Bayam, Black Rose Bar.
Klein, wearing an utterly ordinary face, stepped through its doors.
The bar's patrons were mostly dark-skinned, curly-haired locals or mixed-bloods — members of Bayam's many gangs, mercenaries secretly serving the rebels, or both. Ordinary people were rare here. They drank strong rum and traded gossip about the sea's latest legends with a few weather-beaten adventurers.
As for pirates — since the Admiral of Blood had recently come ashore and clashed several times with both the military and the Church of Storms — none of them dared to show their faces openly, lest the authorities seize them to vent their anger.
Klein scanned the room, spotted the bar's manager, and approached him directly.
"I want to meet the couple who arrived here today… This is the token."
He took out a badge and handed it over.
It was something Mr. Tower had passed to him not long ago.
The manager examined it, then looked up at Klein with a cold expression before nodding.
"Follow me… Since you're the boss's guest, I won't charge you the entrance fee."
Klein followed silently, though inwardly he couldn't help complaining:
"Is this really a secret outpost of the Church of the Evernight Goddess? Why does it feel exactly like a gang den?
"Maybe that's precisely why no one suspects it — it doesn't fit the Goddess's usual style at all."
They slipped through a hidden door and descended a long underground passageway. Near the end, the man suddenly turned left into a large stone cavern.
The cavern was about the size of a basketball court, with numerous heavy doors set into its walls. The manager led Klein to the last one.
"They're inside. Go in yourself." The man's tone was frosty.
His aura was similar to Frye's from the old Blackthorn Security Company — probably a "Corpse Collector" or "Gravedigger."
Klein nodded thoughtfully, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.
At once, his eyes fell upon a figure achingly familiar — the figure that had once been his strongest support, that had shaped his principles and methods, that now, he noticed, had a slightly higher hairline than before.
Mr. Tower once said I've always been a guardian — first imitating others, then being imitated in turn…
And the very first person I imitated after coming to this world was him. To me, he is friend, superior, mentor, and elder all at once.
I'll never forget that deep voice saying: "We saved Tingen."
Captain!
It's so good… that you're still alive.
Klein barely managed to keep his expression neutral by using the Clown's ability, then quickly shifted his gaze to Daly.
Mrs. Daly was visibly pregnant now — yet even more beautiful than before. Of course, she used to intentionally dress dowdy, thinking it would conceal her feelings and keep other men away…
But honestly, who in the Nighthawks didn't already know?
Recalling those days in Tingen, Klein felt both joy and melancholy.
Joy, for the warmth of that time.
Melancholy, because he could never return to it again.
Even though the Captain was willing to reveal his true face out of respect for the Fool's blessed… I can't.
Aside from friends like Ebner or Sharon, who have both power and background, anyone else who gets close to me would only meet misfortune.
While he sighed inwardly, Dunn and Daly stood up one after another. With polite but cautious gestures, they greeted him:
"Honored Blessed, we're pleased to meet you.
"I'm Dunn, this is Daly."
No matter how harmless "The Fool" appeared, awe toward such a great being still lingered in their hearts.
Klein thought for a moment, then shifted back into the form of Gehrman Sparrow. Removing his hat, he bowed slightly.
"Good day, Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith."
Then he pointed to himself.
"I'm Gehrman Sparrow."
"Gehrman Sparrow? The strongest adventurer who hunted down the 'Massacrer'?" Dunn exclaimed in shock.
"Gehrman Sparrow? The adventurer with those ambiguous relationships with Admiral of Ailment Tracy, Admiral of the Stars Cattleya, and Admiral of Iceberg Edwina?" Daly blurted out as well — though her focus was quite different.
Ambiguous relationships? Are you making me sound like Old Huang or Old Liu?
Lady, your sense of humor hasn't changed at all!
Klein grumbled inwardly, then caught sight of the room's only mirror — and, as expected, saw Sharon reflected within it.
The blue-eyed, porcelain-faced lady rested her left elbow on her right palm, her chin in her hand, watching the scene with quiet interest.
Curiously, only Klein could see her; Dunn and Daly remained unaware.
So Miss Sharon's become even more elusive since reaching demigodhood… If I didn't already know she followed me here and harbors no hostility, I might not have noticed her at all.
She had arrived in Bayam earlier that morning. After some discussion, Klein had agreed with Admiral of Iceberg and Admiral of the Pale to join their hunt for the Admiral of Blood.
Since the handover concerning the identity of Dwayne Dantès might require her assistance, she had accompanied him here.
Ignoring Daly's teasing remark, Klein adopted Gehrman's usual cold courtesy.
"My time is limited… Let's begin."
If he couldn't reveal his real face anyway, better to end things quickly.
Dunn and Daly exchanged a glance; seeing nothing strange in his tone — since that brusque manner suited the famous adventurer's reputation — they both nodded.
"All right."
Dunn then began recounting in detail everything he had done over the past few months under the guise of Dwayne Dantès, producing a small notebook filled with notes on his social network and pending matters.
Daly's report was simpler. Having married Dunn, she had left Nighthawk duties for months, maintaining only polite contact with the wives of several bishops.
Finally, Dunn added, "According to the 'script,' I'll make a large profit here in Bayam. When we return, I'll move to a new residence, hire servants and a butler again… So you needn't worry the staff will notice anything off."
Klein nodded seriously. "What kind of business earns that profit?"
"You probably noticed the natives and rebels at the bar," Dunn said with a faint smile. "I'm smuggling them a shipment of weapons."
Smuggling arms? That really is a lucrative trade… But why would the Evernight Church's secret network handle such business?
Does the Goddess intend for the Rhosid Islanders to gain their own militias? That sounds quite like the Fool's stance…
Outwardly calm, Klein asked again, "And how much have you earned?"
"I don't know," Dunn replied.
"You don't know?" Klein forced his brow not to twitch. "Then how much money did you actually receive?"
"Truthfully, I didn't take part directly. My name's just on the papers — a convenient cover," Dunn explained.
So the mansion, the servants, the entire wealthy-merchant façade — I have to pay for all that myself?
Klein nearly broke character, but barely maintained Gehrman's stoic mask.
After going over several more details, he finally took his leave with polite composure.
Once he was gone, Dunn let out a long breath. Despite the polite exchange, the man's reputation for madness — and his identity as a Blessed of the Fool — had been overwhelming pressure.
At least he hadn't "gone mad" in front of them.
Daly, however, remained silent, her expression thoughtful.
"What's wrong?" Dunn asked gently.
"That 'Crazy Hunter' gave me… a strange sense of familiarity," she murmured.
.....
Meanwhile, back in his rented hotel room, Klein was busy persuading the composed figure standing before him — Miss Sharon.
"I'd like you to impersonate that Mrs. Smith we just met — no, I should say Mrs. Dantès.
"It won't be hard… You saw her yourself. She's over four months pregnant — you only need to stay at home pretending to be resting, occasionally appearing before the servants.
"What do you think?"
The doll-like Sharon turned her head and gazed at him silently for a long moment. When Klein was nearly squirming under the weight of her stare, she finally gave a small, graceful nod.
"Very well."
(End of Chapter)