In the evening, Klein was walking home.
Since the Truth Union headquarters was not far from his rented house, going to the Union on time every day to enjoy free lunch had become an unshakeable habit in his life.
Carrying the free dinner packed from the Union cafeteria, Klein happily pushed open his front door.
The moment the door opened, a chill rushed to his head.
The Clown's intuition was triggered!
Whoosh!
A small black-feathered arrow grazed his cheek and embedded itself in the door frame, its arrowhead gleaming with a pale, bone-like luster.
If he had hesitated even a little just now, not immediately rolling to dodge, he would definitely not have avoided this sudden attack.
Seeing the ambush fail, a black figure immediately approached Klein at high speed, reaching him with a speed unattainable by ordinary people, and kicked out forcefully with the instep of their foot.
With a "bang," Klein instinctively raised his arm to block, feeling his entire arm instantly go numb, and he was directly sent flying.
The opponent was a Beyonder skilled in hunting!
Mersault! The gang's executioner!
Klein recognized the opponent's identity and quickly formulated a counterattack in his mind.
...
"Hoh, hoh, hoh..."
Mersault fell in front of Klein, collapsing heavily onto the ground.
Blood with a few bubbles flowed from the wound on his neck.
A paper contract was stuck in his neck, severing his windpipe.
He looked at Klein in front of him with a face full of disbelief, his blood-stained fingers scratching several bloody marks on the ground. He opened his mouth, trying to say something more...
"Ugh..."
Finally, his body twitched a few times, and then he was still.
Looking at the corpse in front of him, Klein activated his spiritual vision, and after confirming the opponent's death and no other spiritual reactions around, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Evidently, Mersault had underestimated his strength.
If he weren't a sequence 8 Clown, without the ability to turn paper into steel, he would likely not have been able to withstand the opponent's hunt, but unfortunately, there was no if.
"A few chairs are broken, and the coffee table is unusable..." Looking at the messy living room and dining room, Klein grinned, laughing mockingly twice.
"Haha..."
"Hahahaha!"
A burst of laughter echoed in the room, emitting an eerie atmosphere.
Tens of seconds later, Klein came to Mersault's corpse.
"Unlucky..."
'Hopefully, it won't lead to any major trouble...'
He prayed in his heart while preparing for a divination.
...
In the office on the third floor of the Truth Union.
Charles flipped through the ledger in front of him, muttering to himself.
"Expenses have been a bit high lately..."
"Intelligence fees, facilitation fees, and food expenses..."
"Uh..."
"Should I prohibit takeout?" This thought had just emerged when he dismissed it, "Forget it, it's just a little food."
As the Union administrator, balancing income and expenditure was his responsibility. Only through proper management could he accumulate enough merits to truly enter the management level.
"Welfare expenses are a bit high... but this is fundamental, it can't be touched..."
"And those Sanguine guys..." Charles picked up another account statement and began to flip through it.
"Antiques, paintings, these are understandable, but beans, tobacco... and even dolls."
"Why do they all like to collect such random things!" Charles put down the ledger and complained.
These long-lived species always liked to collect things that ordinary people couldn't understand. Frankly, Charles really didn't want to approve loans for them to spend piles of pounds on these things.
In fact, most Sanguine still cared about their reputation and could generally pay off their debts, but their repayment periods could be as long as several decades...
It could be said that lending them money was a race against inflation...
But there was no choice; what needed to be borrowed still had to be borrowed. The Sanguine as a whole were powerful and had a long heritage, making them essential targets for alliance.
Moreover... from some information he had received over the years, it seemed that some Sanguine were among the high-ranking members of the Shawshank Firm.
...
"Knock knock knock!"
"Come in."
"Director Charles..." The person respectfully bowed.
"Don't be nervous." Charles looked at the other party's flustered appearance and comforted him.
"What's wrong... Witt, you're considered an old member of the Union."
"Why are you so flustered?"
"Director..." The middle-aged man named Witt hesitated for a moment before speaking: "I have a friend, he was... he was arrested by people from the Church."
"That Doctor?" Charles pressed his temple.
"Yes, it's him. He was caught during a surprise inspection while treating a patient."
"Doctor..." Charles mumbled.
He had an impression of the Doctor. To be precise, Witt's friend was a true "Apothecary," primarily taking on auxiliary tasks in the Union.
He had also helped out a few times during missions when the Shawshank Firm was short on medical personnel.
Therefore, the other party was someone who should be helped if possible.
"Which Church arrested him?" Charles asked.
"It was the Church of the Storm, those Punishers simply refused to listen to explanations, he..."
"He got into an argument with the Punishers?" Charles was a bit confused.
The Union and various Churches had unwritten agreements. Logically, as long as one stated their identity as a formal member of the Union, the Church would generally turn a blind eye.
"Yes." Witt nodded, "He couldn't stand it, so he..."
"Tsk."
Charles clicked his tongue, interrupting the other party.
Arguing with Official personnel was never a wise move.
He was all too familiar with the Church of the Storm's style; they were crude and barbaric. Their way of doing things was very consistent with the potion name "Folk of Rage."
Dealing with them was often exhausting; those guys were unyielding and extremely self-righteous.
As for the other Churches...
The people of the Church of the Night, although seemingly polite, were actually all sly. Dealing with them, no matter how many tricks you had, wouldn't be enough.
As for the Church of Steam and Machinery... some high-ranking members looked at their colleagues with strange eyes, making one wonder if they had gone mad from studying gears.
It could be said that each of the Orthodox Churches had its own quirks.
"I'll go talk to their Bishop, you don't have to worry so much..."
After comforting Witt for a few sentences, Charles changed the subject and began to lecture the other party again.
"I told you to put away excessive empathy. The Doctor always likes to help those people in the East Borough for free."
"This behavior isn't wrong, but it's too flashy..."
"The people in the Church are all ruthless individuals."
"They don't care whether you have any difficulties..."
As he spoke, Charles became agitated and stood up directly from his office chair.
At this moment, he noticed that there seemed to be a circle of people gathered outside the office.
"The Doctor has quite a few friends..."
He simply opened the office door and said:
"So, everyone, don't complain about the handling fees the Union charges."
"Wild Beyonders are like this in front of the Church."
"Without money, how can the Union help you?"