“A newcomer has joined the Dawn Revelation Society,” an old voice said slowly in the dark room.
“Who?”
The man sitting opposite him was a stout, plump figure, relishing a piece of hard candy. The sound of the candy cracking between his teeth periodically echoed like a burst of whispers.
“The Croupier,” the old man said. “That’s what the Knight who recruited him called him.”
The plump man shook his head side to side. “This is not news I wanted to hear. However, it doesn’t matter.”
“Are you sure?” The old man’s gaze was like a falcon’s, fixing upon the fleshy face of the plump man. He said, “Our plan is already in motion. At a time like this, the Dawn Revelation Society…”
“The Dawn Revelation Society has been silent for ten long years,” the plump man said. “There are only three left now… oh wait, four. Four pieces of trash, fools, and garbage. They don’t even know what they’re doing all day.”
The old man said, “That is because that gentleman disappeared.”
The plump man shrank back a little.
The old man spoke slowly: “The founder… of the Dawn Revelation Society. That gentleman. He disappeared.”
In the dark room, the old man couldn’t see the expression on the plump man’s face, but finally, the plump man suddenly snapped—as if flying into a rage from humiliation—and said, “Of course I know that guy disappeared! He’s been gone for over ten years!
“What we have to do… no one can stop us! It is the revelation and duty of fate! Do you not understand that?”
“I understand perfectly.” The old man’s face was as hard as stone. “I know what we are doing.”
The plump man seemed to slowly calm down.
After a moment, he said, “Ignore the Dawn Revelation Society. It is an organization that is already dead.” His tone was absolute. “Yes, a dead organization.”
Both were silent for a moment.
“As for that Croupier,” the plump man said, “have someone find an opportunity to kill… no, don’t kill him. We must keep a low profile. First, thoroughly investigate his identity.”
The old man said, “This identity has appeared in the Salon for the first time. Therefore, it must be a Revelator who joined the Society very recently.”
The plump man blinked. “That’s a good thing. See who joined recently, see who came to the Society that day. That shouldn’t be hard to investigate, right?”
The old man remained noncommittal, merely saying, “I will do my best.” He looked up at the plump man. “How has business been lately?”
When Siles left the History Society, his mind was full of confusion.
The Dawn Revelation Society—surprisingly, two of its members were people he knew.
During his conversation with the Noblewoman, Siles concluded that this woman was Angela’s stepmother and the famous businesswoman, Eugenia Berd.
This seemed far too coincidental, making Siles highly suspicious of what kind of entity the Dawn Revelation Society truly was.
Much like the mysterious space of the Salon, the existence of the Dawn Revelation Society was hidden within a hazy fog, its reality hard to grasp. This gave Siles a subtle sense of unreality as he walked the streets of Lamifa City.
It was as if that warm, mysterious room belonging to the Dawn Revelation Society—where four people with hidden identities discussed a noblewoman’s relationship issues—was the true reality of the world.
Siles took a deep breath, looking out at Lamifa City as it transitioned into the cool autumn. It was almost five o’clock. A bit late, but he still had time.
He had arranged to have dinner with the Fenn family tonight.
Bertram Fenn had bought a house just south of Atherton Central Square, near Marshall Middle School.
Bertram planned to send Anthony to study at Marshall Middle School, which meant that by the second semester, Anthony Fenn would become Darrell Hobbs’ classmate.
This, too, was a wondrous twist of fate.
Bertram had hired a tutor for his son, and recently, Anthony had been studying quite diligently. It was hard to say how much of this was due to parental coercion and how much was because Siles had once mocked him for not knowing basic addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division under a hundred.
Siles had grown closer to the Fenn family day by day. This time, he simply brought some pastries he bought nearby. Anthony and Mrs. Fenn loved this kind of thing.
After moving to the East City, Anthony had complained that he could no longer eat pastries from the Greyson Food Company. He seemed to really love their flavors.
However, despite its booming business, the Greyson Food Company was confined to the West City. Greyson’s various shops, including butcheries, pastry shops, bakeries, spice shops, and more, offered very affordable prices, perfectly aligning with the needs of the Old City residents.
In the East City, you couldn’t rely on a price war.
