Blackthorn Security Company. Seeing the sign, Caine stood there, stunned—something both unexpected and perfectly logical. Truly… he didn’t know what to say. He shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips, and began ascending the stairs. With his right hand, he gently tapped the slightly ajar door. Thud. Thud. Thud. The rhythmic tapping echoed, yet inside, there was no response—only the faint, muffled sounds of something shifting. Thud. Thud. Thud. Caine repeated the tapping, the same result. Then he pushed the door open, widening the gap, and glanced inside. There, he saw a set of classical sofas and soft-backed armchairs arranged around a warm-toned wooden table, and directly across from them, a girl with a low-hanging head, her brown hair falling in slow, steady waves. Though the "security company" sign was merely a façade, it seemed… rather unprofessional. How long had it been since they’d had a single client come through? Well, you don't need any business at all... While muttering this to himself, Kline moved closer, tapping twice more on the table, right beside the girl's ear. Thud! Thud! The brown-haired girl sat up straight at once, suddenly lifting the newspaper spread out before her and shielding her face. The "Tinggen Daily Honest"... such a good name... Kline silently murmured, glancing up at the newspaper's section facing him. "The steam train 'The Soaring' that runs directly to Conston City has just launched. Honestly, when will it finally reach Dizzy Bay? I simply can't bear taking the ship anymore—it's unbearable. Oh, by the way, who are you?" The girl recited a few lines with a practiced air, offering her opinion, then lowered the newspaper, revealing her smooth forehead and warm brown eyes, first warmly, then with a look of genuine surprise, gazing at Kline. "Good day. I'm Kline Moretti, here at the invitation of Mr. Dunning Smith," Kline said, removing his hat and placing it on his chest, then giving a slight bow. The brown-haired girl looked about twenty, dressed in a light green, Roon-style flowing dress with elegant lace at the sleeves, neckline, and across her chest, enhancing her delicate features. "Captain... thank you. I'll go ask him right away. I'll be right back." The girl hurried to her feet and entered the inner room through the adjacent door. No mention of fetching a glass of water—such poor service awareness. Klein smiled gently and remained in place, not moving toward the sofa or chairs. A few minutes later, the brown-haired girl stepped out, smiling warmly. "Mr. Moretti, please follow me. The Captain is on duty at the 'Charnis Gate' today and will not be able to leave." "Of course," Klein replied, his tone pleasant, though his mind was already wondering. What exactly was the Charnis Gate? Through the partition, he first saw a short corridor, with about three offices on either side. Some offices were locked, others open, where one could see people diligently tapping away on heavy typewriters with a steady, rhythmic sound. As he passed by, Klein suddenly spotted a familiar face—the young officer who had come to search his home the previous day, with black hair and bright eyes, possessing a poet's romantic flair. He was not dressed in formal attire, his white shirt untucked, exuding a carefree, unpretentious air. Perhaps he truly was a poet. Klein nodded politely, and the officer returned a warm smile. The brown-haired girl turned the handle of the office at the far left end, pushed the door open, and pointed inside with a smile. "We still have a few floors to go down," she said. The office was bare, with only gray and white stone stairs extending downward. Elegant gas lamps were set along the walls on either side, casting a steady, calming light that dispelled the darkness and brought a sense of tranquility. The brown-haired girl walked ahead, looking intently at her feet, moving with careful caution: "Although I often walk this way, I still feel afraid—always worried about tripping and rolling down, like a wheel. You wouldn't believe it, but Leonard did something exactly like that. On the very first day he became a 'Night Watcher,' on the very first day he didn't fully command his own strength, he tried to run down the path at full speed. And then—then—he turned into a wheel. Haha, that's so funny. Yes, the one who just greeted you—this was three years ago. By the way, I've been a Night Watcher for five years now. I was only seventeen back then." From now on, we'll be colleagues, I suppose—though we still can't quite call ourselves teammates yet, since neither of us is a special one. I'd be honored to have this opportunity, though the final word will ultimately depend on Mr. Smith's decision. Klein glanced around the enclosed space and sensed that they were descending into the earth—the stone walls exhaled a cool, dampness that dispelled the summer heat. Rest assured, the fact that you've been brought directly here indicates that the captain has agreed. I've always felt a bit afraid of the captain, even though he's kind and attentive—like someone who genuinely cares for my father—though I can't quite explain why. Rosan's voice sounded as though she had a piece of candy in her mouth. Klein responded with a light, humorous tone: "Is it really unusual to be afraid of one's father?" "That makes sense," Rosan said, reaching out to steady the wall at the corner. As they spoke, they completed the winding staircase and arrived at a flat area paved with stone. It was a long corridor, with metal grilles set into the walls, forming gas lamps that cast their glow downward, stretching the shadows of Caine and Rosan long and thin. Caine noticed keenly that at regular intervals along the walls stood a "Mark of the Dark Saint"—the symbol of the goddess of night—"a deep black field adorned