Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

When Klein transmigrated to this world, he didn’t know what to expect. 

Waking up in someone else’s body was shocking enough. Then he watched his fatal head wound heal without intervention, the flesh squirming in the low light to cover the exposed brain. And then he had to clean up his own blood and brain matter all the while suffering from a horrifying headache. The scent of blood made his stomach turn, but his determination to clean the room kept him focused. 

Altogether, it made for a poor first impression of this world, and founded his suspicions.

Was this the setup for a Victorian-era horror story?

The dry breakfast of rye bread with ‘tea’ was the second poor impression. After Melissa left for school, he choked down the dry bread and the flavorless hot water. The poverty of the borough and his family’s own struggles slowly settled in. Benson had a decent, stable job, compared to many of the poorer people living on Iron Cross Street, but even then it was difficult for their family of three to get by. 

Then he learned of the supernatural aspects of this world. 

Another transmigrator who had left an enormous legacy behind. A tarot reading disguised as a comedy show. Or maybe it was the other way around. Access to a mysterious realm of probably a divine being, with the help of the simple ritual he had used on earth before transmigrating. And as a staggering finisher, the discovery that there was such a thing as Beyonders.

Beyonders.

Humans with extraordinary abilities. All that was needed to become one was a specific potion, which determined your powers. 

A Victorian-era horror fantasy story, then?

With the first visit of the inspectors came the confirmation that the original Klein had become caught up in a mysterious accident. Although they didn’t provide much input on the events, their calm acceptance of his amnesia suggested they might know something, that his situation might not be as unique as he had believed. 

The rest of the day was filled with more mundane activities, and after eating a good meal of lamb stew, both he and Melissa spent the evening studying. Thoughts about the supernatural repeatedly surfaced in his thoughts, distracting him from his texts.

He didn’t allow himself to daydream about this, because he still had to prepare for the interview at Tingen University.

Until he got ready for bed later that day, and found a word on his skin.

‘Polite,’ was written in a slanted scrawl across the underside of his left forearm.

A blur of previously-forgotten memories bubbled to the forefront of his mind: in this world, soulmates existed. An unsettlingly romantic phenomenon where your soulmate’s thoughts and views about you were written on your body, in their handwriting. 

Klein reconsidered the genre. 

This must be a romance story after all. 

It may also be a dark comedy, he thought, remembering the blood and the tarot reading.

Klein inspected the handwriting in the poor lighting, rubbed at it with his finger, frowning. The letters didn’t smudge and the skin felt no different than usual. 

With his memories of this world, he recognized the handwriting as a traditional form of calligraphy, often taught to children who received more regular schooling, like nobles. The ‘P’ was large and written with a flourish, followed by smaller text with ample space between the letters. The handwriting was slanted. Overall the text felt messy, but still readable. Both the handwriting and the choice of words, ‘Polite,’ implied that this person was educated, not someone from the poorer areas at the end of Iron Cross Street. 

He undressed further, searching for more words. He found one more:

‘Poor,’ was drawn in the same scrawl, following the curve of his ribs.

How rude. 

But considering his current living situation and how his family only barely got by on Benson’s salary, he supposed this was a fair assessment of his financial situation. Even so, a flicker of annoyance burned within him. These words would stay on his skin forever, branding him with this moment of time in his life. 

Had the original Klein met his soulmate before today? 

Klein’s fragmented memories of this were vague, but it was certainly possible. The past month he had been focused on studying and graduating, and after that he had spent all his time fretting about his interview, studying, and translating that fourth epoch notebook with Welsch and Naya. He couldn’t remember meeting up with his soulmate during this time. 

Would this soulmate bond be his, or the original Klein’s? He frowned again. He didn’t know enough about mysticism to make a proper deduction. 

Finding only two words suggested that he or the original Klein hadn’t interacted much with their soulmate. It would be expected that after first impressions were made, more words would gradually fill up his skin as a more well-rounded image of him was established. 

He traced the word ‘Poor’ on his ribs before putting his shirt on again. 

For now, he decided, this was simply a complication. 

In the end, the most important thing to him was to get back home; seeing his family and friends again, sharing good food together. Creating a relationship with a soulmate he would leave soon seemed cruel. It would be better to ignore the soulmark and focus on himself. 

---

After being woken by inspector Dunn Smith twice regarding this case, and then meeting the spirit medium Daly, Klein’s head was spinning from information and impressions. Dunn’s offer to join the Nighthawk’s civilian staff didn’t help, pushing him into action and focus. He considered the pros and cons for the better part of an hour and easily decided to join. The financial stability and access to mysticism knowledge outweighed any dangers the job might offer.

He made his way towards The Hound Pub and then to Blackthorn Security Company to inform the captain of his choice. 

Led into Blackthorn Security Company by Rozanne, he glanced at the open offices along the corridor. He heard the sound of a typewriter coming from one of the half-closed doors, and the smell of paper permeated the air. 

The green-eyed officer he met yesterday was sitting in one of the open offices, seemingly working on a report. He was wearing a casual shirt, top buttons unbuttoned and his hair messy, clearly having dragged his hands repeatedly through the long strands. It was a surprising contrast with the neater uniform the man had been wearing yesterday, but it suited him. 

Their eyes locked.

Neither said a word, but Klein could feel this man’s gaze burn into his face, inspecting him.

He wasn’t this intense yesterday, was he?

Puzzled, Klein gave the man a polite smile and continued walking, following Rozanne deeper into the company towards Captain Dunn. 

Once with Captain Dunn, he carefully reviewed each clause before signing his employment contract. Aimed at civilian staff, the contact focused on secrecy and the added risks even civilian staff could experience. Since he had decided on becoming a Beyonder as soon as possible, the added risks were to be expected, acceptable even. 

He also got a more detailed description of his tasks as a professional among the civilian staff and a further explanation regarding Beyonders. He received his advance payment from Mrs. Orianna and his revolver holder and bullets from Old Neil. 

In the late afternoon, it was finally time to return home. 

Klein had already gathered his new belongings, but soon realized he had forgotten to ask Old Neil about the available pathways. 

Sighing, he turned back around and made his way back into the deeper recesses of the building.

Turning a corner, Klein noticed his new colleague, the poet, leaning against the wall, seemingly lost in thought.

“Good afternoon,” Klein offered a polite greeting.

The man straightened, eyes sharpening with recognition.

“Captain Dunn mentioned you might join us,” he said, voice low and even. “I suppose that makes us colleagues.”

Klein nodded and extended his hand. “Klein Moretti. Civilian staff, for now”

“Leonard Mitchell, Sequence 8 Midnight Poet.”

Leonard’s handshake was firm and lingered a second too long. His eyes once again scanned Klein’s face with a surprising intensity, his curiosity obvious.

“I’m glad you decided to join.”

Klein smiled. “Is it that unexpected?”

“Not at all. You seem… special.”

Klein’s smile became strained. Special could mean far too many things. 

“I’m hardly that. I just want to help my family get by. It would be unwise to refuse a stable position like this, despite… recent events. I imagine most would do the same.”

“You’re still alive despite the notebook. That’s special enough, to me.” His green eyes were deep and serious as he said this.

Isn’t he being overly familiar?

The intensity and admiration in his tone was at odds with their unfamiliarity with each other. They were basically strangers. No, worse, they should be developing a professional work relationship. These were words Klein would expect to be said to close family or a partner. 

Is Leonard simply a tad eccentric?

Leonard seemed oblivious to his thoughts. “Well I should be on my way. I’ll find you later, we can talk some more.”

Klein inclined his head. “Of course.”

He stared at the man’s back as he walked away.

Was he always like this? Klein wondered if this was a side effect of his Beyonder potion. Poets were generally allowed to be more eccentric in social interactions. Intensity and eccentricity were almost expected of them.

He sighed before turning to leave. He would find out soon enough if Leonard’s behaviour was odd. For now he’d rather focus his attention on getting more comfortable with his new position as a civilian staff member. 

---

At night, Klein finds another word scrawled on his skin, this time on his upper leg. ‘Formal,’ it read. 

Klein stared at it, then sighed. 

Many people called soulmarks romantic, but he mostly felt it was intrusive. Perhaps tomorrow he’d wake up with ‘confused’ written across his face. Why should another person be able to mark him so visibly with their opinions of him? 

Besides, people were capable of change, not just their personality but also their circumstances. ‘Poor’ felt like a disrespectful dig at his current circumstances, but those circumstances could change any moment, just like what happened today. Yet the soulmark would remain on his skin forever.

He focused on the new word again. 

‘Formal.’ Klein’s lips twitched. The word wasn’t too bad. After his transmigration he had picked up some of the original Klein’s behaviours and values, and ‘Formal’ certainly fit his personality. 

He could have received worse words. 

The word implied that his soulmate had interacted with him today. If they hadn’t spoken, then at least he had seen Klein. 

Although words could appear without having seen or spoken to your soulmate, it was still considered unusual. At most, without contact a new word could be marked in response to finding a new mark.

Besides Miss Rozanne and Mrs. Orianna, he hadn’t spoken to any women today. But he hadn’t met either of them before today, so they couldn’t be his soulmate considering he already had some words on his skin last night.

Klein thought of other people he had met today. He had talked to some people on the way to Blackthorn Security Company while on the carriage and in the pub, but none of them were familiar. Then besides the ladies, at Blackthorn he had also talked to Captain Dunn, Leonard, and Old Neil. 

He was quite sure he had only ever been attracted to women though. 

Was it possible his soulmate could be a man? Perhaps there had been some mistake. He wondered again if the transmigration could have affected the soulmate bond the original Klein had.

At least the Church of the Evernight Goddess was neutral towards same-sex relationships, not outright rejecting it but not promoting it either like it did with equality between men and women. 

He grimaced and covered up the words, choosing to ignore their presence and what it might imply.

He dressed up and brushed his teeth. As he was lying in bed, he pondered the genre assumptions he had made soon after his transmigration. 

Not just Beyonders but also soulmates. Klein could only hope the narrative wasn’t a drama.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

2.

The next two days, Klein wasn’t expected at the Blackthorn Security Company and was instead given time to settle matters at home and to get his wardrobe in order before starting his first day.

The first day, a Saturday, was spent settling his matters at Tingen University and celebrating his new position with Benson and Melissa. Benson had been proud and optimistic after hearing about Klein’s new job, and eagerly agreed to Klein’s suggestion to prepare a lavish meal with new spices. 

All day, Klein had carried a warm feeling with him, still incredulous at how their lives had improved with his new position. He deliberately ignored the phantom warmth on his lower arm, where his first soulmark was. Not even the anxiety of being followed after visiting Tingen University had been able to fully suppress that feeling. His remaining unease disappeared after the man was apprehended at night. 

As a reward for his contributions, Captain Dunn officially gave him the choice to become a Beyonder. 

This would allow him to study mysticism more closely!

He readily agreed to carefully consider his options.

The Moretti siblings’ housing search was quick and effective: by the end of Sunday, they had broken their old lease and fully moved into their new residence. 

Moving all their belongings took only two hours or so. Melissa couldn't stop smiling all afternoon—the usually serious girl was bright-eyed and unable to contain her happiness. 

At the end of the day, Klein stood in his own room, overcome with emotions despite himself. He swallowed, his throat feeling tight. He had a room to call his own now, with his own bed, wardrobe, and a large full-length mirror without cracks in it. A small desk near the window was the perfect space to study mysticism in private without alerting his family. It was a large step from their previous apartment.

He could scarcely believe how quickly his life here had changed after transmigrating. 

And more was yet to come. 

Tomorrow, he would inform Captain Dunn of his choice of Beyonder pathway. He had already decided yesterday. 

Not much longer now. He would finally be able to properly study transmigration and soulmates.

—

No more words had appeared on Klein’s skin, and the matter was pushed to the back of his mind as he settled into his new position at Blackthorn Security Company and decisively chose the Seer pathway. 

Klein followed the concoction of his Sequence 9 potion closely, surprised at the simplicity of the process. Was the process for other potions similar? What ingredients did Leonard and Captain Dunn’s potions contain? And why did different extraordinary creatures carry such distinct characteristics, each perfectly suited to potion-making?

Tense, Klein inspected the dark-blue potion.

Would becoming a Beyonder affect his soulmate bond? Would his soulmate feel it too, if his spirituality deepened?

He dismissed the thought. He had other priorities to focus on, for now. 

After that second’s hesitation, Klein tipped the liquid into his mouth, quickly swallowing the dark-blue potion. It seemed to infuse every cell in his body with a cold electricity, and his vision went blurry with a kaleidoscope of colors. Old Neil carefully guided him through controlling his new abilities until Klein was able to restrain his leaking spirituality and turn off his spirit vision. 

His spirituality exhausted, he was sent home to rest and recover. 

—

After resting at home, he returned to Blackthorn Security Company to retrieve more bullets from the armory. Leonard was seated at the reception desk, busy writing something. 

“Good afternoon. Where’s Rozanne?” Klein asked after taking off his hat and bowing.

Leonard smiled and pointed at the hallway behind him.

“It’s her shift tonight at the armory.” His eyes shifted over Klein, taking in his appearance. “Did you come to seek me out already?” His eyes creased as he smiled at Klein.

…Was he flirting? With his new colleague?

Leonard, taking in Klein’s spooked appearance, laughed at him. After a second he tapped his lips with his finger and steered the conversation in another direction. “I do have another question for you, actually.”

What was it now? Klein’s eyebrow twitched, annoyed despite his previous realization that Leonard tended to act…eccentric.

“I’m curious. You managed to survive your suicide attempt whereas Welsch and Naya did not.” Leonard’s warm smile changed into something more distant, his eyes unreadable as he leaned towards Klein. “I wonder why this is.”

The previously relaxed atmosphere of the reception hall became more tense after Leonard’s question. Klein pretended not to notice, and answered with an even voice: “The captain believes I was made to hide the notebook. Perhaps the distance or the lack of contact with the notebook caused my suicide attempt to fail.”

Leonard hummed. “I’m glad you survived, really glad, but if the suicides were meant to happen, why weren’t you made to destroy the notebook? Wouldn’t it have been better to get rid of all the evidence?”

“Perhaps the being we made contact with didn't want to erase evidence, but instead wanted to hide temporarily before continuing to find new sacrifices. I was made to hide the notebook and after some time, it will move again.”

Leonard’s eyes were sharp as he assessed Klein. He continued probing Klein with questions for a few more minutes, while Klein attempted to stay vague and stick to the official explanations he’d been given by Captain Dunn. 

This man is like a dog with a bone, unwilling to let go once he’s holding on to something… Klein sighed to himself. 

Once his interrogation had finished, Klein pretended not to flee as he headed over to the armory to finally draw his bullets for practice. 

Even after he left the building, Leonard’s voice lingered in his mind, curious and playful.

—

Klein fell into a comfortable rhythm, getting mysticism lessons from Old Neil in the mornings, eating lunch with Rozanne and Bredt and then wandering the roads between his place and Welsch’s house. 

This was interrupted by the entry of the first client Klein had seen since starting his job at Blackthorn Security Company, a butler of the Vickroy family. 

His master’s son, Elliott Vickroy, had been kidnapped earlier that day, and they were looking for alternative options to find Elliott as soon as possible. 

Leonard successfully arranged a private commission of the butler Klee. After that, he bowed with a dramatic flourish towards Klein, and held out his hand. “Care to join me on this mission? I need your help.”

Klein had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Who exactly was this man trying to impress? Did he not care about their client’s presence?

He chose his words carefully. “You want my help to find Elliott’s location?”

“Exactly.” Leonard snapped his fingers at him and smiled looking delighted. “Just the two of us should be enough. Do you have any questions for Mr. Klee?”

Klein thought of his mysticism lesson with Old Neil earlier, and realized something related to Elliott would help specify his divinations. “Did you bring some of Elliott’s worn clothes, or any accessories he often used to wear on him?”

The butler did not bring anything of the sort, so the three of them made their way towards the Vickroy’s residence to pick up some clothes. They were also handed a picture of Elliott. 

While waiting for the butler to retrieve the clothes, Leonard and Klein waited in a comfortable silence within the carriage. 

Klein himself was the one to break it. 

“I’m surprised you wanted my help with this commission.” A wry smile appeared on his face. “I’m mostly untrained for now.”

Leonard glanced at him and leaned back in his seat, fully relaxed. “Don’t you want to put your abilities into practice? It’s the best way to get familiar with them.”

“Besides, everybody is always eager to take on commissions because of the financial benefits.”

They paused their conversation as the butler Klee returned with Elliott’s clothes, and didn’t continue until they were seated in a private carriage. 

Leonard smiled encouragingly. “I have little doubt you’ll succeed.”

His conjecture was correct. Klein found it took little effort to use Dowsing Rod Seeking to find Elliott’s location, and after thirty minutes he and Leonard stood in front of a building. 

Leonard slung his arm over Klein’s shoulders. “Well done. I’d love to do this myself, but I’ll have to settle for watching you instead.” 

His touch lingered for a second—then his grin returned and he looked as careless as before.

Klein could only accept this behaviour, by now getting used to it, if only barely. He nodded, and walked forward into the building.

Leonard followed Klein quietly as he led the way inside. 

“Can you…”

“... confirm the number of people inside?” Klein supplied.

“Yes, exactly.” Leonard smiled.

Klein focused for a moment, using his spirit vision. “I can see four, one most likely Elliott.”

Leonard nodded and confidently took the lead. “Allow me to take over, then.”

Klein heard his deep voice wash over him.

“Oh, the threat of horror, the hope of crimson cries!”

“One thing at least is certain—that this Life flies;”

“One thing is certain, and the rest is Lies;”

“The Flower that once has bloomed forever dies…”

After putting the men to sleep, Leonard easily broke into the room and subdued the men, then composedly moved over to help Klein restrain the fourth accomplice coming from below, winking to Klein in the process. 

Klein’s lips twitched despite himself. What an idiot. A capable idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

They untied Elliott, and after informing the police and Elliott’s father, Leonard once again put an arm around Klein’s shoulder and dragged him away from the scene, claiming that helping the police would only be a waste of time.

Klein let himself be guided away, shaking his head at Leonard’s shamelessness while a small smile played on his lips.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

3.

While on his way home, Klein felt a prickling in his spiritual intuition, a small nudge to his right shoulder.

His shoulder felt warm, like a large hand was gently wrapped around it, steadily holding him.

His head snapped towards his shoulder, but saw nothing. 

Klein furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Another side effect of becoming a Seer?

Since he was in a public carriage, he couldn’t do much except ignore the feeling, leaving it till later.

Once home, he rushed towards his bedroom. After taking off his shirt, he looked in the mirror. Two words had appeared on his right shoulder, stacked on the top ridge of his shoulder blade. 

‘Talented,’ the top one said.

‘Intelligent,’ the bottom one said. 

Flattering words, certainly. However, his previous annoyance sparked up once more. They were still words he hadn’t asked for. 

He thought of earlier today, of Leonard’s grin as he had wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. 

No. 

No, he told himself.

He drew a steadying breath and straightened. The human mind often interprets coincidence as meaning. Nothing more. 

This was a distraction.

He felt the corners of his mouth pull down. The words seemed to burn the longer he looked at them, marks sinking deeper into his skin, demanding his attention. 

He buttoned his shirt with precise motions, ignoring the feeling on his shoulder. 

That night, Klein slept fitfully.

—

Klein dreamt of the Antigonous notebook.

He had forgotten its appearance, but recognized the black cover and smooth paper instantly.

It lay down on a wooden table, its presence inviting him to open it. 

He opened it to the last page. On it was a ridiculously dressed man, with a mocking smile on his face. Underneath it was his own handwriting: ‘Everyone will die, including me.’

His shock woke him from his dream. He rushed to dress and make his way towards the Blackthorn Security Company. Leonard was seated behind the reception desk again, guarding the entry before Rozanne could start her shift. 

As he looked at Leonard, his shoulder burned again in phantom pain. He ignored it with the calm persistence of a man well-practiced in avoiding his own emotions.

He focused on what he was here to do: inform the captain of the Antigonous notebook.

He brushed past Leonard towards Captain Dunn’s office, ignoring Leonard’s questions and surprise.

As the Nighthawks gathered upon the captain’s orders, Leonard joined Klein’s side.

Klein offered him a polite smile and turned his eyes away, keeping his eyes firmly on the captain’s back.

“Too distracted to notice yesterday?” Leonard whispered. 

Klein nearly jumped up in the air as Leonard’s breath tickled his ear.

This man—

“I was focused on the mission.” Klein kept his voice steady.

Leonard didn’t respond, just smiled knowingly. Klein felt the beginnings of a headache come up and he clenched his teeth. How infuriating.

While inspecting the room of Mrs. Bieber, Leonard’s behaviour reverted to something resembling moderate professionalism, clearly mindful of the presence of the other Nighthawks. Klein made sure to keep his distance and did not engage in conversation beyond what was necessary. 

He kept up the act until he and Old Neil left to go back to Blackthorn Security Company. 

—

He focused on digesting his potion. His first step was joining the divination club. Acting like a seer, divining people’s fates and giving them advice should help his potion digestion. 

As he handed his entry fee to Angelica, he regretfully watched the five pounds disappear. He sensed a burning sensation from his rib–’Poor’. 

Psychosomatic, he told himself. 

He ignored it, and filled in the information sheet Angelica handed him. 

In the evening, Klein made sure to buy extra fresh beef and prepare a stew for Benson and Melissa. His cooking skills had improved the past week and the increased budget helped, allowing him to buy more spices to flavor the dishes more liberally. 

He drowned himself in conversation with his siblings, focussed on convincing Melissa that she could get a new dress. After teaming up with Benson and suggesting more frugal designs, Melissa finally gave in and agreed.

His soulmarks continued to burn all day.

— 

The next day was worse. 

Old Neil had invited him to his house so he could learn ritualistic magic. A new subject in mysticism he hadn’t broached yet. Dangerous, Royale had warned him. But as he carefully followed the steps Old Neil described, his thoughts wandered to his soulmarks. Would there be ritualistic magic making use of soulmate bonds? Perhaps for quick communication, or to sense the location of the soulmate?

“Focus, lad! Stop thinking about the bloody IOU.” Old Neil had noticed his distraction and chewed him out for it, thinking Klein’s silence was a result of his doubts and disbelief in settling his IOU with ritualistic magic.

“Let’s focus on ritualistic magic.”

Klein refocused his thoughts with effort. It’s the bond affecting me, he thought. It was a distraction, Klein repeated.

He had more important things to focus on, like increasing his knowledge and digesting his potion. 

After lunch, he secluded himself with a stack of historical documents and fresh paper in one of the small offices of Blackthorn Security Company. He took notes on the ritualistic magic Old Neil had shown him this morning, carefully describing each step and reviewing his text to ensure it was complete. The quiet scratching of the quill lulled him into a relaxed state. 

A knock on the door.

Leonard poked his head through the opening.

“I bought us some fruit tarts. Do you want any?” 

A distraction.

…

Klein looked at the box Leonard was holding. It was from Mrs. Smyrin.

Rozanne had brought some lavender biscuits the other day, sharing them with everyone. It’s not odd to share food with colleagues. 

One second.

Two seconds.

“Yes, please.”

He caved. He was a simple man. 

Leonard smiled brightly, unperturbed by the silence earlier and put the box on the table next to Klein. “Wait just a second.” Then he went to collect a chair from the break room, two small plates, forks, and a tea set. 

He gracefully arranged the impromptu afternoon tea set with practiced movements, humming a melody that Klein had heard once at a holiday gathering at Khoy University. It was a slow piano piece, popular among the nobles and middle class. 

Leonard’s eyes slid over the desk Klein was seated at, inspecting his notes on ritualistic magic. His eyes paused on the words for a second before he tapped the short list of ritual types Klein had described. “Did Old Neil not teach you how to use a ritual to draw something from memory?”

“The ritual he performed at Mrs. Bieber’s apartment? He didn't mention it today.”

“You can pray to the Goddess to ask for her guidance.” As he was explaining, Leonard poured them both a cup, and without asking, proceeded to add three cubes of sugar to Klein’s cup. “Old Neil uses the method quite regularly.”

How did Leonard know how he liked his tea? Had he been paying that close attention?

“The start of the ritual is similar: seal off an area with a wall of spirituality before praying to the Goddess, invoking Her names. Firmly keep the memory or image that you want to draw in mind, then use these incantations…”

Leonard continued his explanation as he took a seat opposite of him and leaned back as if he owned the place. The usually careless man explained the ritual in surprising detail, gesturing with his hands and his eyes focused intently on Klein as he spoke.

After he finished his explanation, he gave Klein a pleased grin, waiting for his response. 

Klein rubbed his chin, considering the usefulness of a ritual like this. “That’s surprisingly informative,” he praised. “You do not give off the impression of having studied so carefully.”

Leonard snorted. “Usually Old Neil performs rituals like these, but he did make sure all of us Nighthawks learned it, too.” He chuckled, “the first time I tried it was three months after I became a Nighthawk, during a missing-person case. Everything was prepared properly but as I finished my incantation, the girl’s cat knocked over a glass of water right onto the paper.”

He grinned. “The portrait ended up looking like something that crawled out of a nightmare: half human, half cat with whiskers, paws, and a tail. I almost submitted it as evidence for a demonic possession.”

Klein wasn’t sure which was worse: the image of the half-cat monster, or the faint suspicion that Leonard’s enjoyment of the story was entirely disproportionate to its investigative value. He shook his head but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. 

“Old Neil said it was the most creative sketch he’d ever seen. He kept the drawing in his notebook.”

Leonard’s bright eyes swooped over Klein’s face. Clearly pleased with the response, he launched into a second story before being interrupted by a knock on the doorframe. 

Captain Dunn entered the room. “Leonard, come with me. We will work with the Machinery Hivemind to detain Mr. Tris.”

“Of course,” Leonard sprang up from his chair, posture instantly changing into something more serious, until he turned back to Klein with a boyish grin. “Let’s do this again soon.” 

He took the plates and cutlery with him, but left the tea set so Klein could pour himself another cup later.

When he was five steps away from the door, he paused and half-turned, right before Captain Dunn’s “Wait!”.

“Inform Kenley that he will take over my shift of Chanis Gate.”

“Got it!” Klein listened as Leonard’s footsteps echoed through the hall. 

The captain remained standing in the entry to the office. His deep eyes rested on Klein, taking in the small room and the remaining tea set on the table. 

Gaze unreadable, he nodded and walked away.

Klein instantly straightened as he realized. 

It’s not what it looks like! 

Captain, it’s not like that!

He steeled himself. As long as it didn’t interfere with his work, it would be fine.

—

Klein sat himself down at his desk. 

He wasn’t blind. He did realize the soulmate business had been affecting him entirely too much, causing needless distractions during his lessons with Old Neil. He could not allow the soulmarks to disrupt his mysticism studies or his work. 

He would make a plan. Determine his soulmate. Rationalize every step.

He tapped his desk with his finger, then took a sheet of paper and started writing—listing the soulmarks, people he had interacted with that day, and potential explanations the people could have for the specific words. He crossed out the people he hadn’t interacted with on all days he received soulmarks.

He stared at the list.

Between all the crossed-out names, only one was always present on the days he received soulmarks. That same name was absent on the days he didn't. 

Leonard.

He sighed, slow and controlled. 

He checked the names again. Same result. Leonard.

That man was infuriating, and yet—

His pen hovered over the paper, before he deliberately wrote the name at the bottom and circled it.

His finger resumed tapping the desk rhythmically.

Maybe some tests. Interact with Leonard and see if he gets any new marks soon after. 

His eyes narrowed as he remembered the nudge he had received from his spirituality two days ago, when the two newest soulmarks appeared. 

It was another thing to pay close attention to. 

He also needed to confirm whether it was his soulmate bond or the original Klein’s. More mysticism knowledge should help with this. 

He still had some documents he could study which might contain clues, but the quickest and most reliable option would be to ask Old Neil. He might get laughed at, but a well-timed self-deprecating smile would probably keep his reputation intact.

He finished the list:

Interact with Leonard.

Pay attention to spirituality.

Speak with Old Neil. 

He set the pen down and leaned back, running through methods to test the soulmate bond. 

-tbc-

Chapter Text

4.

When Klein woke up, he felt warm.

His blankets covered him just right. A sense of peace filled his mind and he sighed contentedly. Although his thoughts had already started sorting through plans, he stayed in bed for a little longer, keeping his eyes closed and enjoying the moment.

With difficulty, he eventually forced himself out into the cooler air, and found the reason for his previous comfort.

‘Blind,’ was written in near-perfect symmetry with ‘Poor’ on his ribs. 

The mark felt warm and radiated a strange sense of comfort.

The word itself though… He grit his teeth. He would have to speed up his plans. Ideally, he would figure everything out by tonight before he ended up with ‘Stupid’ or ‘Dense’.

He dressed methodically and forced the new soulmark to the back of his mind. 

On the way to Zouteland Street, Klein thought of the best way to approach Leonard.

Ask about poetry? 

Leonard was often reading poems, wasn’t he? It would seem casual enough, but perhaps it was too personal a subject. Poetry often revolved around emotions and feelings, Klein remembered.

Try flirting, mimicking Leonard’s behaviour? 

No. He would be too embarrassed to even get out a word!

Ask about the mission last night? 

At least he had a reasonable excuse to ask about the mission, having heard Captain Dunn yesterday.

He was still considering the best approach when he entered Blackthorn Security Company.

Thankfully, Leonard was out of sight. Since it was late enough, Rozanne had already started her shift and sat at the reception. Klein let out a sigh before letting himself be pulled in conversation about the new play Rozanne wanted to visit.

The plot sounded interesting enough, if a little familiar. Was this another play written by Roselle? 

Perhaps he could go and bring Benson and Melissa. As middle-class citizens it was expected they were familiar with popular plays!

He bade her farewell, then retook his place in the office from yesterday. In the morning he worked his way through a thick genealogy tome on families in the late Fourth Epoch. A less than thrilling read, even for an enthusiast such as himself.

As the morning progressed, his stomach tied itself in knots, his thoughts more focused on how to approach Leonard than reading the tome.

When he heard slow, sauntering footsteps approach, he looked up and hastily stood up to intercept the man. “Leonard!”

A look of surprise flickered across the other’s face before a bright smile bloomed. “Good morning. What are you working on today?”

Klein smiled wryly. “This genealogy tome. I believe it could even put Sleepless to sleep.”

Leonard huffed a laugh at the description. “I don’t wish to try it, I’d rather patrol the streets.”

“I can see why you’d prefer that. Intellectual stimulation can be dreadfully taxing.”