“But during this time, Greyson has made quite a bit of money,” Bertram said to Siles with a wink. “I’ve already received my dividend. You might get yours when you go back later.”
Siles was momentarily surprised. He said, “I’ll keep an eye out when I get back.”
Since moving to the East City, the Fenn family seemed to be embracing a sense of contentment. Bertram said he hadn’t been very keen on going out to discuss business lately.
“Are you not planning to participate in the October Market?” Siles asked.
“I still have to attend that,” Bertram said. “But that was settled months ago, and the furs I need to sell are already prepared. What’s left is… the Greyson matter.”
“Greyson?”
“Yes. Remember Lanmere?” Bertram asked. Seeing Siles nod, he continued, “That guy is really something, so many promotional schemes. He plans to have the Greyson Food Company set up some stalls during the October Market to attract East City residents.
“You know, the October Market is the busiest time of the year. Even residents who have never heard of Greyson might buy some food then, and we can slowly open up the East City market afterward.”
Siles said, “That is indeed an opportunity.”
Bertram nodded. “Also, remember my old friend who brought recipes out of the Ashless Lands? He’ll be working with Greyson to make some Ashland delicacies at the stalls. Those are things the people of Konst have never tried.”
At the mention of the Ashless Lands, Siles’s curiosity peaked. He asked, “What is the food from the Ashless Lands like?”
“It depends on the region.” Bertram clearly knew the Ashless Lands very well. Sitting on the sofa, he spoke eloquently, “Different tribes have different delicacies. Most are a bit strange, but there are always one or two dishes we can accept.
“Between tribes, for example, in some small villages, settlements, or taverns and small diners along the roads, there is also some good food.
“There is another place—the trains.”
“…Trains?” Siles was momentarily taken aback. “Dining cars?”
“Exactly!” Bertram looked at Siles with slight surprise, then said, “I didn’t expect you to know about this. Trains in the Ashless Lands might come from different countries, so the dining cars on those trains will also have meals from different countries.
“This is a rare sight. After all, we normally don’t have the chance to travel to other countries.”
Siles nodded, unable to help but say, “If I have the chance, I’d also like to go to the Ashless Lands.”
“There will always be a chance,” Bertram said. “Isn’t the Grand Duke about to announce the Withered Wasteland Development Plan? I heard the government has been incredibly busy lately, probably preparing for this. Everything needs to be finalized before the announcement.”
“Indeed,” Siles said softly.
After dinner, Siles bid farewell to the Fenn family. Before leaving, Anthony awkwardly handed him a small clay flowerpot. It was a bit ugly, but clearly handmade.
Under Siles’s slightly surprised gaze, Anthony mumbled, “My mom hasn’t had much to do at home lately. Besides organizing the boxes we brought from the move, she’s been learning to make some crafts, so I made one too. This one is too ugly, so I’m giving it to you.”
Siles smiled, his tone softening. He said, “Thank you.”
Anthony still looked at him a bit uncomfortably.
Siles took the small flowerpot, his tone returning to normal. “But it is indeed a bit ugly. Keep trying.”
Anthony was stunned for a moment, then said fiercely, “You don’t need to tell me! I’ve already learned addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division under a hundred recently!”
He blurted it out without thinking, and unexpectedly received a look of approval from Siles. Siles reached out and ruffled Anthony’s messy hair, then said, “You’ve worked very hard.”
Anthony: “…”
“The next goal is…” Siles considered it for a moment, “under a thousand?”
Anthony fiercely swatted Siles’s hand away and shouted, “Under ten thousand!”
Siles smiled faintly. “There’s still some time before school starts, no need to rush.”
Anthony rolled his eyes and waved at Siles. “Goodbye.”
Siles bid farewell to the awkward boy.
The Fenn family lived in a detached house, clearly quite expensive. Siles walked down the path from the door, found a rented carriage on the street outside, and returned to 6 Hayward Street shortly after eight o’clock.
His roommate Lorenzo hadn’t returned yet; Siles saw no lights on the second floor. It was Saturday, and he guessed Lorenzo was very likely staying out all night.
Siles unlocked the door and walked into the first floor, spotting a letter on the coffee table in the living room. He had left early that morning, so Lorenzo probably brought it inside when he went out.
