When Siles left the church, it was nearing evening.
The setting sun hung unsteadily in a corner of the sky, its dim yellow light making the whole world seem exceptionally desolate. The cool evening breeze of autumn brushed against Siles’s cheeks. He saw some fallen leaves on the street being swept up by the wind, then scattering aimlessly.
Carriages and crowds bustled past him; the world did the same.
Siles boarded a public carriage and returned to Lamifa University in silence. His heart was full of confusion and unease, thinking of the painting by that artist on the edge of Atherton Square. A gloomy sky over the exquisite architecture of Lamifa City.
He felt as if countless hands were reaching toward this seemingly impregnable city.
…But life had to go on.
Siles ate a meal at the Lamifa University cafeteria and then returned to his dormitory. When he reached the second floor, Lorenzo opened his door and greeted Siles, his eyes heavy with sleep.
“Good afternoon.”
Siles glanced at him, paused, and said, “Good evening.”
Lorenzo looked at the sky outside the window, a look of shock crossing his face, and mumbled, “It’s already this late.” He waved at Siles, “I’m going to get some food then, perfect since tomorrow is my day off…”
“Tomorrow is Monday.”
Lorenzo stared at Siles in disbelief, then took two steps back: “Oh, then I’ll just go back to sleep.”
Siles: “…”
Speechless, he bid Lorenzo goodbye and went up to the third floor.
After his daily routine of bathing and washing clothes, he sat at his desk and took out the two items he had brought back from the Church of the Past—Bunyan’s shield fragment and the transcript of the Karacoc Diary.
In the short term, this palm-sized shield fragment, much like the brooch Grenfield had given him, would definitely become an item he carried with him at all times.
Fortunately, this metal ornament was only about the size of a palm, so it wouldn’t be cumbersome even when placed in the pocket of his casual clothes.
With the October Market and the Feast of the Divine Birth approaching, Siles felt that Lamifa City was gradually becoming chaotic and dangerous; everyone seemed to have ulterior motives. Not to mention, there were many people possessing supernatural powers involved.
Siles reached out and touched the scratches and dents on the metal, the marks of battle.
…In that instant, Siles couldn’t help but recall the unexpected encounter with the guards of Ernestine in that apartment building during their final introductory course half a month ago.
When the guard fired his gun, Siles had used the ritual [Flowing Wind] to blow wind into his eyes, causing the muzzle to deviate.
But Siles knew very well that he had had another choice at the time—using the die to make a check.
There were currently three ways to use the die checks.
The first was for himself, in his identity as the university professor Siles Noel. When he encountered events related to supernatural powers, the die would automatically pop out for a check. This was mandatory, and Siles could not control the outcome.
The second was for the character sheets from the original tabletop RPG plot, such as Knight Commander Bunyan, Dr. Chester, etc. When they conversed with Siles, the die would force a check. The outcome of this check was also beyond Siles’s control.
The third situation, which Siles had never tried, was to actively initiate a check against someone.
A premonition had always lingered in his heart, and as time passed, he slowly gained a clear understanding. He realized that in this type of check, he could even control the die’s roll.
The outcome of this active check was controllable.
The more ordinary and powerless a person was, the more die numbers Siles could control; the more a Revelator or Old God follower mastered supernatural powers, the smaller the range Siles could control.
Take their encounter in that old apartment building, for instance. The moment the gunman fired, Siles could have initiated a check against his action of firing, and the attribute for the check would be chosen by Siles.
Suppose Siles chose to check the gunman’s Constitution (this attribute included eyesight, which corresponded to the accuracy of the bullet), and his Constitution was 30.
During the check, it would be as if all the numbers from 0 to 100 were spread out before Siles.
If the gunman was a completely ordinary person with no supernatural powers whatsoever, Siles could arbitrarily choose any of those numbers. He could easily make the die roll a number greater than 30, causing the Constitution check to fail, thereby preventing the gunman’s bullet from hitting its target.
If the gunman were a Revelator, many of those numbers would be greyed out. He wouldn’t be able to choose them and could only select the most advantageous one for himself from the remaining options.
If the gunman was a powerful Revelator, then perhaps only a dozen, a few, or even a single choice would remain among those numbers.
…Although flawed and not omnipotent, such power was already formidable enough.
Siles knew very well that as his own power grew, even when facing a powerful Revelator, the number of available choices would increase, and more and more trajectories of fate would unfold before him.