Klein regretted the words as soon as he said them. Why had he said such a thing?

Leonard raised his eyebrow and took a step towards Klein, entering his personal space. “You’ve got a sharper tongue than you let on, really.” 

Was that accusatory? Klein resisted the frown that threatened to appear. 

“A gentleman cannot always vocalize his inner thoughts, it would be unbecoming.” He added a small smile, trying to dispel the tension.

Leonard gently took hold of Klein’s wrist, long fingers pressing into the skin. “You can’t always hide who you are.” His eyes stared into Klein’s, the green flickering in the gaslights.

Klein wondered if Leonard could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. 

He took a step backwards to create some distance and looked away, feeling color rise to his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When no further response was forthcoming, Leonard let go of his wrist and dragged his hand through his long hair. “Right. Well I’ll leave you to it, then.”

His clipped footsteps echoed through the hall as Klein attempted to catch his bearings.

He hadn’t even managed to ask Leonard about Mr. Tris, the conversation had been derailed before it started. Why had it been so tense?

His wrist burned where Leonard had held him. He closed the door to the office and rolled up his sleeve.

As expected.

‘Stubborn’ was written on his wrist. 

It was silently mocking him. 

—-

Steps one and two of his plan were finished, all he had to do was complete step three. 

He disliked having to ask Old Neil a personal question like this, but he had no other choices if he wanted a quick result. 

So before he and Old Neil left to go to the Underground Market, Klein forcefully suppressed his nerves and approached Old Neil to ask his questions.

Old Neil was categorizing more common ritual ingredients but put his work aside as Klein entered, waving him in. 

Klein bit the bullet and decided not to mince his words. “Mr. Neil, do you have any mysticism knowledge on soulmate bonds?” 

Old Neil started then laughed heartily. “Another young and romantic one, are you?” He bent towards Klein, as if ready to whisper a secret. “Want to find them soon?”

Internally, Klein sighed. He had expected some teasing when he asked the question, but this was an easier and quicker method than reading and searching for the information himself.

“I’m simply curious. My younger sister has always been interested in finding hers, and she talks about it often.” A spontaneous white lie. This could work better than planned! Admitting his own interest would be too embarrassing.

“Hmm typical, typical.” Old Neil nodded along, red eyes still shining with mirth. “Well, I can describe what I know.”

“Soulmates are a complex topic in mysticism, closely tied together with fate and the soul.”

“A small group of Beyonders within the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom have devoted their life’s research to this topic and have published some papers. They learned that high-sequence Monster pathway Beyonders are able to sense soulmate bonds through their high spiritual sensitivity. Some are even able to find and describe people’s soulmates by inspecting their Soul Body. Beyonders from other pathways seem unable to do so.”

What about the Monster pathway made these Beyonders so sensitive to soulmate bonds? Did they have a particular sensitivity to sensing the Soul Body? Earlier this week Old Neil had taught him that Seers and Mystery Priers Beyonders developed the most sensitive Spirit Vision among pathways, so this explanation seemed unlikely. 

Old Neil continued putting away the papers he had been writing on, tidying the desk and filling the space with the soft rustling of paper. 

“As for the soulbond itself, it appears to be a connection between two Soul Bodies. As you now know, every human has a Soul Body. However, the soulbonds between Beyonders tend to be stronger, seemingly related to the bonded people’s pathways and sequences.”

Klein nodded in understanding. This fit with his beliefs and understanding of the soul so far, but it was still unclear why soulmate bonds existed in the first place. 

Also, if Soul Bodies of soulmates were connected in some way, would it be possible to manipulate the bond or sense information through this connection?

“Finally, the Body of Heart and Mind seems to be the basis of the soulmarks and the words that are written on skin. A person’s conscious and subconscious impressions of their soulmate leave a lasting imprint on their soulmate’s Soul Body, which is reflected and manifested in the Body of Heart and Mind. This manifestation is then shown on the skin.”

“Does this mean that if you can influence the Body of Heart and Mind, you can influence the soulmarks shown?”

“Lad, why would you want that?” Old Neil laughed again. “Not every soulmark word is complimentary, but they are proof of that special relationship you only have with one person. Trying to affect the words might damage the bond!”

Klein inclined his head, agreeing. He could see why not many people would dare risk damage to their bond.

“Is there a way to find your soulmate more easily?”

“High-sequence Beyonders with sensitive spiritual intuition should be able to find their soulmate. Their spirituality will guide them in the right direction.”

“However, for a lower-sequence Beyonders like you, it is difficult to consciously look for our soulmates. Your sister will not be able to find hers in this manner.”

Klein hesitated for a second, before asking: “have you found your soulmate?”

“I have,” answered Old Neil. His eyes were far away, lost in thought, as he rubbed his chin. “She was the love of my life, my sweet Celeste.” 

Old Neil clapped his hands once and turned around.

“Now, enough talk about this. Tidy these documents and books before we leave!” He pressed a small stack of books in Klein’s hands. “Remember to collect our dinner from Old Will’s Restaurant!”

Klein, surprised by the sudden change of topic, fumbled to hold the books. 

“You can tell your sister about soulmates later, let me know if she has any questions.” Old Neil’s turbid red eyes looked at him meaningfully and Klein realized his lie had been seen through. He shook his head helplessly. Really…

—

At night, Klein lay in bed thinking about Old Neil’s explanation of the soulbond connection between soulmates. 

If Soul Bodies of soulmates were inexplicably linked, then that meant that whomever gave him his soulmarks, was actually his soulmate and not the original Klein’s. As far as he could tell, there was nothing left of the original Klein besides his memories and the body itself. The soul in the body was his own.

He thought of the words he found yesterday. 

‘Talented’ and ‘Intelligent’. 

And then the words from today, ‘Blind’ and ‘Stubborn’. Was this really what his soulmate thought of him?

Klein turned over so he lay on his back. He wouldn’t allow himself to ignore the facts this time. He had to get his emotions under control. 

Soulmarks had begun to appear shortly after his transmigration. New words appeared only after he interacted with Leonard, and none appeared on the days he spent with Old Neil and wandering the path between his old apartment and Welsch’s place. Leonard behaved very forward with him, except for their very first meeting immediately after his transmigration.

Then today he had tested his hypothesis and was rewarded with two new, unflattering words.

So. Leonard was his soulmate. 

Klein stared at the ceiling as he let this fact sink in. 

So his soulmate was a man, after all. 

Did this matter to him? 

His jaw clenched. He found it difficult to find an answer immediately. He had always pictured himself with women. Yet here he was, thinking of Leonard and his infuriating, playful remarks. 

Perhaps it was best to keep an open mind, see how things developed. No need to make rushed choices.

He was still aching to go back home, away from this world. He didn’t want to leave a relationship without warning when he was finally able to return. 

A complication, he told himself. It’s just a complication.

His soulmarks seemed to burn into his skin in reaction to his thoughts, fighting against his resistance. 

A mocking smile appeared on his lips as he realized something.

Just his luck. 

This was a romantic drama, wasn’t it?

-tbc-

Chapter Text

5.

Klein woke up tired, his thoughts had run rampant all night.

Nevertheless, he filled his morning with mysticism studies in the small office. He rehearsed ritual steps with small props, practicing each movement and incantation until he had mastered them all. He had been tempted to try the soul imprint drawing ritual, but decided against frivolous use of ritualistic magic. The Goddess might smite him if he bothered Her without good reason!

Captain Dunn gathered him before lunch. “Sealed Artifact 2-049 has arrived. Three Backlund colleagues came as support.”

He gestured for Klein to follow him and led him down the hallway, only turning when facing the door. “Make this arm movement while in proximity of 2-049.” Captain Dunn repeatedly bent his arm followed by extending it. “Absolutely do not stop! Do not stop, this is for your own safety.”

The arm movements looked exceedingly silly. 

Is he making a joke? Is this the hazing process for new recruits that have yet to become full Nighthawks?

“Alright.” Klein did not hesitate further as he began the repeated action of bending and extending his arm.

After they entered, the captain had to nudge him once to dispel the effect of 2-049. 

Inside, three Nighthawks from Backlund were present, all of them performing the same movements.

The last person in the room was Leonard, who seemed stiff and uncomfortable as he made the same arm movements. He looked alert and serious, but his face clearly betrayed his displeasure by its slightly pinched eyes and drawn lips.

Klein had to stifle a laugh. Leonard looked comically miserable.

The betrayed look he received in return was worth the small slip. 

Turning towards him, Captain Dunn eyed him for a second, then proceeded to introduce the unknown Nighthawks as Madam Loretta, Aiur Harson, and Borgia, and he explained the effects of 2-049 in an efficient manner. It would lead them to their target: the Antigonous notebook. 

The notebook had been the reason the original Klein had died. It was probably exceedingly dangerous, potentially more than he could manage, right now. It was best not to interact with it. 

He didn’t want to court death!

As they made their way to the carriage, Leonard had to nudge Klein once when his arm movements started to slow down. His hand was warm, and touched right over the soulmarks on his shoulder, which tingled in response. His hand hadn’t lingered, his gaze focused.

No flirting or lingering touch?

Klein inspected Leonard with new eyes. They had done a small commission before with low stakes, and Leonard had been playful and relaxed. This time, Leonard’s usual desultory attitude was heavily muted by a quiet focus: his posture still looked relaxed, but his eyes were sharp and serious, sweeping over the road outside as they entered the carriage and watching out for passers-by that could potentially be influenced by the Sealed Artifact.

Leonard skillfully steered the carriage, following their instructions until they reached a greyish-white warehouse in the dock area. The 2-049 puppet had become increasingly agitated as they got closer to the location, affecting two Nighthawks at a time, now. 

The carriage was left a short distance away from the warehouse. They carefully approached. 

“Klein, divine if there is any danger in the warehouse. It’d be better if you could tell the level of danger,” Captain Dunn said as he turned his head to Klein.

Klein used his pendulum to divine the danger in the warehouse, and seriously informed them there would be great danger.  

From behind him, he felt Leonard step up to his side. Upon his request, Klein also divined the danger level outside. 

His eyes met Leonard’s. “There’s danger outside, too.”

No sooner had he let out this statement than a yellow ball of fire flew towards them.

Leonard’s firm grip pulled him out of the fire’s trajectory, and it pushed him to the side, away from their group.

“Stay back. Keep yourself safe!” He smoothly shifted into a wider stance, ready for a fight.

Captain Dunn, Aiur, and Loretta promptly drew their firearms. Bang! Bang! Splinters flew through the air as they shot at the unknown Beyonder who had appeared behind a stack of wooden crates. 

The man was dressed in a formal suit and his face was painted like a clown in a ridiculous manner with white, yellow and red paint. 

Befitting of his appearance, the clown agilely leapt out. Both illusory and real bullets and balls of fire leapt from his hands, aimed at them, making it difficult to distinguish real from fake. Occasionally the clown was hit by a shot from the Nighthawks, and he would disappear into shreds of paper and reappear in a different part of the warehouse’s courtyard.

Klein kept a close eye on his surroundings, not trusting his chances of hitting the clown. 

His marksmanship needed more attention… He had been too distracted recently.

Movement to his left caught his eye: another figure was running across the warehouse roof, moving towards Ray Bieber’s location. 

Bang! Leonard was the first to shoot at the figure, having spotted him at the same time as Klein. 

Klein’s two shots followed soon after, one of them hitting the figure’s shoulder. 

After a second, Klein remembered his divination earlier: there was great danger in the warehouse! They let the figure charge into the warehouse towards Ray Bieber. What followed was a hair-raising scream, echoing loudly over the terrain.

Klein felt a shiver crawl down his neck.

A deafening silence followed the scream.

Soft panting emerged from the warehouse. 

Klein’s grip on his revolver tightened and he glanced at the position of the other Nighthawks. He spotted the clown’s back as the man ran away faster than seemed possible.

The 2-049 puppet loudly banged against the suitcase, thrown to the side in the midst of battle. It became frenzied by the proximity of an Antigonous descendant. 

Leonard and Borgia, who were guarding the suitcase with 2-049, moved further out of reach to avoid the enhanced effects of the puppet.

Klein shuffled back and let the Nighthawks take up their positions in front of him. 

Bang! 

The door to the warehouse exploded.

Blood and guts were splattered across the floor in a gruesome caricature of a painting.

The panting noises were replaced by ravenous growling and indiscriminate wet sounds. As he watched the door opening, he saw various body parts burst out. A foot fell to the ground with a wet ‘plop’ and an entire arm still wrapped by clothing was flung out with force. It landed against a wooden box, leaving a blood stain. A single eye bounced over the cobblestones, rolling closer towards his feet.

Klein felt his stomach turn at the sight. 

He had been joking about the world being a horror genre! Did he jinx himself?

His hands were shaking, the noises scrambling his nerves. His heart beat wildly in his chest. 

The Nighthawks moved decisively, taking up their stances. When a monstrous humanoid shape emerged from the darkness within the warehouse, they shot at it. 

The figure was grotesquely misformed, being over 2 meters tall and with large lumps and deformities all over his chest and limbs. His legs were thick as logs, and he could only stumble forward with loud steps.

The Nighthawks’s shots were accurate, but failed to do any damage. Leonard’s demon-hunting bullet hit it straight in the forehead, but didn't even cause the figure to stagger.

Klein resisted the urge to shoot blindly, realizing he would not be able to help the battle. 

Behind him, Borgia and Leonard started reciting a poem. 

“Oh, the threat of horror, the hope of crimson cries!”

“One thing at least is certain—that this Life flies;”

“One thing is certain, and the rest is Lies;”

“The Flower that once has bloomed forever dies...”

Prepared, Klein stopped himself from keeling over due to the poem’s effects. The creature, however, only let out a shrill cry, piercing their heads with a sharp pain.

Klein felt more so than saw Leonard drop to the ground. A cold wave washed over him, his soulmarks chilling his blood and panic clawing at his chest. Was he badly hurt?

Leonard’s eyes and ears were bleeding. Even from a distance, Klein could see the tremor in his hands as he weakly scrambled to get up. 

His own nosebleed went unnoticed as he took in the sight. Before he could move closer, his attention was pulled back to the fight, the danger in front of him greater than the hurt of Leonard. 

A wooden box flew through the air, before Captain Dunn managed to pull the misshapen figure into a dream, which allowed Madam Loretta to attack it without holding back. Her hands repeatedly punched and reached into Ray Bieber’s gut, eventually dragging out a notebook stained with brown and yellow body fluids. 

The resulting explosion scattered the Nighthawks across the courtyard. Klein was thrown away, past Leonard.

Dazed, he got to his feet, his vision blurry.

The suitcase containing 2-049 was next to him.

His eyes widened.

Damn it.

Before he could jump out of reach, his thoughts slowed and his movements became mechanical, like rusted joints. 

The others…are too far away.

He had to save himself!

Perhaps if he went above the grey fog… 

With his remaining movement, he stepped in a square shape, chanting to the Lord of Heaven and Earth in order to rise above the grey fog. 

His steps became slower, each one heavier than the previous. The last step was finished with great difficulty, and he soon found himself surrounded by chaotic murmurs and whispers. 

Eventually the murmurs faded and grey fog filled his vision. The silence was jarring after the loud noise of battle.

He took his seat at the head of the table and wasted no time divining the safety below with his pendulum.

It spun clockwise, indicating it was rather safe outside.

Relief flooded him and he quickly descended back into his body.

Right on time, as a voice whispered in his ear. 

“I can wake you up. All you need to do is promise me one thing.”

“This one thing is to help me take that Antigonus family notebook.”

Klein’s thoughts raced, wondering if he could make use of this. The person continued his attempts to convince him, informing Klein he himself had been a Seer before. 

“As a token of my goodwill, I will let you know now: the name of the sequence following Seer is ‘Clown’.”

Is he being serious? Next thing he'll say is that you need to paint your face and join a circus to digest the potion! Klein would never live down the shame!

“Make your choice.”

His options were limited, so it was better to pretend. 

With difficulty, Klein nodded. 

In the following events, he managed to force the clown into the range of 2-049, slowing him down. He shot at the stationary target. 

One shot. Two shots. 

Detached, Klein watched blood bloom from the clown’s neck and forehead. The man fell to the ground with a small ‘thud’. 

He just killed a man. 

For a second, he observed the blood before turning around. He had to help the Nighthawks. 

A distant part of him wondered why he was so calm. 

He strode towards Leonard, who was closest to him. Leonard’s long hair was disheveled, but he seemed relatively unharmed since he had dragged himself into a sitting position.

Apparently, he was tougher than he looked at first glance. He had seemed quite hurt previously. 

With that realization, Klein had a thought. 

Did he see Klein’s ritual before?

A tired but slightly amused smile was aimed in his direction. “Ah, concerned about me?” 

Really? It seemed that Leonard had no trouble switching personalities now that the danger had faded. 

With a pained grunt, Leonard reached in his pockets to grab a vial and handed it to Klein. “Have Borgia drink this, it is a type of restorative medicine. Help the others drink theirs after, they should all carry a vial in their pockets.”

Klein observed the paler-than-usual face before nodding and turning around to help Borgia. Minutes later, all the Nighthawks had received enough energy to get up with their own strength. 

Klein returned to Leonard, who was standing by himself. He pursed his lips. “Captain Dunn carried two vials, drink yours.” 

Surprise flashed in Leonard’s eyes before he accepted the potion that Klein held out towards him. “I appreciate it, sincerely,” he said with a warm smile.

Once Leonard drank the potion, Klein felt his shoulders relax as the cold weight in his chest finally thawed. The relief that flooded him was almost embarrassing. Clearly, his self-control was slipping.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

6.

Klein wanted to talk to Leonard.

No, really, he didn’t want to overthink this absurd feeling.

But he knew he should take action before he gained another soulmark calling him something worse than ‘Blind’ or ‘Stubborn’.

He decisively suppressed the little voice that told him this was an excuse, and set up a plan. Leonard would have his Chanis Gate shift tonight, so he could bring some cake and tea. That way, they could have a proper discussion without risking the Nighthawks overhearing them.

He couldn’t afford to postpone it any longer.

So he dutifully went about his day, reading up on mysticism, practising his aim at the shooting range and doing his research on the Hornacis Mountain peak at Deweyville Library. It had been a busy day, and he had quietly buzzed with a quiet nervousness.

At the end of the afternoon he visited Mrs. Wendy and bought two small orange sponge cakes.

As he walked past the offices, Dunn’s deep voice reverberated. “Klein?”

What poor timing. 

Reluctantly, Klein entered the office and bowed politely in greeting. 

“I have just submitted your application to become a Nighthawk.” 

“Thank you, I will be awaiting the response.” His voice was carefully even, his face blank. 

Dunn’s deep eyes swept over him before pausing on the small box from the bakery Klein was holding. He paused before asking with a deep voice, “you won’t be causing problems, I hope?”

Why was the usually distracted man so sharp all of a sudden?

“Not at all.”

Dunn nodded once. “His shift started half an hour ago. Don’t distract him too much, haha.”

Klein’s mouth twitched. What was the captain thinking? 

It’s better not to know.

He nodded stiffly.

On the way to Chanis Gate, he collected a tea set. Now, his hands were full and Dunn would notice if he left so soon. He couldn’t back down.

Perhaps Leonard had already heard his approach.

He took a deep breath, then knocked on the door and let himself in. 

The room was lit by a small gaslamp near the wall, but was otherwise dark. The warm light cast deep shadows over the room, making it cozy and welcoming despite the lack of soft chairs or fabrics. 

Leonard, who had been leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, did not bother to hide his relaxed behaviour while he should have been on guard.

His eyes fell on the tea set and box. “I had been hoping you would visit me, but I did not realize tea and cakes were part of the preparations.” His smile was teasing.

A small smile broke through Klein’s rapidly dissolving restraint. Every comment that man made was overly casual and affectionate.

Two steaming cups of fragrant tea were soon set on the table and the buttery sponge cakes with orange glazing were carefully plated.

“I wanted to see how you were. You looked hurt yesterday.”

Klein took a bite of his sponge cake. Perfect.

“And I didn’t see you earlier today so I wasn't able to ask you.”

Leonard held his tea cup and gingerly blew at the hot liquid inside. His eyes crinkled. “So you brought me cakes to court me at nighttime?” His lips quirked before his expression settled into something calmer and more serious. “I am unhurt, thank you for asking.”

Then he huffed quietly. “I actually thought I needed to save you but soon discovered that you didn’t need it.”

“I am glad though. There are many special people in this world that can do things others can’t, such as you…” 

Klein’s shoulders went tense at this statement, unsure what Leonard was referring to exactly. Was it the ritual?

“...and me.” Klein’s eyes flickered upwards in surprise. What secrets did Leonard keep?

“I actually wanted to talk about something related.” He let the previous question remain unanswered as he focused on what he was here for today. He took a sip of the fragrant tea to calm himself.

Leonard leaned back in his seat and calmly looked at Klein. “The soulmate bond you mean.”

Klein hesitated. The other man didn’t seem bothered at all by the topic.

“For a moment I believed you were opposed to it. You didn’t seem to welcome my advances.” Leonard’s voice was mild. Not accusatory. Not anxious. 

“It’s not that I object to you being my soulmate,” Klein began, his heartbeat picking up as he had to vocalize his feelings. 

“It’s just that…”

Words didn’t come. 

For once, Leonard remained quiet. His gaze shifted over Klein’s face, as if cataloguing his expressions and trying to decipher the unsaid words, patiently waiting on Klein to find the right ones.

It was this patient steadiness that allowed Klein to take a breath. His heartbeat eased, if only slightly.

“It's just that...I’ve always thought my soulmate would be a woman.”

His eyes skittered across the room, unwilling to make eye contact. The gnarled wood of the small desk. The dusty corner that probably should have been swept. The new poetry collection booklet on the desk.

Leonard’s shoulder. 

Leonard’s face.

Leonard was looking at him—the silence stretched just long enough for Klein to start regretting his words. His throat tightened.

Then his lips quirked, the smile carrying more understanding than amusement. “Well, I can’t fault you for that thought. I imagine most people would make the same assumption.”

His gaze softened.

“Does it disappoint you or was it merely a surprise to you?”

Klein let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Did it disappoint him? It had taken an awfully long time before he accepted that Leonard was his soulmate.

But what he had observed so far was…pleasant. Of course, Leonard often behaved overly familiar and forward, perhaps shocking some people with his behaviour. He was serious when the situation called for it, competent when it mattered, and now patient and calm in the face of the discussion that had weighed on Klein’s mind all day. 

So the answer came surprisingly easily.

“It was merely a surprise.”

A faint smile crossed Leonard's face and he leaned in, his chin in his hand, studying Klein with the same quiet intensity Klein had gotten used to by now. Klein observed the light flickering over his features, casting deep shadows. It made his eyes glow and the green hues shift.

A grin. “Sorry to ruin your fantasies. I like to believe I don't look too bad, though.”

A startled laugh left Klein’s mouth. He covered his mouth. Leonard looked unreasonably pleased with himself.

Klein’s expression fell into something more serious. “Leonard, I’m not sure yet what to expect from a relationship. If I want one at all.”

A flicker of hurt flashed in Leonard’s eyes right before it disappeared and that small smile of his returned. “There is no need to make a decision right now.” 

“It can wait.”

For the first time that day, Klein felt his muscles relax as the anxiety that had been building for days was dispelled by Leonard’s patient words. 

“Thank you,” was all he could bring himself to say in response. 

Leonard leaned back and got comfortable again. “Have you ever read any of the collected poetry of Roselle?”

Roselle… Klein gratefully accepted the new subject. They began discussing the plausibility of one person displaying this many writing styles and topics of interest, followed by Klein determinedly trying to convince Leonard to widen his poetic interests to include other authors. 

He remained there for another hour, quietly conversing with Leonard.

It was nice.

—

Two days passed, and he hadn’t seen Leonard since their conversation that night due to their different shifts. 

He had gotten three new soulmarks since their last mission. How that man developed this many new impressions of Klein so quickly, Klein didn’t know. He could only guess. 

He held his upper arm over his clothes. Underneath it, he knew the words ‘Mysterious’ and ‘Shy’ were hidden. 

‘Mysterious’ merely made him narrow his eyes. It suggested Leonard had seen his ritual but didn’t know the meaning behind it. This was undesirable but could not be helped. He would have died to 2-049 or the clown if he hadn’t.

‘Shy’ though…

A warm flash of annoyance had burned in his chest, almost immediately doused and followed by a self-deprecating smile. Can you believe this?

Actually, he could.

During their conversation Klein had been filled with embarrassment. It was not difficult to understand why Leonard saw him this way. He supposed he was shy, at the very least when compared to eccentric and outgoing poets like Leonard. He had no prior experience with relationships to guide him and just talking about the soulmate bond had been difficult, like pulling teeth. 

Thank the Goddess he wasn’t branded with ‘sexually confused’. 

The third soulmark…

‘Handsome.’

He had stared at it for a full minute, disbelieving what he was seeing. He was no idiot and contrary to Leonard’s beliefs, he wasn’t blind either. He knew his looks were average, perhaps elevated into something slightly improved now that he was dressed well.

Never in his life had he considered someone would think he was handsome. 

A warm blush had crawled up his neck and he had needed some time to catch his bearings. The color refused to leave his face despite his best attempts to will it away.

When he descended the stairs, Melissa had clearly noticed, faint confusion clear in her eyes.

For now, it went unmentioned, forgotten in the face of getting Benson to dress more formally for Miss Selena’s birthday party. 

Melissa had insisted they both attend the party—it would be a good opportunity to converse with the ladies present. Perhaps, she had said, they would find their soulmates. Klein had to stop himself from voicing his true thoughts about soulmarks and agreed to come along.

So to please his sister, Klein had half-heartedly attempted to socialize with the other guests all night, confident she could find no fault in his behaviour and efforts. Despite that, Melissa had glared at him doubtfully whenever he interacted with Miss Elizabeth. 

It’s not like that, Melissa! 

I’m just trying to do my work…

Klein knew it was pointless. 

Before Melissa could find more issues with his behaviour towards Elizabeth, he offered her a self-deprecating smile. “Could we stop by my workplace? I forgot to label an important document that will be transported tomorrow.” Benson quickly agreed. 

As they neared Zouteland Street, Melissa looked at him disapprovingly. “You are aware Elizabeth is only 16?”

Klein wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry. She really did think he was like that. 

Benson kept his mouth shut, unwilling to become a participant in this conversation.

“It was an academic discussion… She was interested in Ancient Hermes.” The lie came easily and diffused some of her suspicions. 

Before she could reply, Klein got off the carriage and entered the building. Once again, Leonard was on reception duty. Did he never have a night off?

“You’re not on duty tonight?” Leonard looked over at the entrance, surprised by his presence. 

Before he could say more, Captain Dunn entered the room, and Klein made his report of the evil entity that had possessed Miss Selena. Dunn and Leonard would deal with it. 

Dunn excused himself to prepare. The moment he was gone, Leonard stepped up to him with a teasing smile. “Did you have a good time at the party socializing?” 

Klein vaguely wondered if he should move further away as he carefully chose his words: “the food was excellent.”

Leonard snorted. Slowly, his hands reached towards Klein, and refolded the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, smoothing the wrinkles that had appeared. His hands lingered for a few seconds.

Klein remained rooted in place, carefully still at the unexpected touch as Leonard’s hands left warm trails on his chest.

Then he remembered. Handsome.

His face flushed again, and he carefully kept his breathing even.

Leonard’s gaze lingered, his smile turning softer. “Dream of me tonight, would you?”

That man was always flirting, wasn’t he?

The words of refusal he wanted to say melted on his tongue as he saw Leonard’s expression, filled with a fond tenderness.

After a second, he found his voice. “I cannot control that.” 

Then, quieter: “Perhaps I will though.”

It was stupid. Irrational. 

But it felt right.

Leonard merely smiled.

Later, Melissa only took one look at his flushed face and her suspicious glances returned.

Klein sighed. 

He would have to come up with a believable lie. 

-tbc-

Chapter Text

7.

It was his first day as an official Nighthawk.

Yesterday, he had finished his first case by himself, and earned the right to be formally introduced to the Nighthawks he had only seen in passing. Captain Dunn had been unsurprised and had quickly arranged a reservation for a celebratory dinner tonight.

He confidently walked into Blackthorn Security Company with a good mood. The space was quiet and filled with the clear light from early morning.

Rozanne sat up where she was previously slumped in her seat. “Good morning, Klein. The weather is so cool and beautiful today.” 

She waved him over. “I heard that Miss Daly has officially been transferred to Backlund.” She sighed. “Poor Captain. They’ll see each other even less now.”

Klein furrowed his brow in confusion. “Poor Captain?”

She glanced at the hallway behind her and lowered her voice to a whisper: “rumour has it that they are soulmates.”

She sighed again, dreamily. “Ah, isn’t it romantic? I wish I will find my soulmate and marry them soon.”

Resisting the urge to break her fantasy, Klein quietly murmured his agreement all the while wondering why everyone was so sentimental lately. 

“But I heard that the captain has never tried to court her.” As soon as the words left her mouth, an alarmed look passed through her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head, denying having said anything.

Klein chuckled. “The captain might be forgetful, but he does have sharp senses. You had better pray to the Goddess he didn’t hear you.”

Rozanne nodded vigorously and immediately changed the subject. “I’m looking forward to the feast tonight”

They chatted for a bit longer, discussing the dishes Old Will’s Restaurant often served and the desserts she had ordered last time, before Klein bade her farewell and made his way deeper into Blackthorn.

Since he was now an official Nighthawk, Captain Dunn had arranged for Klein to take combat lessons with a specialist, Mr. Gawain. Mr. Gawain was not a Beyonder, so Klein had dressed in his probationary inspector uniform and had left any mystical items behind at Blackthorn Security Company. 

Leonard would bring him to the right location. 

He greeted Klein with his usual relaxed attitude and a theatrical bow, extending his arm to guide the way. His eyes swept over Klein’s appearance, taking in the uniform and nodding with a glint in his eyes. 

He remained suspiciously quiet. 

Klein’s eyes narrowed but he knew better than to comment on this.

Leonard mercilessly left him to fend for himself during the lesson with Mr. Gawain, but when Klein returned to Blackthorn fatigued and overworked, he had brought Klein a drink and the Classical Poems Anthology of the Loen Kingdom to help him recover. 

And when Klein had been too exhausted to even work up an appetite, Leonard had pestered him until he took some bites of his food and his appetite returned. The other Nighthawks had silently observed this interaction, seeing the easy way their familiar colleague had taken care of the novice Nighthawk as if the two of them had known each other for years.