Siles silently thanked Lorenzo in his heart. Then, recalling his conversation with Bertram not long ago, a sense of anticipation welled up—could this be the dividend from the Greyson Food Company?
He picked up the envelope and went upstairs. By the time he reached his bedroom on the third floor, he had already torn the envelope open and pulled out a money order.
…It really was the dividend from Greyson!
Siles was somewhat surprised and carefully examined the text on the money order. It was a money order that could be exchanged for 500 Duke Coins at the Konst National Bank, with no expiration date.
500 Duke Coins! Siles let out a gasp of amazement.
His share in the Greyson Food Company was a mere drop in the bucket, yet this was already equivalent to ten months of his professor’s salary. It was truly shocking. Moreover, this was just the dividend for the past month.
He couldn’t help but wonder in confusion: Is Greyson’s business in the West City really that good?
He hadn’t been to the West City in half a month and had no idea about Greyson’s development. But this massive profit gave Siles a subtle sense of unease.
After all, this was a world where supernatural powers existed. Perhaps…
Siles hoped this suspicion was merely his own paranoia, not that something had actually gone wrong.
He sighed, his joy at sudden wealth dampening due to these intrusive thoughts. He casually placed the money order in a drawer, not planning to cash it immediately. He didn’t urgently need the money right now.
When it came to making money, the ten hundred-coin notes he earned from revealing the whereabouts of the Apostate to the Church of the Past made Siles feel much more at ease. The profits from the Greyson Food Company felt completely like getting something for nothing.
Siles couldn’t help but shake his head.
Thinking of the Church of the Past… Siles took a letter out of his drawer, put on his glasses, and unfolded it to read it again.
This was a letter from Knight Commander Bunyan.
Half a month ago, Siles had written to Bunyan to inquire about borrowing the Karacoc Diary. Bunyan had quickly replied that he needed to ask for instructions.
That “asking for instructions” took half a month. Not long ago, Bunyan wrote to Siles saying his application had been approved and asked him to visit the church on Sunday—that is, tomorrow afternoon.
Siles was surprised by how smoothly it went and was grateful for Bunyan’s help.
Returning the favor, he also hoped to offer Bunyan some assistance—for instance, regarding the list stolen by the Apostate that was currently troubling Bunyan?
Siles pondered, his fingers unconsciously twirling the fine chain of his glasses.
A week ago, he had gone to the Lamifa University infirmary to pick up his custom-made glasses. At that time, he had once again probed Chester Fitzroy about the Apostate, but gained nothing.
During the first probe, Chester triggered a Psychology check, making Siles certain he was lying. But there were two suspicious points in that one sentence.
Was Chester’s lie that “he actually wasn’t happy to help those who came to him for help,” or that “he actually wasn’t a doctor”?
Siles wasn’t sure about this either, so during his probing, he asked about Chester’s past.
As Siles learned, Chester was a student at the Lamifa University School of Medicine and stayed on as the school doctor after graduation. This background was unremarkable, known to everyone—for example, the memories of Siles Noel held some impression of this gentle school doctor.
So, the doctor was indeed a doctor. The problem, then, lay with the “help”?
Chester said he was “very happy to help those who came to him for help,” which was a lie. If this statement truly pointed to the Apostate… then he was indeed lying. After all, treating the Apostate’s wounds was done under duress.
Or did it point to something else? Then Siles was even more clueless. He couldn’t possibly know every detail of Chester’s past, nor could he impolitely ask him directly.
Siles sighed in frustration. He thought: Dr. Chester lied, but I still don’t know what that lie represents.
He shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. He planned to ask the Church of the Past tomorrow to see what their investigation into Chester had uncovered.
Besides, he needed to visit the Church of the Past anyway. A few days ago, Dominic had written him a letter thanking him for the clue he provided—the disappearance of Professor Cabel’s teaching assistant as well.
After merging the investigations of these two disappearances, Dominic seemed to have discovered something, hence the special letter. The letter also stated that if Siles was interested, he could visit the Church of the Past when he had free time to learn more about the related matters.
Siles hadn’t decided which day to go, but Bunyan’s letter came at the perfect time, allowing him to knock out two visits on the same day.