Such formidable power. Yet Siles had used the simple ritual [Flowing Wind].
Siles closed his eyes slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose—a habit he had developed after realizing that the pince-nez glasses would leave a red mark there. Now, this action helped him stay calm.
He was reluctant to use the die’s power. On one hand, the unclear source of this power made him wary; on the other hand, the power itself and its method of use made Siles feel a sense of danger.
He could indeed have chosen to check the gunman’s action at that moment. The man was an ordinary person, and he could have easily made the shot miss, or even caused a misfire.
He could even manipulate fate, rolling a critical failure, causing the gun to accidentally go off and kill the gunman directly… all of that was possible.
But excessive power brought an unparalleled temptation, as if he could truly control the fate of humanity and even the world. But in reality, he was just a novice Revelator, an ordinary person.
Siles never believed he “deserved” to control the fate of others. He knew he was just a normal human being, and he worried that immersing himself in such simple yet powerful forces would cause him to lose himself, becoming arrogant, conceited, and looking down on everyone else.
Therefore, he preferred to use a mediocre ritual like [Flowing Wind], which could hardly be tasked with great responsibilities.
But from another perspective, Siles still kept this power in mind. He wasn’t willing to use it proactively, but if he truly encountered a moment where he had to use it…
Then Siles wouldn’t be so hypocritical as to simply surrender without a fight.
Siles opened his eyes, set Knight Commander Bunyan’s gift aside, put on his glasses, and opened the transcript of the Karacoc Diary.
The ink and paper looked very new, seemingly having been transcribed recently.
This covered the final ten years of the wanderer Karacoc’s life. He had wandered constantly within the Sardinian Empire, eventually dying on the road, much like those wandering bards destined to perish in a foreign land.
In his diary, he stayed in different cities and met different people: circuses, beggars, prostitutes, tavern landladies, street vendors, port porters, wandering bards, merchants, noble house butlers, servants, grooms…
Overall, his diary depicted many aspects of the lower-class society in the Sardinian Empire. If Alfonso Carte were to see such material, his eyes would surely light up with excitement.
However, for Siles, it was merely interesting enough to read through a few times.
He noticed certain elements in Karacoc’s diary.
For example, in the lower-class society of the Sardinian Empire, people’s belief in the gods carried a simple, mundane thought of “hoping the gods will deliver me from suffering,” but it wasn’t necessarily that devout.
Sometimes, they would even verbally make jokes about the gods.
This attitude was inseparable from the Sardinian Empire’s own cultural trends, the successive falls of the gods during the Age of Silence, and the lower-class residents’ scant knowledge of the gods’ power. But at the very least, this could be considered a very obvious trend.
On a mass cultural level, the element of gods was becoming less and less prominent, while people focused more on practical daily life. Economic disputes, family conflicts, daily work, entertainment activities, and so on slowly replaced the position of “praising the gods.”
This fed back into related trends in the literature of the Age of Silence.
Furthermore, wandering bards were actually not the only mysterious group Karacoc encountered during his ten years of wandering.
In a circus, he met a female astrologer who claimed she could see the trajectories of the stars; in an alley, he stumbled upon a small tavern that sold alcohol capable of keeping one sane.
While working as a temporary porter at a port, helping to unload cargo from the sea, he encountered some bizarre marine creatures and antiques, which were all collected by specific clients.
Karacoc worked as a temporary porter at a port in the Sardinian Empire for three months. Even he didn’t know which port in which city it was. He never paid attention to cities during his wanderings unless they were famous, large cities.
The port he arrived at that time was clearly a small port in a small city. The daily cargo throughput wasn’t very large, so Karacoc often had time to rest. During these breaks, he would write down his experiences and thoughts while carrying cargo at the port.
He complained about the heavy weight and strange smells of the cargo, and he complained about the bizarre demands of those mysterious clients, such as requiring them to wear heavy clothing while carrying the goods, forbidding direct contact with the cargo, and forbidding them from secretly looking inside the crates to see what they were.
Karacoc remembered this very clearly, primarily because one porter couldn’t control his curiosity and actually looked inside a crate to see what the cargo was.
At first, the man seemed fine, even boasting smugly that he saw a strange creature from the deep sea. But that very night, the man went mad.
As Siles read this section, a chill rose in his heart. He seemed to faintly understand what those goods were, but he also felt a strange sensation.
…Cargo from the ocean? Creatures?