Klein wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful for their silence, or embarrassed. 

Probably both. 

—

His day off was supposed to be a moment to recover and rest. Klein was sure that was the captain’s intention. Instead, he had spent all day researching the Hornacis Mountain Range and running after clues related to the Antigonous notebook. Somehow, it had ended with the man right in front of him, five bullet holes in his head and the skin of his neck bruised and battered.

At least getting a heavy cane had paid off.

The corpse’s skin was grey and covered in warts, and the gory mess of his brain, shattered by Klein’s bullets filled the alleyway with a strange metallic scent. He looked away, disgusted.

The alleyway was surprisingly quiet after his spirit channeling as he was guarding the body, waiting for backup to arrive. He rubbed his temples. He had seen the Hanged Giant during the spirit channeling and his spirituality had been unstable and weak ever since. 

He let the cane carry his weight as he waited.

They came quickly, in the form of Leonard, Captain Dunn, and Kenley. When he was explaining what had happened, Kenley’s eyes kept moving between him and Leonard.

Don’t tell me we’re the topic of gossip already?

Klein sighed inwardly as he lamented his reputation. 

—

After his first shift at Chanis Gate, Klein was exhausted. Weariness from staying up all night dragged at his eyelids. 

His shift had been interrupted by the Misfortune Cloth Puppet and Leonard and Madam Royale had kept him company all night, ensuring nothing happened during his first shift.

Although he was thankful for their presence, the night had been long—longer than he was used to.

It was still early in the morning, but Leonard was still wide awake and had already taken a seat on the sofa in the recreation room.

Perhaps he should have become a Sleepless after all. Leonard rarely looked tired.

Klein then paused, looking at the sofa. A short nap would allow him to avoid the rush of traffic in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the Nighthawks took a nap here, right?

Leonard chuckled at his expression. “Chanis Gate shifts are just delightful, aren’t they?”

With a sigh, Klein entered the room and joined him on the sofa. “Perhaps if you’re a Sleepless. Becoming a Seer did nothing for my constitution.” He stifled a yawn. 

The sofa had never felt so comfortable as it did now.

“You’ll get used to it in time, Frye did too.”

Klein leaned his head back and let it rest on the back of the sofa. He let his eyes fall closed.

Just for a second—he told himself.

“Hmm,” he noncommittally answered Leonard. “Perhaps.”

Perhaps the traffic would not be too terrible yet. He would get up in five minutes: it would be more comfortable to rest at home. 

Five minutes, then he’d leave.

—

Wakefulness returned to him slowly.

Faint voices drifted down the hall—Kenley and the captain discussing a new commission. His body was enveloped by warmth. A blanket had been draped over him, and he gladly burrowed deeper into the fabric. The faintly bitter smell of coffee hung in the air, fresh and aromatic.

His whole body was relaxed, his attention drifting lazily and his thoughts trickling like soft murmurs.

He allowed himself to indulge in the moment. Just this once.

Eventually, the crick in his neck and the stiffness of his legs could no longer be ignored. 

He sighed. When he returned home, he would cook for Benson and Melissa. He could buy apple tarts and wheat bread on the way and make fish stew to go with it. The fresh flavors would reenergize him.

He willed his eyes to open, slowly blinking the fuzziness at the edge of his vision away.

The sun was low, casting the room in a warm golden glow. 

Besides him, he heard someone laugh softly. 

Leonard was sitting quite close, pressed to one end of the sofa. His gaze was fixed on his book, pretending to read. 

Klein blinked slowly, realizing how close they were and what it must look like to others. Their thighs were almost touching and Klein’s head leaned over until almost resting on Leonard’s shoulder. Klein remembered sitting down on the other side of the sofa. 

Had he moved over in his sleep?

“Did you sleep well?” Leonard’s eyes crinkled, his voice low and soothing. “You looked cold, so I found you a blanket.”

The corners of Klein’s mouth lifted in response. “As well as possible on a sofa.” He shuffled over, creating some distance. “Thank you for the blanket.”

Leonard hummed.

Klein waited a second before asking, “why are you still here at the company? You were here before my shift and yet you’re still here now.”

The sofa pillows moved as Leonard turned towards Klein. “I like the atmosphere and the Nighthawks. I prefer it to being at home.”

“Besides, the captain doesn’t mind.”

A companionable silence fell.

They lingered for a few more moments, until Klein smoothed his hair down as best as possible and put on his discarded tuxedo jacket. He stood up to leave.

When he turned back around, he paused.

Leonard had refocused on his book. A fountain pen was stuck behind his right ear. His gaze was focused, intent on reading the text as his lips moved, silently reciting. 

The warm sunlight softened his features, his green eyes glowing underneath his long eyelashes. The light accentuated the soft skin of his neck, tickled by long silky strands of hair, which gently sloped towards his collarbone. 

He stared, he couldn’t help himself.

Leonard was beautiful.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Leonard pressed his hand against the side of his thigh. His eyes flickered towards Klein, taking in his position near the door, unmoving.

Klein’s face flushed and he avoided Leonard’s eyes.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow.” 

He walked away quickly, not waiting for a response. 

“Of course.”

Leonard’s quiet voice was warm, full of affection. 

Klein fought to keep his face blank as he left the building.

How mortifying.

—

The kitchen was quiet, and cast in deep shadows as Klein made his preparations for the fish soup. 

The knife sliced through the onions and tomatoes with precise, practiced movements. 

He had fallen asleep next to Leonard. There had been no hesitation when he entered the recreation room, despite his exhaustion. He had been trying so hard to keep his composure the past days but it kept slipping, like water through cupped hands.

The quiet had been so peaceful. There had been no expectations, no pressure to do or say anything. Just quiet companionship and a steady presence next to him. 

Leonard had clearly been amused, but had kept quiet. He had been doing that a lot lately. Pushing with playful comments and light touches whenever they were busy, but remaining quiet and steady whenever they were alone. It felt like he could sense it whenever he pushed too much and would then back down, allowing Klein to accustom himself to the new situation. 

He turned the fire high and put a tablespoon of butter in the tall pan, carefully coating the inside and letting it heat until it bubbled, then added the chopped onions and tomatoes. He baked them, carefully stirring until softened, then added chunks of white cod. The kitchen was filled with the fresh scent of the ingredients. 

Later he’d noticed it properly—Leonard had looked so beautiful in the soft glow of the afternoon. 

Leonard had gotten a new soulmark right then and there, hadn’t he? There was no other reasonable explanation for his behaviour, for why he had looked so startled and amused. 

There was no way to hide his thoughts like this. There was no way Leonard didn’t realize by tomorrow. Perhaps he already knew what had flashed through Klein's thoughts.

The ladle clinked loudly against the pan as his grip tightened around the handle.

How embarrassing.

It had been true though. He couldn’t even deny this to himself. Perhaps…honesty isn’t always bad. This might not be the end of his upstanding reputation. 

If it was Leonard, he might not respond too terribly. 

He would understand, even if Klein wasn’t able to explain himself. 

Perhaps he could try…

With more force than necessary, he threw in the sprigs of thyme. Taking a breath, he then added a glass of cooking wine to the pan, letting the alcohol evaporate, and carefully measured a litre of water and added it immediately after. He lowered the fire so the soup could simmer and the flavours could combine.

Just a test, to see what would happen. 

Perhaps.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

8.

No more incidents happened for a few weeks after his first Chanis Gate shift, and Klein’s life finally quieted down. 

His mysticism studies with Old Neil had grown more complex, and he regularly visited the Divination Club to digest his potion. Last week, Mr. Glacis had introduced him to Madam Christina and Madam Megose after they had been fooled by a conman. Klein felt like a charlatan when he told them to wait and be patient. Even so, the feedback from repeat customers had greatly helped his potion digest.

Leonard had not acted noticeably different after Klein had fallen asleep in the recreation room—after the soulmark he received there. That should mean he was alright with the situation.

Klein had not gotten new soulmarks since then. A few times, Leonard and Klein had taken the opportunity to converse in the recreation room after the others had left for their own cases. They would play a card game together, chat over tea and biscuits or sit in companionable silence, reading. He could finally relax around Leonard. The ridiculous, teasing jokes made him laugh and his spontaneous touches no longer made him freeze with uncertainty. It was comfortable. 

Today, they were seated together in the small office. The documents Klein was reading were brittle and thin, and could only be read carefully laid down on a desk. Leonard was sitting next to him, leaning back in his chair and writing in the open notebook on his leg, copying a poem. 

Klein had already finished reading the document and was taking small notes on a sheet of paper to the side. 

The air was filled with the soft rustle of pages turning and pens scratching on paper. 

Klein had actually finished writing a few minutes ago, his mind once again focused on when he had fallen asleep next to Leonard.

Later, he had thought to test…

He stared blankly at the paper. He had felt quite confident in the thought back then, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about it yet.

Today might be a good moment. 

Sighing, he stood up and started carefully gathering the old documents and stacking them. “I will return these documents to Chanis Gate.” 

“Want me to help you?” Leonard looked up from his writing and stood up, then held out his hands. 

Klein looked up at Leonard. His thoughts from a few days ago flashed through his head once again. A test. Just… to see what happened. 

He had been avoiding thinking about his falling asleep next to Leonard, unsure how to feel about their closeness that day and the ease he’d felt. The memory followed him regardless. If he didn’t test this now, he would keep wondering, circling around the same thought until it drove him mad.

Klein hesitated for a second, before he stepped closer to Leonard. “Leonard, I’d like to try something.” He looked up at the poet, eyes serious.

He swallowed his nervousness.

Leonard’s eyebrows lifted. “Klein, mis…”

Lips pressed against his, cutting off his words.

It was clumsy. The lips were unyielding and unmoving as they pressed against his.

Leonard smiled against his lips. His hands reached out to hold Klein, feeling the small tremors through his clothes, and he soothingly dragged his thumbs over Klein’s shoulders. He pulled away fractionally, before returning and sliding his lips over Klein’s, showing him how to kiss.

A fierce blush had spread over Klein’s face. Leonard’s lips were soft and warm against his. His soulmarks tingled slightly in response, especially the ones where Leonard’s hands held him. 

He moved back, drew a shuddering breath at the sensations, then he kissed Leonard again. He stepped closer. His body now pressed against Leonard’s, warm chest against warm chest. His hands clutched the fabric of Leonard’s shirt, leaving wrinkles. 

Leonard indulged him, letting him set the pace, and letting him decide when to stop. All the while a small smile remained on his lips.

Klein shuddered as he felt warmth pool in his gut, and finally broke away, his breathing uneven and his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Carefully, and ever so slowly, he lowered his head until his forehead rested on Leonard’s shoulder, his flushed face hidden.

Leonard wrapped his arms around him and held him, patiently waiting for Klein to regain control. His hands, too, were now shaking, betraying his nervousness. 

The silence of the office enveloped them.

Until Klein laughed quietly. “How stupid is this. How stupid am I.” His tone was full of disbelief and wry amusement.

He had been so careful before: analyzing each soulmark, writing out every possible soulmate, agonizing over whom it could be. How foolish of him to do so after he had spent so much time thinking about Leonard. How shortsighted. 

The kiss just now—denial didn’t suit him. The answer had been so simple, so obvious. 

He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, then looked up at Leonard, eyes gleaming. “Thank you, for indulging me.”

“Of course.” Leonard’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Let’s bring the documents away before Old Neil decides to look for you.”

Klein breathed in slowly and smiled again. “My reputation couldn’t handle that.”

“Exactly.” 

—

Even when Beyonder-related incidents started to rear their heads, Klein and Leonard had continued spending time together. Careful to keep their behaviour proper around the other Nighthawks, they made sure not to flaunt their relationship. 

Despite that, Klein realized with a sinking feeling that they were collecting looks from the others, and was certain they were speculating about the circumstances.

What he wouldn’t give to hear the rumours. 

Frye had looked at them impassively when Leonard had patted Klein’s shoulder with a casual “I knew you were something special” after finding the house Trissy was hiding in.

Rozanne sometimes tried to pry into the situation between him and Leonard when Klein arrived at Blackthorn. He had become quite skilled at avoiding the questions.

Old Neil had looked at him with knowing eyes when he found him reading a mysticism book on soulmate bonds, then pulled him into a conversation, happily telling Klein about his wife and the bond they had shared. 

Royale had quietly entered the recreation room when Klein and Leonard were debating the long-term effectiveness of government-funded soup kitchens for the poor. Unbeknownst to Klein, she had observed the two of them for a good period of time. Leonard had known. He had later laughed at the surprised look in Klein’s eyes when he realized they were not alone. 

Once again, Klein mourned his reputation.

He wondered if he even had one to begin with. 

—

Klein’s repeated efforts to digest his potion had finally paid off a month after he consumed the Seer potion. The feeling had been slightly overwhelming, and the speed took him by surprise. It seemed his efforts at the Divination Club had paid off.

Leonard had later asked, confused, if something had happened that morning. Klein had denied it, but he noticed Leonard’s eyes followed him around more than usual. 

Carefully, Klein had started dropping hints about the acting method to the captain. Ever since then, Dunn had started to invade his dreams, often eating his dream food and nearly bringing Klein to tears. 

It was too unfair!

Why was he being targeted?

At least the captain had been applying his practical advice.

His mysticism lessons with Old Neil had come to an end—Old Neil insisted he had nothing more to teach. Klein decided this was the perfect time to officially request his advancement.

Leonard had nearly choked when he found Klein typing his request to advance but had immediately convinced Klein to share the acting methods with the other Nighthawks. He had dragged Klein along and grabbed the Nighthawks’ attention with his cheerful, flamboyant demeanor. He had looked at the scene with a small smile playing on his lips as Klein was explaining the acting method without using its name.

Later he took Klein aside, boxing him in between his body and a wall, and whispered in his ear. “Won’t you tell me about where you learned of the acting method?”

Goosebumps had covered Klein’s skin and he shivered at the close contact. In a low and rough voice he replied: “I remember you telling me that I am very special. That I can do things others can’t.”

Leonard's eyes widened before he smirked and brought his lips close again: ”Alright. You can keep your secrets, for now,” and graciously allowed Klein to flee. 

Klein sighed as he strode away, a blush staining his cheeks. 

That man— 

After regaining his composure, he handed in his application with Captain Dunn.

—

A few days later, Klein entered Blackthorn Security Company in a good mood: he and Benson had finally convinced Melissa that they should hire a maid. The first trial day had been successful.

Klein sighed happily. He wouldn’t have to cook anymore. He had been working far too hard, as a boss of a mysterious organization. 

Rozanne waved him over as usual before greeting him dispiritedly. “Old Neil is sick, I heard from the captain. Shall we visit him this afternoon?”

“Old Neil is sick?” Klein asked in surprise. 

Rozanne confirmed, upon which Klein sighed. “Old Neil sure is pitiful. After his soulmate passed away, he has been all alone. When he’s sick, all he can do is stay at home in loneliness and helplessness. Let’s visit him at noon.”

Upon his words, Rozanne exclaimed in shock “Since when did Old Neil have a soulmate?!”

A sharp feeling of unease tightened Klein’s chest.

“He told me a month ago, when I asked him about soulmate bonds.”

His brow furrowed as he took out a copper coin from his pockets and focused his spirituality before divining Old Neil’s situation. 

Positive.

There was something wrong with Old Neil’s situation.

He moved. Fast.

He strode past Rozanne with a vague answer and convinced Captain Dunn of the situation. After retrieving Sealed Artifact 3-0611—the Peaceful Hair Strands—Klein, Dunn, and Royale had rushed over to Old Neil’s place.

They stood in front of the porch, taking in the drawn curtains. Klein pulled on the rope connected to a bell indoors.

A pleasant chime resounded in the hallway. 

Nothing happened.

After a long minute, quiet piano music emerged from the door.

The slow music evoked a deep sense of eeriness and loneliness. Goosebumps covered Klein’s skin. 

He took a step back, ready to make another divination, before he saw it. 

A small puddle of red liquid seeped out from underneath the door.

Blood.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

9.

Red coated Klein’s vision, like the blood seeping onto the porch.

His head snapped up as Old Neil’s raspy voice emerged from the house. 

“Dunn, what are you doing here?” It continued without waiting for a response: “I told you, I’m not feeling too well today. I will stay indoors and recover.” The old voice trembled with uncertainty.

Dunn’s deep grey eyes turned serious as he replied. “You sent me a message, yes. We came to visit to make sure you are alright.” His voice remained calm, steady.

A few seconds passed before Old Neil responded. “No! You’re lying!”

His voice cracked as he continued. “Yes, I know my condition isn’t quite right.”

Klein took a deep breath as he heard the panicked voice. How had it come to this?

“But I swear I’ll be better tomorrow! I never hurt anyone, Dunn. I would never betray the Nighthawks, all that we stand and live for!”

The puddle of blood spread and dripped on each of the steps leading up to the door. It coated the soles of Klein’s shoes.

“Please go back—I will be better tomorrow. I promise I will be better tomorrow!” His voice was pleading. Panicked.

Klein bowed his head and clenched his fists.

Unlike Klein, Captain Dunn remained calm, and continued on in a conversational tone. “What have you been trying to do, Old Neil? Can we help you with this?”

“What…I’m trying to do?” First confused, Old Neil’s voice quickly brightened, full of hope. “I have found the formula for Alchemical Life, Dunn! Last time…Last time I wasn't able to save her. But I found a way to resurrect Celeste. I know more about mysticism now. I can perform a ritual to summon her soul!”

“If I… If I bind her soul to mine and make her an alchemical body, she will live again. She won't be able to die until I do.”

“It’s the perfect solution!” His voice rang loudly in the deep silence that had befallen the Nighthawks outside.

Was this why Old Neil had taken the time to collect mysticism knowledge on soulmates? His research dated back years. 

“Old Neil…” Dunn began, closing his eyes for a second before continuing. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Please let us in, we will help you perform the ritual.”

Old Neil hesitated before continuing. “I really will be alright, you don’t need to help me. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll be alright again. I’ll be back at Blackthorn. Won’t you let me be today?”

“We want to make sure you will be alright, Old Neil, we are very worried about you. We will only stay for a few minutes.” Dunn’s voice was extremely gentle, pleading with Old Neil. 

“Perhaps you can let us know if there are still ingredients you’re missing. Or if we can help you prepare for the ritual.”

Klein breathed carefully, and wiped his eyes, clearing his vision.

A long silence fell. 

“Just a minute, then you’ll leave again?” Old Neil’s trembling voice seemingly echoed around them.

“Yes, I promise,” Dunn answered. 

After another few seconds, the door moved without visible help, soundlessly opening and allowing them access to the house.

Inside, the floor was coated in a viscous layer of blood, clumped with hair and skin. Tendrils of blood crept up the walls, covering the wallpaper.

Klein looked through the hallway and into the living room, before taking a careful step forwards. The liquid clung to his soles, his steps heavy and slow.

The smell of copper permeated the air and settled in the back of Klein’s throat. He swallowed thickly, and felt he had swallowed a mouthful of blood. 

The living room was worse. It was coated in the same liquid, covering the walls and the ceiling. The sofa was soaked through, the green fabric now dark and heavy. It coated the windows in a thin layer, making the light that shone through red and murky. 

The keys of the piano moved on their own, continuing their desolate melody.

Furthest from the door and close to the piano, Old Neil’s face was hanging from the ceiling. It was connected to the ceiling by a mutated mass of muscles and other organs, dripping foul liquids onto the floor.

The face itself had six eyes, all of them staring at the Nighthawks in the entryway. 

“Look Dunn, I’m alright. I will be alright by myself.” It smiled. “Klein, Royale, you can see it too, right?”

Dunn’s grey eyes shimmered, nearly invisible in the murky light.

“Old Neil, where did you get the rituals to call and bind Celeste’s soul to yours?”

Old Neil’s eyes shone with happiness. “I have been doing research! I have been collecting research for years, finding information on soulmates and their bonds.”

“I…I wanted to know. What it was like to have a bond like that with someone. You should know! She was my soulmate all but in name!” Old Neil’s face fell as he continued. “I wanted to know…what it was like for you—for Klein.”

Bile rose in Klein’s throat. Were he and Leonard—

“I wanted her to know—she was the only one for me. Nobody else would take her place by my side.” Bloody tears filled Old Neil’s eyes, and left red trails down his cheeks as they started to fall. 

“I’m sure she knew, Old Neil. Doing research is alright.” Captain Dunn took a breath, his voice still calm “Where did you get the ritual for Alchemical Life?”

Old Neil’s eyes brightened once again, previous sadness forgotten. “I have tried the first steps, and it works! He told me, Dunn. He kept describing it. He kept… He is…” 

After a long pause, Old Neil finally continued with a trembling voice. “He is the Hidden Sage…”

Klein’s eyes widened.

Old Neil's six eyes looked around the room, observing the blood. “Oh.” His voice was quiet now, small. “So it turns out—it turns out that I’ve already become a monster…”

“I’m sorry. Please let me leave. I will only perform the ritual. I won’t harm anyone. Klein—Klein you understand, right? If Leonard died… If Leonard died you’d do the same!” His eyes were pleading, begging him to reply.

The words tightened around his throat. Cold.

Leonard dead. 

His ears were filled with static.

He felt something illusory shatter around him. 

The three pairs of eyes on Old Neil’s face widened before turning red. “You’re pulling me into a dream? You’re attacking me, Dunn!”

The blood around them rose like a wave, ready to swallow the Nighthawks whole—

Silence.

The blood receded and flowed down. 

The captain had dropped the Peaceful Hair Strands onto the floor, where it touched the liquid. 

Old Neil looked peaceful and quiet, his previous uncertainty and anger and fear removed, his face blank as the Sealed Artifact affected him. 

Dunn, Klein, and Royale had all drawn their guns when the liquid had risen, and pointed at Old Neil’s face.

Klein’s hands trembled, his breath coming in short gasps. 

Seeing the guns, the face struggled in fear against the effects of the Sealed Hair Strands. 

“Dunn, do you remember the time I saved you…”

“Royale, do you remember when I helped you redeem your family’s lives…”

“Klein, do you remember how I taught you mysticism every day? How I told you about soulmates? How we...”

Bang! 

With shaking hands, Klein pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter splattered as the face was shot. The tissue mass connecting it to the ceiling slowly retracted and the face fell to the ground. The blood covering the room converged and merged with the tissue mass, leaving only some stains on the floor.

He stared at the stains.

It reminded him of his first night: the mix of blood and brain matter viscerally familiar.

He had been shocked, sure. But he had still been lighthearted. Hopeful.

It had been the first day he met Leonard.

The scene just now—it had felt like a nightmare. His lips trembled.

Old Neil had lost control. 

He had lost control after restraining his emotions for years, until he finally snapped. Had Leonard and Klein's bond… Had their soulmate bond tipped the fragile balance of Old Neil’s emotional state?

Distantly, he heard the captain give an order, “Search Old Neil’s house carefully for possible clues. I will call Cesare and get him to bring the other available Nighthawks.”

“Alright.” Klein’s voice was raspy and deep. 

He turned around mechanically, and went upstairs to the study.

It didn’t take long before he found the rituals Old Neil had been preparing. 

The rituals were stacked together with more documents; his research into soulmates. 

The ritual needed an obscene amount of blood—blood that Old Neil was planning to supply himself. The soulmate research, and rituals, were no better. They all seemed to require some form of sacrifice. Blood. Pain. 

There were rituals to find soulmates, to forcefully bind souls together, to remove or force new soulmarks upon someone. All rituals needed the blessings of an Angel-level Beyonder or a God, to stabilize the effects of the forced soulbond on fate. 

Small notes were added in the margins.

‘Test pair 1: George Meyer, Irene Meyer’

'Intense pain after souls were fused. Jonathan Meyer: suicide day 1. Irene Meyer: suicide day 1.’

Klein took a shaky breath. This was not Old Neil’s handwriting.

‘Test pair 2: Thomas Goodwill, Anna Aberdare’

‘Alteration: administered 3 drops of poison hemlock extract under the tongue to Thomas Goodwill, administered 2 drops of poison hemlock extract under the tongue to Anna Aberdare’

‘Manageable reaction to pain after souls were fused. Ravings started on day one and intensified by the hour. Anna Aberdare: suicide day 2. Thomas Goodwill: suicide day 3.’

Klein felt a shiver run up his spine at the descriptions.

Has Old Neil tried one of these rituals? 

It felt unlikely, but simply owning these documents would be enough to cast serious suspicion on him. 

The next page detailed a ritual to forcefully add soulmarks.

‘Test pair 1.’

‘Ritual successful. Blessings given by Hidden Sage.’

‘Intense pain to both subjects for a short duration. Both subjects lost control due to knowledge influx after 4 days.’

He read through the rest of the pages, finding more rituals and notes. 

“…” he looked up as he heard a noise, startled. The room was empty, gloomy despite the afternoon sun. The hallway beyond also seemed empty.

Then he turned over the pages, front side facing down, and called over Captain Dunn to look over the documents as well. 

He massaged his glabella as he explained: “I found a stack of papers outlining numerous rituals. The first ones seem to be the ones Old Neil was preparing.”

Dunn took the documents from his hands, and read through the first three pages. “Soulmate rituals…” Dunn murmured. “They wouldn’t have worked.”

“What do you mean?” Klein looked up.

“Celeste was not his soulmate, despite their deep affection for each other.” Dunn’s eyes were deep and serious as he said this. “And once she passed away, there were no methods to bind their souls.”

“Forced soulmate rituals aren’t safe. Even when they work, they take something.”

“He told me Celeste was his soulmate.” Klein swallowed. “...Weeks ago.”

“You could not have known this.” Dunn put his hand on Klein’s shoulder. “Hand me over the rest of the rituals, you do not have the clearance needed for them.”

Klein resisted the urge to inform the captain he had read all of the documents.

“Go find Leonard.”

As Klein turned around, Dunn called after him again. “Wait! Inform Leonard of the rituals. The rest of the upper floor contained no more clues.”

“Alright.” Klein made to turn around again, but hesitated in time and looked at the captain. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Go home to rest soon.”

Klein nodded, then descended the stairs in search of Leonard, who had only just arrived and had been tasked with checking the books in the living room to find more clues.

He approached Leonard, who turned around. “I found some documents upstairs, Captain is looking through them.” He sighed. “Some of the rituals were…bad.”

“Were they all Old Neil’s?”

“One of the documents was written by him, others weren’t. The resurrection ritual was his handwriting.” Klein’s voice went hoarse. “The soulmate rituals seemed to be written by multiple people. They…have been collected over a longer period of time.”

Leonard nodded seriously. 

Klein continued. “I remember Old Neil purchasing some of the ritual ingredients weeks ago, when he first took me to the underground market at Evil Dragon Bar. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” He rubbed his face with his right hand.

“Old Neil has always been eccentric, performing strange new rituals. You are still new to mysticism and wouldn’t have noticed. I would not have noticed.” 

As Klein looked at Leonard, a shadow flickered in the corner of the room.

Klein turned towards it. Nothing.

He looked at the corner for a second longer, taking in the old sofa and picture frames next to it. 

“Klein?” Leonard put his hand on his shoulder, startling him. “You’ve been staring at the corner for a while now.”

Klein blinked. “…I’m alright.”

Viscous murmurs dragged across his mind.

“You should go home and rest soon.”

When no response was forthcoming, Leonard gently grabbed his hand and pulled him towards him, so Klein was facing him.

Klein’s eyes drifted over his face, cataloguing it: the slightly red eyes, the small wrinkles caused by subconscious tension, the downturned corners of his mouth.

“Old Neil said—he mentioned our soulmate bond. I wonder if… If it caused him to lose control, seeing what he didn’t have.” He forced out the words. They tasted like bitter acid.

He looked down, clenching his teeth. He shouldn’t have said that.

“Klein,” Leonard began, slowly wrapping his arms around him. “This is out of your control.”

Leonard’s arms were warm around him, his hands firm, holding him in place. Keeping him together.

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

As Leonard’s thumbs soothingly stroked his back, he drew a shuddering breath.

With his face pressed against Leonard’s neck, Klein allowed himself to cry. 

-tbc-

Chapter Text

10.

Klein stood in front of the grave.

An hour prior, they had buried Old Neil here. Rozanne had wept, disbelieving and unwilling to accept that Old Neil had lost control.

The headstone was a thick slab of stone, forever keeping a silent vigil over Old Neil.

Leonard’s shoulder pressed against his, like it had for the past hour. Leonard was quiet, his head bowed and small tears in his eyes, silently praying to the Goddess.

Klein was thankful for his presence. The other Nighthawks had already left, but Klein’s feet had refused to cooperate so he had remained here, rooted to the spot. 

He had gone home early yesterday, taking Leonard’s and the captain’s advice to rest and take care of himself. He had spent a large part of the afternoon and evening cogitating, having recognized that the flickers he had seen and the whispers he had heard after Old Neil died were a worrying sign. 

Today, he was empty.

Perhaps this was best. His application for his advancement had been sent to the church and not even the captain knew when they would get a response. He wanted to advance quickly, to become stronger, and could not afford to let himself wallow in emotions. 

The picture attached to the headstone fluttered in the wind, Old Neil’s warm smile fixed in place as long as it didn’t rain. Then, the paper would disintegrate and only the headstone and wilting flowers would remain. 

Old Neil’s hidden grief had made him lose control, years after his loss. 

He had taught Klein how to cogitate, how to calm his emotions and apply his spirituality in a safe way. His emotions had killed him.

“We should go back to Blackthorn.” He barely recognized his voice. It was rough, quiet. “Mr. Gawain will wonder where I am.”

The combat training would be a welcome distraction. Hitting the dummy, focussing on his footwork, straining his muscles with strength training—it was better than sitting at Blackthorn Security Company, hoping for a case. 

“Not yet. Just…a minute.”

Klein didn’t argue, keeping his eyes on the grave instead. 

The graveyard was silent, only the warm breeze rustling the leaves could be heard. The sun shone through the sparse clouds, bathing the cemetery in the last heat of summer.

He swallowed as he stared at the gravestone. Even though his feet wouldn’t move, he didn’t want to stay any longer. 

“Let’s walk back.” Leonard interrupted his thoughts. He cleared his throat. 

Klein shifted his gaze and observed Leonard properly for the first time today. His face was pale, his eyes rimmed with red and his hair was messier than usual.

“Alright,” he agreed.

He tried to take a step. His body wouldn’t cooperate.

Leonard moved first, his fingers quietly catching on Klein’s, pulling him gently.

Klein shuffled to the side to keep his balance and his knees finally unlocked. He forced his stiff legs to move, the first steps feeling like he was walking through water. Heavy. Slow. 