He placed Bunyan’s letter back in the drawer. After a moment’s thought, he took out his draft notebook and continued writing his novel.
His novel was progressing well. Half a month had passed, and he was more than halfway through. It wasn’t a very long novel. Siles figured he could probably contact the merchant Lanmere now to see if he’d be willing to introduce him to a publisher.
Of course, he had to check on Emmanuel’s translation progress first.
In the past two weeks, Siles hadn’t heard from Emmanuel. He assumed the translation work was proceeding normally, but… he didn’t know what state Emmanuel was in.
…Siles couldn’t help but sigh, feeling he worried about a bit too much.
Saturday morning, Siles went out for breakfast and ran into Lorenzo returning from outside, yawning and smelling of alcohol.
“Good morning, Professor Noel,” Lorenzo said casually.
“Good morning.” Siles looked at him.
“I didn’t sleep all night,” Lorenzo shrugged. “I’m going to catch up on sleep now.”
Siles nodded, bid him farewell, and left. He felt Lorenzo was becoming increasingly unrestrained. At the start of the semester, he had never seen Lorenzo stay out all night, but over the past two weeks, it had become the norm.
Siles didn’t really want to comment on another’s lifestyle, so he never voiced any opinion on the matter.
He went to the cafeteria for breakfast. With Lorenzo catching up on sleep at 6 Hayward Street, Siles didn’t return to his dorm but went straight to his office. He carefully organized the contents for the club.
There were seven weeks left in the first semester at Lamifa University. Excluding the final exam week, that meant six weeks. He planned to hold club activities every Friday afternoon and had prepared six different themes for each session.
However, considering that some students in the club were not from the School of Literature and History, these themes were not overly in-depth or academic. Siles intended to make the club more geared towards entertainment and leisure, or at least he hoped so.
He spent some time in his office organizing these thoughts and contents.
At noon, he didn’t go to the cafeteria, but instead went to a restaurant off-campus to try some new food. He no longer faced the dire poverty he had at the start of the semester, so he could occasionally sample slightly more expensive meals.
After eating, Siles walked to the Central Cathedral of the Church of the Past to digest his food. If it were the sweltering heat of summer, he probably wouldn’t have chosen to walk. But now that the weather had cooled, it was actually quite suitable for a stroll.
He ran into Bishop Grosvenor in the nave of the cathedral. The nave was still very empty, and the Bishop was, as always, wiping the base of the Antinam statue.
Grosvenor saw Siles and couldn’t help but smile: “Good afternoon, Professor Noel.”
“Good afternoon, Bishop,” Siles said. “I’m looking for Knight Commander Bunyan.”
“Is it about that diary?” Grosvenor asked, then added, “I’m very sorry it was delayed for half a month. Recently, I was busy communicating with bishops from other countries regarding the October Celebration and left Lamifa City. I only learned of this matter upon my return.”
Siles paused, taken aback by Grosvenor’s overly friendly attitude, then said, “It’s nothing, sorry to trouble you.”
Grosvenor smiled faintly and said, “You can go directly to Bunyan; he already has the book ready.”
Siles said politely, “Thank you.”
Siles was practically a regular as he passed through the side door of the nave and headed to the apse. He found Bunyan in the open space outside. The young, handsome Knight Commander was practicing his martial arts, the shield and spear looking agile and formidable in his hands.
Siles’s gaze unconsciously drifted to that shield.
Bunyan saw Siles, smiled and greeted him, then put away his spear and walked over. He noticed Siles looking at the shield and suddenly remembered: “I almost forgot about this!”
Siles was slightly startled and asked, “What?”
Bunyan raised the shield, carefully examined the one he used for daily practice, and removed a decorative metal piece from it—a symbol resembling the Eye of Antinam.
He handed the metal piece to Siles and said, “[Invisible Shield], isn’t it?” The Knight Commander winked at Siles. “I figured you could use something for self-defense.”
Siles fell silent for a moment, then reached out to take it. He said solemnly and sincerely, “Thank you.”
Bunyan smiled. The sweat on his forehead hadn’t fully dried, and he wiped it away with his sleeve. This young Knight Commander possessed the demeanor of a classic knight, powerful yet gentle.
He said, “Please come with me; I have the diary.”