The only god in this world related to the ocean was the God of Warriors and Pirates, Amois. If one had to stretch it, the God of Mountains and Rivers, Trisly, could also be considered somewhat related.
But neither of these seemed to have anything to do with the described cargo.
However… Siles realized that, at least in the Duchy of Konst, he seemed to have never heard any news related to the ocean. It appeared to be a severely landlocked country, very far from the sea.
But it was also possible that the fog blocked the Duchy of Konst’s path to outward exploration, forcing them to remain on their original land, surviving and developing by the skin of their teeth.
Siles couldn’t help but sigh.
Another point that caught Siles’s attention was regarding Karacoc’s hometown.
Just as Siles had suspected, Karacoc’s hometown was indeed covered by the fog. And it was precisely because of this that he was forced to leave his home and wander throughout the Sardinian Empire.
The fog covering his hometown actually happened when Karacoc was still young. Therefore, in the diary of his final ten years, he didn’t mention it much, only repeatedly speaking of two elements.
“Before that happened, I kept having nightmares, like some kind of strange omen.” “To an anthill, even a young child can easily destroy it.”
Nightmares. Children.
Siles couldn’t help but pause slightly.
The material he had received previously only covered the part where Karacoc interacted with the wandering bards, which merely mentioned the metaphor of the child and the anthill.
But now, having read the full content and seeing Karacoc mention the two elements of nightmares and children, Siles suddenly thought of the painter Leon’s manuscript and his own dream.
The fog, the surface of the sea. The isolated island, the doll. The stars, the red clay.
Siles almost subconsciously looked up at the wooden doll on the windowsill. He still clearly remembered that on the second night when he also dreamed of that scene, his impression of that doll was: a little girl.
And the nightmares Karacoc mentioned…
Before Akamara, the Goddess of Dreams and Illusions, fell, She caused all of humanity across the world to suffer nightmares for three days.
Siles pondered: Are Karacoc’s nightmares related to Akamara’s fall? If so, what is the relationship between the fog that descended after the nightmares and Akamara’s fall?
Does the fall of a god bring the fog? Or conversely, does the fog cause the fall of a god, acting as a method to attack them?
If the fog has nothing to do with the fall of the gods, and their simultaneous appearance is merely a coincidence, then why does the fog appear in different locations around the world?
Siles was perplexed. He thought, perhaps he could look up the exact time of Akamara’s fall, so he could compare it with the time Karacoc began wandering.
But at the same time, he also began to suspect: having once again encountered something potentially related to Akamara, would he dream of that strange scene again tonight?
…He sincerely hoped not.
Even though Grenfield had said it might be the “pure power” of a god, and that Siles himself might even possess such power, he still felt his current understanding of divine power and Revelator abilities was far too lacking.
Given Siles’s cautious nature, he really didn’t want to explore the so-called “pure power of a god” just yet.
But this matter didn’t seem to be up to him.
His thoughts derailed briefly before returning to focus on Karacoc’s diary.
He estimated the timeline in his head.
The wandering bards appeared in the Sardinian Empire between the 300th and 400th years of the Age of Silence. And Karacoc began the final ten years of his wandering around the year 370 of the Age of Silence.
In a sense, they accompanied each other during their final days.
Siles sighed softly, then closed the diary. Reading this diary had brought him some unexpected gains; for instance, the fall of the gods seemed to have an intangible connection with the fog.
The appearance of the fog, the fall of the gods. Both of these events occurred during the Age of Silence. The Age of Silence itself began with the fall of a god.
At this moment, a question suddenly struck Siles.
According to known information, everyone universally accepted that all gods fell during the Age of Silence. This was a fact recognized by the world, forming a collective public memory.
If someone were to ask, “Did any gods fall before the Age of Silence?”, they would likely receive a bewildered look and an emotional reply: “But everyone knows the gods fell during the Age of Silence.”
However, the truth was that quite a few gods had already vanished without a trace during the Age of Shadows, such as Ligadia and Luthmy. Furthermore, the time of the fall for many gods remained uncertain.
Why did they vanish? Did they truly all fall during the Age of Silence? Why couldn’t the fall of the gods have occurred during the Age of Shadows?
Siles thought for a moment, then decided this kind of idle speculation was meaningless. He could go learn about the history of the mysterious Age of Shadows. He remembered… Kellogg’s major was the history of the Age of Shadows.
This student from the Duchy of Kansas had already helped Siles quite a bit. Perhaps Siles would have to ask for her help again this time.
