Professor Bright was Siles Noel’s mentor during his two-year apprenticeship.
He was an elderly man nearing sixty, with brown hair mixed with gray that was somewhat disheveled and unkempt. He was a widower without wife or children, always evasive about his past.
However, he was indeed a strict yet kind mentor. His amber pupils always sparkled with a kind of wise, cunning light. Academically, this professor had given Siles tremendous help.
Yesterday afternoon, when Siles came to the university for his interview, Professor Bright had also secretly hinted that he shouldn’t be nervous, as if this position had already been reserved for Siles. Who knew how much effort Professor Bright had put in behind the scenes.
Siles walked forward two steps to greet Professor Bright’s arrival.
Professor Bright wore a warm brownish-red robe that covered his short, stocky frame. He was a small man with a ruddy complexion who looked very healthy and strong. Soon, he hurried to Siles’s presence.
Before speaking, he swept a glance at the office’s appearance and immediately cried out: “What on earth is this?!”
Siles said: “I haven’t had time to organize it yet.”
Professor Bright grumbled and complained, standing up for his former student. The content was nothing more than how the college’s attitude toward Siles, this young professor, was perhaps too dismissive.
Siles said: “They’re probably worried there might be some important materials in here that need professionals to come organize.”
“That crazy old fool Cabel?!” Professor Bright shouted. “What important materials could he have?”
Siles showed a slightly surprised expression and asked: “Professor Cabel?”
Professor Bright’s expression froze, then realized he had let something slip and said sheepishly: “Yes… this office, as well as your position, once belonged to Professor Cabel.”
Siles slowly nodded, looking thoughtful.
Professor Bright said: “Let’s talk inside. Have you eaten?”
Siles thought of the small piece of white bread from this morning, hesitated, then shook his head.
Professor Bright looked at his former student with slight dissatisfaction and said: “Young people just graduated…” he muttered to himself. “Then let’s go to the cafeteria together later.”
They roughly organized the materials and papers in the office. As for the other dust and dirt, they were temporarily helpless. Soon, Siles selected several manuscripts from among them related to course content, planning to take them home to study.
After finishing all this, he asked Professor Bright: “Professor, did Professor Cabel resign?”
“Of course.” Professor Bright said. “He’s getting old and said he couldn’t continue to bear the burden of teaching work. However, I see his health is quite good—who knows what’s really going on with him.”
Bright’s attitude toward Cabel appeared very dissatisfied.
Professor Cabel was quite famous in the College of Arts and History. There were several professors in the college researching literary history, and Professor Cabel was the most reclusive. He was a strange old man with a full head of white hair who kept to himself.
When Siles was still a student, he often heard classmates talking about this professor behind his back, with very… contemptuous tones and content.
The former Siles’s interaction with Professor Cabel was limited to a certain major elective course; he hadn’t taken any of Professor Cabel’s other courses. He seemed not to take apprentices, nor did he communicate much with other professors in the college, but rather focused on immersing himself in some research of his own.
Moreover, the college’s attitude toward this was ambiguous. It seemed to support it, yet allowed gossip in the college.
Siles asked again: “Then, why was I chosen?”
Professor Bright hesitated, but finally confessed: “Originally, they planned to have Cabel’s teaching assistant take this position. Do you remember that gloomy young man?” Seeing Siles nod, he continued, “But that kid can’t be contacted.”
Siles asked, somewhat surprised: “Can’t be contacted?”
“Yes.” Professor Bright said. “The semester is about to start, and he still hasn’t submitted his teaching plan, so the dean contacted him, but couldn’t find him, no matter what, and couldn’t find anyone close to him either.
“In the end, they had to find someone temporarily. However, you needn’t worry—since you’ve come, you can’t possibly be driven away. I’m here.”
Siles showed a sincere smile and said: “Thank you.”
Professor Bright patted his hands with satisfaction and said: “Siles, you truly are a good kid. You’ll accomplish great things—that’s what I say.” He stood up. “Alright, let’s go, we’ll go eat. Look how hungry you’ve become.”
This kind elder with a slightly teasing attitude took Siles for a meal at the university cafeteria.
In Siles’s memory, he had also spent countless mealtimes here. The cafeteria’s taste was acceptable and cheap and affordable, except the dishes weren’t as familiar as those the former Earthling He Jiayin knew.
…But he would have to get used to this world eventually, wouldn’t he?
After eating, Siles and Professor Bright strolled around campus and chatted about course-related issues. Siles distressedly asked some questions, and Professor Bright also gave some guidance with a bit of a spectator’s mentality.
