain and Leonard had controlled those Beyonders who had either lost control or harbored malicious intentions.

But this time, their target wasn't an enemy. It was Old Neil.

Klein frowned, wanting to say something.

Things like, "How are you going to control him?" and "Try not to hurt him."

But before he could speak, he saw Leon step forward and walk in on his own.

The iron gate was ajar and swung open with a push.

Leon led the way through the garden, which was filled with roses and Golden Mint. He walked at an unhurried pace, like a guest dropping by for a visit.

The plants' fresh fragrance drifted faintly on the evening breeze, mingling with the damp smell of earth, and their taut nerves eased a little without their noticing.

Klein hurried after him, a thin layer of sweat already coating his palms.

He somewhat regretted joining Leon's plan. He was only Sequence 9, and he didn't have a single supernatural ability he could use in combat.

His only preparations were a few sleeping charms in his left pocket and several demon-hunting bullets he had been issued.

Can this really work?

He didn't even understand why Leon was so confident. Reliable as Leon had always seemed, this time they were facing an evil god whose name was all they knew.

Yet somehow, as if possessed, he had actually gone along with it.

The two stopped under the porch, and Klein glanced again at Leon, who remained calm.

Suppressing his inner conflict, he stepped forward and pulled the cord attached to the bell inside the house.

Ding-a-ling!

The clear, pleasant ringing echoed through the evening air, breaking the heavy silence.

Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling! Klein pulled the cord several more times, then politely stepped back and made no further attempt.

The two waited patiently for several minutes, but never heard anyone approaching to answer the door.

"Maybe Old Neil really is just sick and went out to see a doctor," Klein said with a forced smile, as though trying to reassure himself.

"Someone's inside," Leon said expressionlessly.

Before he had finished speaking, a melodious piano tune suddenly came from within the house. The melody was lively and the rhythm bright, like some unknown country dance tune drifting leisurely through the quiet night.

With dusk about to fade, it seemed all the more eerie.

Leon listened for a few seconds, then turned his head to glance at Klein.

"Not bad," he said thoughtfully.

Rozanne had been certain that Old Neil couldn't play any instrument, and all the strange things before them showed that his condition had grown more serious.

But Leon wondered whether losing control could teach someone to play an instrument.

Klein felt increasingly powerless.

He took out his coin, intending to perform a divination, when he suddenly saw wisps of scarlet gas drifting through the crack in the door, accompanied by a strange, putrid stench.

It wasn't the usual smell of decay.

It was more like something alive.

Damp and viscous, with a strange, almost sickly sweet smell.

Klein instinctively looked down and discovered that, at some point, the ground had been covered in a layer of dark red, moss-like substance.

When he stepped on it, it felt soft underfoot, as though he were treading on the tongue of some enormous creature.

Just as he was about to speak, a soft cough came from inside. Old Neil said in a hoarse voice:

"Ah, it's Klein, and Leon too. What are you here for?"

Leon quickly adjusted his tone and replied unhurriedly in a casual voice, "We heard you were sick, so we came to visit. We even brought your favorite coffee."

A few seconds later, Old Neil's somewhat raspy voice rang out again. "Please go home. The house is really too dirty. I'll have you over when I'm better."

Old Neil...

Klein squeezed his eyes shut for an instant. The scarlet gas seeping through the door hadn't stopped; instead, it was growing thicker.

"It's all right, Old Neil. At least let us see you, so we can put our minds at ease..." Klein chose his words carefully, trying to ease the atmosphere.

"Is it that ritual?"

Before Old Neil could answer, Leon suddenly spoke. His tone was no longer gentle, but carried a direct, cutting edge.

"What exactly are you trying to do? Or rather, what have you been trying to do all this time?"

He paused.

"Maybe we can help you."

"Me?" Old Neil's voice suddenly sounded somewhat bewildered, as though he hadn't expected Leon to ask such a question.

But immediately afterward, his tone filled with longing, like a drowning man who had suddenly grabbed hold of a piece of driftwood.

"I'm trying to resurrect Celeste! Leon, Klein, I've found a new way!"

Leon raised an eyebrow and glanced at Klein, signaling that he could continue.

Klein gritted his teeth and forced down his emotions before asking, "How are you going to resurrect Celeste?"

"Originally, I planned to use Life Alchemy to prepare a body for her that would never age. Then I would summon her soul from the Spirit World and pray for a god's help to reunite her spirit and flesh. But I'm too weak. Even with a god's blessing, I couldn't possibly do it."

Old Neil's voice went from dejected to increasingly excited.

"So He gave me a seed. I only need to water it and wait for it to bloom, and she'll return to my side! She won't be pieced together anymore-it'll be a true new life!"

"There's no need for blood or any sacrifices anymore, and it won't cause anyone any trouble."

"Isn't it a wonderful idea?"

"Yes. A wonderful idea." Klein forced his voice to sound approving, even adding a touch of deliberate enthusiasm. "Old Neil, let us in. We want to witness it together, right, Leon?"

He thought Leon would play along.

"And then?"

Leon's voice was as cold as a bucket of ice water.

"Watch Celeste, reborn amid decay, rot away bit by bit? Become a walking lump of rotten flesh? Do you really love her, or are you forcing her to endure constant pain to satisfy yourself, just so she can keep a rotten old man like you company? Why don't you ask Celeste whether she's willing?"

"Is this how you treat the one you love?"

Klein froze on the spot.

He turned sharply to look at Leon, his pupils trembling. Weren't we supposed to keep him calm? Weren't we supposed to take this step by step? If you expose it so bluntly, what if Old Neil loses control?

Weren't we here to save him? Aren't we the good guys?

Klein's thoughts raced. He was just about to smooth things over, but it was already too late.

The previously still door suddenly shuddered, and Old Neil cried out in anger and panic:

"No! You're lying!"