Mystery: My Encounters with the Celestial God

Chapter 171 A Day in the Life of Klein, the Corporate Slave

"Ron, get up!"

Upon seeing this, Mr. "The Clown" twitched his eye and then immediately shouted.

"Hmph ╯^╰, No!"

However, a proud and resolute voice rejected him, causing a crease to appear on his forehead.

Damn it, are all born extraordinary individuals this arrogant?!

Without hesitation, Klein Moretti stepped forward, glanced at the tarot cards in the blond boy's hand, and then grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him up.

Klein originally wanted to grab the other's soft little face, but the stinging pain from his right little finger perfectly stopped him from having that dangerous idea.

"You poor wretch, what are you doing?!"

Feeling offended by the night watchman, the blond boy immediately struggled, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not break free from the other man's iron grip on his right hand.

"Hmph, ╯^╰."

Seeing this, Ron, the card player, snorted arrogantly and threw all the tarot cards in his hand at Klein Moretti. However, the Night Watchman, now the Joker, swiftly dodged the feeble blow.

"Ron, did you skip breakfast? Why are you so weak?"

Upon seeing this, Mr. "The Clown" immediately curled the corners of his mouth and made a provocative remark that was half mocking and half joking.

As the saying goes, "A tiger fallen into the plains is bullied by dogs."

Klein Moretti's behavior left Ron, who was playing cards, speechless.

He silently noted down the other party's provocation in his mental notebook, planning to have his main body teach this arrogant fool a lesson when he returned.

"I need to change my clothes, so you'd better get out of here!"

Ron's eyes shifted slightly as usual, and the blond boy's words remained arrogant, commanding the young night watchman to leave the room.

"What are you afraid of, you're all men? Have you forgotten who bathed you before?"

Upon hearing this, Klein muttered something to himself, then pushed open the door and stood outside to wait.

He knew that kid all too well; the kid's "frail" appearance was definitely an act, probably just waiting for him to foolishly fall into the trap so he could find a reason to persecute him.

So cunning at such a young age, I wonder what kind of person they'll become when they grow up.

Klein sighed inwardly, feeling that a socially dangerous scoundrel was being born from his hands.

After Ron finished getting ready, Klein, as always, took him to Blackthorn Security Company and thoughtfully sent him to the entertainment room to "seal" him away.

Having resolved this minor but significant problem, Klein snapped open his pocket watch and glanced at the time.

8:50 a.m.

Oh no, we're going to be too late!

The young night watchman's heart skipped a beat. He immediately rushed downstairs, not caring about saving money and waiting for a cheap public carriage. He directly flagged down a taxi and went to the shooting club run by the Ahowa County Police Department.

With a quick glance around, he found the room he had arranged to meet with the Psychological Alchemy informant. Without knocking politely, he went straight in.

"Officer, you're late."

Upon seeing the Night Watch members finally arrive, Dust Guderian of the asylum breathed a sigh of relief and returned to audience mode.

"Sorry, something came up. Is there some emergency you asked me to come so early?"

Klein picked up a tissue and wiped the sweat from his forehead, using the clown's extraordinary abilities to control his expression and movements.

"Officer, do you remember Hudgen that I mentioned to you last time?"

"He's dead now!"

Taking advantage of the audience's calm demeanor, the informant on night watchman revealed the most crucial intelligence!

"Dead!? Are you sure! How did he die!?"

Klein exclaimed in shock, never expecting that a Sequence Seven psychiatrist would die without any warning.

This sounds incredibly eerie!

"Officer, please don't doubt my observation skills. I can tell the difference between a dead person and a living person!"

The audience member first emphasized one point, then continued:

"And this happened last night, which I kept from you and told you immediately!"

"Hood Eugen strangled himself to death; he strangled himself right in front of me!"

"Officer, this matter is suspicious. I think you need to consider the safety of your informant!"

Dasster Guderian nervously recounted the intelligence, and finally emphasized the purpose of the meeting.

"He strangled himself to death!?"

"Yes, officer, that's exactly what I said!"

The doctor's words left Klein's mind in a state of confusion. He couldn't understand why the other person, who seemed perfectly fine, would strangle themselves to death!

This is really, really weird, reminding Mr. Joker of the Antigonus family notebook that was taken away.

Could it be caused by some important seal artifact of the Psychological Alchemy?

Klein subconsciously made his own guesses.

"Okay, I'll report this!"

"Don't go back to the mental hospital anytime soon; there might be other dangers lurking there!"

"By the way, did Hudgen see anyone, touch anything, or show any unusual behavior before he died?"

The young night watchman organized his thoughts and professionally reconfirmed the existing information.

The doctor at the mental hospital across from them fell silent for a moment, thinking about events that fit the criteria. Thanks to the audience's keen observation, he quickly noticed the anomaly.

"Officer, before Hudgen went mad, a man named Al saw him."

"He told me that the name 'El' was just an alias, and his real name was Lanius."

Lanius!?

Klein Moretti instantly recognized him upon hearing the name. He was an evil conman who would give £5 for providing a valid clue and £100 for catching the conman. He had also cheated a girl. He was the scum of the earth!

"Okay, think carefully and see if there's anything else unusual."

Mr. "The Clown" didn't have time to think too much; he simply memorized the name. He raised his head and asked again, wanting the man opposite him to think carefully and see if there was anything else unusual.

Dastor Guderian hesitated for a moment, then said in a low voice, his heart pounding with nervousness:

"A few days ago, the director invited a priest to perform a missionary service and a blessing ceremony for the patients at the mental hospital. Does that count?"

"Missionary work?"

Klein exclaimed in surprise. His heart, which had been somewhat frightened, suddenly calmed down because he hadn't expected that there would be priests who would preach to the mentally ill.

Which church has produced this talent?

"Do you know what that priest's name is?"

The young night watchman took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to complain, and asked curiously in return.

"Officer, I know him. His name seems to be Connor Paterson."

Without thinking, the audience member gave the answer directly, and then spoke again, adding a sentence.

"He seems to believe in a Creator Himself, which is quite rare!"

(End of this chapter)