Finally, he summarized: “You need to have some confidence in yourself, Siles. You’re my best student. In a couple years, I’ll also be retiring, and then…”
He didn’t say it, only gave Siles a rather suggestive look.
Senior professors with deep qualifications naturally received treatment much, much better than young professors like Siles.
Siles didn’t know Professor Bright’s actual income, but recalling Professor Bright’s lavish spending in the past, he momentarily felt some motivation.
However, he thought again—how long could he really stay in this professor position?
Siles thanked Professor Bright for his kindness.
Soon, Professor Bright said he had other matters and needed to return to his office. His office was also on the fourth floor—he was probably heading there earlier when he ran into Siles midway.
Siles then bid farewell to Professor Bright.
For that somewhat messy office, he temporarily couldn’t think of any way to handle it. Perhaps after he moved to Lafami University’s dormitory, he could find time to come organize and clean it.
Right now, he had neither time nor tools.
Soon, Siles boarded the return public carriage with the manuscript materials he had found.
The return route was slightly different. The public carriage line he took ran in a clockwise loop, like a circle. Coming here, he had taken the upper half of the circle; now it was the lower half.
This let him see more of the East District’s prosperous scenery: the huge, spacious central square, the mighty and tall statue of the nation’s founder, the magnificent towering cathedral, the commercial district woven with crowds, the quiet and elegant residential neighborhoods…
Suddenly, the driver loudly reminded: “Historical Society stop!”
The public carriage slowly stopped.
Siles froze. In this instant, he hesitated for a moment, thought of that business card Grenfield had handed him, then decided to push through the other passengers to get off, looking toward that small but exquisite building ahead.
He couldn’t quite say what style of architecture it was—it couldn’t be matched with Earth’s architectural styles.
There were pointed roofs, a clock tower, Gothic lancet windows and stained glass, yet also Roman-style semicircular vaulted roofs—an uncompromising mixed style, as if past history had been blended together.
However, Siles thought that since this was the Historical Society’s location, this appearance seemed quite normal.
Right now, Siles wore a black casual outfit, with a large pile of materials tucked under his arm and a long-handled umbrella in his hand, appearing quite inconvenient. But in the end, he still walked toward the Historical Society building.
Some information about the Historical Society flashed through his mind, but not very much.
As a scholar who had just emerged from the academic system, he wasn’t very familiar with exchange institutions like the Historical Society in the city. He roughly knew the Historical Society provided a platform for history enthusiasts to communicate.
And the deity currently existing in this world was the God of Past and History, called the “Guardian of the Spacetime Rift,” Antinym.
The “Church of the Past,” which took Antinym as its faith, was the only legal religious organization in this world.
…So was that why Grenfield said the Historical Society was a semi-official organization?
Soon, Siles saw a lady in the spacious first-floor hall of the Historical Society. She was sitting on the hall’s sofa, as if waiting for something.
She was around twenty years old, wearing a well-fitted blue dress, holding a wide-brimmed hat and a beaded purse in her hands, looking more like a pampered noble young lady.
But the excited, exhilarated expression on her face destroyed that elegant temperament. She was like a little girl who had stumbled upon adults’ secrets—both panicked and nervous, yet excited and expectant.
Siles intuitively felt she might be able to provide some information he needed.
As he walked toward her, Siles waited for the dice’s sound, but until he walked up to this lady, he still hadn’t heard that rolling sound.
…So this lady wouldn’t trigger a judgment?
Why was that? Because he already possessed that vice president’s business card, so he didn’t need others to trigger related information?
As a former Keeper, Siles habitually analyzed this in his mind.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t communicate at all with his own game master, didn’t know at all what his character sheet looked like, and moreover didn’t know what kind of scenario he was playing through.
This was truly difficult.
When he walked up to that lady, she had already noticed him. The lady saw Siles walking toward her and, as if finding a fellow traveler, immediately stood up and asked him: “Are you also here about the Revelator matter?”
Siles couldn’t help but freeze slightly.
Revelator? What Revelator?
Before Siles could answer, this young lady continued on her own, not pausing for a single word: “I’ve heard from friends about that kind of magical power, but I don’t know if I can master it either.
“In any case, the Historical Society is my best choice. I won’t go to the church with too many rules, nor will I go to those evil and strange cults.
“…I got a business card. What about you?”
The young lady took out a business card from her small purse to show Siles.
Siles maintained a polite distance, glanced at it, then said in a low voice: “Yes, I also got this business card.”
It was indeed the business card of the Historical Society’s vice president, Joseph Morton.
“That’s great!” the young lady cheered. “Now I’ve finally found a companion!”
Siles smiled, but thought to himself that he might not know as much as this lady.