with brilliant accents, with a crimson moon half-encircled and clustered around it." Though these marks seemed ordinary, as Caine walked between them, a sense of calm gradually settled within him, and Rosan, too, fell silent, no longer engaging in the casual conversation she had just been making. Not long after, a crossroads appeared ahead. The brown-haired girl gave a brief description: "Go left to Saint Serenella Church, right to the armory, materials, and archives, and straight on to the Charnis Gate." Saint Serenella Church? Did Zothlan Street lie directly behind the Red Moon Street? Caine stood still, absorbed. The Saint Seraphina Church on Red Moon Street is the headquarters of the Night Goddess Church in Tinggen, a sacred site long cherished by the city's devout followers. Alongside the Church of the Steam and Mechanism God, located in the outskirts, and the Church of the Storm Lord—River and Sea—situated in the northern part of Tinggen, it collectively sustains the religious life of Tinggen city and its surrounding towns and villages. Conscious that his current status made further inquiries inappropriate, Caine remained silent, listening without speaking. After crossing the intersection and proceeding straight, within less than a minute, a pair of black iron double doors, adorned with seven sacred emblems, appeared before them. Standing there, it conveyed a sense of weight, coldness, and solemnity, like a giant guardian watching over the darkness. "Charnis Gate," Rosan mentioned, pointing to the room beside it, "The captain is inside. Go in yourself." "Thank you," Caine replied politely. The room Rosan indicated was just a short distance ahead of "Charnes Gate," with windows open and light spilling out. Kline took a deep breath and settled his fingers with steady composure. Thud. Thud. Thud. "Please come in," a calm, warm voice from Denne Smith echoed. Kline gently pushed open the slightly ajar door and saw inside—a single table and four chairs. Denne Smith, with his high forehead, was dressed in the black coat from last night, leisurely reading the newspaper, a golden watch chain visible near his chest buttons. "Sit down," Denne said, smiling, "have you thought it over? Are you certain you'd like to join us?" Kline removed his hat, bowed slightly, and sat at the table, nodding slowly. "Yes, I am certain," he replied. "Then please take a look at this agreement," Denne said, chuckling, "these days everyone calls it a contract." He opened the drawer of the table and produced a dual-copy agreement. The terms above are not many, largely echoing what Dunning-Smith had previously mentioned, with emphasis on confidentiality. In the event of a breach, the party will no longer proceed through the Royal Court but will instead be adjudicated directly by the arbitration court of the Goddess of Night—much like soldiers and officers are tried before a military tribunal. A five-year contract... a weekly salary of two pounds and ten soules, plus ten soules for confidentiality and risk allowance... Caine read it through carefully and responded seriously: "I have no issues." "Then let's sign," Dunning indicated, pointing to the dark red steel pen and ink on the table. Caine first tested the pen on a scrap of paper, then took a subtle breath, signing his full name—Caine Moretti—on the corresponding sections of both contracts. Since he did not yet have a seal, he finally pressed his fingerprint at the end. Dunning returned the contracts and retrieved a seal from the drawer, placing it on the final page and at several key points. After completing all this, he stood up, handing back a contract with one hand and extending the other toward Caine: "Welcome. From now on, you're officially one of us—please remember, the contract must also be kept confidential." Caine rose to meet him, took the contract, and shook his hand warmly, smiling. "Then I should call you Captain, shall I?" "Yes," said Duan, his gray eyes unusually deep and serene in the dim light. After the handshake, the two sat down separately. Caine glanced at the seal on the contract and noticed the text read: "Night Watch Team, Tinggen Market, Ahoava County, Kingdom of Luon." "I didn't expect you to use 'Black Thorns Security Company' as a cover," he remarked casually. "Actually, we have another brand identity." Duan pulled out a sheet of paper from his drawer. It bore dual seals from the municipal government and the police department, and the content read: "Special Operations Unit, Seventh Group, Ahoava County Police Department, Kingdom of Luon." "The first four groups are regular police units responsible for security—such as the VIP protection team and the key locations protection team. Starting from the fifth group, we focus on supernatural incidents specific to each city within the county. Our seventh group handles events related to goddess devotees in Tinggen City. If there are different faith communities, we divide them by region—primarily the northern, western, and Jinwutong districts. Group six, part of the Storm Lord Church's 'The Sentinels' division, covers the harbor district, eastern district, and southern district. The university district and the outlying areas fall under Group five, also known as 'The Mechanical Heart,' which is the local unit in Tinggen." "Ah," said Kline, with nothing further to ask, and smiled. "What if someone actually comes to us under the banner of 'Black Thorns Security Company' to commission a task?" "We take them on—why wouldn't we? As long as it doesn't interfere with our regular duties." "Dean responded calmly and with a touch of humor, 'Once we earn money, we treat it as an extra supplement—everyone's quite happy with that. After all, the tedious, routine tasks like finding cats or dogs are now all handled by private detectives.'"