Chapter 62: Called in for Coffee
Klein returned to the Blackthorn Security Company, his body heavy with exhaustion and his thoughts in a state of chaos.
In the basement, the gas lamps glowed with their usual softness, and his colleagues were busy with their respective duties; everything appeared perfectly normal.
Yet this normalcy felt imbued with an unreal sense of detachment in Klein's eyes at this moment.
He sat at his desk, the paper for his report spread out before him, but the fountain pen in his hand refused to touch the page.
The nib hovered over the paper, ink coalescing into a tiny black dot at the tip—much like his current mood: heavy, stagnant, and unable to find an outlet.
How should he write it?
Write the truth?
"Upon investigation, the deaths in the slums were caused by an unidentified Beyonder of the Demoness Pathway. Her guiding philosophy is the 'Social Boiler Theory,' aimed at providing 'hospice care' for the desperate who have fallen below the 'Stress-Collapse Threshold.'"
"I engaged in a friendly and in-depth philosophical discussion with her, acknowledged the complexity of her actions, and colluded with her accomplice Nairn; therefore, no arrest was made."
Klein was willing to bet his small wallet that if he dared to submit this report, he would be fired immediately.
No, absolutely not.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress those subversive theories to the bottom of his heart for the time being.
He needed a "normal" report, one that aligned with the logic of the Nighthawks' work.
Finally, he dipped his pen in the ink and began to write, the nib scratching across the paper.
The report was written very vaguely, yet very "professionally."
First, he ruled out the possibility of a large-scale cult ritual, as no sacrificial traces or auras of evil gods were found at the scene.
Then, he pointed out that while the deaths were highly concentrated, the deceased were all either seriously ill or extremely impoverished, which blurred the nature of the incident.
Finally, he provided an ambiguous conclusion: No clear signs of malicious Beyonder power intervention were discovered.
It was recommended that the case files be transferred to the City Hall to investigate the potential existence of a new, rapidly spreading unknown disease that was fatal only to the weak.
After finishing, even he felt the report was complete nonsense.
But it was the only thing he could do to fulfill his duty without exposing the mad truth he had encountered.
He handed the report to Captain Dunn Smith.
Dunn took the report and read it carefully. He read slowly, his brow gradually furrowing.
When he reached the final conclusion, he looked up, his deep gray eyes fixing on Klein with a hint of scrutiny.
"An unknown disease?" Dunn's voice was steady. "Klein, this doesn't sound like a conclusion you would reach."
Klein's heart skipped a beat.
"Captain, I... I tried using both a Dowsing Rod and a Spirit Pendulum at the scene, but I didn't receive any revelations pointing toward Beyonder factors. Everything seemed too peaceful—abnormally peaceful."
He tried his best to make his tone sound objective and professional.
Dunn didn't speak; he just stared quietly at Klein, as if trying to see through the secrets hidden in the depths of his soul.
After a long while, he finally set the report down, leaned back in his chair, and let out a soft sigh.
"Klein, come with me for a moment."
Klein's heart sank again, but he followed Dunn into the Captain's office.
Once the door closed, the outside sounds were cut off. Dunn didn't sit; instead, he walked to the window and looked out at the small cemetery belonging to the Nighthawks.
"Klein, what exactly did you see in the slums?" Dunn's voice was soft, yet it possessed an unquestionable piercing quality.
Klein's body tensed instantly.
He knew he couldn't hide it from the Captain.
Dunn Smith might have a poor memory, but his perception of his team members' states was terrifyingly acute—
This stemmed from his concern for his teammates; Klein's state today was too abnormal, and his report was far too unusual.
He couldn't mention Triss, nor could he speak of the "Social Boiler Theory."
That was too mad.
He could only selectively describe his feelings.
"Captain, I saw... despair."
Klein's voice was somewhat dry.
"I saw many people who were still alive, still breathing, but the light in their eyes was gone. They were like... like discarded parts of the world, rusting and rotting. I felt that they had died long before their hearts stopped beating."
He wasn't lying. This was his most genuine feeling.
Dunn fell silent for even longer after hearing this. The air in the office seemed to solidify.
"I understand." Dunn turned around, a hint of worry and... realization showing in his gray eyes.
"Klein, every Nighthawk, at some point in their career, encounters a moment like the one you're facing now."
His voice softened considerably.
"When we face too much of the world's Darkness and injustice, when we discover that the order we protect is itself full of loopholes and cruelty, our faith wavers."
"This is dangerous," Dunn's tone became serious. "Extremely dangerous. Because this wavering is the beginning of losing control and falling into depravity. You'll start to doubt yourself, your duties, and everything else. And evil gods and Devils love nothing more than to whisper to you at such times."
He walked back to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and took out a file, placing it in front of Klein.
On the cover of the file, a name was written: Neil.
"Do you remember Old Neil?" Dunn's voice held a trace of sorrow. "He is the perfect example. His longing for his deceased wife and his resentment toward the injustice of fate led him down the path of seeking help from an evil god. If he hadn't pulled himself back at the last moment, you know exactly what his end would have been."
Klein looked at the file, his heart filled with a complex mix of emotions.
He naturally knew what Old Neil's "self-redemption" was all about; it was entirely a play directed by Nairn.
But he couldn't say it.
"Captain, I..."
"Let me finish, Klein," Dunn interrupted. "I know you're a young man with your own thoughts; you're clever and have a strong sense of Justice. But sometimes, cleverness and a sense of Justice can become our weaknesses."
"Our duty is to draw a boundary."
"Within the boundary is order; beyond it is madness."
"We don't need to understand the madness, and we certainly cannot empathize with it."
"We only need to keep it outside the boundary."
"Even if the order within the boundary isn't perfect, or is even cruel, it is still the only place where we can stand."
Dunn's words were the standard Nighthawk Creed, wisdom gained from the blood and lives of countless predecessors.
Every word was filled with power and wisdom.
They were meant to best protect their mental states.
But to Klein at this moment, they brought a deep sense of helplessness.
The Captain was right.
But when he had personally felt that "Stress-Collapse Threshold" and seen how the system itself was constantly manufacturing "madness," where was this so-called "boundary"?
He felt as though an invisible wall stood between him and the Captain—between him and the entire Nighthawk squad.
They lived in the same world, yet they saw completely different sights.
The conversation over, Klein walked out of the office, his spirit despondent.
He felt an unprecedented sense of isolation.
He sat back in his seat, staring blankly at the gas lamp in front of him.
Just then, Leonard sat down beside him, holding a cup of coffee.
"Hey, did the Captain call you in for 'coffee'?" Leonard's tone was, as always, slightly mocking.
Klein wasn't in the mood to deal with him and simply nodded.
He was very annoyed.