Chapter Thirteen: The Night Watcher

"Thud!"

Klein couldn't help but take a step back, uncertain if he was still dreaming or truly awake.

The figure before him removed his black hat and offered a small bow, a deep smile in his voice as he said, "Let me introduce myself properly. I am Dunn Smith, a member of the Night Watchers."

Night Watchers? Klein recalled "Justice" and "The Hanged Man" mentioning the Black Night Goddess's team of extraordinary beings, which they referred to by that name. He suddenly connected the dots and blurted out, "You control dreams? You made me have that kind of dream?"

Dunn Smith, the Night Watcher, adjusted his black hat to cover his slightly high hairline, a hint of amusement in his deep gray eyes as he replied, "No, I merely entered your dream, guiding it as necessary."

His voice was as rich and calm as a lullaby, resonating in the dim corridor, almost soothing the night's stillness. "In dreams, emotions we often suppress are amplified, and every dark thought can come forth, making everything feel chaotic, absurd, and surreal. Yet, the truth remains, hidden within. For someone experienced like me, it becomes plain and obvious. I trust what I see in the dream version of you even more than the version of you that is awake."

This... Who could control themselves in their own dream? If I dreamed of things from Earth, wouldn't that all be exposed to Dunn Smith? A chill ran down Klein's spine, dreading what could have been uncovered in the dream.

But he quickly realized something strange—he remembered feeling unusually calm and rational in that dream, instinctively knowing what to say and what not to. In simple terms, it felt nothing like a typical dream.

So Dunn Smith only saw what I allowed him to see?

The thoughts raced through Klein's mind, giving him a faint sense of clarity.

Could this be a benefit from crossing over, a unique trait, or some residual effect from the "Good Fortune Ritual"?

"So, Officer Smith, you're convinced that I've truly lost my memories?" Klein carefully phrased his question.

Dunn Smith didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied Klein with an intense gaze before responding, "You're surprisingly unshaken by all this."

"Others I've encountered tend to resist the notion of extraordinary powers, even if they've just woken from such a dream. They'd rather believe they're not fully awake yet."

Klein gave a slight nod and said, "Maybe it's because I was hoping for, even longing for, some kind of power to help me."

"Interesting logic... Perhaps your survival wasn't just luck." Dunn nodded thoughtfully. "I can now confirm that you've genuinely lost a portion of your memory, particularly those parts related to the incident."

"Then may I go back now?" Klein felt some relief in his heart, cautiously testing the waters.

With one hand in his pocket, Dunn moved closer, the surrounding darkness becoming quiet and soft. "No, you still need to meet our 'expert.'" A courteous smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"Why?" Klein blurted out, quickly adding, "You don't trust your own ability to guide dreams?"

What kind of joke is this? If this "expert" specializes in hypnosis or mind-reading, wouldn't my biggest secret be exposed?

"I'm always humble, but when it comes to dream-related matters, I have some confidence." Dunn answered serenely. "However, verifying crucial matters twice is never a bad thing. Besides, her expertise differs greatly from mine; she may even help you recover some of your lost memories."

Before Klein could say another word, Dunn's voice dropped a tone. "After all, you're connected to the whereabouts of the Antigonus family's journal."

"What?" Klein paused, stunned.

Dunn halted in front of him, his gray eyes locking onto Klein's. "The journal from the Fourth Epoch isn't at the scene, nor anywhere in the house. Welch is dead, Naya is dead—you are the only lead."

"...Fine." Klein fell silent for a moment, then sighed.

The journal is missing… That's strange!

Why did it never occur to me to wonder about the journal's whereabouts?

Dunn gave a barely perceptible nod. As he walked past Klein, he said, "Lock your door and come with me. We're going to Welch's place—the 'expert' is waiting for us there."

Taking a silent breath, Klein felt a nervous pang in his chest.

He wanted to refuse, even thought about fleeing, but he knew that after what had happened in his dream, Dunn Smith would undoubtedly be more vigilant. And with the strength disparity between an ordinary person and an extraordinary one, trying anything rash would likely fail.

He must have a gun on him… He's probably well-trained in its use, too…

After a brief mental struggle, Klein decided to face reality.

"Alright."

Sigh, I'll have to take things one step at a time. Maybe my unusual resistance to dream manipulation will come through again…

"Let's go," Dunn said evenly.

Klein started to follow him but suddenly halted. "Officer Smith, I… I'd like to stop by the washroom first."