“How long can I borrow it for?” Siles asked. He placed the metal piece into his bag. Fortunately, it was just a decoration from the shield and wasn’t sharp. It wouldn’t even look out of place displayed on a bookshelf as an ornament.
“What?” Bunyan looked somewhat surprised. He glanced at Siles and said, “Oh, you can keep this copy of the Karacoc Diary. It’s just a transcript.”
Siles was surprised by this answer. He couldn’t help but say, “I’m very grateful… but I feel a bit overwhelmed by the favor.”
“Do you feel our attitude towards you is too friendly?” Bunyan said. He led Siles to an office, which seemed to be where he rested and worked daily. “But you helped us find the Apostate Hamlin.”
He handed the transcript of the Karacoc Diary to Siles and said, “For this, we are endlessly grateful.”
“…I understand,” Siles said. “But didn’t you say before that the items stolen by the Apostate haven’t been recovered?”
A slightly anxious expression appeared on Bunyan’s face. “Yes,” he sighed. “However, the Bishop already has a countermeasure.”
Siles thought to himself, Having some priests leave their original parishes?
He couldn’t help but ask, “Can you tell me how you conducted the investigation?”
“Through the Apostate,” Bunyan said simply, then added, “Through various methods, we had him fully recount his experiences in the West City.”
“But wasn’t he injured and running a high fever? Can he still remember?”
Bunyan hesitated for a moment, then asked, “You know, there is a method of treating mental illness these days called hypnosis, right?”
Siles was slightly startled, then nodded.
Bunyan breathed a sigh of relief and said, “We hired a professional doctor to help the Apostate recall his experiences in the West City. He had been hiding and fleeing, traveling through almost half of the West City.
“However, even though he recalled his movements, he still couldn’t remember exactly when he lost… that item. He felt that once he stole it, he relaxed his vigilance and was constantly thinking about how to evade capture, ultimately forgetting about the item he stole.
“We still suspect the underground gangs of the West City. That place is a mixed bag; perhaps a thief targeted him, and he just didn’t notice.”
Siles asked, “And the doctor?”
“The doctor?” Bunyan was taken aback. “You mean Chester Fitzroy? What about him?”
Siles thought for a moment and said, “I think your thinking might have fallen into a blind spot. Even if Hamlin relaxed his guard, in a place like the underground gangs, he would definitely still pay attention to his belongings. As you said, it’s a mixed bag.
“But at 13 Milford Street, when the doctor was treating his wounds, he would feel that place was safe, harmless, and under his control. In times like that, people are actually the most likely to completely lose their vigilance, aren’t they?”
Bunyan suddenly understood.
Siles said, “Perhaps he left that item at the doctor’s, and he himself is completely unaware of it. The doctor might not know the importance of the item either, perhaps not even knowing it belonged to Hamlin, and casually tossed it in some corner…”
Siles suggested this.
He didn’t necessarily believe this was true, but when he realized that the Church of the Past had paid absolutely no attention to Chester, he knew he had to find a way to make them look into the blind spot they had ignored.
The explanation Siles provided held a certain degree of logic.
And what Bunyan hadn’t entirely confessed was that the Church’s investigation into the underground gangs had hit a dead end. They had indeed found a few people who had contact with Hamlin, but none could provide any clues.
They also couldn’t make too much of a scene, otherwise they risked attracting the attention of other Old God followers, which would outweigh the benefits.
The possibility Siles raised was exactly one the Church of the Past hadn’t considered. They assumed the group at 13 Milford Street were ordinary people, so they hadn’t paid them much heed.
But it was indeed a possibility.
Bunyan immediately grew excited: “You’re right! I’ll go check it out right now.”
He was about to say goodbye to Siles, but Siles stopped him, asking, “I’m looking for Dominic. Is he here?”
“Dominic?” Bunyan thought for a moment. “He should be in his office. The one you visited last time, remember?”
Siles nodded and watched Bunyan leave. He placed the transcript of the Karacoc Diary into his bag as well, then followed his memory to find Dominic’s office and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” came Dominic’s voice from inside.
Siles pushed the door open, stepped in, and said, “Good afternoon, Dominic.”
