Lord of Mysteries:The Good Witch

Angel briefly meditated to clear her mind and avoid being influenced by negative emotions. She then focused her attention on the right side of the imaginary table in her mind.

Joining the Nighthawks as a full member certainly had its benefits. According to Dunn, the salary for official members was double her current pay, amounting to 6 pounds per week or over 300 pounds annually. This didn't include the "extra income" from completing Mrs. Green's commission last week. Moreover, the weekly salary would gradually increase based on years of service.

In this era, an annual income exceeding 300 pounds was quite substantial. The average worker's weekly wage was only about 1 pound, with dock workers and other temporary laborers earning even less due to job instability.

If she refused to become an official member, not only would the 6-pound weekly salary be out of reach, but she might also lose her current 3-pound wage as an unofficial member. Relying solely on the inheritance from Cole Granger—just over 200 pounds—wouldn't sustain her for long. Furthermore, the potion ingredients required for advancement were not cheap. Even for the Sequence 8 "Instigator" potion, any single main ingredient would cost more than her entire savings.

Of course, if she left the Nighthawks, she could seek other employment to make a living and avoid depleting her resources.

With her exceptional marksmanship and close combat skills, she could work as a mercenary. She had heard that security companies and private detectives throughout Tingen City were overwhelmed with work, so joining now might be a good opportunity.

Alternatively, she could follow in the footsteps of transmigrator predecessors like Emperor Roselle and sell some of her advanced knowledge and ideas from the future, potentially leading to overnight wealth.

After a moment's hesitation, she filled in the first word on the right side: "Stable income."

Beyond income, the benefits of being a Nighthawk member were something she had deeply appreciated over the past few days.

The hundreds of bullets she had used for target practice alone were worth several pounds, not to mention the free use of the shooting range through her police badge. Others had to pay 3 soli per hour to use the range.

Weapons were also provided free of charge. A revolver cost 3 pounds, and according to Old Neil, they could be replaced for free at the slightest sign of wear, saving considerable expenses.

If she became an official Nighthawk, she would also gain the status of "Probationary Inspector," which sounded like a significant police rank. This would be advantageous in daily life and when dealing with ordinary disputes. Simply showing her badge would place her on the right side in the eyes of the general public.

Various materials for practicing mystical rituals could also be requisitioned. During the recent production of "Storm Convergence" and "Phantasm Phosphorescence" bullets, due to the unexpectedly high success rate, she had surplus materials left over. If converted to cash, this would be no less than her fixed income.

She had also heard about substantial pensions in case of death. But with no family or relatives, how would that benefit her?

Angel thought of Coll's sister studying at Backlund University, nominally "Angel Grange's" cousin. If she were to sacrifice herself in the line of duty, would the pension go to her?

Putting aside this inauspicious thought, Angel filled in the third word, corresponding to "Danger" on the left side: "Safety."

This wasn't contradictory. Joining the Nighthawks indeed carried risks, but she hadn't forgotten that she had killed Madam Sharon and was now on the "Demoness Sect's" radar.

Madam Sharon had once revealed to Cole Granger the scale of the cult, which included more than one Sequence 4 Beyonder, equivalent to "demigod" level powerhouses. The fact that she was still alive likely meant that they hadn't yet bothered with someone as insignificant as her, rather than her being truly safe.

As one of the notorious evil cults of the Northern Continent, the "Demoness Sect" was known for assassinating political figures, conducting sacrificial rituals, and carrying out large-scale massacres. They were blacklisted by every orthodox church. Joining the official Beyonder armed forces of the Goddess of Night would undoubtedly provide more protection. Even the higher-ups of the "Demoness Sect" would have to consider the consequences of killing an official Beyonder on record.

At the very least, facing pursuit, having Beyonder teammates would be better than fighting alone. Multiple low-sequence Beyonders working together could surpass a single mid-sequence Beyonder in combat power, as demonstrated in the battle against Madam Sharon.

Speaking of other Beyonders, Angel suddenly remembered the talisman-making method Old Neil had taught her and Klein's promised "divination lessons."

Beyonders of different sequences could not only collaborate in combat but also complement each other in mystical knowledge. Originally, as an assassin, Cole Granger's mentor and superior, Madam Sharon, was also advancing along the assassin sequence, limiting the knowledge she could teach to assassination and instigation-related content, essentially entering an information cocoon and becoming self-enclosed.

However, within the Nighthawks, there were not only several Beyonders from different pathways who could share knowledge, but also access to internal church documents, providing mystical knowledge difficult for outsiders to obtain.