After all, I did come out here for that in the first place...

Dunn didn't object; instead, he looked at Klein with a penetrating gaze and said, "Fine, Klein. But remember this: at night, I am much stronger than you imagine."

"In the dead of night..." Klein silently repeated the words to himself.

He didn't act rashly. Instead, he relieved himself properly, splashed cold water on his face to fully regain composure, and followed Dunn, dressed and ready, down the stairs and out of the apartment.

As they walked quietly, Dunn suddenly broke the silence. "Why did you try to run at the end of the dream? What were you so afraid of?"

Klein's thoughts raced as he replied, "I don't remember what I did at Welch's house, nor if I was somehow responsible for his and Naya's deaths. I was afraid that it might actually be me. I didn't want to risk it—better to run, go to the Southern Continent, and start a new life."

"If it were me, I might think the same," Dunn replied, pushing open the apartment door and letting the cool night air dispel the staleness inside.

He entered the carriage first, unbothered by the idea that Klein might attempt an escape. Klein recognized it from his dream: a four-wheeled, single-horse carriage with a driver and the police emblem of crossed swords surrounding a crown emblazoned on its side.

As Klein stepped inside, he found a thick carpet underfoot and a calming scent of incense in the air.

Settling into a seat, he attempted to gather more information. "Mr. Smith, if… if the 'expert' confirms that I truly lost that part of my memory and there's no evidence proving I was the culprit rather than a victim, would that be the end of things?"

"In theory, yes. We would seek that journal by other means; if it exists, it will surface eventually. Of course, before then, we'll ensure that you carry no curse, no lingering evil presence, no psychological issues, so you can safely, healthily face the future." Dunn smiled faintly—a smile that struck Klein as slightly odd.

Klein picked up on this subtle expression and, forgoing his sense of relief, quickly asked, "In theory?"

"Yes, merely in theory. This realm is often full of twisted, irrational, and unbelievable events," Dunn said, meeting Klein's gaze. "Their continuation or conclusion, at times, is beyond our ability to predict or control."

"For example?" A touch of fear crept into Klein's voice.

The carriage sped along the nearly deserted street, and Dunn, producing a pipe, took a sniff of its scent before replying. "When we believe it's over, that everything has returned to normal, it may resurface—frightening and horrifying."

"Several years ago, we handled a case involving a cult. They required their followers to sacrifice themselves through suicide, believing it would please their god. One of these followers was selected for the ritual, but his survival instinct overpowered his foolishness, his misguided faith, and the hallucinogens in his system, and he escaped to report it to the police."

"The case was assigned to us—a small matter, really, as the cult had no extraordinary members, and the so-called god they worshipped was a fabrication by their leader, a ploy for wealth and pleasure, devoid of humanity."

"With just two team members and some police cooperation, we easily dismantled the cult, leaving no one uncaught. As for the informant, we confirmed that he bore no trace of evil spirits, no lingering curse, and had no psychological or personality issues or any other strange marks."

"Afterward, his life progressed well—he advanced in his career, married a wonderful woman, had a son and a daughter. Every trace of shadow seemed to leave him, and the past horrors and bloodshed appeared to have faded completely."

Dunn Smith chuckled softly and continued, "But this March, despite a stable financial situation, a deep bond with his wife, and two bright and adorable children, he died—strangled himself to death in his office."

Through the carriage window, the crimson moonlight spilled over Dunn Smith, casting a chilling, eerie glow over his seemingly self-mocking smile. For a brief moment, Klein felt a shiver run down his spine.

"He strangled himself…" Klein drew a silent breath, picturing his own grim fate. Perhaps escaping this time would only be a temporary reprieve.

Could there be a way to break free entirely? Should he consider becoming an extraordinary being to defend himself?

The carriage fell into a silence as these thoughts stormed through Klein's mind. The wheels rolled on, swiftly carrying them through the quiet night. When Klein finally resolved to ask Dunn, however awkwardly, if there was a solution, the carriage came to a halt.

"Mr. Smith, we're at Welch's residence," came the voice of the driver.

"Let's go," Dunn straightened his black overcoat, which reached down to his knees. "Ah, let me give you a bit of a preface: the 'expert' you're about to meet is known publicly as the most reputable medium in Ahowa County."

Klein restrained his swirling thoughts and asked curiously, "And her true identity?"

Dunn half-turned, casting his deep gray eyes toward Klein as he replied, "A true *medium.*"