Dominic had been buried in documents. Hearing the familiar voice, he looked up: “Aha, Professor Noel! It seems you received my letter?”
“Yes,” Siles nodded. He closed the door behind him and sat down across from Dominic.
Dominic wrote one last line on a document, stretched, opened the window to let in some air, and said, “You came at the perfect time. I can chat with you a bit longer.”
The dark-skinned man leaned back comfortably in his chair, wearing a slightly lazy, thoughtful expression.
After a moment, he said, “Where should I begin… let’s start with Cabel’s teaching assistant, Mervyn Brière.” He paused, then asked, “Do you know this teaching assistant?”
Siles thought for a moment and shook his head. He didn’t even know Professor Cabel well, let alone his teaching assistant.
In fact, this was the first time he had even heard the assistant’s name. Usually, he, along with other professors and students from the School of Literature and History, referred to this person as “Professor Cabel’s teaching assistant” or “that gloomy young teaching assistant.”
Mervyn Brière. That was his name.
“…Twenty-two years old. Very young, isn’t he? He’s not even a qualified research scholar,” Dominic said. “So we looked into how he became a teaching assistant at Lamifa University.”
“And the result?”
Dominic offered a subtle smile: “He wasn’t supposed to be a teaching assistant at Lamifa University. Cabel brought him in.”
Siles understood, saying, “So, they knew each other from before.”
“Exactly,” Dominic said. “I looked into how they met, and I discovered that the Brière family is a fallen noble house. To date, only Mervyn and an old butler remain; everyone else has died.
“Cabel seemed to be researching a specific topic. And you know, these fallen noble families always retain some ancient collections of books. Cabel heard of the Brière family from somewhere, paid them a visit, and eventually became acquainted with Mervyn.
“…The old butler of the Brière family told me all this. He also mentioned that Cabel was always studying an ancient book with Mervyn, muttering things he couldn’t understand.”
Hearing this, Siles subconsciously looked at Dominic and said, “Are you saying…”
“Exactly as you think, Professor Noel.” Dominic snapped his fingers. “The young teaching assistant left in too much of a hurry and left behind an important clue—that book.”
Siles immediately asked, “What book?”
Dominic seemed to appreciate Siles’s role as the straight man. He pulled a document from a messy pile of papers nearby and said, “A transcript. Take a look.”
Siles took it, thinking as he opened it: Another transcript. Scribes seem to be highly valued in this world, but—also very in danger? Perhaps the vast majority of books are fine, but what if they copy a problematic one…
Like the painter Leon’s manuscript?
He seemed to have never heard anyone mention such a situation. Or perhaps those scribes just died in unknown corners. Siles pondered.
When he actually lowered his eyes to the words on the paper, he temporarily forgot these thoughts.
The book Cabel and Mervyn were studying was, strictly speaking, a collection of letters titled Thirteen Letters between Madame Debriss and Her Lover. It looked like the secret correspondence between a noblewoman and her illicit lover.
If Siles didn’t trust Dominic’s character, he might have suspected the man had handed him some trashy romance novel he read in his spare time.
But the next moment, when Siles saw the contents of the letters, he couldn’t help but gasp in amazement.
He didn’t even read closely before looking up at Dominic and asking, “Madame Debriss was a believer from the Age of Silence?”
“A very devout one, the kind devout enough to make contact with the gods,” Dominic said with a smile.
Inexplicably, Siles felt a chill run down his spine. He lowered his eyes again, focusing intently on one of the letters.
As he thought, these were letters between a noblewoman and her illicit lover, filled with countless words of love, some so explicit that Siles was reluctant to read them closely.
But all of this happened after a certain god had fallen.
“…Oh my love, if it weren’t for your existence, I truly don’t know what meaning there would be to living in this gloomy world. The world is quietly losing its original face; everything has changed, everything has become something I am entirely unfamiliar with.
“(A bunch of sweet nothings, Siles skipped over it.)
“…When it happened, it was as if the sky had fallen. Even now, I cannot believe it. My faith, my god, the god who should have forever remained high above, just like that…
“Disappeared. Died. Gone.
“What does it matter? As with the gods, so with mortals. Death, nothingness, darkness… it feels like the end of all things. People will remember that moment forever, or at least I will. I think I also died in that moment, or at least a part of me did.