Siles thought so.
When he looked up, suddenly detaching himself from the world of Karacoc’s diary, it was already past ten o’clock. The silent night outside the window displayed a desolate, cold atmosphere.
The window was slightly open, occasionally letting in a cool breeze. Siles took off his glasses, got up to close the window, then packed up his things, washed up, and went to sleep.
To his surprise, he didn’t dream at all, let alone dream of that strange sea surface shrouded in fog.
Siles lay in bed wrapped in his blanket, staring blankly for a moment, then thought: Perhaps Grenfield’s first hypothesis was the true one? Perhaps he really was just dreaming about what he thought about during the day, and had been overly tense because of Leon’s manuscript?
Whether out of relief or disappointment, Siles breathed a sigh of relief.
He woke up early to wash up; his biological clock, as always, kept his wake-up time stable at seven in the morning.
It was Monday morning. He had no classes on Monday, and since completing the History Society’s introductory course, he had no plans for Monday afternoons either. This gave him a lot more free time.
While washing up, Siles thought about his schedule for the day. Aside from writing his novel, writing papers, and reading academic journals, he surprisingly couldn’t think of anything else to do for the time being.
After a moment, while flipping through his draft notebook at his desk, he suddenly remembered the question that arose yesterday from the contents of Karacoc’s diary: the exact time of Akamara’s fall.
This shouldn’t be too hard to find; Siles believed that historical monographs in the library concerning the Age of Silence would definitely mention this matter.
So, he went to the cafeteria for breakfast and then headed straight to the library.
He asked Mrs. Longman for historical monographs on the Age of Silence, and she pointed him to the borrowing area on the second floor. On the second floor, in a heavy tome, Siles found what he needed.
“The God of Dreams and Illusions, the beautiful iridescent bubble, Akamara. She fell in the year 356 of the Age of Silence, at the turn of autumn and winter when all things begin to wither.”
Year 356, Siles thought blankly.
And Karacoc began his wandering right at the end of the year 356!
Through the glass lenses, Siles silently stared at the small “356” his fingertip touched. He thought that this didn’t seem like a major discovery, but it surprisingly shocked him.
If Akamara truly fell near Karacoc’s hometown, and if, as Siles had once thought, Karacoc’s hometown wasn’t far from the Duchy of Konst, or perhaps even in the Duchy of Konst, then…
Why the painter Leon encountered Akamara’s power in the Duchy of Konst didn’t seem so incomprehensible anymore.
Siles sat stunned for a moment, then let out a long breath.
In truth, he still had many mysteries he didn’t understand, but he had indeed discovered something, and there was a thread that, because of the Karacoc Diary and Leon’s manuscript, was faintly connecting them together.
Those… stories and coincidences, puzzles and truths, choices and life-and-death situations, hidden in the fog of history.
“…Oh, Siles, I didn’t expect to see you here,” a lowered voice sounded by Siles’s ear.
For a moment, Siles was grateful for this voice, grateful that it pulled him out from those chaotic, massive, complex, and eerie thoughts. He felt a slight sense of relief.
Then, he looked up at the newcomer and offered a slight smile: “Professor Bright.”
The stocky Professor Bright sat down across from Siles, looked around, and seeing that there weren’t many people in the second-floor reading room, his voice grew louder than a whisper.
He said, “Good morning. Looking for a book?”
Siles didn’t intend to tell his former mentor the information he had found. Professor Bright knew there were dangers in this world, but he had never gotten to the bottom of them, so Siles didn’t plan to involve him in these dangerous matters.
So, he simply said, “Yes, for my paper.”
“Oh, I know,” Professor Bright said. “The wandering bards of the Sardinian Empire?”
Siles nodded.
“Have you collected enough of their works?” Professor Bright asked. “Need me to help?”
“I’ve collected a portion, about a few dozen poems. I asked a student from the Duchy of Kansas for help,” Siles said. “What troubles me the most right now, conversely, are the things outside of their works. Their lives, their culture, and even the Sardinian Empire of that era.
“Additionally, because I believe these wandering bards were followers of Ligadia, I also want to find some materials related to Ligadia.”
Professor Bright nodded thoughtfully, but he also sighed. “You probably won’t find the materials you want in the Lamifa University library.
“Remember what I said? Some people inexplicably take away the ancient texts we’re researching, leaving only transcripts… some don’t even leave transcripts, especially books related to the gods.