He focused on taking one step at a time and followed half a step behind Leonard until they left the cemetery. He let go of Leonard’s hand once they left the graveyard, craving the warmth but still uncomfortable walking hand-in-hand with Leonard on the streets. 

They took a detour through the city, watching children dressed in rags play in the streets and listening to food vendors loudly praising their wares.

Klein took note of the foods that were being sold and turned towards Leonard. “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

Leonard avoided his gaze. “Yesterday.”

Leonard had kept himself together. For him?

When Klein nodded and walked towards a market stall, he hastily called: “Klein! I’m not hungry.”

“Alright. But I am.” Klein ignored the protests. “Go save me a spot on that bench over there,” and he pointed towards a small bench near the centre square. His tone accepted no refusal.

Leonard did as he was told. 

As Klein joined him on the bench, Leonard was staring at the people in the square and was murmuring something. 

Strange.

Klein sat close but not so close as to draw looks.

A small meat pie was pressed in Leonard’s hand. 

“Eat.”

When Leonard still was not making a move to take a bite, Klein narrowed his eyes and decided to use other tactics.

“If not for yourself, then eat for me.”

Reluctantly, Leonard took a bite and chewed slowly. Once it was finished, another pie was pressed in his hand. He ended up eating until his stomach no longer felt like a bottomless pit.

When he looked to the side he saw Klein observing the doves flying around the square, pecking at crumbs and fallen wares.

“Thank you.”

Klein’s lips quircked up into a small smile. “You keep telling me to take care of myself. You should do the same.”

They watched the people crossing the square, buying food at the market stalls. Sometimes two or three people grouped together and chatted for a few minutes, before breaking apart again. Some men were gambling on the opposite side of the square, only occasionally visible whenever the crowds thinned. Their excited shouts broke through the quiet chatter that surrounded the market. 

“I knew Old Neil long before I became a Nighthawk.” Leonard’s voice was soft, hesitant.

“I grew up as an orphan and was raised by the church. We received daily tutoring in reading and writing, as well as history and learning the religious scripts of the Goddess. Old Neil sometimes volunteered and taught me and the other children a bit about each subject.”

His eyes followed a small boy, running after a ball and yelling at his friends. 

“I enjoyed his lessons the most. The nuns and priests were kind enough to me, probably treated me better than the other children, but Old Neil always made the lessons much more interesting. He was good with kids.”

The little boy tripped over a loose crate next to a stall selling fruits, his friends crowded around him as he started to cry, the ball forgotten.

“He has always been a kind man at heart.”

“He was. And he was a good teacher,” Klein agreed. “I enjoyed debating mysticism with him: he always asked difficult questions which forced me to think one step further.” He huffed. “He made me read the documents he couldn’t be bothered to read.”

“I can’t blame him. I don’t want to read those historical documents either.”

“Some of them are interesting.”

He mulled over Leonard’s words. Leonard had known Old Neil for far longer than he had.

Klein opened his mouth and after a moment’s hesitation, he admitted: “Old Neil was one of the reasons why I got more comfortable with our soulmate bond.”

“I thought it was damaged. That something was wrong because—”

Leonard kept quiet, looking at him from the side.

“He helped me see that it was mine,” Klein finished slowly.

Klein couldn’t explain further. Could not tell Leonard about his transmigration or else he might believe Klein had gone mad.

Leonard dragged his hand through his hair and sighed dramatically. “How tragic. A capable poet would be able to compose a masterpiece with this story. I never imagined I would get this kind of inspiration from Old Neil.”

”Love, not by fate but by choice and none the less for it.” He chuckled wryly. “Unfortunately, I do not know how to compose the poem.”

Klein shot him an amused glance. “Perhaps you should read even more poetry books. Maybe you’ll become a capable poet one day.”

“Ah at least my fated partner believes I can hone my skills.”

“At the very least your poetry won’t get any worse.”

“You wound me.” 

Leonard sighed, more heartfelt this time and turned serious. “We should go back. The captain will wonder where we are. My shift to guard the asylum will start soon.”

Klein nodded quietly, and led the way.

This time, his feet didn’t hesitate.

—

At night he had found a new word, carefully wrapped around his left upper arm.

‘Thoughtful.’

He smoothed over the familiar handwriting with his right hand and watched the mark settle.

—

Klein was staring at the newspaper on his lap.

It was a day after Old Neil’s funeral and the silence in the recreation room was palpable. He and some of the other Nighthawks had been sitting in the recreation room. Nobody had spoken for the past hour. 

Captain Dunn broke the silence, calling on Klein. The news he brought surprised Klein more than it should have.

A high-ranking deacon had personally come to test if he could advance.

He hesitated for a second. He had fully digested his potion, yes, but just two days ago he had heard whispers. Seen a shadow flicker in the corner of Old Neil’s living room. Leonard’s worried gaze had told him that there had been nothing there.

Was his mental state alright?

He could only trust the deacon would test him properly.

After introducing himself to the deacon, Crestet Cesimir, he sat down opposite the man, and was almost immediately subjected to the first test. He heard and saw nothing he shouldn’t have, and the deacon nodded approvingly. 

Afterwards, he was given time to prepare himself for a more in-depth test into his mental state.

Klein steeled his nerves, ignoring the sliver of anxiety that had wormed into his heart. He cogitated and focussed on removing his negative thoughts.

This test, too, he passed. The deacon had sung, an awful, discordant tune that set his teeth on edge and made him want to claw at his skin. But he had managed to suppress the urge, long used to these mad ravings each time he went up to the space above the grey fog.

“Your digestion of the potion seems to be complete.”

Klein nodded, and waited.

Cesimir continued, “Last question. Are you mentally stable enough to advance? Have you seen or heard anything that you shouldn’t have recently?”

Klein hesitated. If he was honest, he might not get to advance. It might take months before he could get another opportunity like this, but—

He sighed. “I did, two days ago.”

He couldn’t afford taking risks. Old Neil losing control had left a deep impression on him, further cementing the risks of losing control. 

Crestet nodded calmly. “Your captain informed me of what happened.”

“Your mental health or strong emotions can lead to loss of control. It’s important to control your emotions: it’s impossible to get rid of them, but you should withstand strong emotions. Keep them at bay.”

He considered for a moment. “Before I give you my answer, I will need to speak with your team members.”

Klein let out a sigh and bade the deacon farewell. 

After informing Captain Dunn, he waited in the hallway. 

Old Neil had never advanced past his Sequence 9 Mystery Pryer. And now he never would.

If someone had taught him the acting method, he might not have lost control. Then again, his grief over losing his partner remained strong over the years. It might not have mattered.

Footsteps approached him. Leonard entered the hallway, eyes still tired and his white shirt filled with crinkles. Had he slept in this shirt?

Leonard gave him a tired smile. “I heard the test went well. It seems like you’ll be able to advance.”

“He seemed to be leaning that way.” Klein frowned as he took in Leonard’s appearance. It was worse than yesterday. 

“Good luck, Klein.” He put his hand on Klein’s shoulder, warm and steady.

“I need to continue my shift at the asylum. Let me know if you need me later.”

Klein gave him a small smile in return. “I will find you after your shift ends.” 

‘To make sure you take care of yourself,’ he didn’t say. 

His eyes followed Leonard when he left. 

—

Reverend Cesimir had brought the ingredients for the Clown potion with him, so all Klein had to do was combine them.

The potion was bubbling, fizzing like a soft drink, with clearly defined spots of pastel yellow, red, and white. Ridiculous laughter and shrill wailing rang through the air.  

After confirming its safety, Klein drank the potion without further thought. 

The potion was bitter and fizzled on his tongue before Klein felt the potion fuse with all his cells. His movements felt mechanical and it was like his soul was being stretched out through a thin needle, nearly snapping.

He could see his face from an outside perspective: each muscle under his control, each twitch in his face clear as day as the potion raced through his body.

Meanwhile, familiar whispers filled his ears. Hornacis… Flegrea... Hornacis... Flegrea... 

It reminded him of the incomprehensible murmurs he had heard in Old Neil’s living room. He grit his teeth.

It was difficult to think.

Hornacis... Flegrea… 

He saw the tremor in his hands.

Leonard.

His mind sharpened.

Hornacis…

Leonard.

It gave him a brief respite which allowed him to start cogitating. He restrained his leaking spirituality, squeezing his eyes and ignoring the whispers which were now rapidly quietening.

Until they had finally been brought to a minimum. 

He opened his eyes. 

His hands shook and he let them drop to the table, exhaustion dragging at his limbs. 

Reverend Cesimir was observing him calmly. “Congratulations, it seems you advanced well. Try and test your new abilities.”

The faint tremor in his hands persisted, but he did as asked. 

His punches had gained a significant increase in strength. His body was faster, more flexible. He felt he could control every muscle and keep his balance even better than a tightrope walker.

After confirming he was alright, Reverend Cesimir bade him farewell, and left him in the alchemy room.

He considered his new abilities. 

He was stronger now, better suited for combat.

The strange coincidences that kept happening—Klein would now be better able to protect himself. He now had increased strength and speed. Combined with the sun flare charms he should be able to protect himself from a higher-level Beyonder for at least a while.

And no less important, these new abilities would also help him protect Leonard. Benson and Melissa. The Nighthawks. He could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Leonard without being afraid of dragging him down by being a walking target.

He couldn’t guarantee everyone’s safety. But he wouldn’t be a liability. 

-tbc-

Chapter Text

11.

Klein blinked and found himself in his living room at 2 Daffodil Street, which was cast in the warm glow of afternoon light. Before him was the wide coffee table, filled with various foods—lemon tarts, lavender biscuits, finger sandwiches, sweet pudding, and soft small cakes—as well as two steaming cups of coffee.

Leonard sat by his side on the sofa, happily eating the desserts with a relaxed expression. Their thighs were touching, Leonard’s warmth seeping into his skin.

Was it…?

Yes.

Captain Dunn walked into the recreation room before he froze, eyes locked on the scene. 

Ever since Klein had started dropping hints about the acting method, the Captain had been haunting his dreams. Klein usually found himself at home, his previous dream instantly altered while captain Dunn mercilessly finished all the food on the table in front of Klein before he could take another bite. 

This time though, Klein wasn’t alone.

Klein looked up at the Captain with a faint smile, greeting him and pretending to still be dreaming. He ignored the embarrassment swirling in his gut as his captain saw an intimate scene like this. It was too late to stop him from seeing this.

Faint color rose to the Captain’s cheeks and he coughed politely. He then turned around and left, his black trench coat flaring around his legs. 

Is the captain ashamed to enter the dream now that a dream version of Leonard is also present? Klein quickly came up with a hypothesis.

He sighed, shoulders loosening. Perhaps this meant the captain would finally start avoiding his dreams, and he could have a proper night’s rest once again.

He took another bite of his cake, enjoying the crumbly texture and sweet flavor. At least the food here was free!

He looked to the side at the dream Leonard. He was smiling but his eyes were vacant, so unlike their usual bright green.

Klein’s smile slowly dropped. 

Leonard stared straight through him, oblivious of what Klein was thinking.

He looked back at his plate and felt a shiver crawl down his spine, his appetite now gone.

Uncanny.

It seemed like the captain had succeeded after all.

—

The morning had passed quietly. Klein reported to captain Dunn, and the captain allowed him to collect Amantha extract, the Eye of the Spirit medicine, and the Serenity Agent in preparation for channelling Hood Eugen’s spirit. The sealing power of Chanis Gate had made him shiver and the chill settled in his bones.

Two steaming cups filled the air with the refreshing and fragrant smell of Fermo coffee. Earlier, he had found Old Neil’s tin of coffee powder. After a moment of hesitation he had used it to make a cup for himself and Leonard. He had deeply inhaled the familiar smell and ignored the resulting twinge of emotion that sparked.

He carried the cups over to the recreation room where he had seen Leonard read, and paused in the doorway. Like the rest of the week, Leonard’s appearance was messier than usual: his shirt still wrinkled, hair exceptionally messy and baggy eyes. 

Klein observed him for a while before he sighed and approached, standing in front of Leonard who was seated on the sofa. “What are you working on?”

“Writing poetry.” Leonard looked up with a slight self-deprecating smile before continuing: “I had hoped recent inspiration and your kind faith in my ability to improve would help, but alas it seems my skills are still an issue, not my motivation.”

Klein snorted in response. “Would you care to show me what you have written so far?”

Leonard held his gaze before he smiled softly.

“Not before it's finished.”

“And what if I give you a poem first?” 

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “You’d write me a poem?”

His eyes gleamed. “Flowers or cakes would also suffice if you’d rather not make a fool of yourself.” He took hold of Klein’s hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles, his lips lingering a second before he pulled away. “But I would love it if you wrote me a love poem.”

His eyes were serious, deep green staring into Klein’s eyes.

A love poem. 

Klein’s heartbeat quickened and he looked away. “How improper.” His light scolding sounded unconvincing even to himself.

He was apprehensive at the thought of writing poetry like that, but he heard himself reply anyway. “I’ll make a serious attempt. But it’ll take some time.” 

Well. Perhaps it would give Leonard a good laugh. 

After fetching a notebook and a fountain pen he sat down on the sofa next to Leonard and made himself comfortable, ready to start brainstorming. 

Something about soulmates?

It might be tacky.

Something about love? 

No. Too quick. Way too quick.

…Leonard’s looks? 

Perhaps—

“Klein.”

Klein looked up, startled.

“Do you know why the captain has been giving me strange looks today?”

Mortification curled in Klein’s stomach as he remembered the captain had entered his dream last night. He didn’t want to have to explain this.

The room filled with the loud ticking of the clock.

“I thought you might know something. You shouldn’t even try to deny it, I can see you thinking.”

Come up with a response more quickly! Klein scolded himself. 

He forced himself to start his explanation. “...The captain has been entering my dreams lately, to digest his potion.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

There really was no other solution than to rip the bandaid off… Klein gathered whatever confidence he could muster and looked Leonard in the eyes. “You were in my dream last night.”

Leonard’s eyes widened fractionally before they shone with mirth and his mouth curled up in a lazy smile. The sofa cushions sank as he shifted his weight, leaning in until their faces were a hand width apart. 

“You were dreaming of me?” He murmured.

Klein could feel his warm breath on his lips, the way their proximity made his skin tingle. His own breathing quickened in response.

Would he...? 

Leonard lingered for just a second before pulling back and giving Klein a smug smile. 

His posture was calm and confident as he leaned back onto the sofa, taking in Klein’s responses—the way Klein’s pupils had dilated as he had leaned in, the way his lips had parted in anticipation. He wouldn’t push, certainly not in the recreation room where anyone could see them, but he could nudge and tease and observe the results. 

It took a second before Klein regained his composure. He huffed out an amused “yes.”

“If you dream of me some more, the captain might leave your dreams alone.”

“If I dream of you some more, the captain might start giving me looks as well,” Klein quipped in response. “I’d prefer to keep my relationship with him professional.”

The resulting laugh echoed through the room. 

“You’re always so proper.”

Klein didn’t deign to respond to Leonard’s teasing and refocused his attention on the notebook, and his poem. 

Leonard let his head drop to the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out.

Klein was smiling softly all the while.

It seemed like things were getting better.

Klein spent another few hours there, occasionally grabbing a new book or scribbling a new line of poetry. The poem was awful and he crumpled it before Leonard could see.

He went home early since he was expected at the asylum early the next morning. He spent an hour scouring the market at Iron Cross Street and found the two less common ingredients he was looking for: Feynapotter noodles and a hearty fish sauce that would have to replace soy sauce.

Klein let the maid Bella know that she didn’t have more work for the night. He wanted to cook by himself. Not the usual stew or soup, but food from his homeland.

The afternoon sun barely reached the kitchen which was hidden further away from the large oriel windows. Melissa had just returned home and was studying in the living room.

Klein prepared the ingredients carefully, slicing the vegetables and mixing fish sauce with molasses, vinegar, and water. It tasted alright. Not quite soy sauce, but it would do.

After Benson arrived home, Klein turned the gas stove onto its highest position and let a large frying pan heat up with a generous portion of oil. He rolled up his sleeves, mindful of the heat.

Melissa came to watch his cooking, looking curiously at the new meal. 

Klein chuckled at her interest. “Welsch’s chef made this occasionally. It has been a while since I tried making it.” The lie came easily.

She sniffed the rich scent of meat, mixed with sauce and her mouth filled with saliva. 

“It smells very good.” She continued observing Klein as he added the noodles to the pan, tossing them to coat them with sauce.

Her eyes fixed on his lower arm.

“Klein.”

“Hmm?” He continued his movements.

“Is that a soulmark?”

Only his new Clown abilities prevented him from dropping the pan and its precious content onto the floor.

He forgot. He actually forgot about the marks.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His voice came out strained. “...Yes.”

“Is it Elizabeth? Is that why you’ve been looking at her?”

Klein looked at her, incredulous. Why was she still thinking that?

“No, it’s not.”

Melissa raised her eyebrow. “Who is it then?”

Her gaze was strict as she forced him to explain. 

Klein turned to the pan, unwilling to continue looking in her eyes as he explained himself. “It’s a colleague from work.”

Her mouth dropped open in a small ‘o’.

“We met two months ago, a few days before I started working there.”

Footsteps interrupted them as Benson came down the stairs after having washed and wearing fresh clothes.

Klein gratefully took the opportunity to end the conversation and carried the large pan of noodles to the table. 

He served them all generous portions and skillfully ignored Melissa’s gaze.

After he took his first bite he internally sighed in pleasure. The flavor wasn’t quite what he was aiming for, lacking the depth of real soy sauce and the fish flavor slightly more present than he would prefer, but it was still good. 

He had just taken another mouthful of noodles when Melissa broke the silence.

“Benson, Klein found his soulmate.”

Klein nearly choked on his noodles. 

He looked up helplessly at Benson and quietly begged him for help.

Benson lifted an eyebrow, mimicking Melissa’s response earlier.

Klein took a deep breath, realizing they wouldn’t let him off this time. 

Well. Honesty is the best policy. 

“We are still figuring out where we stand. I felt uncomfortable with having my partner decided by fate without my input” He looked at Benson and Melissa. “But recently I have been more comfortable with the idea.”

Melissa gave him an approving nod. “So when will you introduce her to us?”

Klein, who was about to take another bite, paused for a second before continuing the movement. 

“I’m not sure yet.”

Benson took it upon himself to help him, if only marginally. “Klein, you do realize that regardless of your relationship, she will be a part of our family? Yes, this is only natural.”

“I agree,” Melissa nodded. “Think about her feelings, too! You might hurt her if you keep her hidden like a secret.”

Would Leonard be hurt? He had seemed understanding of Klein’s apprehensions.

Klein hesitated and looked down at his plate. He wouldn’t be able to keep Leonard hidden. Even if he could keep it hidden during this conversion, Melissa and Benson would keep asking him and he would eventually cave. Or they would see him and Leonard roaming the city while working on a case.

Leonard wasn’t someone to hide as though Klein were ashamed of him.

“I never talked about it with him.”

Both Melissa and Benson were quiet for a long moment. Tension nearly crept in his shoulders so he consciously used his improved muscle control to stop it from showing. 

“Is this why you haven’t mentioned your soulmate yet?”

Klein slowly lifted his gaze to meet Melissa’s. “Yes.”

Melissa’s expression was unreadable as she mulled over her words. “Do you trust us?”

Klein paused, thinking over her question, before he answered slowly. “Yes.”

She nodded, as though the matter were settled.

“Then you should invite him soon.”

Benson exhaled slowly, before giving Klein a small smile.

“You should listen to Melissa’s advice. And you should take his feelings into account, too.”

Klein lowered his head.

Perhaps he had hurt Leonard more than the man had shown. He had been supportive while Klein figured out his feelings but—there had been that flash of hurt when Klein had said he wasn’t sure if he wanted a relationship just yet. It had been covered up quickly before he told Klein to take his time. 

Klein realized he should take a step forward, and start approaching Leonard with the same trust that Leonard had shown to him. 

“I’ll ask him.”

His smile was small but certain.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

12.

The very first time he met Klein, Leonard had been far from impressed. Klein was a polite young man, restrained yet nervous and poor like the rest of the people living on Iron Cross Street’s Lower Street.

That night, though, Leonard found his first soulmarks. 

Alone in a dark office at Blackthorn Security Company, he had laid out all the case documents, spreading the sheets of paper out on the floor and trying to come up with a reason why one person was still alive. Why their suicide had failed. 

A small nudge at his arm made him look up. It felt as if a finger pressed against his skin, infusing warmth with its touch. 

“A soulmark,” the old man had whispered.

The hasty way Leonard had taken off his shirt was almost impressive in its gracelessness.

‘Romantic,’ was written on his inner left arm. The script was neat and tidy, each letter carefully placed without needless embellishments. Practiced. Practical. 

The handwriting looked familiar. 

He had seen this script before, hadn’t he? Earlier that day, he had read through the diary of the one remaining victim of the Antigonous notebook. The only suspect at the moment.

Klein Moretti.

He was his soulmate?

That polite young man whose voice had trembled as he asked for Captain Dunn and Leonard’s protection?

He saw another dark mark form as he was looking at his arm. On his left inner wrist, right over his pulse, a dark mark developed, slowly turning into the word ‘Poet.’

Both soulmarks tingled with a strange warmth and a small smile formed on his lips. 

His soulmate. 

He finally found his soulmate. He couldn’t care less that his soulmate was a nervous young man, for if fate saw it fit for them to be together forever then Klein must be perfect for him. There must be hidden depths to this man. 

And then the words. 

‘Romantic’ and ‘Poet’. 

Was this how Klein saw his demeanor and looks? Leonard had been relaxed that afternoon: he and the captain were dealing with a civilian after all. Leonard hadn’t even worn his preferred cotton dress shirts. No, he had to wear his checkered uniform since they were working together with normal police inspectors. Despite that, he had still given off the air of a poet apparently.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, amused. 

At least it seemed he was properly acting as a Midnight Poet.

These words were good. It seemed like he hadn’t made a poor first impression.

He had slept poorly that night. Even though he needed little sleep as a Sleepless, an hour of sleep between restless yet hopeful rumination was not enough. 

He would wait and see for a little bit. Just to see if Klein made a move. Wait until the case was finished and there were no more new leads, and he could be sure about Klein’s safety.

The next afternoon Klein had walked into Blackthorn Security Company. His clothes were more formal than the light shirt and trousers he had worn yesterday, but the suit was made of a cheap fabric, well-taken care of but old and starting to fray at the edges.

His face was average and was framed by short black hair. Ordinary. But his eyes were a deep brown and they looked around systematically, taking in the new environment and cataloguing the rooms and their contents. He had a scholarly air to him: Leonard could easily imagine him doing research and taking meticulous notes in his small, neat handwriting. 

Klein had blinked at him, confusion written on his face.

Did Klein not know?

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about Klein. The old man had sighed and gruffly called him a ‘romantic idiot’ when Leonard had touched the ‘Poet’ soulmark on his wrist for the tenth time in half an hour.

The afternoon had passed in the blink of an eye, filled with absent-minded daydreams, until—

“Good afternoon,” sounded from behind him. 

Klein.

They formally introduced themselves and Leonard learned Klein would become his colleague. Leonard felt lighter at the thought. They would see each other often. 

Unfortunately, Klein had seemed a little uncomfortable when Leonard expressed his happiness regarding this. Klein’s smile had become polite and distant after Leonard called him ‘special.’ Leonard’s further prodding in that conversation only made the tension between them grow.

This would be interesting.

The week after it became clear that Klein was unaware of who his soulmate was. It was unsurprising considering his failed suicide and then his subsequent employment at Blackthorn Security Company. He would have other things to worry about for now. 

It hurt a little that Klein seemed uninterested in the soulmate bond. Anxiety wormed its way in. 

Klein’s behaviour was confusing. Was he not a little interested at least? 

Action over thoughts, Leonard had decided, and he gleefully took on the task of testing Klein, of judging Klein’s reactions to his unsubtle hints. 

With every interaction, he made sure to flirt more heavily than the last, not even attempting to conceal his interest in Klein and only stopping when others arrived. Every time he had an excuse, he dragged Klein into short hugs, savoring every touch. The occasional cracks in Klein’s composure were fuel to Leonard’s actions, Klein’s small smiles providing him with more confidence as he continued flirting.

It sent a thrill of excitement down Leonard’s spine.

But he quickly learned that Klein’s composure wasn’t only a facade. There was more to it: Leonard’s new soulmarks spoke of the harsh truth of Klein’s feelings. ‘Complication,’ ‘Distraction,’ and ‘Idiot’, all written in small, neat handwriting, pressed themselves on his skin like ink on paper. The words ruthlessly revealed Klein’s true feelings.

It stung.

So he decided he had to change his tactics. Be more patient. Because the smiles Klein gave in response to Leonard’s teasing and the light blush that appeared whenever he became flustered were real. But so were the occasional frowns whenever Leonard pushed too much. Once, he even leaned away from Leonard when he got too close, his shoulders tight and his tension visible around his eyes. 

Klein’s restraint had broken a little when Rozanne had handed out fresh biscuits, his hand reaching for a biscuit slightly too fast for casual indifference. So Leonard decided to copy her behaviour and bring some sweets to Klein. 

He had approached Klein with fruit tarts and tea when Klein was studying. His plan worked: after a moment’s hesitation, Klein gave in and accepted Leonard’s offer. 

As he entered, Leonard's eyes scanned the notes on the table; Klein’s handwriting, neat and tidy, was as familiar as the back of his hand by now. Seeing the familiar handwriting again made something loosen in his chest as he was once again assured that things would work out. They were soulmates, after all. 

During their conversation, Klein had seemed interested in him and his stories, his bright eyes following Leonard's dramatic hand gestures. Every one of Klein’s smiles at his embarrassing story were well worth the effort. 

Leonard stuck to his plan. Wait. Be patient. He didn’t even have to wait long before Klein approached him, a box of desserts in hand and failing, despite his best attempts, to look casual.

It was adorable.

But Klein was still unsure of his feelings and what he wanted and despite his attempts to reach out, he had rejected Leonard. 

It hurt.

Leonard couldn’t blame Klein for being unsure. He himself was sure of his attractions towards both men and women, but he could easily imagine it would be difficult if a soulmate bond was forced upon you and you weren’t sure of where you stood. He could never blame Klein for this.

So he had kept the hurt inside, and waited. Continued his teasing and flirting, each smile a small victory and each shared touch warm and bright. 

And before long, Klein seemed to have come to a conclusion, faster than Leonard had anticipated. He had been pulled into a kiss. Clumsy. He had felt Klein’s hands tremble. But it was perfect.

His chest filled with warmth and hope that perhaps this would work out.

Klein was brilliant.

Klein was smart.

Klein was everything he had hoped for from a soulmate. Though stubborn and distant at first, his small smile and glances betrayed his true feelings. The new soulmarks showed his growing fondness. He pretended not to care, but Leonard could read him like a book without effort. 

Klein cared.

And once Leonard’s anxiety over Klein’s decision had faded, things had been good. Not perfect, for too many things were happening and too many close friends had died, but they had found support and comfort in each other’s presence. They took things slow and quietly took care of each other, understanding what the other needed without it being said. 

Fate had seemed kind.

So why—

Why did things end up the way they did?

Leonard had joked about being the protagonist of the story. If he was the protagonist then surely Klein was a protagonist as well. They were bound by fate, by soul. 

But Leonard hadn’t realized that being a protagonist meant being beholden to fate and each twist and turn it willed.

He hadn’t realized the cruelty of fate and the people he would have to leave behind. 

Megose entering Blackthorn Security Company had ruined it all.

The conversation with Megose had filled him with an all-consuming fear after he realized she was carrying an evil God’s spawn. His palms were slick with cold sweat as he forced polite conversation. But he had to stall her to keep Klein safe. He had to buy time for Klein and the captain to send out warnings to other Beyonders and to prepare and arm themselves.

It hadn’t been enough. She grew more agitated by the minute and his careful attempts to calm her down had no effect. 

When she attacked, he hadn’t been able to do enough either. 

But Klein—

His judgement was frighteningly sharp. He had impeccable timing, and evaluated the situation in a second.

He threw his sun charm without hesitation, dealing great damage to Megose and the unborn spawn.

When had he made the charm?

Leonard could only watch in awe as his soulmate, the brilliant Seer and crafty Clown, continued his attacks against Megose.

Until Leonard himself was knocked unconscious and the fight had continued without him.

When he woke, the world was still. His head hurt, his limbs felt heavy and he was freezing. The cold made his teeth chatter.

With difficulty, he opened his eyes and saw the destroyed ceiling, clouds of dust still partially obscuring his vision.

Trembling, he pushed himself into a seated position.

And paused there. 

Klein’s body lay on the ground in front of him.

Klein’s chest was an empty, bloody mess with only a hole left where his heart used to be. The blood stained his white shirt like blood would stain fresh snow, the contrast stark and shocking. 

“Klein…” His voice came out raspy, barely a whisper.

Leonard felt his throat constrict. The hole in Klein’s chest burned into his retina and another wave of cold shivers washed over his body as he looked at the scene in horror. He gagged at the sight, clutching his chest as he nearly collapsed on the ground again. 

It felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest too, the freezing pain both physical and emotional.

He crawled towards Klein, his stiff fingers curling into the rough debris on the ground and dragging sharp rocks and splinters into his skin. 

He didn’t feel it.

“Klein.” His voice, stronger now, echoed in the empty room.

No response. 

He choked back a sob.

With bloody hands, he grabbed Klein’s hand. It was motionless, still cooling down as the last evidence of Klein’s life faded.

His own hand, skin white from blood loss, trembled. A black smudge covered his thumb, illegible through the tears in his eyes. 

Klein was dead.

A faint murmur sounded in his ears. “Pull yourself together, boy.”

Wisps of black appeared on his skin, the dark color unfolding into curls and short strokes of paint and harsh ink marks made in hurried horror.

“You will lose control if this continues.”

Ah, Leonard thought.

So that’s why. 

His veins bulged underneath his skin and filled with darkness, the black lines similar to poisonous snakes burrowing themselves through his body which filled his eyes with complicated and confusing movements. 

He couldn’t bring up the effort to care.

How could he? His soulmate was dead, his body right in front of him. He would live on by himself and Klein would not be there and they could not share tea and cakes and their lives and the relationship they had been building would never get to fully develop and he would be alone and—

His thoughts went blank.

“Pull yourself together, boy. Or we’ll both die.” The old man’s voice, now quiet and tired, faded away.

Leonard was left on the ground. 