“I can’t believe it; I truly can’t believe it… I’m starting to doubt if my faith is firm, yet I do firmly follow in the footsteps of My God. I believe in Him, serve Him, and love Him.
“But ultimately, I am still alive. I should plummet into the bottomless abyss to punish my impure faith and improper deeds. I imagine death, imagine following My God, but I always hold back.
“But I can hardly say I’m alive either. It’s true for me, and for others as well. The world is like this. Have you heard the world weeping for the disappearance of My God? It is so incredibly obvious.
“…I witnessed it happen with my own eyes. With my own eyes. Everything will return to… the world, the nothingness of the world. Do you know what hides behind the fog?
“My dear, do not try to understand the fog. Do not go.”
The letter ended there, and Siles fell into silence.
After a moment, he looked at Dominic and said carefully, “This letter… to some people, it might be a severe blow.”
A devout believer claiming to have witnessed the fall of a god with their own eyes—their disappearance and death. For some Old God followers who believed their gods were merely slumbering, and for those who believed “a god is a god,” this would be something that drove them to madness and despair.
Dominic nodded. As a believer of Antinama, he conversely maintained a calm and indifferent attitude.
He said, “Perhaps this is the reason Cabel and Mervyn disappeared. They went to search for—a possible location where a god fell, to prove that the god did indeed fall.”
“The Ashless Lands,” Siles said darkly.
“I believe so,” Dominic replied.
Siles pondered for a moment, then asked, “Which Old God did Madame Debriss worship?”
“Menavaca,” Dominic answered casually.
…Menavaca. The God of Commerce and Oaths, the Scales of Constraint.
Wait, Scales?!
Siles’s expression suddenly changed.
Dominic astutely noticed this and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Siles frowned, saying uncertainly, “Do you remember when Ms. Catherine Kinsey helped me handle the anomalies with the Time Traces?”
“I remember,” Dominic nodded. “Those two Time Traces have been transferred to me now. What about them?”
“Actually, there were three items grouped together at the time.” Siles took a deep breath. “But one seemed to have no issues, so Ms. Kinsey didn’t take it. It was a necklace.”
Dominic looked at him, not understanding.
Siles’s voice was very low: “The necklace was shaped like a… a scale with one side tipped down.”
Dominic’s expression changed almost instantly.
The two stared at each other in silence, both understanding what the other was thinking.
Dominic said, almost troubled, “I trust Catherine’s judgment, so that necklace truly had no issues, at least at the time. But…”
“But the shape, and…” Siles glanced at the letter from Madame Debriss in his hand.
Crossing the heavy years, this letter had ultimately been read by Cabel, Mervyn, Dominic, and Siles, and had clearly brought them some distress.
Siles said, “I do not believe this is a coincidence.”
Madame Debriss was a follower of Menavaca, and a necklace shaped like a scale appeared in Professor Cabel’s office. This was clearly no coincidence.
Siles continued, “Professor Cabel seems to be collecting items related to the gods.” He thought again of the two items Catherine Kinsey took away. “Three items—do they symbolize three gods?”
Dominic swallowed hard, then said, “Professor, this is no small matter, do you understand?”
He looked utterly terrified by Siles’s conjecture.
Siles was silent for a moment, then said, “Do you remember the manuscript I sent over?”
Dominic nodded.
Siles asked, “Do you think the contents of that manuscript came from Madame Debriss’s letters?” He tapped the transcript with his finger.
Madame Debriss was indeed a devout believer, but Menavaca’s divine portfolio dictated that the vast majority of His followers were merchants. These believers might be devout, but certainly not that fanatical.
However, the few sentences Professor Cabel had copied down on the manuscript Siles had previously obtained proved that the author of that book did not believe the god had fallen. In other words, this completely contradicted Madame Debriss’s experiences and beliefs.
This was enough to prove that while Madame Debriss’s letters were indeed part of Cabel and Mervyn’s research, they were still researching something else—books, archives, or manuscripts.
Dominic remained silent for a long time, finally shaking his head slowly.
He sighed and gave a bitter smile. “I thought this matter was settled. As it turns out… it involves at least three Old Gods! Truly unbelievable.”