“So, the materials you’re looking for can probably only be found in heavy academic monographs like this.”
He raised his chin, indicating the thick book in front of Siles.
Siles nodded thoughtfully, not too surprised. He wondered if he could start from the History Society or the Church of the Past… maybe ask Knight Commander Bunyan for help again?
As he was thinking, Professor Bright suddenly changed the subject, saying mysteriously, “However, it’s not like there’s no solution.”
He wore a proud look, waiting for Siles to respond.
Siles paused slightly, then said, “Do you have a channel to help me?”
Only then was Professor Bright satisfied. He said, “You are my proudest student; of course, I will help you. I know a book collector… let me find his calling card.”
He pulled a handful of calling cards from his pocket, found one, and handed it to Siles.
He said, “Professor Denton Calverley. A generous book collector. You can visit him whenever you have free time; he’s a retired professor who stays home all day. I think he will be very interested in the topic of your paper as well.”
Siles took the card and sincerely thanked Professor Bright.
Professor Bright waved his hand and said, “I have high hopes for this paper. If you can truly prove that those wandering bards were indeed followers of Ligadia, then this paper might just become famous.”
He mumbled.
Then, he added seriously, “So, after you finish the paper and are choosing a journal to submit to, try for the better ones. Don’t sell yourself short; it should at least be at the ‘Excellent’ level of your graduation thesis.”
Siles nodded and said softly, “I will, Professor.”
Professor Bright patted his shoulder and said, “I have to go, I have a class this morning. I came to the library to borrow a reference book. Good thing I told you about Denton…”
As if reminding himself not to forget things, he listed his thoughts one by one, then sighed and bid Siles goodbye.
Siles watched him leave, then looked down at the calling card Professor Bright had handed him. He thought about his schedule for the upcoming week…
Then he also sighed, having to admit that he had to visit Denton Calverley today; otherwise, who knew how long he would put this off.
Siles returned the book and left the library.
He noted Calverley’s address—the northern suburbs of Lamifa City. It was probably an independent mansion, and just the travel time would take an hour or two.
So Siles was in no hurry. He leisurely returned to his dorm, packed his things, wrote some of his novel, changed into slightly more formal clothes, then went off-campus for lunch, bought a gift along the way, and finally took a rented carriage, bumping along toward the northern suburbs.
Around one o’clock in the afternoon, he saw the corner of a house revealing itself from behind the treetops in the distance. Just as he had imagined, it was a mansion nestled in the wild woods, beautifully and elegantly hidden amidst the rustic nature.
The carriage stopped on the driveway in front of the mansion. Siles paid the fare and walked up alone. The mansion’s butler had already noticed the visiting guest and attentively inquired about Siles’s purpose.
Siles handed over his calling card, mentioning Professor Bright’s name, as well as his own name and purpose.
The identity of a Lamifa University professor was a very respectable profession, so the butler quickly welcomed Siles inside, asking him to wait a moment while he went to find Professor Calverley.
During this time, Siles observed the house. It was a three-story mansion. The exterior walls were white, while the interior extensively used brown. It had a long history and was well-maintained. Denton Calverley was definitely a wealthy man, perhaps even a descendant of nobility.
He was old, living alone in the remote outskirts, yet he welcomed visitors. A vague image formed in Siles’s mind.
A moment later, the butler reappeared, inviting Siles to the study on the third floor, where Professor Calverley was waiting for him.
Siles walked alone on the smoothly polished floor. The creaking sounds made him feel as though there was hardly anyone in the mansion. He reviewed the purpose of his visit in his mind once more, then pushed open the door and entered the third-floor study.
He saw a figure in a wheelchair, not exactly frail, but certainly aged. Professor Denton Calverley looked to be around seventy years old, wearing a brownish-grey plaid sweater, a blanket draped over his knees.
His voice sounded a bit tired: “Good afternoon, young guest.”
“Good afternoon, Professor Calverley,” Siles said. “I brought you some tea leaves, I hope you like them.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I like that drink nowadays,” Calverley said. “Please sit. I heard you’re looking for a book?”
“Yes,” Siles nodded, then sat down across from Calverley.
He thought for a moment and said, “I am currently writing a paper on the wandering bards of the Sardinian Empire. I believe these wandering bards are very likely followers of Ligadia, so I am looking for materials related to these wandering bards and Ligadia.”
After he finished speaking, Calverley’s eyes flashed.
