"Okay." Klein didn't insist anymore, put on his coat and hat, picked up his cane, returned to the corridor, and pulled the door of the armory halfway.

Da, da, da, he walked slowly in the empty aisle, and suddenly saw a room next to him that he had never seen before.

"There's a secret door here..." Klein stopped near the corner and looked towards the room.

He found that "Corpse Collector" Frye had returned and was examining a completely stripped body in detail.

corpse? Klein's heart skipped a beat, he mustered up the courage to approach the room, and tapped three times on the open door.

Boom, boom, boom.

Frye stopped, turned around, and looked over with blue and cold eyes.

"Sorry to bother you, I just want to know if this is the body of the Extraordinary?" Klein asked with a deliberate tone.

"Yes." Frye's thin lips opened and closed, but only one word came out.

Klein looked past him and looked at the corpse, and sure enough, he found the familiar hideous wound on his forehead.

It was the clown in the tuxedo... Klein heaved a sigh of relief and said, "Did you find anything?"

"No." Frye replied very succinctly.

The atmosphere became awkward, and Klein was about to leave, but Frye took the initiative to speak: "If you feel unwell, you can come in and take a look, and you will find that this is just a corpse."

Afraid I have a mental block? Klein nodded thoughtfully: "Okay."

He entered the room, came to the long table covered with white cloth, and looked at the corpse.

The red, yellow and white paint on the clown's face in a tuxedo had all been removed, revealing an unfamiliar face with black hair, a high nose bridge, and a man in his thirties.

At this time, Fry went to the square table in the corner and picked up a piece of pencil and a piece of white paper.

He returned to the vicinity of the corpse, put away the white paper, took a pencil in his hand, and began to draw.

Klein glanced curiously, and found that Frye was actually sketching the head of a clown in a tuxedo.

Not long after, Fry stopped the pencil, and there was a lifelike portrait on the white paper. Compared with the corpse, it only had no wounds and only had blue eyes.

Talent... Klein exclaimed in surprise: "I didn't expect, I didn't expect your sketches to be so good."

"Before I became a Nighthawk, my dream was to be a painter." Frye's tone didn't fluctuate at all.

"Then why don't you realize your dream?" Klein asked doubtfully.

Frye put away the pencil, holding the portrait of the clown in the tuxedo and said, "My father is the priest of the goddess. I hope I can become a priest too. This is a decent enough profession."

"Have you ever been a pastor?" Klein asked again in astonishment.

It was hard for him to imagine someone with Frye's character and temperament as a pastor.

"Well, it's not bad." Frye replied indifferently, with the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, "After meeting some things and experiencing some things, he became a Nighthawk."

Klein didn't go into details about other people's privacy, but instead asked, "You used to be the priest of the goddess, so why didn't you choose 'Sleepless'?"

"A personal reason." Frye replied frankly, "and Ms. Daly is a good role model."

Klein nodded. Just as he was about to change the subject, he heard Frye say, "Help me look here. I have to hand over the portrait to the captain right away... It's very troublesome to close the secret door." JrNovels.com