Recalling the eloquent "Hanged Man" at the "Tarot Gathering" and comparing it to her own bewilderment when exchanging information, Angel filled in the fourth word in the table: "Mystical knowledge."

Now there were four key words on each side, making the table appear symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing.

Similarly, on the scales in Angel's heart, both choices weighed equally heavy.

She was once again facing the same dilemma as the day she received Madam Sharon's letter.

Should she refuse to join the Nighthawks and once again face this strange yet vast world alone, or become an official member and fight alongside the teammates she had gradually become familiar with over the past few days?

Dunn Smith had told her to leave the decision until the day the Sanctuary replied, but Angel knew that if she couldn't decide today, she would be equally unable to choose on that day.

Her gaze wavered between the two ends of the crossroads, unable to make up her mind.

This couldn't go on. She had to add a ninth word to the center of the table: "Home."

Yes, home.

It had been over 10 days since she came to "this world." She had her own identity, a temporary job, had eliminated her greatest threat, and made quite a few friends.

But this wasn't her home. Her home was in Liverpool, England, not in Tingen City, Awwa County. She was a modern person from the 21st century, not a resident of this... mysterious steam age!

But how to embark on the journey home? Angel was at a loss.

She had studied in detail the life of Emperor Roselle Gustav, the most famous monarch of the Fifth Epoch, who was suspected... no, certainly a transmigrator, and his tumultuous life.

According to records, Emperor Roselle continued to create and innovate technologies beyond his era until his old age, when he was assassinated in the White Maple Palace. This indicated that he had never found a way "home" and had spent his entire life in this world.

Of course, perhaps after death, Emperor Roselle's soul, not belonging to this world, returned to Earth. But such things were impossible to verify, and such an "attempt" only had one chance. Angel wasn't ready to try it so soon.

So, the only option left was to seek answers in mysticism.

Perhaps the major churches had records of transmigrators? Or methods of traveling to other worlds? If pursuing this path, joining an orthodox church would undoubtedly be a good start. By accumulating contributions and gradually rising through the ranks, she should be able to slowly access this hidden knowledge.

Or she could try to find other living transmigrators. Where there's one or two, there might be three. This world already had Emperor Roselle and herself; there might well be a third transmigrator.

She could place personal ads in English newspapers, buy space to draw large radiation warning signs, or use some memes that only modern people would understand. Any knowledge not belonging to this world would attract the attention of potential hidden transmigrators.

If she were to do this, leaving the Nighthawks and regaining her freedom would be the better choice.

But this led her back into a dilemma...

Adding the new keyword didn't make Angel's choice any easier. She sighed, deciding to first collect her bullets from Old Neil and then slowly make her decision.

Turning right at the crossroads, she arrived at the iron door of the armory and gently knocked, quickly receiving a response.

"Is that Angel? Please come in."

Pushing open the large door and entering the armory, she found Old Neil still in his robe, sitting at the table studying a few pages of Emperor Roselle's manuscripts. Several papers filled with symbols were already on the table, and a pot of coffee emitting a peculiar aroma was steaming.

Seeing Angel enter, he said without looking up, "Here to collect today's bullets, I suppose? Wait a moment, let me finish drawing these symbols."

He wrote and drew on a blank paper with a pencil, copying several characters from the manuscript. Angel recognized one of the characters as somewhat resembling the meaning of "sun" or "date," but she wasn't sure. Her knowledge of Chinese was limited to a few characters used in advertisements for trendiness or famous quotes tattooed on celebrities. Faced with a page full of square characters, she could only sigh in frustration.

After writing down several Chinese characters like a painting, Old Neil let out a breath, put down his pencil, and looked up at Angel.

"Klein isn't with you today?" He peered behind Angel, finding only one person had come, and asked puzzledly, "Don't you usually... oh, I remember now, it's his day off today."

He patted the pencil dust off his robe, stood up, took a set of keys from nearby, and deftly entered the back of the armory.

"The usual?" Old Neil's voice came from inside, but before Angel could answer, he returned with a box of bullets.

"30 regular pistol rounds, no need to sign. After all, you're the only one using this caliber."

Handing the paper bullet box to Angel, Old Neil resumed his lazy "Roselle researcher" demeanor. He plopped back into his chair, ready to continue his decoding work.

"By the way, Klein said you're very interested in divination. I just taught him last week, you can come and listen when you have time."

"But you practice shooting with him every morning, and I heard you even taught him a few moves? I think you might as well ask him directly. This young man learns fast, and he's a 'seer.' He might even teach better than I do."

Old Neil smiled and lowered his head to continue drawing Chinese symbols crookedly.