“Klein.” His voice was broken and small.

The ground was rough against his hands, debris pushing into the skin of his knees and shins, tearing at his clothes. The dust in the air shrouded the room like thick fog and covered each surface with a thin powder.

He bent over Klein’s body and rested their foreheads together. His ragged breathing tore at his throat, and he cried with loud, ugly sobs. His hands clutched at the fabric of Klein’s shirt, coating them with more blood.

He stayed bowed like this, tears leaving dirty tracks over his dusty face and chest heaving for breath, until he was roughly pulled away from Klein. 

No. 

No. He had to stay close.

He struggled to break free. Clawed at the hands holding him. Punched the bodies getting in the way. Bit the arms that tried to hold him down.

His blood pounded in his ears.

Klein.

He tried.

He fought to reach Klein again. Shapes filled his vision. 

Why wouldn’t they let him?

Buzzing filled his ears. Loud. Grating.

Why were—

He barely felt the hit that made his world spin.

Klein’s pale face was the last thing he saw.  

-tbc-

Chapter Text

13.

The floor was hard and unyielding underneath his back, pressing into his shoulder blades and the back of his head, bringing a continuous sense of discomfort. 

Above him, the ceiling was rough and damaged: a hole let through bright light into the room. Parts of the ceiling seemed unstable, as if a light gust of wind would make more roof tiles fall down and shatter on the floor with a loud crash. 

Light murmurs filled the space, soft and impossible to understand. Combined with occasional measured footsteps, it made for a quiet and familiar atmosphere. Just another day of work.

He blinked slowly. His eyes were trained on a roof tile near the hole in the ceiling. It was red, and half of it had been broken off, leaving the remaining piece with sharp edges cast in deep shadows. The surface where it had broken was rough and uneven.

A thin veil of dust clouded his vision and made his eyes water. He blinked again.

The tile would fall any second now. 

The light dimmed as a cloud passed in front of the sun, turning the colors of the tile into greytones right until the cloud moved away and bright light once again cast it in deep shadows and bright red. A ray of light caught on the ragged edge of the tile and the glazing shimmered for a second, leaving white spots in his vision. 

He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his sight. 

The movement sent a sharp sting of pain down his neck, making his breath catch and his face contort in pain. 

The soft murmurs around him dimmed for a second, before gaining in volume. 

He flinched as a gentle hand touched his shoulder, body moving before he even registered the touch. 

“Leonard?”

The voice seemed familiar.

His eyes flickered towards the source of the sound before drifting back to the ceiling. “Hmm.” 

Someone lifted his upper body until he was in a seated position, forcing him to look around. His entire body ached with a deep, throbbing pain and a violent shiver racked his frame as he was moved. His hands were cold, and their stiffness made it difficult to support himself. The fingers pressed into the ground, a steadying pressure on his fingertips.

The room was almost entirely destroyed. Like the ceiling, parts of the wall had crumbled due to force, letting in more light and a small breeze, which stirred up the dust mixed in the debris on the ground. Some figures were standing near the entry, conversing quietly and pretending not to pay attention to him. 

“Leonard, how do you feel?” The voice was soft but firm. 

His eyes drifted over and took in her long white hair. Her eyes were serene and steady.

So that’s why the voice sounded so familiar.  

He opened his mouth to reply, and after a second finally remembered the muscles he needed. “I’m fine.” He almost didn’t recognize his voice. It was trembling and hoarse.

The look he got in response was filled with disbelief. “At the very least your wounds still need healing.”

A deep breath. He didn’t know how to respond, so he stayed quiet. His fingers pushed harder into the ground, becoming white from pressure. 

“The Machinery Hivemind brought a member who is familiar with healing rituals. Frye has been retrieved from Kenley’s place to…,” her voice became quiet, then she continued. “I’ll stay with you for the time being.”

“Okay.”

She gestured at the men standing near the entry, and a tall and lanky man in his sixties approached. “This is Mr. Biggs, a Melee Scholar from the Machinery Hivemind. He will heal you.”

Mr. Biggs’ eyes were a deep brown, and they carefully studied the man in front of him who looked away. 

The atmosphere was heavy as the ritual was performed, a quiet tension between the three people that became distinctly uncomfortable the longer it lasted. After he was finished, Mr. Biggs bade them farewell and joined his partner near the door, occasionally glancing back. 

He stayed seated on the floor in silence, not minding the hardness of the ground beneath him. His fingers twitched and he finally moved them, holding them close to his chest and massaging them to get the blood flowing again. He was still shivering from the cold. 

He looked around the room, trying to find something to keep him warm. His eyes fell on a blanket that was draped over the damaged sofa. The contents of the sofa were spilling out, large chunks of fluffy white stuffing. His legs were weak, but he managed to get up and stand on unsteady feet, before walking to the sofa and grabbing the blanket, covering himself. He sat down on the undamaged side, and rubbed his face with his hands. 

For a long while, nobody spoke to him. Blessed silence. 

It was interrupted by a familiar person emerging from the hallway. 

Frye, a distant part of him supplied. 

Frye’s face was as cold as usual as he approached the woman and stated calmly. “The bodies have been prepared. Klein and Dunn are in the morgue downstairs.”

Klein?

“I will inform Klein’s family,” Leonard heard himself say. 

Two sets of eyes turned to him in disbelief. 

“He’s my soulmate. I will never forgive myself if I can’t even do this.”

This was the first time he or Klein actually said this out loud to the Nighthawks, but judging by their expressions, it hardly came as news. Seeka opened her mouth to reply but he interrupted her before she had the chance.

“I won’t lose control,” he insisted. “That’s why you’ve been staying with me, isn’t it? My emotions are stable now.”

She calmly observed his demeanor. Leonard’s eyes had become more focused after being healed and no longer stared straight through her. Although his pain was still visible in his eyes and face, his tone was measured and even. “I will accompany you, then.”

A nod.

While she arranged a carriage, Leonard walked deeper into the building, keeping his eyes trained on the floor until he reached the break room and found the clean set of spare clothes he kept there. He went to the bathroom to tidy himself up.

He looked in the mirror. His face was abnormally pale, and his skin was covered in light grey dust and small specks of blood. Dust clung to his long hair, the strands messy and disheveled. It all faded in comparison to his eyes. They were vacant and flat, the dark green dulled by the events of the day. Wrong.

With slow movements, he splashed his face with water, and he rubbed at the dirt with a wet cloth. It took a few attempts to clean his face. With difficulty, he washed the dust from his hair. There was no way of drying it so after wringing out as much water as possible, he let the hair fall loose on his shoulders where it occasionally dripped fat droplets of water onto his shirt. 

Leonard quickly dressed in the new clothes, leaving the old ones on a pile on the floor, forgotten. 

He found Seeka in the entrance hall and they quietly boarded the carriage. The ride passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of a set of double brown doors. 

Leonard reached for the knocker. And paused. For the first time since he’d woken up, his eyes fixed themselves on the dark mark that now stained the side of his thumb.

“Brave,” it said, in a neat and tidy script. His hand trembled. With effort, he fished out his black gloves from his pockets before putting them on over his cold and numb fingers. 

He knocked on the door. 

It opened after only a few seconds, the girl behind it looked up at him, confused and worried. 

He heard himself rattle off the script.

He saw Benson’s face crumple. Heard the tremor in Melissa’s voice as she asked for more details.

His mouth was filled with the taste of blood. He had bitten his tongue while talking.

He ached.

A bone-weary tiredness had settled in his body and made his every action feel as though moving through molasses, sticky and heavy. It had only been a few hours since he had found Klein’s body but it felt like a lifetime.

He could only watch, helpless, as Klein’s family broke down before him.

---

Captain Dunn was buried before Klein. Family, friends and colleagues of both Klein and Dunn attended his funeral, mourning at his tombstone, before Klein’s funeral started. Leonard quietly looked at Dunn’s grave, his stomach tight with shame. Dunn had been his superior for four years, yet when Leonard woke up in the destroyed Blackthorn he had only seen Klein. Only cried for Klein. He had felt sick to his stomach when he’d seen Dunn’s body in the morgue beside Klein. 

Leonard helped carry Klein’s casket together with Benson, Frye and Bredt. They lowered the casket into the grave.

Leonard had spent the last days visiting Klein in the morgue at random intervals. He knew this was unhealthy, but what else could he do? These were the last moments they could spend together, before Klein was lowered into the ground and Leonard would never see him again. 

As the dirt covered the casket, his hands clenched into tight fists.

Watching the grave sent a pulse of self-hatred through him. He had been able to do so little when it mattered. He hadn’t been able to protect Klein and the captain.

The Cathedral had informed them of the cause of this tragedy: Ince Zangwill. Lanevus had also played a major role, having planted the True Creator’s spawn inside Megose and then leaving before he had to deal with the consequences. 

He wanted to kill them. For Klein. For the captain. 

If he stayed here as a Nighthawk in Tingen he wouldn’t be able to do this. He would be restricted to the city and neighbouring small villages. But if he were to become a Red Glove… He wouldn’t be tied down to one location. He would be able to advance, to get stronger, and help find Lanevus and Ince Zangwill. 

He had no family here. The only thing he would leave were the few remaining Nighthawks and the civilian staff of Blackthorn Security Company.

Yes. This was worth it. 

He hadn’t been able to do enough while fighting Megose, but this he could do. He would give up all he had built here and get revenge in Klein’s name.

His eyes sharpened as he felt new energy fuel him and his gaze fell on the text on Klein’s headstone.

'The best elder brother,’

‘The best younger brother,’

‘The best colleague.'

The best partner, he silently added. 

I will do this for you. 

It’s the least Klein deserved.

The other members of Nighthawk Security Company slowly left after paying their respects and silently mourning. Some other people who had known Klein also bade their farewells after a while. Until the only people that were left were Leonard, Benson and Melissa. 

Melissa, who had remained quiet and composed after he initially broke the news, knelt down at the grave. She put her hand on the fresh dirt covering the grave and suddenly scolded, “Stupid!” She wept, and didn’t stop for a long time.

Benson finally stepped in after long minutes, and had hugged her to his chest. As he gathered her to leave, he turned to Leonard.

“Stay in touch, would you? We’d like to hear from you.”

Leonard could only stare in muted confusion. Why? Why would they want to stay in touch with him after the news he had brought them? After the misery his incompetence during the fight with Megose had caused?

“You’re Klein’s soulmate, aren’t you?”

“We had hoped to meet you earlier, under different circumstances.” Benson’s face, with its painfully familiar features, was serious. “But we were ready to welcome you into our family. This hasn’t changed.”

“The criminal that killed Klein seemed to be working for someone.” The small lie slipped off Leonard’s tongue without effort. “I will be leaving Tingen soon. To find them.”

Benson nodded. “Then send us letters.” 

His tone was firm. 

After they left, Leonard remained beside the grave for another hour, feeling the cold September wind blow through his coat, chilling his bones and numbing his fingers. 

Finally, he moved. 

He tapped his chest four times and sincerely prayed. “May the Goddess watch over you.”

He had to write an application.

---

His application to join the Red Gloves was simple. In as little words as possible, it described the events that had befallen Blackthorn Security Company, and it requested his reassignment to the Red Gloves. ‘To prevent similar tragedies,’ he’d written. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

He was at home, unable to bear the silence at Blackthorn Security Company. Unable to bear the damages done to the building. The room was quiet, only the ticking of the clock and the rustle of paper filling the silence. A single gaslight cast deep shadows in the room.

He clenched his fists. 

The forces that had killed the captain and his Klein—his soulmate.

Lanevus.

Ince Zangwill.

He wanted to find them. His chest felt tight every time he thought of the unacceptable things they had done. He would kill them. 

For what they had done, they deserved no less.

The funeral had been yesterday, and since then, a strange energy and drive had filled him. He felt more lively than the past week, yet restless, his limbs yearning to move and act. But he had to send his request first. Without it, he could do nothing.

He read the application again and decided to post it tomorrow as soon as the post offices opened. As he reached for the box with envelopes, his lower left arm tingled and warmed, causing him to start. That was the same sensation as—

Pain.

Pain consumed him, his mind.

A blunt knife carved into his arm.

His breath was stolen from him. Leaving him unable to scream.

He struggled uselessly. His head hit a surface. The table? The floor?

“…oy!”

He writhed, trying to escape.

His arm was burning. 

Hot waves of agony spread through his body.

His fingers twitched uncontrollably.

Grasped at his arm. 

Could only try to breathe. 

He didn’t know how long it took before the pain receded.

He was on the floor. Hair disheveled. Mouth filled with the taste of blood.

His left arm was smarting, pulsing pain in time with his heartbeat. He curled around it.

“Boy!” The Old Man’s voice was deep with a trace of worry.

He gasped a deep breath. “…Yes.” It came out raspy.

“...Check your arm.”

With trembling hands, Leonard rolled up the cuffs of his sleeve.

He stared at the new words on his arm.

‘Trustworthy,’ near his wrist, right next to ‘Poet’. The handwriting was painfully familiar.

“What…” he breathed.

Below it, in the same handwriting, were more words.

‘Resurrected,’ ‘Become,’ ‘Strong,’ ‘Find,’ and ‘You.’

He closed his eyes, unbelieving. This couldn’t be true.

Klein was dead. Was this a joke?

The voice in his head remained quiet, letting him digest what had happened before commenting: “Those are the result of a soulmate ritual.” 

Leonard couldn’t respond—didn’t know how to respond.

The voice trembled as it continued. “I felt an ancient power. A being that should be sleeping, still.”

Klein had resurrected.

And he was involved with an ancient being. 

Leonard knew only Angels and True Gods could affect soulmate bonds.

But the Old Man’s voice… he had sounded more scared, more reverent than he did when he spoke of the Goddess. 

Klein was involved with a being like that. An ancient being at the level of the Gods.

He clenched his teeth.

‘Become’ and ‘Strong’. A statement or a command? Was Klein still in danger? If Klein was going to continue growing stronger, because of some threat Leonard wasn’t aware of yet, then he would, too. He had already planned to do so to get his revenge. It seemed like Klein had similar thoughts.

Klein would look for him. He was still alive and would look for Leonard. They would be separated for a while, but they would find each other again. Spend time together again. 

He felt the tension in his shoulders dissolve bit by bit as he digested the information. If Klein lived… they would meet again. He would see his smile again. 

The loss still hurt, but it was more manageable now.

Fate wouldn’t break them yet.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

14.

Klein shivered as he lay in the grey mist, violent trembles that made his teeth hurt as they clenched.

He had made his decision. 

It might get him killed.

On the way to Backlund he had been thinking. Preparing. He remembered the information Old Neil had gathered, the collection of soulmate knowledge and rituals built up over years. 

He had imagined Leonard, alone and grieving. 

If Klein didn’t act…Leonard might lose control. Just like Old Neil had. It might take months—years even. But the risk would never go away.

His heart ached. Tingen was behind him. He had to leave his family. But the thought of leaving Leonard…made his whole body hurt in an indescribable manner. The thought of Leonard losing control was worse. It was irrational, but the thoughts drove themselves deeper into his consciousness every minute that passed. 

He had resurrected. He needed to keep himself safe. But he also wanted to keep Leonard safe. Keeping himself safe and keeping Leonard safe were contradictory, for if Leonard knew he still lived, he might tell someone, even unintentionally. And Klein, for all his attempts to rationalize his way through this problem during the long hours on the train, could not find another solution. 

He could prepare himself for the choice.

Old Neil had found two rituals that would forcefully add soulmarks. 

The ritual tests had been successful. Both rituals had added new soulmarks to the participants. It had inflicted great pain, yes. But that was a temporary matter. He hoped Leonard wouldn’t be angry with him. Additionally, he and Leonard had a soulmate bond, unlike the participants of the tests. This might help mitigate some of the more negative effects.

The rituals had been created by members of the Moses Ascetic Order and were overseen by the Hidden Sage who had eventually driven the subjects mad. If the ritual was altered to point towards Klein it might be effective without driving him and Leonard mad.

It might not even work with his current strength.

Klein had departed the train while thinking about the problem. The first hours in Backlund were spent finding a place to live in for the coming months. Assuming his identity would stay hidden for this long. 

Once he was settled in, he rose above the grey fog and made the final alterations to the ritual there, changing the necessary incantation. The finished version was written on a goatskin parchment which he lay on the table.

He wrote a statement on the bottom of the parchment.

‘There will be danger if the ritual above is carried out outside of this world.’

He took a breath to calm himself, put down the pen and took his conjured pendulum from his wrist. His eyes darkened to black spheres as he started cogitating, focussing his spirituality.

“There will be danger if the ritual above is carried out outside of this world.”

“There will be danger if the ritual above is carried out outside of this world.”

…

He repeated the statement seven times, and watched the pendulum spin.

Counterclockwise. 

But it was spinning slowly, ever so slowly.

The outcome would be safe, but only barely? Debilitating pain could not be considered safe. But it would work.

He stimulated a descent, exiting the mysterious place above the grey fog through the mad ravings, then sat down at the dining table. The only light came from the single lit gaslamp further away in the kitchen and from the red moonlight which passed through the voile curtains. The air was stuffy, even though the unit was aired out regularly by Mrs. Sammer’s maid. 

A candle and three flasks of oil were in front of him. 

Could he trust Leonard?

Their soulmarks had often responded to their soulmate. Danger. Affection. They were irreversibly linked with their spirituality. 

Old Neil had collected so much research on this topic. The feedback from their marks was dependent on the distance between him and Leonard and their sequences. The experiments were too detailed and too plentiful for Klein to try to refute them. 

He could stay hidden. As long as Leonard stayed in Tingen, Klein could stay hidden and Leonard would suspect nothing. It would buy him some time to become stronger so that he could protect himself if the Nighthawks did come after him. 

But this didn’t negate the biggest problem: Leonard might lose control due to his grief. Grieving Klein, grieving the captain. This was unacceptable.

Leonard had his own secrets, but Klein had no reason to believe the other Nighthawks had been aware of this. If not for Leonard’s own words towards Klein, a soulmate he naturally trusted more than others, Klein would not have realized Leonard was carrying a secret. He hid it well.

He had also realized that Klein had secrets. Besides gently prodding at the sore spot, hoping Klein would respond, he had kept away. Once again, hiding this from the other Nighthawks without giving them even a small indication something might be wrong.

So he decided.

He would trust Leonard.

He had proven himself trustworthy so far.

The risk of Leonard losing control due to his death—over a misunderstanding, considering he was alive again—breathing again—he couldn’t bear the thought. 

He wrote the words he wanted to tell Leonard. Not too many, so that the pain would not go on for too long, and not too few, so that Leonard would understand the situation. With trembling hands, Klein had performed the ritual and went above the grey fog.

The pupil-less eye above his chair of honor was pulsing with light in response to his prayer, sending ripples through the fog.

He extended his spirituality towards it.

Pain.

It felt like his head would burst.

Like his heart would stop.

He dropped to the ground with a grunt and felt his spirituality drain at a frightening pace.

Too fast…

Panic gripped him.

But the drain was unstoppable. 

His arm burned.

He could only endure.

It took a long time. Multiple times Klein wondered if he would die again, right here in this foggy place, all alone.

He shivered on the ground as the last dregs of spirituality were drained from him. The mist churned wildly, seemingly about to engulf him before receding.

Courting death…

He coughed weakly.

For another few minutes, he remained on the ground and tried to recover his strength. When he felt he could move his limbs, he gripped the armrest of his chair and dragged himself up before ungracefully dropping in the chair. He rubbed his glabella. 

A soft, wry laugh echoed. 

“I’m so stupid.”

The quiet words filled the space, and remained unanswered.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

15.

The Cathedral of Serenity was located in the mountains of Winter County, in the Northern part of Loen. Its spires stood tall and imposing amidst the clear blue sky behind it, the dark stones seemingly absorbing the light and painting a dramatic picture of contrast and sharp edges.

The inside of the cathedral was blanketed in quiet. People spoke in low voices in the common areas, if at all, which created an atmosphere truly befitting the headquarters of the Church of the Evernight Goddess, the Mistress of Repose and Silence. The quiet was paired with the perpetual smell of incense, which occasionally curled around him and slowed his thoughts.

Leonard sat in a small room with other trainees. In front of the group was Mr. Williams, a Red Gloves captain in his thirties with the most timid posture Leonard had seen among Nighthawks to date. 

He was explaining different subjects considered classified or dangerous by the orthodox churches and how to handle said information. His voice was a stable monotone. 

Perfect for a dry lecture on information regulation.

Leonard leaned his chin in his hand and pretended to pay attention, while his gaze flickered over the other trainees. With his other hand, he let his fingers follow the deep wood grain of the table, sensing the ridges. 

His fingers buzzed with restlessness.

He would be transferred to Backlund tomorrow.

If Klein was in Backlund, it was possible to find him. Backlund’s population of 5 million would give him ample opportunities to hide, but it was difficult to cover all the tracks. If he paid close enough attention to his spirituality, he might find Klein again.

If Klein was in another town or city, Leonard could only hope fate would have him go on mission there.

His mouth twisted into a grimace. 

He didn’t want to rely on fate anymore.

Not after Klein died.

The teacher’s voice was a barely audible hum in the background, indistinct and soft, similar to the murmurs he heard after waking up in Blackthorn.

Klein was on the ground with a hole where his heart should be. A large puddle of blood spread underneath him. The image overlapped with the classroom, blocking out the teacher in front.

Leonard shivered. Cold sweat beaded around his hairline.

“...soulmates.”

Leonard’s gaze snapped to Mr. Williams. Panic rose in his throat. He took a sharp breath.

Keep it together. 

He felt his hands tremble, and pushed his free hand flat on his desk to hide the tremor. 

If the others saw his lack of control, he might have to stay here to ‘stabilize.’

“Most of what we know stems from research done by members of the Moses Ascetic Order. Studies on the soulmate bond often include unwilling subjects and make use of rituals that point towards hidden or evil entities. The Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom has actively collected studies from the Moses Ascetic Order and has performed limited studies with willing subjects.”

Leonard took a deep breath, desperately quelling his emotions. Underneath his sleeve, the soulmarks he received from Klein’s ritual burned in response, like a hot iron pressed against his skin. 

“...including captains. Regular Red Glove members have limited access to information, whereas Red Glove captains, deacons, and high-ranking archbishops have full access.”

“If you chance upon information regarding soulmates, report directly to your superior. Absolutely do not share the information with fellow team members. Certain knowledge will corrupt you or increase the risk of losing control.”

Mr. William’s eyes calmly drifted over, making sure everyone took note of this fact. Leonard looked at him, hoping his rapid breathing would not be noticed.

Old Neil had collected research on soulmates, and Klein had read most of it. His stomach clenched and he pressed his hand into the table harder. 

Would the soulmate ritual Klein had used, corrupt him?

It was so easy to lose control after learning information above your sequence and Klein had a talent for uncovering secrets. What if he gathered the wrong information?

He had not exhibited unusual behaviour after Old Neil’s death, besides grief. Leonard could barely remember the time; his memories were blurry as if observed through water. He had grieved Old Neil’s death too, and couldn’t remember Klein’s behaviour as well as he should. 

He straightened. Would official Beyonders hunt for Klein if it became known he had used a banned soulmate ritual? Klein seemed to want to keep his resurrection hidden, but if the ritual were to be connected to his new identity… Leonard could only hope Klein could take on a new identity if he became a true fugitive. 

“Let's continue with the next subject.”

Leonard clenched his teeth. What a waste of time. He had to find Klein, not listen to a pointless lecture on rules.

He could probably teach this better than Williams. Perhaps not as accurate, but at least it would be interesting. Half the class was asleep. 

The next hour was spent systematically covering topics in mysticism that could corrupt low- and mid-sequence Beyonders. 

Leonard felt a stab of pain in his temples. 

He escaped the room as soon as Mr. Williams finished, and hid in his room to prevent others from noticing the tremor in his hands. He packed his few belongings hastily, desperate to leave.

The train ride to Backlund took a few hours. Once arrived, Leonard had immediately arranged a house to stay in for the foreseeable future and had taken the evening to settle in. 

Leonard sat down at his desk to write a short letter to Benson and Melissa, needing the distraction. He stared at the paper before he took his pen and started writing.

It was his third letter to the Moretti siblings. Every time he sat down to write, guilt threatened to overwhelm him like a large wave. He couldn’t tell them Klein was still alive. 

So he told them what he could tell them: how beautiful Winter County had been, how the snow had glistened like crystals in the sun. The bitter sharpness of the air, even though it was only October.

He told them how his search had led him to Backlund, and he provided them with his new address. Invited them to visit if they ever were to head over to Backlund. 

The letter ended with a short poem written by Roselle, which Klein had seemed to like. Surprising, considering his obvious distaste for the man.

This would have to do. He would bring the letter to the post office tomorrow.

As he laid in bed, he took a deep breath. He was finally in Backlund. Hope unfurled itself, blooming warmly in his chest. 

If Klein was in Backlund, Leonard would find him. 

His sleep was as restless as usual. Klein was laying in a deep grave and rotting in the ground, maggots squirming in his flesh, his eyeballs missing. Captain Dunn sat at the edge of the grave, flesh falling to the ground as he looked up at Leonard. 

Leonard woke up shivering, covered in cold sweat, and left his bed early. 

He had to keep it together.

He arrived at Saint Samuel Cathedral, tired. He was guided towards his new captain: Soest, a man in his forties with a smooth jawline and long hair. He stood with an air of overconfidence and was wearing finely-made clothes with golden embellishments, eagerly portraying his wealth like a peacock. It was a bold choice. Who was he trying to impress?

The man was briefing a group of Red Gloves.

After a quick round of introductions, the briefing continued. In Soest’s slightly nasal tone, they received updates on low-priority cases that had been continued by other teams. There was a lot: Soest’s team only just returned from a three-week mission to Midseashire and many things had happened in Backlund in the meantime. 

After, Soest took him to his office to discuss the team and Leonard’s responsibilities. 

He stayed standing in front of his desk and gestured for Leonard to join him. The desk was covered with case files and to the side was a small mountain that threatened to fall in a spectacularly dramatic fashion. Leonard repressed the urge to push it. 

“After this morning’s briefing you should be well-informed of most of the current cases. Do you have any initial ideas on how to approach some of the cases?”

Leonard shook his head. “I prefer reading through case files. Helps me pick out clues.”

“Fair enough.” Soest tilted his head.“Do you have any questions before we begin?”

Leonard hesitated, then sighed. “What about Lanevus? Has there been any progress since he fled Tingen?”

Soest looked at him strangely, a small crease between his brows. “Lanevus was killed last month.”

“...What?” Leonard’s hand reached out to grab Soest’s shoulder, before he remembered this was his new captain he was speaking to. He let his hand drop to his side.

Anger burned a hole in his stomach. 

Lanevus was supposed to be his kill. His revenge.

He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t even fast enough to take revenge.

It had been taken away from him.

Calmly observing Leonard’s response, Soest continued. “He was killed a month ago, on the 8th of October.” He reached for his desk and easily found a case file which he handed over to Leonard, who hastily grabbed it. 

“After an anonymous tip an operation was set up and led by His Excellency Cesimir. The Nighthawk team fought three Aurora Order members and Lanevus, but were dealt serious damage during the fight. Lanevus managed to escape into the sewers where he was killed by an unaffiliated Beyonder. A deck of tarot cards was spread out over the corpse. The unknown Beyonder’s abilities matched the Sequence 8 Clown of the Seer pathway.”

Leonard’s heart rate picked up. 

Tarot cards. Clown. 

Klein was sequence 8, Clown, and he had sufficient reason to go after Lanevus. Klein had also carried around a deck of silver inlaid tarot cards after his advancement. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe he would buy another deck of cards. It was a simple and inconspicuous weapon, and the cards were useful for his divinations, too. 

This was the first hint of Klein’s continued survival since he had gotten his last soulmarks.

Wasn’t it too coincidental, finding Klein’s tracks on his second day in Backlund?

But Klein being Lanevus’ killer made too much sense.

It also meant Klein had been in Backlund. Leonard’s heart sank as he realized the date Soest had mentioned. The 8th of October. Almost a full month ago. 

He dragged his hand through his hair in frustration.

If Klein’s identity has not been uncovered, he might still be here. 

“Did nobody perform a mediumship on Lanevus’ spirit to determine the killer’s identity?” His voice carried a clear hint of disbelief.

Soest raised an eyebrow. “It was. We only know the killer wore a clown mask. We were unable to determine a motive. The abilities of the Beyonder matched those of the Secret Order members, but that organisation is not known to leave tarot cards at scenes of crime. Our current hypothesis is that this was for a ritual or that this is a new secret organisation.”

“Besides Lanevus’ case, there is another case where tarot cards were left behind. One more recent.”

Soest turned around again to look through the case files on his desk before he uncovered one halfway through the stack. He leafed through it quickly to confirm its contents before handing it to Leonard. 

“A week ago, the tycoon Mr. Capim was killed in his own mansion by a figure the newspapers called ‘The Hero Bandit Black Emperor.’ This person infiltrated the villa, exploded the living room which contained multiple mid-sequence Beyonders at the time, and freed a group of kidnapped girls from the underground dungeon. Capim’s remains were later found covered in tarot cards, similar to Lanevus. It received a great deal of media exposure due to the explosion.”

Leonard carefully read through the file while listening to the explanation. He frowned. Lanevus’ death had Klein’s signature all over it, but this one… he wasn’t too sure. Could this be a different person? The old man did mention that he felt an ancient power during the soulmark ritual. This could be another person affiliated with the entity that oversaw the ritual. 

“Mind you, both cases are low-priority. The involved people have shown no outright malice so far, and have actually helped us. The main case we will be working on is the serial killer that has been murdering women.”

Leonard dragged his eyes away from the case file in his hand, and dutifully listened as Soest explained the details of the serial murders case. 

In his mind though, he was planning. If Klein was involved in Lanevus’ death, then he might be on the list of suspects, same for the Hero Bandit Black Emperor. He could compare the suspects on both lists and start checking each and every one. Klein might show up, a hidden figure that went unnoticed. Who would suspect a Sequence 8 had resurrected?

But Leonard knew. 

The rest of the day he was left in the office reading old case files while the other Red Gloves went out after potential leads to the murders. He read through the serial killer murders and forced himself to come up with three new ways to approach the case.

He barely had time to look over the files related to Lanevus’ death at the end of the day. The long lists of suspects and related individuals. But he would make a start, and go through a little each day.

Klein was close. He could feel it. 

He felt a small flicker of hope burn in his chest. His lips curled into a smile.

He would find Klein.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

16.

Leonard descended the stairs of Saint Samuel’s Cathedral with his new team, all of them wearing black trench coats and red gloves. Soest led them down into the underground headquarters of the cathedral. Today he was wearing a black velvet waistcoat lined with small shimmering stones. Leonard had narrowed his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. 

The room they entered had a quiet atmosphere like a library. It was spacious and lined with bookshelves filled with both books and case files in racks slotted into the shelves. 

Madam Daly the Spirit Guide was sitting gracefully on a high-backed chair, dominating the room. Her long black robes were draped over the armrests from where they flowed down like tangible darkness. A thick tome was open on her lap, almost finished.

Leonard’s steps faltered.

She looked… tired. She was not wearing any make-up, and the blue underneath her eyes was sharply contrasted by her pale skin. The lack of make-up did not diminish her beauty, but she looked more similar to a Beyonder of the Gravedigger pathway than ever before. 

“Soest, all the information you need is over there.” Daly gestured with her chin at the table by the door. Despite her looks, her posture and tone were regal and full of confidence. 

Soest smiled at her relaxed attitude. “Daly, you should be tasked with more important matters than guarding this place.”

“I have requested this position myself. Humans are fragile creatures, they need to rest and recover, lest they join the dead in the ground.” Her eyes flickered over Soest’s flamboyant appearance impassively. “You’d be much more interesting in the ground, with your white bones gleaming and maggots squirming in your flesh, instead of covered in expensive fabrics and precious stones.”

Her eyes glided past Soest, dismissing his presence, and focused on Leonard. He straightened in response. “You look like you’re on your way there.”

“Am I not a tragic poet who is solemnly grieving his partner’s departure? Desperate for revenge?” He forced a half-smile, trying to make light of her words. “I believed it to be quite the catching sight.”

“Tsk.” Daly tilted her head. “You should fuel yourself with more than a drive for revenge. You’ve lost some of that delicious flesh. Even maggots would think you a sorry meal.” 

His tongue burned with a harsh reply, but he kept it in. She looked far too tired herself and far too miserable, to say something he might regret. “It seems we both had our share of misery,” he murmured under his breath. “Perhaps you should take your own advice as well, Madam Daly.”

She lifted an eyebrow, daring him to say more.

With a small grimace, Leonard continued. “That’s not what I meant. Lanevus is dead so revenge is impossible for now. We can only focus on Ince Zangwill.” 

She sighed and leaned her head in her hand. “If we had any information about his whereabouts we would have already taken action and buried him in a small box underneath a layer of dirt.” Her long fingers stroked the leather cover of her book. “I will remember to include you should matters change.”

Leonard gave her a small smile, and nodded in thanks.

As Soest walked over to the table, Leonard joined him. The Red Gloves gathered around the table and started reading the case files. 

Soest casually called over his shoulder: “Daly, are there any noteworthy events in Backlund currently?”

Daly kept her eyes trained on the book as she answered, waving her hand in the air. “Some unaffiliated Beyonders I work with told me certain sections are looking for an organisation that believes in The Fool.” She recited The Fool’s honorific name in the Loen language.

A quiet voice spoke up in Leonard’s mind. “Be mindful of The Fool. He could be problematic.”

Daly chuckled. “We may be witnessing the rise of a new cult. What do you think?”

Soest made no further comment and looked at his team instead. “Does anyone have any suggestions?” His eyes flicked to their newest member. “Mitchell?”

After a second, Leonard shared his thoughts. “The Fool is the first major arcana card. Could it be related to the tarot cases?”

Daly nodded thoughtfully but Soest frowned in response. “There is no evidence. It’s pure speculation, and it cannot even be considered a deduction.” He continued flipping through a book. 

Leonard shrugged lightly, and let it slip. 

---

The days passed in a blur, filled with paperwork and interrogations of people even marginally involved in both tarot cases. Every moment possible, Leonard took the opportunity to work on the tarot cases. 

After the fiftieth dream interrogation, Leonard had felt his stomach sink. He had only touched upon a small part of the files, yet it had taken a long time. While he could feel his Nightmare potion digest at a startling rate, he had not found Klein yet, nor had he found any worthwhile clues for the cases.

At least Captain Soest seemed pleased. He had even assigned Red Glove Carter Graves to support Leonard, who quietly wondered if this was done to speed up the process or to prevent him from burning out by himself. 

They were working on the cases, preparing a list of people to interview at night, when a Nighthawk rushed into the room. “Detective Isengard Stanton came in. New information on the serial murders case.”

Leonard shared a look with Graves. That case was closed a month ago when they found the Devil dog responsible. 

They stood up though, and followed the Nighthawk who continued his explanation. “The suspected owner of the Devil dog has shown up. He is targeting the detectives that assisted us during some cases.”

They entered the meeting room where Captain Soest and the rest of their team were already gathered. A middle-aged man with sideburns sat at the table with a thin and pale face. His left arm was obviously injured, propped up underneath the shoulder. 

“...used a mystical item to hide in my house.” Detective Isengard Stanton was in the middle of his story when Leonard entered the room. The man paused at the new arrivals, his eyes flicking over Leonard’s features and pausing, before flicking over to his red gloves. He continued: “when the police arrived, I took the opportunity to escape.”

Soest leaned forward. “You mentioned you had a plan to detain this man. Can you deduce his location?”

Mr. Stanton took out his pipe and indulgently sniffed the tobacco, his eyes distant. “The largest contribution to the serial murders case was made by Mr. Sherlock Moriarty. He will be the next target. Yes, this can be used to trap the Devil.”

The name sparked a sense of familiarity. It was one of the people involved with the tarot cases.

Soest raised his eyebrows. “A regular man was able to deduce the serial murderer was an animal?”

Mr. Stanton hesitated, but decided to elaborate after a second. “Mr. Moriarty has excellent deduction skills. Additionally, I believe he is no mere civilian. He has at least partial knowledge of the Criminal pathway which he used for his deductions.”

Leonard furrowed his brow and headed to the room down the hall to pick up Mr. Moriarty’s file. He was flicking through it when he re-entered the meeting room, his eyes carefully scanning the descriptions. 

Sherlock Moriarty, first mentioned in the Backlund Bulletin where he had placed an ad offering his detective services on September 18th. The man had been involved with several low- and high-profile cases since then. He had acted as a fake reporter to interview Dock Union workers, amongst whom Lanevus.

A new detective who moved to Backlund in September. Excellent deduction skills. Has been involved with the Lanevus’ case, but in a very careful fashion. Mr. Stanton believed him to be a Beyonder. He had at least basic knowledge of an uncommon Beyonder pathway. 

Leonard’s chest filled with recognition, warm and bright. He tried to restrain his facial expression but felt the corners of his mouth curl upwards. 

It was Klein.

He felt it. 

He had always prided himself on putting together clues others couldn’t connect. His intuition was rarely wrong in the past. 

His lips curled up in wry amusement as he realised he would have looked through this file if not for the interruption. Fate. 

He didn’t want anything to do with it anymore, yet here it was, like an affectionate cat slinking from the shadows to apologize for the mess it caused previously.

The next minute of conversation went by in a blur before he snapped out of it. Klein was in danger. When he managed to pay attention to the conversation again, he noticed Mr. Stanton glancing over at him.

His eyes lingered on Leonard’s face and gave him an unreadable look. What had the man seen?

Leonard belatedly handed Sherlock’s file over to his captain, and received a nod in thanks. 

Captain Soest and Mr. Stanton worked out a plan to locate the Desire Apostle: several Beyonder teams, including Nighthawks and Machinery Hivemind teams, would be located around the edges of Cherwood Borough, leaving a power vacuum near Sherlock’s house so as to not set off the Desire Apostle’s danger sense. 

Leonard listened with rapt attention, his gaze sharp. 

They headed to Cherwood Borough, and there he waited an agonisingly long few hours with his team, unable to move without being notified of the Desire Apostle’s presence. Waiting until it attacked Klein.

Before they were even notified of its presence, they received news that the Beyonder had fled.

Leonard’s hand curled into a tight fist as a sharp sting of annoyance shot through him. 

Captain Soest led the team through the streets in search for clues. They scanned a wide area surrounding Minsk Street, but no matter what they did, no leads were found. Eventually, they regrouped with the other Red Gloves team present and went back to Saint Samuel’s Cathedral to rest.

Leonard took a short one-hour nap, restless and filled with flashes of Klein. Klein sitting in the break room at Blackthorn, Klein bringing him cakes while looking nervous, Klein giving him a small smile, pretending to be unaffected by his teasing. 

He rubbed his face when he woke up and let out a slow breath. With slow, measured steps, he moved to the meeting room again and sat there in silence, scanning the serial murder case files again in search of new clues. Once the team was complete, Captain Soest started the meeting.

Last night, Sealed Artifact 1-42 arrived from the Cathedral of Serenity, a silver full-body armor which increases the wearer’s strength, defense, and tracking abilities. Soest gave them a run-down of the effects of the armor and determined a time schedule for changing the armor’s wearer to deal with the side-effects.

They spent the day tracking Jason Beria, trekking through the city and rotating the armor. It was tiring. The armor was heavy and the constant vigilance combined with running around to track various leads drained their energy. Leonard was the only one whose gaze was still sharp after a few hours, filled with a quiet determination to deal with the threat on Klein’s life. 

They reached definitive word of Jason Beria’s location near the end of the day.

Leonard barely remembered donning the suit during their rush to a luxurious villa in Cherwood Borough. The inside of the armor was freezing and would have stuck to his skin if not for his thin layer of clothes. 

Leonard spotted the Desire Apostle first, right when it broke through the roof of the villa.

Leonard intercepted it. 

Once the Desire Apostle realised the threat, it moved to attack, its large wings unfurling.

Leonard allowed the armor to guide him, and let loose a series of accurate and deadly attacks. Thin, invisible lines formed on the target’s fingers, which then fell to the ground without a sound.

Before it could respond to the attack, Leonard immediately followed up with a wider-range attack. It easily sliced through the Sequence 5 Beyonder’s skin, and fully destroyed its body, blood splattering on the ground and parts of organ meat scattered amongst broken pieces of bone.

A small shadow similar to a pool of dark liquid formed underneath the blood and body parts.

Leonard sized up the shadow and raised his voice. “He’s not completely dead yet! Surround it!”

His team members immediately encircled the shadow in an attempt to restrain it. It slipped through with unexpected speed, the liquid smoothly gliding through the shadows on the ground, soon invisible. 

The shadow fled, but Leonard could sense its location. This was the tracking ability of the Berserker’s Armor!

With heavy steps that made the earth tremble, Leonard followed the shadow at an incredible pace, with the other Red Gloves following further behind.

He rushed through the city until his instincts led him underground, into the sewers. 

The air here was dark and heavy, but his night vision allowed Leonard to watch his step as he ran along the dirty and muddy water. His senses were sharper than ever; he smelled rodents fleeing the scene as he ran through the tunnels. Could smell the dark liquid that was once Jason Beria, a heavy and sulfuric smell.

Anger burned low in his stomach.

He would kill this man who targeted Klein.

This one wouldn’t get away. 

As Leonard ran after the shadow in his silver suit of armor, he felt it. A slight tug at his spirituality.

He nearly dismissed it as the armor’s intuition, before he felt that tug on him too, more sharply, guiding him towards the shadow.

That first tug… his soulbond?

He pressed forward even faster, continuing as a ray of bright light filled his vision. He blinked away the white spots in his vision while running.

He wouldn’t let this stop him!

A tall figure in black armor and a black crown stood where the light had flared. Leonard was gaining ground quickly.

The figure wrapped itself around the soul before it turned and looked at Leonard. It reached out with its hand but stopped the movement halfway. It disappeared in a flicker of smoke right before Leonard reached it.

Klein. 

His soulmarks felt warm for the first time in months. A small shiver ran up his spine.

A blend of disappointment, excitement, and confusion fought for the upper hand. Klein had been here. Why was Klein here? Why did he take Desire Apostle’s soul?

The sound of the other running Red Gloves reached Leonard’s ears.

“Two minutes left. Change!” Graves yelled, interrupting his thoughts. 

The next minute was spent hastily doffing the Berserker's Armor while two other Nighthawks rapidly tore out some stones from the ground and dug a roughly bath-sized hole right there in the sewers. It was filled with steaming hot water, making use of a second Sealed Artifact brought along for exactly this reason. 

The steam mixed with the smell of the sewers, a dank sharp smell that was impossible to ignore. Leonard grimaced. The water was initially clean, but the dirt surrounding it… He had to bathe in sewer water. Just his luck.

Against his instincts, Leonard took a deep breath and fully submerged himself, including his clothes. Underwater, his mind swirled with the image of the dark, crowned shadow. He barely noticed as thin silver lines appeared on his skin, completely fusing with the hot water before forming a thin layer of ice on top of the bath. 

Leonard broke out of the now freezing water with a loud gasp. He stood up, trembling from the cold, and gratefully accepted the trench coat someone offered him. It did little to keep him warm since his clothes were drenched, but he appreciated the gesture.

Leonard joined the other Red Gloves in the inspection of the leftover dark liquid that once was Jason Beria. He described how the black crowned figure had taken the soul and how it had disappeared. 

Leonard didn’t care that they lost Jason Beria’s soul. At least the man was dead, his Beyonder Characteristic recovered, and a threat to Klein no longer. 

Once Soest caught up to them, they discussed the next steps and the consequences of today. They were unable to gather information about his accomplices, and the real orchestrator of Duke Negan’s assassination would remain hidden. 

Leonard fidgeted restlessly with his fountain pen while they wrapped up work at Saint Samuel’s Cathedral. Since Leonard had worn the Berserker’s Armor the most, he spent the better part of the night writing up reports, stopping only when his hand cramped up. He kept getting assigned new tasks, when all he wanted was to go to Klein.

When he was about to pull his hair out in frustration, Soest finally showed some mercy and sent him home, claiming Leonard had been working too long recently and that “his eyes were bloodshot.” Leonard was sure his eyes were just fine, but was not about to argue about this with his supervisor. 

Leonard called for a private carriage and had it take him to Minsk Street.

On the way there, he combed his fingers through his unruly black hair, trying to tidy it a little. He carefully smoothed out a few wrinkles in his shirt. Quiet laughter filled the back of his mind and Leonard skillfully ignored the sound. The old man should mind his own business. 

It was late. Klein would most likely not be awake. He might be spooked by Leonard’s unexpected arrival. 

His hands became clammy as he thought of what to say and his mind came up with a blank.

He got off the carriage at the end of the street, and walked to Unit 15 Minsk Street while hidden in the shadows. 

He stood watching the house, trembling. His heart fluttered. Hopeful. Scared.

Klein. 

-tbc-

Chapter Text

17.

Leonard wasn’t sure how long he stood watching the house, nervous tremors racing through his hands. 

His initial plan had been to ring the doorbell. However, if someone saw him loitering in front of Klein’s—no. Sherlock’s door in the middle of the night, they might get suspicious. They might even call the police. Klein wanted to stay hidden, so this wasn’t an option. 

So he looked for other ways of entry. His eyes scanned the building before they landed on a window on the second floor, away from the street and blanketed in shadows. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Leonard moved towards the house, keeping to the darkness to stay hidden. He scaled the wall without effort; the rough stones and decorative trim around the windowsills provided plenty of footholds and handholds. 

He was as quiet as the wind through the trees, and his heartbeat thudded steadily in his ears.

Near the window, he took a small pin from his trenchcoat and started working on the lock.

Click.

He felt the lock give within seconds, and he gave the window a light push. It opened without an issue, so Leonard lifted himself up by the fingertips, settled on the windowsill, and turned so his body was inside. 

The curtain was pushed to the side, and he quickly took stock of the room.

He froze.

Of all the rooms…

It was a bedroom. 

It was occupied.

A figure was lying on the bed, curled up tightly underneath a thick duvet. His breathing was steady and quiet.

Leonard closed his eyes, overwhelmed. What would he do now?

Thwip!

Only Leonard’s reflexes saved him. He took a swift step back. A sharp card was stuck in the wall, right behind his previous location.

He stared at the bed, eyes large in surprise.

Klein was now sitting upright, and he was staring back at him too, his breathing now rapid and the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.

For a moment neither spoke.

Until Klein visibly relaxed and huffed out a small laugh.

“Really? Through the window?”

His voice was painfully familiar; syrupy like honey, and a little hoarse still from sleep. Full of warm affection. Leonard felt a shiver run up his spine. 

Leonard’s mouth opened, at a loss for what to say for a few seconds. “Through the—“ he began, then cut himself off. 

He strode over to Klein in two large steps. Without stopping, he bent down and wrapped his arms around Klein. 

Klein was warm, still radiating heat from his sleep.

He was warm and real. The slight tension in his back. The warm breaths that puffed against his shoulder. All of it was real. 

Leonard pressed his nose into Klein’s neck, breathing in his smell. It had changed a little. The once ever-present scent of ink and paper had faded, replaced with a fresh scent similar to mint tea. But underneath it all, he still smelled like Klein, a scent Leonard had begun to associate with comfort and happiness. 

After a beat, Klein sunk into the embrace and wrapped his arms around Leonard’s ribs. His hands trembled as they firmly kept Leonard in place.

“I…” Leonard began, before he had to stop himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. 

“I missed you.” The words were softer than a whisper, barely audible even for Klein. 

“I was so scared for you.” Another admission, this time a little louder. More confident.

Leonard’s entire body was shaking, the tension from the past months making itself known more clearly than ever. Klein kept still, holding him. His hand soothingly rubbed Leonard’s back. 

When it became clear Leonard was not about to talk further, Klein finally opened his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry.”

“I suspected something was happening in Tingen, but couldn’t prove it. I should have warned you, at least.” Leonard heard him exhale slowly, close to his ear.

His hands tightened around Leonard’s ribs. “I’m sorry you had to see me. After.” His voice was careful, as were the words, Leonard realised.

Leonard pressed his lips together and shook his head once. How could he blame Klein for someone else’s actions?

He stayed in place, unwilling to move and unwilling to let go of Klein. He felt it was the only thing that kept him sane, now that the tension was slowly leaking away.

Darkness blanketed the room in peaceful quiet. The only sounds were their breathing and a rustling of sheets as Klein moved, trying to get comfortable.

“Leonard.” Klein’s hands prodded his sides gently. ”You will hurt your back if you stay standing like that.”

“I’m a Beyonder.” Leonard murmured. He felt Klein’s amused laugh: the slight shaking of his body and the faint stir of his hair where Klein exhaled into it. Obediently, Leonard sat down on the bed, now sitting up straight. He felt Klein place his chin upon his shoulder, face turned away a little.

Gradually, Leonard’s limbs stopped shaking with only a few fine tremors running through his fingers remaining. When he finally let out a deep sigh, he felt Klein stir again. 

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Klein began, voice hesitant.

Leonard’s shoulders tightened at the words.

“Why do you smell like the sewers?”

Mortification curled in Leonard’s gut. The bath. The sewer bath after wearing the Berserker’s Armor. 

His team had finished the investigation of Jason Beria’s remains there, and after that they had gone straight to Saint Samuel Cathedral. He had been in such a hurry to see Klein he had only remembered to put on dry clothes.

The old man began laughing in the back of his mind again.

Leonard swallowed and repressed the feeling. “Shouldn’t you know?”

Klein snorted. “I saw you there. I didn't realise my disappearance would make you jump in the waste water.”

Leonard took him by the shoulders to look at his face. “It didn’t! I didn’t! The armor has some special requirements and—I had to take a bath. In the sewers. With clean water. So I wouldn’t… die.” His voice petered out the further he got in his explanation.

“So you did bathe in the sewers?” Klein’s face contorted.

“The water used was clean, but we had to dig a hole in the ground beside the canal…”

Klein gave him a look, and Leonard wilted under his gaze. 

“Take a bath. You can wear some of my clothes.”

“But…”

His voice was resolute. “No. I won’t be having this conversation with you while you’re smelling like the sewers. Take a bath.”

Leonard felt his hands shake again, and he looked down. He didn’t want to leave Klein. Not even while in the same house. Not even for a minute. 

“Leonard,” Klein began, his voice now gentler and softer. “I’ll stay here while you bathe. I promise.”

“Let me get you some clothes. I have some extra you can wear.”

With gentle hands, Klein removed Leonard’s hands from where they rested on his shoulders, and pulled him to stand. He showed him the way to the bathroom and pressed a small bundle of clean clothes in his hands. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

His face was serious, and his tone remained gentle through it all. Leonard took the clothes and after checking Klein’s face again, entered the bathroom. 

Leonard took the quickest bath ever. He sat down in the tub and turned on the tap. The water was cold but he submerged himself without hesitation. Using Klein’s soap, he roughly rubbed his skin until it was clean, smelling like mint and sandalwood. He did the same with his hair, but more carefully to avoid tangles.

Shivering, he closed the tap and squeezed out the water from his hair. He dried himself off as fast as possible, and put on the clothes Klein had left out for him. The shirt fell over his frame with some room left but the shirt sleeves were a tad too short for Leonard.

He was done within minutes. Probably his fastest bath yet, if one could call it that.

His wet hair dripped water onto the shirt, but he couldn’t care less.

He strode back over to the bedroom, and knocked on the door this time. He waited for Klein’s response before he entered.

Inside, Klein had lit the gaslamp. 

He sat on the bed, his legs crossed and his back leaning against the headboard.

Leonard sat across from him near the foot of the bed, mirroring his posture.

For a moment, neither spoke. They took in each other’s appearances. The changes since last time they saw each other. 

Klein had grown a beard—a short, rugged little thing. The beard made him look more serious, a little rough around the edges. It was so at odds with his refined scholarly demeanor that Leonard had to laugh, which he tried to turn into a polite cough. Klein raised an eyebrow at him. 

When Leonard shook his head and didn’t reply, Klein continued his careful inspection. Leonard stayed still, and let Klein take his time with this. 

Leonard watched as his brown eyes first scanned his face, probably seeing his pale complexion. The way his face had become sharper and more defined the past months. Klein’s eyes continued their path, passing Leonard’s shoulders and chest, down to his hands. They stopped on the soulmark on Leonard’s right thumb, now on full display. ‘Brave.’

“That soulmark appeared right before or during the fight with Megose. I only saw it after.” Leonard decided to explain. 

Klein’s gaze moved to his left hand. The too-short sleeves of his borrowed shirt had ridden up a little, showing two more soulmarks on his left wrist. ‘Poet,’ and ‘Trustworthy.’ 

“‘Poet’ was the first soulmark I found,” Leonard continued his explanation with a small smile, warmth filling his chest at the memory. He had been so excited. “‘Trustworthy’ appeared right before you performed the ritual.”

He looked at Klein, whose gaze was still on his wrist with furrowed brows. 

Leonard slowly unbuttoned his cuff and rolled it up, showing the ritualistic soulmarks. They were no different from the other soulmarks, besides the way they had appeared.

Klein’s jaw clenched, and he reached out, carefully touching the soulmarks. 

His lips pressed together before he spoke. “I’m sorry for the pain this must have caused you.” His voice was quiet. 

Leonard raised his eyebrows. “You’re sorry? I dare say they’re the only reason I’m still sane. I was… not quite myself before they appeared.”

“It must have hurt.”

“Didn’t you give up something for this, too?” Leonard looked at him seriously. “What entity did you direct the ritual to?”

Klein averted his gaze. “I can’t tell you. But I am safe from that entity, trust me.” He then sighed. “There is another issue though.”

Klein pursed his lips before he continued. “It’s not safe to interact with me here. I cannot explain why, but there are certain circumstances I am worried about. They might start to include you if we interact a lot.”

He continued when he saw that Leonard wanted to interject. “I cannot explain the specifics. It has to do with its characteristics. Knowing more would only put you in danger.”

Leonard leaned forward and took his hands. “I want to help. I want to be a part of your life, even if it means being in danger. Especially if it means being in danger.”

The corners of Klein’s mouth twitched. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

"I don't want you to die without me." 

"You don't know what you're getting into." 

“Klein you can’t—you can’t ask me to watch you, and do nothing, knowing you’re in danger.” Leonard’s voice broke halfway through the sentence before he caught himself. “You said before you should have told me about Tingen. Tell me about the situation in Backlund. Please.”

Klein clenched his jaw and remained silent for ten seconds. “Telling you would put me in danger, too. Neither of us can deal with this so staying hidden is the best option.”

“I want to stay in contact. I need to know if you’re safe. I want to know if the situation changes.”

Klein squeezed his hand. “I want the same thing. Let me think of a way to communicate while we stay hidden.”

Leonard’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “I will also see if the Nighthawk library mentions any options.”

“I will keep myself safe, Leonard. I hope to avoid trouble in the coming months.”

“You should,” Leonard sighed. A wave of tiredness crashed over him. This wasn’t how he imagined first seeing Klein again after all these months. 

This wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go.

Pushing Klein had never worked in the past. And it wouldn’t work now.

So he smiled and leaned forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. “I could visit you in your dreams. You might not remember everything after, but parts of the dream will remain.”

He would drop the matter. But only temporarily.

For a moment, Klein’s eyes flashed with poorly-hidden amusement. “That makes the premise of ‘dream of me tonight’ significantly less romantic.”

“I’ll consider it. There is a better way to avoid the effects but you might not approve of it. It might also already be too late and then our attempts to circumvent it won’t be effective either.”

“You won’t tell me about that method now?”

“I won’t,” Klein answered with a rueful smile.

“I live at 7 Pinster Street, if you need to contact me.”

Klein nodded thoughtfully, eyes still far away. “I want to.”

The room filled with a comfortable quiet once more. Leonard was content just sitting here, feeling Klein’s warm hand and observing the way Klein’s eyes moved slightly while thinking and planning. 

He didn’t understand the circumstances Klein referred to, but he wanted to trust Klein to keep them both safe. Even if it was difficult.

He heard Klein’s quiet breathing, saw the way he relaxed against the headboard.

After a few minutes, Klein’s eyes started drooping. It was still the middle of the night, Leonard realised. “I should probably go. Leave you to rest.” His voice cracked as he said the words. 

Klein blinked at him slowly. 

“There’s a guest bedroom beside this room,” he murmured. “There should be clean sheets.”

A small smile tugged at Leonard’s lips. “Thank you.”

He stood up from the bed with stiff legs and shook them to get the blood moving again. Klein was leaning against the headboard of the bed, watching him with half-lidded eyes.

Slowly, Leonard approached. He pressed his lips against Klein’s temple and let them linger, until he pulled away.

“Goodnight, Klein.”

He received a small smile in return.

“Goodnight.”

-tbc-

Chapter Text

18.

After sleeping for a few hours, Leonard stumbled down the stairs into the living room. It was still empty, the muted light of the day only just showing itself through the smog outside. He made himself comfortable on the sofa, feet on the coffee table, as he browsed through some of Klein’s books. He glanced at the clock intermittently.

After an hour or so, he heard movement upstairs. Not long after, Klein wandered down the stairs in clean clothes and with a fresh face.

Leonard felt he had intruded upon something. He had never seen Klein like this—at home, relaxed. Klein was wearing a cream-coloured shirt with a soft black vest on top and neat trousers, but no jacket.

He hoped he could see it more often.

He greeted Klein with a warm smile. “Good morning.”

Klein paused as if surprised, and then his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. “Good morning. I’ll make us breakfast.”

He quickly made two cups of coffee, prepared some soft white bread with butter, and cut the leftover Desi pie into two pieces to share. Leonard joined him in the kitchen and opened all the cupboards until he found the plates and cutlery, with which he set the table.

Klein took another look at Leonard and turned around to grab some apples and put them on the table next to the plates.

They sat down opposite each other, ankles touching. Leonard’s soulmarks grew warm at the touch, responding to their proximity. 

“Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough once the interruption was dealt with,” Klein said with a small smile.

Leonard took a sip of the coffee, enjoying the fresh aroma and energizing bitterness. 

“I’m sorry for intruding in the middle of the night.” He gave a small laugh. “Before yesterday, I didn’t know where to find you. Once I realised your identity, I didn’t want to waste time.”

Klein took a bite of Desi pie and shook his head. “It’s fine.” He smiled and his cheeks blushed lightly. “I was happy to see you again.”

Leonard looked at the food on his plate and hesitated. “It was too quiet when you were gone. It felt…wrong. Unmoored.” He restrained the tremor that threatened to affect his voice.

He took a piece of buttered bread and took a small bite. 

The corners of his mouth turned downwards as he chewed. Food either tasted like dust, or it left the lingering taste of blood since Klein’s death. He mechanically continued chewing and took a few more bites, trying the Desi pie as well. He felt Klein’s gaze, watching him. Tracking his every movement. 

Klein’s skin was warm against his ankle, an anchor after the turbulent past months. 

Leonard cleared his throat to dispel the tension that had settled in his shoulders and attempted to sound casual. “Now that Jason Beria is dead, what will you do?”

Klein chewed on his food thoughtfully and swallowed before replying. “We need to remain cautious due to the circumstances I mentioned yesterday. I’ll keep doing what I have been the past months: staying safe and getting stronger. I am ready to advance once I collect the ingredients.”

“You’ve already digested the Clown potion?”

Klein gave him a small smirk. “No, I’ve already digested the Magician potion.”

Leonard was at a loss for words. It had not even been half a year and Klein was already ready to advance to Sequence 6. 

He took in Klein’s face, the amused gleam in his eyes and the slight curl to his lips. 

His shoulders relaxed. He remembered now: Klein was brilliant. If anyone could advance this quickly, it would be Klein. 

He shook his head helplessly. “Of course.”

Klein gave a small laugh. “What is your sequence now? You must have advanced to join the Red Gloves.”

“Sequence 7, Nightmare. But I feel like I am close to digesting it fully already. Maybe another two weeks?” Leonard sighed. “The main issue is that I haven’t gained enough merit to advance.” 

Klein tapped the table with his finger, thinking. “I might be able to share hints regarding the location of some Rose School of Thought Beyonders of the Indulgence faction. You could inform the Nighthawks of their location and that might give you some merit.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Leonard looked at his plate and took another bite of Desi pie. “What will you do after we—” He stopped himself and frowned. 

Last night, Klein had remained deliberately vague about the threat in Backlund. He had taken his revenge on Lanevus, but he didn’t mention wanting to kill Ince Zangwill now. He only vaguely mentioned needing to get stronger but remained cautious and unwilling to describe anything in clear words.

Leonard refused to believe Klein was satisfied with Lanevus’ death alone. 

He felt he finally understood some unspoken truth. Were they being watched? It must have something to do with Zangwill, if Klein refused to mention the name in this situation. 