"Thank you, I'll find an opportunity to ask him," Angel replied.

At this moment, Angel's mind was full of her decision to stay or leave. Faced with such a question, she didn't dare make promises and could only respond perfunctorily.

Leaving the armory with the bullets, Angel returned to the second floor of the Black Thorn Security Company. Having wasted quite some time worrying about her future in the basement, she was surprised to find it was nearly noon. The sound of a heavy mechanical typewriter came from Mrs. Orianna's office. In the reception room, a waiter from Old Will's Restaurant had finished registering the number of people and portions for lunch and was preparing to leave. The white-haired "writer lady" Siger Theon saw Angel emerge from behind the partition and called out to the waiter.

"Wait a moment, add one more person... What set meal would you like?" she turned to ask Angel.

For the past few days, Angel had been eating lunch from Old Will's Restaurant at the Black Thorn Security Company, and she had become quite familiar with the other Nighthawks, especially Siger Theon. Because Siger wanted to "gather material" from her, she would always chat with Angel during meals. Apart from Klein, Siger was the Nighthawk member Angel had interacted with the most.

"No, thank you. I'll eat at home for lunch," Angel declined Ms. Theon's invitation. Today was Monday, and there was a "Tarot Gathering" at three in the afternoon. To avoid delays on the way and missing the time, she decided to have lunch back on Daffodil Street.

"Oh—" the white-haired lady let out a deliberately long sound, putting on a sad expression. "He's off duty today, so you won't eat here? I knew you first..."

"Stop, stop!" Angel quickly interrupted her performance. "You're the third person to mention Klein today. Can't we move past this topic?"

"But Leonard is also off duty today!" Siger revealed a sly smile. "Aren't you admitting something without being asked?"

"I..." Angel was at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond for a moment.

"Ahem..." It was the waiter from Old Will's Restaurant who came to her rescue, though not intentionally. "If there's no additional order, I'll be leaving now?"

Only then did the two realize there was still an outsider present. Angel shook her head and repeated, "I won't be eating here for lunch. No need to add my portion."

After watching the waiter leave quickly, Siger Theon turned back and continued, "I heard you're going to 'become official'?"

The news had spread so quickly...

Angel was surprised at the speed of office gossip. She nodded and replied, "The captain mentioned it to me, said he had already applied to the Sanctuary. I haven't given an answer yet."

"It does need careful consideration. This is different from a civilian job. Once you join, well... you understand."

Siger originally wanted to say more, but seeing Angel's melancholic expression, she clicked her tongue and decided not to add to her pressure.

Looking at Siger Theon's rare white hair, Angel had a sudden thought and asked, "Did you hesitate before becoming an official member?"

"I didn't think that much about it because I didn't have a choice," the white-haired lady squinted her eyes, seemingly lost in memories. "Unlike you, I was just an ordinary person before joining the Nighthawks. An out-of-control 'Heart of Mechanical Minds' Beyonder went on a killing spree in the South District, and I survived by luck. The captain saw that I had some skills and invited me."

"I had nightmares for a whole year, reliving that moment every day. When he asked if I wanted to take the potion and become a Beyonder and an official member, I agreed without hesitation."

"I simply felt that... becoming a Beyonder would give me the power to protect myself and others. A cliché reason, right? Like a trashy novel that no one reads."

Angel keenly sensed that Siger Theon seemed to have omitted some details, but she just listened quietly.

"I just think you don't necessarily have to choose the most appropriate option, but rather choose one that you won't regret not choosing the other," Siger concluded. "After that, I never had nightmares again."

"Sigh, the more I talk, the more it sounds like one of my novels rejected by the editor," she said, as if feeling the atmosphere had become a bit heavy, and changed the subject to something she was interested in.

"I think with some modifications, it could totally be a bestselling novel plot," Angel also joked. "Just be careful not to violate regulations and leak secrets about the Nighthawks and the church."

"No worries, I can use members of the Punisher or Mechanical Heart pathways as protagonists!"

The two women smiled at each other.

——————

Walking out of the reception room door and down the stairs to the first floor, Angel looked back. The "Black Thorn Security Company" sign was still hanging in the corner of the staircase turn. Passersby would hardly notice the sign if they didn't look carefully.

"Sigh, choosing this way might lead to regret later, but not choosing it might make me regret immediately?" Mulling over Siger Theon's advice, Angel sighed and walked towards the public carriage stop at the street corner.

Under the nearly noon sun, Angel could no longer clearly see the imaginary table in her mind. But as she walked, she still reached out her right hand and wrote a word in the space that only she could see.

"Companions."