“Don’t think too much.” Klein’s face had turned serious at Leonard’s sudden quietness.

Leonard forcefully brought his attention back to the current situation. Breakfast. With Klein. He swallowed and attempted to sound casual as he continued the conversation. “What will you do after you are strong enough and we have reached our goals?”

Klein remained quiet for a good ten seconds, his face blank. “There are some things I must do. I need to research mysticism more closely for that goal.”

“Will you stay hidden from the Church until then?”

Klein shot him a look of disbelief. “They’ll lock me behind Chanis Gate if they knew I was alive. Why do you think I didn’t approach you directly, after?”

“There must have been stranger things in mysticism.”

Klein shook his head. “Would you tell them about yourself? The risks are too great.” He took another sip of coffee. “I told you because I trusted you not to tell anyone.”

Leonard smiled and leaned his chin in his hand. “You told me because you like me.”

Klein snorted. “Aren’t you a poet? Can you not think of something more eloquent?”

“Your tongue is as sharp as ever.” Leonard clutched his chest dramatically.

“Only as sharp as needed.” Klein’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Will you stay with the Red Gloves?”

“I will. They are the best opportunity to find who we’re looking for.” Leonard smiled. “Besides, the Nighthawks were my entire life for years. I hope to continue serving the Goddess while supporting you.”

The next hour passed in a blur. Leonard told Klein stories of the past months: his advancement, the beautiful Cathedral of Serenity, the pompous clothes Captain Soest liked to wear. After some gentle probing from Klein, he finished the food on his plate and sipped on a second cup of coffee.

He tried to wheedle a few stories from Klein as well, reverting to flirting to get Klein to smile and expand upon his short comments. Klein seemed unwilling to share everything that had happened, but what he did share painted a vivid picture. 

The anxiety that had made a home for itself in Leonard’s stomach did not ease, not even a fraction. Klein had been involved in many dangerous situations, even though he had always shown himself to be cautious and rational. He seemed to attract danger. For some reason, he had managed to survive everything in Backlund. He must have made new contacts here with strong Beyonders.

Klein promised again to keep himself safe, his eyes deep and earnest. It did little to soothe Leonard, but with pursed lips he nodded and let the subject drop. 

Leonard didn’t really want to leave.

He knew he was expected at Saint Samuel Cathedral. He would be late for the first time since joining the Red Gloves and if he was unlucky, Soest would send out a team to find him. Once Klein voiced that he had plans for the day and would have to leave soon, Leonard decided he could not overstay his welcome.

He forced a smile and bade Klein farewell with a dramatic bow. 

He took Klein’s hand and pressed a lingering kiss to Klein’s knuckles. “I wish we may see each other again soon. I couldn’t stand to miss you for another two months.” 

Klein shook his head and smiled, exasperated, before he stepped closer to Leonard. 

The light through the windows turned his brown eyes into deep pools of honey. Leonard could only stare, bewitched at the sight.

“I will contact you soon, once I find a way to do so safely.” The words were a soft puff of breath against his lips, before Klein closed the distance and pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips.

Leonard’s lips tingled where Klein’s lips had lingered. 

Klein smiled at him with a light blush. “Go on, now.”

He could only squeeze Klein’s hand in response, and force his unwilling legs to carry him further away from Klein.

His heart still ached. He had hoped for more—that they would be able to contact each other whenever they wanted if only they kept secrecy from others. The current situation would not allow it. It seemed like they would have difficulty meeting for another long stretch of time.

Helplessness had overtaken the near-frantic determination of the last months. The new feeling left a sour taste in his mouth, like spoiled milk.

But he trusted Klein’s assessment of the situation. 

This would have to do.

The next days were spent at Saint Samuel Cathedral. A failed experiment from an herbalist had caused an entire garden to become overgrown with towering flesh-eating plants and the Red Gloves were sent to exterminate the plants. His leg had been chewed on and spat out, like a forgotten dog toy. It was all Leonard could do to not sigh dramatically and maintain a modicum of professionalism.

A surge in his spirituality made Leonard look up from the case report.

Feedback from the soulbond?

He waited another few seconds, but the sensation didn’t stop. 

Had Klein found the ingredients for his advancement this quickly? He did mention he was ready to advance. 

When Klein advanced to Clown he hadn’t experienced feedback this intense. Then again, their sequences had been lower and the distance between them had been greater. There had been a morning in Blackthorn when he had felt his spirituality give him a small nudge. It was right before Klein had started dropping hints about the acting method and only about a week before he had applied for his advancement to Clown.

The spirituality feedback was raw and made his skin break out in goosebumps. It felt like his senses were strengthened tenfold, and he could feel and hear and smell every shift of the air in the study room he was in.

He carefully breathed through the sensations.

After the three-minute mark, anxiety started to curl in his gut. Advancement could take some time, but wasn’t this abnormal? 

There was nothing he could do. Nowhere he could go. 

His hands clenched into tight fists.

Klein’s spirituality should have started to stabilize by now.

After five minutes, the sensations finally settled down and Leonard heaved a deep sigh.

He wanted to assume this was a good sign. He didn’t want to know what a soulmate losing control would feel like. Would his spirituality respond in kind? 

He deliberately unclenched his fists and took a few deep breaths. Not knowing what was happening to Klein was driving him up the wall.

Hopefully, Klein would contact him soon. 

—

Saturday, Leonard found a letter in his mailbox.

His heart skipped a beat. Klein’s?

He inspected the envelope.

He sat down on his plush sofa, covered with a blanket. The room was warmly lit by the gaslamps.

It turned out to be a letter from Benson and Melissa. Benson had passed the first round of the Civil Servant Unified Examination and they wrote to inform him they would move to Backlund soon. 

‘We don’t wish to intrude upon your space, but would it be possible to stay at your place for a night?’ They’d written.

A warm smile played on his lips. He had offered before, hadn’t he? Of course they could.

He would warn Klein before then. Klein would have to avoid them, considering the circumstances.

The morning Leonard spent at Klein’s place, they had caught up on as many things as possible. Leonard told Klein about the letters he had been exchanging with Melissa and Benson. How they missed Klein, but how they seemed to be doing better than before.

The corners of Klein’s mouth had twitched downwards, before he said he was happy to hear they were doing well, all the whilst smiling brightly. 

That smile sent a pang of unhappiness through Leonard’s chest. 

He could tell Klein was almost convinced of his smile, but Leonard could see the strain. He hadn’t commented on it, afraid Klein would close himself off if he did. But he had taken Klein’s hand, and told them about whatever details of Benson and Melissa’s life he could remember. 

From the very start he had saved all the letters he had received and kept them in a small wooden box. Once Klein believed the situation allowed for it and they could meet up again, he would bring the box. 

He found a pen and paper. With a smile, he wrote a letter in return, informing Benson and Melissa that they were welcome to stay for a day or longer. He added a separate piece of paper with descriptions of the different boroughs and which ones he believed to be most suitable for them. 

He felt—better than before. 

He had finally seen Klein. He was safe for now, although they couldn’t meet up yet. He hoped Klein would get in touch with him soon with a method to stay in contact.

Benson and Melissa would come to Backlund, where Leonard could keep an eye on them and keep them safe.

Klein had given him information on three Indulgence faction Beyonders of the Rose School of Thought, which Leonard had forwarded to his captain. The mission had been successful and he had almost gained enough merit to advance. 

He would soon follow in Klein’s footsteps and advance to Sequence 6.

Together they would grow.

They would kill Ince Zangwill together.

—-

In a brightly-lit room with a soft plush carpet.

A few pages back, in an open notebook.

Leonard Mitchell spent the night at Sherlock Moriarty’s place. For some mysterious reason, the Red Glove and the detective knew each other quite well.

The two men had a heartfelt discussion over breakfast, discussing their future plans. Sherlock remained vague about his goals. Leonard was sharp enough to notice the true meaning underlying Sherlock’s words and felt he understood the situation better.

Sherlock regretfully forgot to hand over a note with instructions he had intended to give to Leonard after breakfast. The two men had yet to establish a safe way of contact when Leonard left.

Two lines were scribbled out and new content followed.

For some baffling reason, and a lack of sufficient explanations, Sherlock Moriarty realised the issue of his forgetfulness after Leonard Mitchell left. Sherlock performed a divination but was unable to obtain information about the cause of his sudden forgetfulness. He vowed to inform Leonard of the safe method of contact later.

(Scribbling)

The target left by carriage to go to the Monsade Theatre but took a last-minute detour to visit Mr. Sherlock Moriarty. Unfortunately, the detective had just left home to bring a letter to his friend, Leonard Mitchell.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

19.

Leonard was reading through case files. Stacks of documents related to the tarot cases were fanned out on the ground around him, when the old man warned him, “someone just entered 7 Pinster Street.” Leonard’s back straightened in response.

The old man had regained some of his strength and had possessed a minor spirit that could keep an eye on their house in their absence.

He stood up in a hurry, left the documents and the room as it was, and made his way to the staircase. “Mitchell!” came from behind him.

Soest. Great timing.

Leonard turned around, not bothering to hide his urgency. “New lead, Captain. I need to leave.”

Soest, dressed in a satin black suit, shook his head and continued his large strides down the hall. “We have an urgent case, orders from His Excellency Cesimir.”

“But—“ 

“This is a high priority one,” Soest said decisively.

Leonard’s home was broken into and he couldn’t even leave because he had given the wrong excuse. Worse, telling Soest about the break-in probably wouldn’t change a thing.

He sighed.

“Yes, sir!” Leonard turned to follow Soest who passed by various rooms to collect their team members, waiting with his briefing until they were complete.

The case was nothing special. For the life of him, Leonard couldn’t figure out the reason why this was classed as a high-priority case. He wondered if Deacon Cesimir needed a vacation soon, if his judgement was slipping so badly. The night passed and their target had done nothing all night but sleep. Leonard swore he saw Soest’s eye twitch after five o’clock in the early morning passed.

Around ten in the morning, he was finally sent home. He rushed home in a private carriage, relieved. 

Quiet as a shadow, he entered his home and searched the place until he confirmed it was empty and no traces of the burglar’s presence were left. Nothing seemed to be missing.

A small note lay on the table.

Leonard unfolded it cautiously. Familiar handwriting greeted him.

My dear poet,

The circumstances I mentioned before have developed. If you can find a way, inform one of the archbishops or deacons at the Church of the following: Prince Edessak is involved in problematic circumstances including a Grade 0 Sealed Artifact. Take note of a woman wearing a sapphire ring who lives at Red Rose Manor.

Try not to get involved in the matter personally. 

To stay safe, I will leave Backlund for an extended period of time soon. The safest way to stay in contact is by reciting the following Honorific Name:

The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era;

The Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog;

The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.

With His help, we are ensured safety. He will not harm you, please trust me.

Yours,

Klein

Leonard’s lips pressed into a thin line as he was reading. The situation seemed even worse than Klein wanted to admit last time they saw each other. He would leave Backlund soon, only days after Leonard found him after their separation. 

Leonard carefully smoothed folds from the note, trailing the letters. 

And based on Klein’s unspoken words during breakfast, Ince Zangwill was involved.

Klein—he did this a lot. Leonard pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Klein often refused to explain the situation. Leonard was left worrying about everything that could go wrong.

It had already been a day since the note was left. Who knows what happened in the meantime.

“Do not recite that Honorific Name,” the old man said. “This should be the being that oversaw the soulmate ritual.”

Leonard didn’t respond. He burned the letter with a spark of spirituality, then took off and hailed a private carriage to bring him back to Saint Samuel Cathedral. On the ride there, he planned. 

To begin, he needed to find someone he could inform about the prince. Soest would want to know where he got his information from. He was notoriously distrustful of non-official Beyonders. Leonard would not be able to directly report to a deacon or archbishop. Perhaps he could report to Madam Daly…

She was a respected Nighthawk who was still approachable for Leonard. She was also familiar with the procedures to inform the higher-ups. Leonard trusted her not to ask, especially if he made it clear that he wanted to protect his source. She had her own informants and understood their situation. Additionally, her contempt for Ince Zangwill might make her hold off on more complicated questions. Leonard could come up with an excuse in the meantime. 

Yes, Madam Daly was the best person to approach.

The letter had been written in a rush—the letters tidy as usual but shaped with too much pressure, leaving occasional blots of ink.

Klein finally shared a way to stay in touch with him.

He recognized the Honorific Name Klein just shared with him; Daly had mentioned it during his first days in Backlund. Many factions were trying to find The Fool, who was successfully staying hidden for now. Yet Leonard had gotten a lead without even looking for Him.

An ancient being that should still be sleeping, if the old man was to be believed.

Leonard clenched his jaw. 

One of the first rules in mysticism was not to pray to unknown entities, for the effects could exceed the worst-case scenarios one could come up with. 

If the old man was right about His help with the soulmate ritual, then Klein most likely had a sense of loyalty towards this Mr. Fool. It was also very likely He was involved with Klein’s resurrection. 

Klein had often shown his cautious nature in the past: preparing thoroughly, relying on divination to assess the risks, and choosing the safest way to approach danger, if at all. Leonard refused to believe that Klein would hold blind loyalty to a being that would put either of them in danger.

Even more, he refused to believe that Klein would knowingly lead him towards a being that had malicious intentions. He wanted to trust Klein. Besides, it seemed clear that Klein would not accept another way of staying in touch.

“Old man, I need to stay in touch with him.” Leonard whispered, the sound barely audible in the carriage. “You saw what nearly happened two months ago.”

He would decide for himself, instead of blindly following the old man’s advice. 

“Believe in the might of deities, but do not trust Their benevolence,” the old man answered with a hint of impatience in his voice. “You would be an idiot to pray to this being.”

Leonard pressed his lips together and watched the streets and people pass by in a rush. When they reached the cathedral, he threw a handful of money at the driver and rushed away.

He restrained his steps out of respect for the Goddess but still kept up the pace. He hastily brushed past a few Nighthawks in search of Madam Daly.

He found her in the library, overlooking the room from the long table. Her long hair framed her face and accentuated her beautiful eyes.

“Madam Daly,” he said in a low voice. 

She looked up, calmly taking in his flushed appearance. “You look more alive than last time. Seems like your blood is flowing again.”

Leonard brushed it off and continued. “One of my sources has informed me of a matter that needs our attention. Prince Edessak is involved with a Grade 0 Sealed Artifact in some way and could be in danger.” Leonard hesitated before he added on: “I believe the person we are both looking for is involved as well, but I do not have definitive proof. We should be careful with what we say.”

She stood up gracefully and swept towards the door “I will inform the archbishops. Did your source say anything else?”

“My source wants to stay hidden,” Leonard warned her. “And the information was received a day too late.”

The day passed in a blur. The Mandated Punishers, Machinery Hivemind and MI9 were included in the plans since the royal family was involved.

All available official Beyonders were set on high alert. Captain Soest’s team, including Leonard, were to be stationed outside Red Rose Manor to monitor its inhabitants and the comings and goings of guests. A high-sequence team with Beyonders from the churches would inconspicuously enter the manor in search for the lady with the sapphire ring. 

Nerves filled Leonard’s limbs with a restless energy that could not be shaken off. His fingers tapped a restless beat against his thigh while they made their way to Red Rose Manor.

He looked out the window and stilled.

“Captain.” His voice sounded faint, even to him. He suppressed a shiver from the sudden cold that invaded his veins, and forcefully prevented his teeth from chattering.

Large, fiery chunks flew from the skies into the forest beside the manor, making the ground tremble and setting the vegetation ablaze. The sheer strength of the meteors was frightening. Even a high-sequence Beyonder would find it challenging to protect themselves against this onslaught.

With his gaze trained on the terrifying and magnificent forces of nature outside, he barely noticed the door to the carriage open and close. He could only look at the devastation happening in front of him, could only smell the noxious smoke filling the air, when movement caught his eye.

A black-haired woman appeared in the middle of the carriage, where she was surrounded by six Nighthawks on high alert.

“Please, arrest me!”

Even before she finished speaking, the other Nighthawks had already moved. She was pressed to the ground and restrained with specialized handcuffs within three seconds.

Leonard’s mouth dropped open. “Trissy?”

A sapphire ring glittered on her finger and Leonard suppressed another shiver. 

Her gaze shifted towards Leonard, warm and knowing. “You recognise me? So did that detective, though I didn’t expect him to run to the officials so quickly.” She chuckled softly. “It doesn’t matter. I only want to get out of here.”

She was held back by three Nighthawks but still managed to sidle closer. On her knees, she brushed her soft body against his legs. Her eyes were clear and inviting as she looked up at him, her lips soft and full. 

Leonard felt his body respond to the proximity of the Demoness. He looked away in an attempt to blunt the effects of her charm, then took a slow, steady breath. The air was tinged with a sweet, flowery scent.

“All the men I’ve met today are so uptight and restrained,” she sighed and eased back at last. “You’ll make me self-conscious.”

Her gaze fell on the other Nighthawks who were like Leonard, trying to restrain the effects of her charm. “There’s something controlling my life; horrifying coincidences keep happening to me.” Her smooth voice was tinted with urgency.

“I’m turning into someone who isn’t me. Please take me away from the manor.”

Soest’s gaze became deep and serious. “Coincidences, you say?”

“Every time I try to leave or speak to someone who could help me, coincidences would occur. The person I want to speak to goes missing, the carriage doesn’t arrive, the Prince wants to spend his evening with me.” Her clear eyes clouded with horror.

Despite himself, Leonard’s jaw clenched tightly. The description of coincidences reminded him of his last months in Tingen when coincidences would keep happening to Klein; finding the notebook in an apartment near their first commission together, Klein breaking free from 2-049’s restraints, Klein running into Sirius Arapis at the library.  

“I would wake up in his arms, having forgotten the night before. I hate the feeling of a man’s arms around me!”

After a pause, Soest knocked on the partition separating them from the carriage driver. “Taylor! Turn the carriage around. We’re heading back to the cathedral.”

Crack!

The carriage lurched sideways and dragged over the ground. Anxious whinnying filled the air until the driver managed to calm down the two horses in front while the carriage slowed to a stop. 

Trissy’s gaze frantically scanned the outside of the carriage. “I told you! This keeps happening. I need to leave!”

“Graves, take the woman!” Soest slammed the door of the carriage open and strode to the front. He released the horses from the carriage and led them by their bridle towards Graves. They were unsaddled. “Get up.”

“The rest of you, run behind!” 

They actually ended up running part of the way to the cathedral.

The Nighthawks running behind hailed a carriage to follow Soest and Graves as soon as possible. It was still too late for Leonard’s tastes. He felt the stares of people on the streets bore into his face while they were running.

Trissy had behaved on the way to the cathedral, and they successfully brought her to a cell behind Chanis Gate while Soest went to alert the archbishops. Deacon Cesimir himself came to take off Trissy’s ring, which was immediately sealed away.

Leonard and his team gathered in their team’s meeting room. Leonard suppressed another full-body shiver before he realized the issue: his soulmarks were freezing cold once again. He couldn’t stop himself pacing back and forth in the room, dragging his hands through his hair in worry. Klein was in danger again. He had promised he would stay safe.

He barely noticed Soest entering the room, but he did notice how the mood shifted into something solemn.

When he looked up, the other Nighthawks had fallen silent. Soest’s face was grave. “A Demoness has infected the smog in the East Borough with a plague. Many casualties have fallen, most likely thousands.”

Leonard’s hands fell to his sides and he felt faint. The scale of the deaths was beyond his understanding.

Thousands.

He tried to imagine a large square filled with people, and then wondered if it came close to the right number. He doubted it.

“The Holy Wind Cathedral has already sent the Ace Snake to dispel the smog, but many more civilians will die in the coming days.” Soest's eyes found Leonard’s. “Thankfully, the churches were on high alert because of the Demoness Trissy. Ace Snake was able to respond in a timely manner.” 

Leonard wasn’t sure if he should respond to Soest. It seemed that Madam Daly hadn’t kept him and his source a secret. He couldn’t say he was especially surprised considering the scale of the event, but he did hope the church wouldn’t ask him to reveal his source. He couldn’t tell them about Klein. 

He would rather give up his life than endanger Klein.

Thousands of casualties. Another tragedy, one that could have been prevented. Finding Klein’s note a day earlier wouldn’t have helped prevent the full-scale tragedy, but it could have helped with rallying the other churches more quickly. It could have prevented more deaths. 

It was another thing he would have to live with. 

“We are to help with the investigations of the Demoness. Archbishop Saint Anthony has dealt with the matter using a Sealed Artifact.” 

Leonard’s stomach was a tight knot all day, as they tried to follow the leads and found zero clues to the Demoness. Somewhere during the day, his soulmarks stopped being cold and slowly warmed up. Leonard’s shoulders gradually relaxed a little. At least his tension regarding Klein’s safety could be put to the back of his mind. For now.

During their work, they passed through East Borough multiple times.

Leonard could not begin to understand the extent of the tragedy.

The streets were littered with corpses. Women holding young children, with blood streaks near their mouths. People lay face-down on the bricks, and their bowels had released their contents after their deaths. Others were curled up with looks of pain and anguish on their faces.

Everywhere he looked, he saw corpses. He tried to stay detached and professional, but his resolve slipped each time he saw a small child with blood on their clothes. Every time he saw the anguished faces of those who died without a clear reason. They must have been so frightened in their last moments. So confused.

The air smelled of blood and feces. Leonard felt his stomach turn every time they stayed at one location for too long. The silence dragged on, only disrupted by crying.

If he had found Klein's note sooner, would things have been different? Would more people be spared from this fate? 

Their hunt led them in and out of East Borough for hours, and despair slowly seeped into his every movement and thought.

By the first estimates, six thousand people had died. Many more were ill and needed treatment or they would die within the coming days. 

Leonard could only watch. Helpless.

Nearing the morning, when his gaze became progressively more bleary and he had issues focusing his thoughts, Soest finally sent him home. 

Leonard nearly fell asleep in the carriage home, the calm, rhythmic movements of the carriage lulling him to sleep. He kept his eyes open with difficulty. He was a Sleepless, but forgoing sleep for two days was too much. He rested his face in his hands and sighed. 

“Someone entered 7 Pinster Street again,” the old man warned him. “They haven’t left this time.”

He barely had the energy to respond. 

Leonard entered his house the same as yesterday. He managed to close the door without making a sound and kept his footsteps light.

He muttered under his breath about bad luck. It just had to happen on a day like this. 

He felt strangely calm. The things he had seen today—the streets littered with corpses both young and old—it was all muted. He was too exhausted. It was impossible to focus on more than one thing at a time and right now, the most important thing was dealing with the burglar.

The situation was utterly ridiculous. This was the second time in as many days he had to creep inside his own home like a burglar. 

From the ground floor, he heard rough bumps coming from upstairs. Shuffling feet dragged across the floor and bumped into something occasionally. He could have sworn he heard a sneeze.

Not a very good burglar, then. Loud. Stupid as well, since he didn’t keep many valuables at home. 

Slowly and cautiously, he made his way up the stairs. Once his head almost reached out above the first floor, he whispered a poem.

"Calm is the morn without a sound,”

“Calm as to suit a calmer grief,”

“And only thro’ the faded leaf,”

“The chestnut pattering to the ground."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then he heard the loud thud of a body dropping to the ground. Leonard took the final steps two at a time and strode into his bedroom, where the sounds had come from.

He stopped in the doorway, and didn’t quite know how to respond. He dragged his hand through his hair.

An unfamiliar man with sharp features, black hair and golden glasses lay on the ground. His clothes were drenched. Several wet one-pound notes were spread out on the desk in the corner and the curtains were drawn. The room smelled of wet fabric and dirt. 

At this point Leonard could only hope the man would remain sleeping on the floor so that he himself could finally drop into bed. If he restrained the man and locked him in the bathroom he could get some sleep first.

The man on the ground twitched before he sneezed loudly three times in a row. He then rolled to the side and got up in a crouched position. He blinked up at Leonard before sneezing again.

“Leonard.”

The voice was oddly strange, yet familiar all the same.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

20.

The strange man had sharp features: his eyes were dark and slightly slanted, and his cheekbones were high. His dark hair was slicked back, giving him a refined look, although a few strands had now escaped and framed his face. A flush had spread over the man’s face and his eyes were clouded and feverish.

“Leonard.”

The voice was different from what Leonard was used to, but familiar all the same. 

His soulmarks warmed and this was the last confirmation Leonard needed.

He took a step forward and heaved the man to his feet, carrying his weight on his shoulder. “You promised me you’d stay away from danger,” Leonard berated him.

“Achoo!” The man’s body jerked involuntarily and he blearily blinked up at Leonard. “I promised to try.”

Leonard started guiding them to the bed. The man’s clothes were still damp. “Do you need help changing into different clothes?”

“No,” the man croaked out. He cleared his throat. “Give me some old ones.”

Leonard frowned at the tone but complied either way. He was sure this was Klein, despite the changed appearance, but Klein would have said ‘please’. 

He grabbed some comfortable sleeping clothes from his drawer and handed them to Klein. He was shooed out of the room with a glare so he waited near the door until Klein allowed him to come in again. He let the back of his head drop against the wall and closed his eyes.

Why had Klein come here drenched and ill? He was a Beyonder, so this couldn’t be a natural cold. Did Klein finally trust him enough to accept his protection in this vulnerable state?

Hopefully Klein’s disguise had prevented him from being followed here. If not for the tone of his voice and his soulmarks, Leonard would not have recognised his own soulmate. It was a little disquieting to see a different person yet still know Klein was behind the mask. 

But still, if he was Klein then he was his soulmate. Like Klein’s own face, this one was quite pleasant to look at. The glare he had gotten before leaving the room had stirred something in him—a faint pull. 

“Boy. There is a problem with him.”

Leonard started. “What?” His voice was too loud in the silent hallway. 

“He has an ancient aura.” The old man’s words were careful and measured. 

Leonard lowered his voice to a whisper. “But—that’s Klein. You mean to tell me he has lived a very long time?” 

“I don't know. But it’s the same aura as the being that oversaw the soulmate ritual.”

The old man was more vocal recently. He used to give Leonard some information from time to time when working on cases but would stay quiet most of the time. Nowadays, as soon as this being—The Fool—became involved, he would speak up and even warn Leonard to stay away from his own soulmate.

“How could it—”

“I’m ready.” Klein’s voice sounded from the bedroom. 

Leonard carefully took a deep breath through his nose and rubbed his face with his hands. 

Perhaps he could ask Klein soon. Not push, but still ask. Klein has always kept secrets, but it was difficult to believe that he was an ancient Beyonder. The old man had never noticed before. Besides, Klein advanced recently to Sequence 6. He couldn’t be ancient if he wasn’t an Angel, so perhaps the aura was caused by something else. It could be the influence of Mr. Fool.

Not delaying any further, he opened the door and found the strange-looking Klein sitting on his bed, this time in pyjamas. 

He walked a little closer and carefully inspected the man’s features from a few angles. The face was smooth. Even Klein’s build and bone structure had changed until he was unrecognisable. “So, is this your new ability?” 

Klein nodded and cleared his throat. “I will be leaving Backlund within a few days, once my papers have been arranged. This is the appearance I will take on.” His voice was raspy. “Gehrman Sparrow.”

His eyes swept over Leonard’s face and clothes. “You haven’t prayed to that being yet.” A visible shiver racked Klein’s frame.

A half-smile appeared on Leonard’s lips. “I found the note a day late and I didn’t have the time after notifying the other Nighthawks of the issues you mentioned.” Leonard tapped his own lips with his index finger. “But I am also worried about praying to an unknown entity. You should know.”

Klein devolved into a fit of coughing and only just managed to remain upright with Leonard’s help. He leaned heavily into Leonard’s hand and caught his breath before he rasped out “it’s safe.” 

“Lie down.” Leonard gently pressed on Klein’s shoulders until he lay down on the mattress. “Will you stay here for a few days?”

Klein—Gehrman—looked pitiful: his eyes were glassy and his hair was messy. “If you’ll let me. I need to stay hidden.”

“I’ll leave you to rest then.” Leonard leaned in and pressed a kiss against Klein’s temple, and started to get up. 

Klein’s hand gripped his shirt tightly, crinkling the fabric. “Stay?”

Warmth bloomed in Leonard’s chest. Klein trusted him enough with this. He had a fever but he had still come for him and now he was alright with them sharing a bed for the first time. 

The bed was big enough for the two of them and they could stay close for at least a couple of hours. 

With a small smile, Leonard gently loosened the grip of Klein’s hand, and kissed the knuckles. “Let me change into clean clothes first.”

He got a weak nod in response. He left for the bathroom, changing in record time, before slipping under the blankets and joining Klein, carefully keeping some distance between the two of them.

The room was quiet and peaceful, and the darkness covered them like a heavy warm blanket. Klein—Gehrman had already closed his eyes and was breathing deeply. His breath whistled slightly as a result of his illness.

Leonard fell asleep to the sound of Gehrman’s rhythmic breathing beside him.

---

Dim light filtered through the curtains. Klein blinked slowly to clear his vision and could only make out the vague outlines of a room. He was in bed. There was a small desk in the corner. Pressure weighed on his eyes, so he closed them again.

He was warm. 

A heavy arm was wrapped around his chest, making it difficult to breathe. His nose was blocked, his mouth dry from sleeping with his mouth open. He closed his mouth and swallowed with difficulty. The arm tightened around him for a second, before it relaxed again.

He felt safe.  

When he lifted his hand to touch the arm around his chest, he felt tremors from exertion, his arm heavy and weak. His head pounded with a dull headache, in time with the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

He leaned into the warmth beside him. 

A jumbled mess of memories played in his mind. The road to Leonard’s house. The mysterious woman who had erased Mr. A and smiled at him. Emlyn White and the Master Key. The warmth pressed against his side when Leonard had guided him to bed. 

Within minutes, his breathing deepened and he fell asleep again. 

The next time he awoke, the weight across his chest had eased, and his breathing was smoother. He cleared his throat, trying to loosen the mucus that had built up. 

His eyesight was a little clearer this time. Red light spilled from the now-open curtains into the bedroom, making the objects in the room more distinct. Klein let his head fall to the side and found Leonard sitting upright against the headboard, small book in hand. 

With difficulty, Klein turned to lie on his side to face Leonard. The movement left him out of breath. The blankets were too warm around him, yet he failed to suppress the shiver that crawled down his back. 

“Hello,” Klein croaked out.

Leonard was already watching him, and gave him a soft smile. “Hey.” 

His hand dropped onto Klein’s hair, carefully smoothing the strands that had become messy and flattened while Klein was sleeping. 

Klein’s eyelids drooped slightly. He fought to keep his eyes open. He could never admit it to a soul, but the feeling of Leonard stroking his hair was… nice. Soothing. And embarrassing. He struggled to keep his expression blank.

“I prepared some food for you.” Leonard’s voice carried a hint of worry. “If you can keep it down, I’ll bring it upstairs for you.” 

“It’s fine. I can eat downstairs.” Klein’s voice was hoarse. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, slurring his words.

“Are you sure? You sound like you could fall asleep any time.”

When did Leonard become a mother hen? 

“I won’t eat in bed.” Klein pushed the blankets off and sat up with difficulty. The cold air brushed his now-exposed neck, and his warmth rapidly dissipated. He immediately regretted his choices as he shivered again. 

Leonard slightly raised his eyebrows and lightly pulled on Klein’s shoulder until he was lying flat on his back again. Klein stared at the ceiling. Why had he come here again?

“It’s fine. You’re ill.” Leonard got up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Klein was sure he had only blinked twice, before he heard Leonard’s steps in the hallway. The door opened. Leonard carried a platter with a pitcher of water, a bowl of soup, and two slices of buttered white bread.

Klein sat up again, wrapping the blankets around him this time, covering his shivering shoulders. He rested his back against the headboard.

The soup was good. It was creamy with large chunks of soft, flavourful potato and small cubes of diced ham. After the first careful bites, Klein’s eating pace picked up and he happily ate the rest of dinner. Afterwards, he drank the glass of water Leonard had set on the bedside table.

He leaned back, and rubbed his full stomach. He couldn’t prevent the look of satisfaction that crossed his face. “Thank you.”

Leonard, who had silently read and occasionally watched him eat from beside the bed, gave him a small smile. “No problem at all. Are you feeling better than earlier?”

Klein nodded in response. “Sleeping helped. My nose is still blocked and I still feel tired, but I feel fine otherwise.”

Leonard leaned back, rested his book upside down on his stomach, and put his feet on the desk chair.  “How did you get ill in the first place?” 

“I had a run-in with Mr. A. He had an ability similar to that of a Demoness of Affliction.” Klein’s eyes traced Leonard’s position. His shirt accentuated the lines of his shoulders. The top buttons were open as usual, displaying Leonard’s neck and chest. His black hair rested on his shoulder, messy yet gleaming in the dull light.

“Is that why you took a bath wearing all your clothes?”

Klein dragged his eyes back to Leonard’s face. “I tried to flee using the river, yes.” 

“And nobody followed you?”

“I divined to see if anyone was following me. The answer was negative.”

“And was the divination done before or after you decided to crawl to my place like a drenched cat?” Leonard’s tone was mild, but his eyes shone with mirth.

“Before.” Klein tried to give him a cold glare, but the sight of Leonard’s smile made him unable to. He sighed internally. He was growing soft. 

“Everything was soaking wet, so I was putting my money on the table to dry when you arrived home...” 

Klein only now realised. His spirituality hadn’t given him a warning about Leonard’s approach. Was this because the outcome would be safe? Or another side effect of the soulbond?

“I noticed.” Leonard’s voice was even but Klein still heard the hidden smile behind it. How rude. It was very reasonable to dry his money.

Leonard’s smile turned soft. “I’m glad you came here. You can stay as long as you need.”

Klein felt his own slight smile slowly disappear. “That person with that Sealed Artifact is still active in Backlund. A… friend of mine warned me to leave the capital to avoid another confrontation.” He gazed out of the window, towards the red moon. “I will be heading to sea, to digest my potion and prepare for my next advancement.”

His headache blossomed behind his eyes, returning with a vengeance. He closed his eyes.

Despite himself, he wished he could stay here for longer. It would be months before he would see Leonard again, once he left. If he could convince Leonard to join the Tarot Club, it would help, but it still wouldn’t be the same. 

Just this once, he allowed himself to long for their time in Tingen. He wasn’t sure of the relationship between him and Leonard, and their lives had been anything but quiet, but it was—better. 

“You can tell me about it later.” Leonard’s voice was quiet. “At least stay for a day, then. Until you feel better.”

When Klein opened his eyes again, Leonard was watching him with pinched brows. His eyes were deep and serious.

It seemed Leonard disliked the idea as much as Klein himself did. 

“I will,” Klein sighed. He blinked, this time more slowly.

“Sleep. I will stay with you until I need to leave.”

Leonard lifted the tray off Klein’s lap and put it on the nightstand. Klein then lay down on his side again, his vision out of focus but still aimed at Leonard. He listened to Leonard’s breathing and fell asleep within minutes.

-tbc-

Chapter Text

21.

The next time Klein woke up, his fever had broken. Besides a mildly sore throat and some remaining tiredness, he felt alright. His neck and shoulders were a little sore, but they easily responded when he moved them. His grip strength had returned since last night as well. 

His spirituality felt normal. It had been fully depleted two days ago after he fled from the cave and Mr. A, but it was at a normal level again. 

The room was empty. A small note was left on the bedside table.

I need to return to the church. I will be back tonight.

Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.

Leonard

Klein huffed out a laugh before he remembered to school his face. 

He was using his Gehrman Sparrow disguise. He couldn’t slip in his behaviour. Gehrman was supposed to be a cold hunter. A polite gentleman. 

He had already slipped last night before his fever broke. 

A light blush crept up his neck when he remembered Leonard’s hand petting his hair yesterday. Klein hadn't even given a token protest. He just relaxed and let the other pet him. As Gehrman, he really couldn’t let this happen again. It could be dangerous to slip into those behaviours and to let down his guard like that. Especially here, in Backlund.

He shook his head and focused his thoughts.

He found his now-dry clothes, which Leonard had hung over the desk chair in the corner and dressed methodically. Afterwards, he ate a simple breakfast downstairs and headed out.

He would come back, but he needed to get his affairs in order so he could leave Backlund. 

The cold outside bit into his fingers and curled around his neck. Klein rushed to buy some small necessities and received his identification papers from Miss Sharron. 

Once Klein returned home, he rubbed some warmth into his fingers and ate the small pork pies he had bought on the street in silence. He left a box with pastries on the table for later. 

While eating, his eyes scanned the living room. It was rather spacious for a man living alone who spent nearly all his time at work. The walls were covered with wallpaper with a subtle flower pattern, and the furniture was old but of good quality. Very few things spoke of Leonard and his presence: only a blanket messily thrown over the sofa, some shoes kicked out and haphazardly left in the hallway, and a large bookcase filled with books. Most of them were poetry books, as well as some romance fantasy novels. 

Klein picked one of Roselle’s poetry collections from Leonard’s bookcase and settled on the sofa with a blanket. Roselle was a plagiarist, but it would be nice to read familiar poetry again after all this time spent in this world. 

Later, he woke from his light sleep on the sofa by the sound of the front door opening. The room was now covered in darkness. The rattling sound of the gas unit followed next, and the gas lamps turned on by themselves.

Leonard entered the living room, coat and shoes already left in the hallway. Klein finally had the time to take a good look at him.

Last time they had seen each other at Sherlock’s place, Leonard’s cheeks had been a bit hollowed, and his frame had lost some of its weight. Today, his face had a bit more colour than last time they met. His eyes were brighter and his hair shone in the light. Leonard seemed to be doing better. 

Klein only let a small smile show on his face. It wouldn’t do for this persona to smile too brightly. 

Leonard shone with happiness when he spotted Klein on the sofa, a bright smile and small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.”

Leonard took off his shoes and coat and left them near the door. “Are you feeling better than yesterday?” He continued his way to the kitchen, where he filled a kettle and put it on the furnace to heat up. 

“Yes. Sleeping helped. My nose is still blocked, but I feel fine otherwise.” Klein’s eyes tracked Leonard’s smooth movements throughout the kitchen. He looked comfortable and relaxed as he took a teapot and teacups from the cabinets and put them on a silvered platter. 

“Have you eaten already? I did at the church, but there should still be some leftovers from yesterday if you haven’t.”

“I did. I also brought some pastries for tea. They’re on the table”

Leonard poured the hot water into the teapot, flipped over a small hourglass to measure the steeping time, and carried everything to the salon table. He sat down on the sofa next to Klein and stole some of the blanket resting on Klein’s lap, letting some heat dissipate. Klein gave him a glare. 

He got a small smile in response. 

Leonard’s hands smoothed over the blanket before stilling. 

Slowly, he began. “You mentioned that being yesterday, while you were still feverish.”

Klein looked away. He hadn’t expected Leonard to be the one to broach this subject again. 

“It’s the safest way of communication without others knowing. His powers will keep us hidden.”

“Hidden existences are dangerous.”

“It’s safe. I would not put you in danger.”

“Can you contract a messenger?” Leonard took the tea filter from the pot and poured them both a cup of tea, preparing Klein’s with milk and sugar as usual. 

Klein kept Gehrman’s face deliberately blank. “I don’t know how.”

He catalogued Leonard’s expression: a small crease had appeared between the man’s eyebrows and the corners of his mouth were downturned.

He needed Leonard to pray to The Fool. If Leonard didn’t, they wouldn’t be able to contact each other while he was out at sea. Besides, each time Leonard prayed, Klein would be able to monitor Leonard and his surroundings. He could perhaps give his blessings in cases of emergencies.

He needed something more to convince Leonard.

Klein waited a few seconds and let the silence drag, before he continued. “I’m His blessed. He resurrected me and helped me with the soulmark ritual.”

Leonard dragged his hand through his hair, the movement sharp.

“That’s not a guarantee for safety.” Leonard noted with a tight voice.

“He abides by the principle of equivalent exchange. He hasn’t made me do anything I’m unwilling to do.”

Leonard sighed, then cocked his head and remained quiet for a few seconds.

“Do you know why he resurrected you?”

Klein really should have expected this question. He didn’t want to lie. He couldn’t tell the truth either. 

“I—” He took a deep breath. 

“He noticed me because of the Antigonous family notebook.” His throat felt tight so he swallowed, trying to dislodge whatever made it difficult to breathe. It didn’t work. 

“That night before we met, I actually died for the first time. He didn’t make himself known until after I died a second time, though.”

Too much truth and untruth alike were wrapped tightly into one single explanation. He couldn’t withdraw this lie. But he couldn’t tell the truth. 

Leonard’s face fell. The corners of his eyes squinted together and his lips pressed tightly together and trembled. “You died before we even met?”

Klein couldn’t speak, so he nodded.

Leonard reached out to Klein and wrapped his arms around him. Klein felt tremors run through Leonard’s hands, as he was embraced tightly. Leonard’s breathing was shaky in his ears. 

He wrapped his own arms around Leonard and stroked his back. “I’m still alive.”

Alive.

The soulmark had formed after he had performed the soulmark ritual. His spirituality completely drained, he had descended the grey fog and spent the first full day at his new home almost defenseless, physically and mentally weak. His fingers had occasionally spasmed in remnant pain. The soulmark pressed itself into his skin, a glow of warmth right over his heart. It dispelled some of the pain from the ritual and he had finally been able to sleep comfortably.

Leonard released his tight embrace and gripped his shoulders instead, so he could watch Klein’s face. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Alright. I—” He took another deep breath and looked Klein in the eyes. “I want to trust you.”

Guilt and relief flooded Klein. 

“Thank you.” He breathed. He held Leonard’s hand, the same way Leonard had done for him previously when he was anxious. His thumb rubbed over the ridge of his knuckles, feeling the hills and valleys of skin and bones.

“Is this why you have His aura? Because you’re His blessed?”

Klein’s thumb stopped moving.

Leonard could sense the gray fog? Klein had seen himself covered in gray fog when he divined his own situation before, but he wasn’t aware others could sense it. 

This was a problem. Leonard had his own secrets, which was acceptable, but if others could sense the gray fog on Klein then Klein might have had a target on his back for a couple of weeks now, since his advancement.

He didn’t let his inner turmoil show. He only nodded in response, refusing to elaborate.

Leonard’s face twitched, but he didn’t make any further comment. 

Klein didn’t want to linger in this conversation. Leonard had made his choice. The silence stretched on for a few seconds.

“How was work?” Klein eventually decided on. It was simple and hopefully not a sensitive question.

Leonard inspected him carefully for another few seconds. “My team is investigating the Demoness that infected the Backlund smog.” He reached for Klein’s teacup, handed it over, then took his own. “There are too few leads. It’s as if every trace of her has vanished.” He leaned sideways against the back of the sofa, facing Klein, and sighed deeply. 

Every trace of her has vanished… Mr. A had disappeared yesterday as if wiped out by an eraser. The woman who had done that—an angel?—was very powerful. It wasn’t a stretch to believe She had erased more people. 

Klein took a sip from his tea. “Mr. A vanished after a woman with black hair appeared. Perhaps She knows what happened.” 

“‘She?’ We would have to find Her first, then. Perhaps the archbishops know about Her, but my position in the church still isn’t high enough.” Leonard leaned his cheek in his hand. “I will be allowed to advance next week, once the potion ingredients are brought from the Holy Cathedral. The information from your letter gave me enough merit to apply for an advancement.”

This was good. The stronger Leonard was, the better he would be able to protect himself. 

It was yet another reason Leonard should join the Tarot Club. 

Leonard continued. “My position won’t change despite that. I haven’t been a part of the Red Gloves for long enough to earn a promotion but I could be promoted to Captain in the coming year, if my performance stays the same.”

“You work hard. I’m sure you will show them your worth soon.” Klein gave him a proud smile. 

“I won’t be able to be your informant if I’m out at sea.” Klein continued. “But if you pray to Mr. Fool you’ll find that you will gain new information channels.”

He then realised his mistake and schooled his face. He kept slipping up his new persona while talking to Leonard. He hoped Leonard would behave himself during the gatherings. Klein wouldn’t be able to deal with the embarrassment if he didn’t. 

“People also know me as ‘Mr. World.’ I will behave differently from usual,” he warned Leonard. “Don’t spoil my cover.”

“Why do you do that?” Leonard vaguely gestured towards Klein’s face.

Klein’s brows furrowed. “Do what?”

“You stop smiling sometimes, as if on purpose. You sounded very curt occasionally during our conversation earlier as well.”

“Because I’m currently not Klein or Sherlock, but Gehrman.”

Klein felt this was important, but wasn’t quite sure why.

He hadn’t concluded the acting principles for the Faceless potion yet, but he had noticed some level of balance with the potion within the first days of consuming it. It was most likely because he had already been acting as Klein Moretti and Sherlock Moriarty, even though he was really a transmigrator, a keyboard warrior from earth, Zhou Mingrui. 

He tapped the sofa with his finger before he stilled his movements. That was Mr. Fool’s habit. 

“If I continue with this face but with Klein’s mannerisms, I could still be recognised by certain people. It’s how Qilangos was recognised and killed.” 

“So you deliberately change your habits and personality,” Leonard concluded. 

A playful smile crossed his face. Leonard leaned over into his personal space and whispered in Klein’s ear. “It’s quite imposing when you glare at me.” The warm air puffed against Klein’s neck and his skin broke out in goosebumps. 

Klein pressed his lips together and had to forcefully stop himself from blushing. He glared coldly at Leonard, who smiled innocently in response. “Just like that.”

Leonard slowly raised his hand and lightly traced the line of Klein’s collarbone over his shirt.

Klein’s breath stuttered in response. He grabbed Leonard’s wrist, holding his hand in place without much force. His gaze pinned Leonard down, unimpressed.

Leonard only smiled wider in response, but retracted his hand once Klein released him.

“You are insufferable.”

“Quite so,” Leonard agreed, smiling. 

He leaned back and observed Klein. “I informed Madam Daly of the relevant parts of your letter to me. The Church wants me to give you this.” He took a small item from his pocket: a badge with raised silver lines depicting the symbol of the Evernight Goddess.   

“I made sure it cannot be used to track you. It can be used as identification should you ever get in trouble with one of the official organisations, and will mark you as an honorary member of the Church of Evernight.”

Klein took it. The metal was still warm from Leonard’s body heat. He rubbed the lines with his thumb, feeling the relief. “Were you questioned about me?”

“I was. I didn’t give them any information, though.” Leonard’s eyes fixed themselves on the bookcases, lost in thought. “They didn’t like it, not knowing who you are.

The badge and what it symbolized—it left a strange feeling in Klein. 

The Church of the Evernight Goddess was the first place he settled after his transmigration. There, he had the guidance of Captain Dunn, Old Neil, and the other Nighthawks—and he had met Leonard while here. To be part of the Church again, even as an honorary member—it was bittersweet. 

“Did they say anything else?”

Leonard seemed to sense his strange mood, and continued in a quieter tone. “They were thankful for your information. It allowed us to respond more timely.”

Klein nodded, and stayed silent. Slowly, his hand moved to cover Leonard’s again, slotting his fingers between Leonard’s. He sighed, and looked down at the book on his lap.

Leonard’s eyes followed. “Roselle?” His quiet voice was full of disbelief.

“It was easiest to grab,” Klein said without inflection.

Leonard lightly squeezed his fingers and let him have this one. 

Klein and Leonard sat in silence for a little while, both sipping their tea and enjoying the other’s presence. 

Klein would have to leave soon. He realised he didn’t have much time: he would leave in four days. But for now he could enjoy Leonard’s presence.

It would likely be the last extended period of time they could spend together in a while. He would not spend this evening planning ahead.

He grasped Leonard’s hand more tightly. 

-tbc-

Chapter Text

22.

The days passed by too quickly. With Gehrman in his home, Leonard felt content no matter what they did.

He loved flirting with Gehrman. 

When the man still looked like Klein or Sherlock, his responses had been endearing and cute: a faint blush would stain Klein’s cheeks and his eyes would gleam with careful enjoyment, always restrained.

But Gehrman was neither Klein nor Sherlock. In just a few days, Leonard saw his character evolve into something sharper. Cold looks. Restrained silence. 

Leonard loved it especially when he teased Gehrman and Gehrman’s restrained behaviour cracked, just a little. A whisper in Gehrman’s ear would make him shudder, and a teasing hand gliding past his shoulders and down his chest would make his breath catch. He would then glare at Leonard until Leonard backed off with a wide smile. 

Sometimes he would stay perfectly still, dark eyes following Leonard’s movements with intense focus as if watching his prey, his lips parted. 

One time, Leonard was sure Gehrman would attack him—to kill or kiss, Leonard could hardly care. But the moment passed and Gehrman’s eyes became cool and still as a lake before the man had turned on his heels and walked away with measured steps.

Leonard had been unable to crack Gehrman’s restraint any further.

Despite Gehrman’s differences from Klein and Sherlock, they easily fell into a rhythm that worked for them. Leonard’s hours were irregular: he often came home late from a mission. But he would enter the house, find Gehrman and join him—on the sofa, during dinner, in the bed—and it worked. They fit together, and Leonard often found his worries disappeared within minutes. 

Leonard usually woke before Gehrman, even if he went to bed later. When he woke, his nose would be pressed against the back of Gehrman’s neck, their legs tangled together and his arms around Gehrman’s waist. The other man never protested this, not even a quiet grumble when Leonard moved and woke him. 

Too soon, Monday the 4th of January came around. Gehrman packed his few belongings and readied himself to leave.

Leonard would come with him to see him off and also to welcome Benson and Melissa as they entered Backlund. 

They said goodbye at home. 

Leonard hugged Gehrman, his slightly taller frame fully wrapping around the other man and engulfing him. The other man seemed unperturbed and didn’t respond beyond putting his hands on Leonard’s waist. 

Gehrman didn’t move until Leonard pulled back, unwillingly, minutes later. 

“Take care of yourself.” The words were said without inflection; Gehrman’s words rarely were. But his eyes had softened, just this once. His voice was monotone, but the meaning behind the words wasn’t. 

Leonard pressed his forehead against Gehrman’s and closed his eyes. “You too. Try not to do something reckless for a week.”

When Leonard blinked, Gehrman was already watching him. He felt a strong hand grip his chin, guiding it downwards as he was pulled into a kiss.

He grasped the fabric of Gehrman’s double-breasted coat to steady himself. 

Gehrman was—more assertive than Klein. 

As their lips brushed, warmth bloomed in Leonard’s chest. The simple softness of Gehrman’s lips was almost overwhelming. 

Leonard felt himself tremble.

Immediately, too quickly, they broke apart and Gehrman took a step back, recreating some distance between them.

“Let’s leave.” The voice was still monotone, but slightly breathless this time.

Leonard exhaled in a rush, his lips still tingling where they had pressed against Gehrman’s. He could only nod and ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as the expected separation came nearer. 

The metro ride towards the train station was spent in silence and with a careful distance between them. When Gehrman ordered a train ticket, Leonard sank into the crowds, unseen. His eyes remained on Gehrman. 

As promised, they didn’t interact further.

Leonard swallowed and fought to keep his face blank. His eyes stung, but he kept his gaze straight ahead, watching Gehrman’s strong back disappear into the distance. Leonard’s gaze didn’t waver until Gehrman disappeared into the crowd.

Soon after, Leonard recognised two people in the crowd.

Benson and Melissa.

He forced out a smile, which felt static and fake, and politely greeted them. 

As they travelled to 7 Spinster Street by metro, Leonard kept up a steady stream of light commentary of the city. 

Benson had similar humour to Klein and easily kept up the conversation. Interacting with Melissa was more difficult: she was an intelligent young girl with sharp eyes and clear opinions. She had no qualms to give him a disappointed, slightly disparaging look after he told her all he could about the metro, which frankly was very little. 

Their presence kept his mind off Klein’s departure and made the separation a little easier to bear. 

He welcomed them into his home and showed them to their guest rooms. They dropped off their items, chatted for a few more minutes, and then they left to find a housing agency.

Afterwards, Leonard was alone for the first time in a week. 

The house was empty. Only the bustle from the street outside could be heard.

He sighed.

His eyes scanned the room, looking for traces of Klein they might have forgotten to clean. There were none.

His house had never felt this large.

He stared at the sofa for a long time, thinking, before sighing again and sitting down.

He clasped his hands, closed his eyes, and pressed his hands to his chest: he prayed to the Goddess, asking Her for guidance. 

He didn’t expect an answer, and instead used the quiet time in prayer to reconsider his options.  

Several minutes passed. 

When he received no response, he opened his eyes and pressed his clasped hands to his mouth. His fingers were trembling.

‘Believe in the might of deities, but do not trust Their benevolence.’ The old man’s words sounded reasonable. 

But he had promised Klein he would pray to The Fool. Klein’s reasons for why The Fool was interested in him hadn’t been too convincing. Why was the Antigonous Notebook so important that Klein would become His blessed? The old man had yelled at him during that part of the conversation and it was very likely he was considering moving to a different host right about now. 

It was fine. 

Leonard had made his choice.

He returned his clasped hands to his chest, and after a breath, calmly recited the honorific name with a stable voice that belied his feelings.

“The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era;”

“Boy!” A slightly-aged voice rang out in his mind.

“The Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog;”

Leonard clenched his hands together more tightly, his fingers becoming white from pressure.

“The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.”

He waited in silence, but nothing happened for the next few minutes. His shoulders gradually relaxed and his fingers stopped shaking.

Apparently, he wouldn’t get a response. Not now, either way. 

“You don’t even know the risk you’re taking.” The voice was tired, barely a sigh. 

Leonard opened his mouth to respond, when a wave of red light filled his vision.

He was in a wide space. 

Gray fog stretched endlessly into the distance, swirling continuously in soothing motions. Around him were tall pillars supporting a tall dome ceiling. It was an elaborately decorated palace. The sheer size of the building made him feel like an ant, ready to be crushed underfoot of giants.

He was seated at a long mottled bronze table, which was surrounded by high-backed chairs, with one taller chair at the far end of the table. 

Seated at the head of the table was a figure clad in dark robes and covered in gray fog, leisurely leaning back into His chair. 

A chill crawled down Leonard’s back at the sight of this figure. He seemed to deflect the surrounding light, creating the illusion of staring into the immeasurable depths of the dark night sky without the moon and stars present. The fog curled around Him in dizzying patterns. 

Leonard quickly bowed his head and lowered his eyes, not daring to look for a second longer. 

His soulmarks tingled pleasantly. His breathing hitched for a second before he caught himself.

An effect of the soulmark ritual?

He could feel the power of the fog all around him, making his hair stand upright. This being’s might was undeniable and without a second thought, Leonard stood up to prostrate himself in front of the deity. 

An irresistible force pressed him back into his chair.

“There is no need for that.”

“You can call me Mr. Fool.”

His voice was rich and warm. 

Unable to stand, Leonard bowed as deeply as possible from his place in the chair. “Mr. Fool—Thank you.” His forehead nearly pressed against the side of the table. His voice charged with emotions, he continued: “Thank you. For saving my soulmate.”

“It was a small matter.” Mr. Fool’s calm voice smoothed over some of Leonard’s chaotic emotions. 

A small matter. 

The full weight of his choice to pray to Mr. Fool finally settled on his shoulders. This was the might of a deity. Resurrection was but a small thing to Him. He might even stand on equal grounds with the Goddess. 

Even thinking this felt like blasphemy.

Leonard was at the mercy of this being. Klein had made it this far despite attracting His attention. Hopefully, Leonard could also survive this.

“You prayed for my assistance but you have not asked for anything yet. Once you do, by the principle of equivalent exchange, you will pay the price.”

Mr. Fool chuckled and the vibrations seemed to echo around Leonard. 

“It would be a minor matter. Something that would inconvenience me.”

A small matter to a deity could still be a large matter to Leonard. His power was still lacking. At least he would advance tomorrow. 

Leonard trembled but sat up straight, casting his eyes on the table in front of Mr. Fool, careful not to look at Him directly. “What is it you wish me to do?”

“There is nothing right now. Later, you might have to help my blessed, or give me information.”

Helping his blessed—helping Klein. He would do this without being asked. 

Leonard’s feelings settled. Still watchful. Still careful. But the nerves that had raced through him ever since praying seemed to dissipate, swept away by the fog that soothingly curled around him as if probing him.

Immediately after, he tensed again. This was a hidden existence. 

“Of course, Mr. Fool.” He kept his voice even. 

“There are other living beings that have been pulled in here for various reasons.”

“They earnestly wished for me to convene a gathering to carry out the exchange of information and the transaction of materials and formulas. They also help each other. This allows them to rapidly advance, eventually becoming High-Sequence Beyonders.”

Why would Mr. Fool agree to such a request? How did he benefit from helping low- and mid-sequence Beyonders grow? Did he have a long-term goal for which he needed strong followers, like Klein?

Leonard was still limited by his position in the Church. However, Klein had mentioned this would be a good source of information. Even if Leonard couldn’t advance without the Church’s support, he could find Beyonder items to strengthen him and he could increase his mysticism knowledge. If he was stronger, he could prevent Klein from dying again. He could prevent tragedies like the Great Smog of Backlund. 

“Honorable Mr. Fool, I would like to join this gathering, if you’ll permit me.” His voice was strong and sure as his hands clenched into fists. 

This was an opportunity.

The fog-covered being chuckled slowly. “Sure.”

The faint outline of a smile on His face was visible through the fog. With a smooth movement, He conjured a deck of cards which settled soundlessly on the table in front of Leonard.

“They have each selected a tarot card to represent themselves. You can also choose one. The deck has the cards of their respective owners taken away.”

Klein was The World. 

Leonard’s eyes flickered around the table, and found that it was surrounded by twenty-two identical tall chairs. Twenty-two chairs, like the twenty-two tarot cards and twenty-two Beyonder pathways. The Tarot Club, indeed. 

Leonard took the deck, and with sure movements, shuffled the cards, infusing them with his spirituality. When he felt the time was right, he stilled his movements and flipped the top card.

On the card was the Goddess pouring holy water. The background was filled with many tiny, shimmering stars. 

The Star. Upright. 

A symbol of hope and strength. Renewal. A guiding light, nudging him to find his own way during his time of separation with Klein, and hope that they would see each other again. 

Leonard’s fingers smoothed over the card. He would have chosen another one to represent him here, but he had no choice but to accept it. 

“The gathering happens every Monday at three in the afternoon, Backlund time. Make sure you are alone.”

The next meeting would be later today, then. 

Leonard bowed deeply at the being. 

“When you return, do not attempt to hide this from the being parasitizing you.”

Leonard froze for a second. “Why must I tell him?”

His relationship with the old man had been somewhat strained lately. Leonard trusted him to some extent—his information and lessons had never failed him—but he still felt wary: the old man’s repeated warnings to stay away from his own soulmate put a strain on their relationship.

Mr. Fool responded with a smile and leaned back into his chair. “Many a time, striking fear is a lot more useful than conflict.”

The old man was already afraid of Mr. Fool. He would most likely chew Leonard out once he returned to the physical world but Leonard had no intention of backing down. He would make his own choices and take his own risks. 

His soulmate had a higher priority than the old man ever would.

With Mr. Fool present, the old man might not dare to retaliate. If he really wanted to, Leonard doubted he could handle the high-Sequence Parasite by himself. It would be extremely unwise to push the old man too much, for the battlefield would be Leonard’s body. 

“Return.” Mr. Fool interrupted his thoughts. 

The Fool tapped the table with his finger once, surprising Leonard who rushed to bow.

Leonard blinked as he saw the inside of his home again. He was still sitting on the sofa, hands clasped together.

He dragged his right hand through his hair and sighed.

“Still alive, then?” A slightly-aged voice sounded. “You were unresponsive for ten minutes.”

The meeting with Mr. Fool had only taken ten minutes? It had felt like half an hour to Leonard.

“He didn’t seem inclined to hurt me.”

The old man harrumphed. “He is most likely hiding his true goals.”

Leonard ignored the old man. “I’ll be joining the gathering that Mr. Fool hosts every Monday.” 

“He told me to let you know.”

“...”

The old man stayed silent for a long time, so long that Leonard considered making himself a cup of tea. 

“I won’t interfere.” The voice was tired and resigned.

Leonard gave a curt nod.

“The next meeting is later today. Three o’clock.”

This time, no response was forthcoming.

Leonard filled the hour between the meetings with cleaning, restlessly searching for things that might inform Benson and Melissa of another person’s presence—of Klein’s presence here.

The cleaning session was finished quickly and efficiently, and Leonard kept his jaw clenched all the while. He wanted to live together with Klein in the future. He hoped he wouldn’t have to clean up and hide him away like he was doing right now.

How long would it take before Klein could show himself safely? Could he do this at all?

Near three o’clock, Leonard forced himself to go to his bedroom and lie in bed to await the meeting. It wouldn’t do if Benson and Melissa returned home early and found him unresponsive.

At three sharp, red light flooded his vision.

-tbc-