He said, “Ligadia?”
“Yes,” Siles nodded.
Calverley seemed to ponder for a moment, then pushed his wheelchair toward the bookshelves. Siles stood up to help, but Calverley said, “Oh, please sit, please sit. I’ll do it myself.”
Siles remained standing, waiting for Calverley to find the relevant materials.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, he casually looked around the study—he had to admit, Calverley’s reputation as a book collector was no idle boast. There were at least a dozen bookshelves in this spacious study, all packed full of books.
The study was filled with the smell of ink and paper. Just now, Calverley was sitting behind the desk, and further back was a semi-circular curved glass window. Outside the window, Siles saw expansive greenery and the brownish-red of early autumn.
Siles faintly heard the sound of conversation coming from the end of the study, but he couldn’t make out the words. It was a room that occupied a large area, and the end was completely blocked by bookshelves.
A moment later, Calverley returned with two books on his lap. When he pushed the wheelchair in front of Siles, he handed the two books to him.
Siles reached out and took them, subconsciously glancing at them. He found one book titled On the Journey, which seemed like a travelogue; the other was titled The Fate of the Poet, which looked like a biography at first glance.
Both books had a bookplate pasted on the title page bearing the name Denton Calverley.
Calverley said, “I’m afraid these two books are the most fitting for your request.”
“Thank you, you are truly too generous,” Siles couldn’t help but say.
Calverley smiled. He sat back behind the desk and said, “However, I have a requirement for lending out these two books. Do you know of any rare books?”
Rare books?
Siles was slightly startled.
“It seems my old friend didn’t clearly explain the rules here before you came.” Calverley laughed, not exactly a cheerful laugh, but it seemed very gentle. “Anyone who borrows books from me must provide the names of some rare books in exchange.
“Of course, I won’t demand the books from you, nor will I demand that I haven’t read the books you mention. But… you know, a proper book collector needs to have some rules.”
Siles nodded and said, “Even so, you are already very generous.” He thought for a moment, then gave the titles of two books, “The Karacoc Diary: A Group of Forgotten People and the End of Their Lives, and Shadow Over the Empire: The Driven Emperor and Nobles.”
One was the book Siles borrowed from the Church of the Past, the other was the graduation gift Carol gave him. Based on the reading volume of the original host’s memory, he hadn’t read these two books either, so they probably qualified as rare.
Calverley seemed to fall into memory. After a moment, he said eagerly, “I have indeed read the latter, but I have never heard of the former. May I ask where you obtained it?”
His eyes shone with a yearning, greedy light, instantly breaking that elegant and gentle facade. But Siles could understand him to a certain extent.
So Siles said, “I borrowed it from the Church of the Past. It’s related to the wandering bards.”
He gave a brief overview of the diary’s contents.
“The Church of the Past,” Calverley fell into deep thought. After a moment, he murmured, “Perhaps I can look for an old friend.”
“If you need it…”
Siles wanted to clarify that he had a transcript on hand.
“Oh no, young guest, Professor Noel.” Calverley smiled. “I enjoy the process of hunting for books. Now, the joy brought by the search surpasses reading the books themselves. This is probably an essential quality for a collector.
“Besides, I won’t easily expend my goodwill with you. I’m still counting on you to tell me about more books I haven’t heard of.”
Siles also smiled faintly.
He thought that there were probably many. For example, Thirteen Letters between Madame Debriss and Her Lover—he believed it was impossible for Calverley to have heard of it. But he couldn’t actually mention this book either.
Because he learned of a book he hadn’t read, Calverley seemed very excited and thrilled. He invited Siles to visit his library room with him.
Only then did Siles understand that the books in the study were just a drop in the bucket; they were Calverley’s most cherished books, which was why they were specifically kept in the study.
The library was located in the basement. It was an extremely vast space, filled with densely packed books. To Siles, it looked like there were even more books here than in the Lamifa University library.
The figures of some servants bustled through, holding books, busy organizing and recording.
Siles suddenly understood where the conversation he had heard in the study earlier came from.
The third-floor study and the basement library room must have had a direct communication method, so when Calverley needed a book, he could directly have the servants send it up.
Calverley introduced his library room to Siles, as well as some of his habits in collecting books over the years.
Professor Calverley was a rather meticulous book collector; he pasted his bookplate on the title page of every book in his collection. Books collected in different periods also had different designs of bookplates.
He introduced the origins and artists of some of these bookplates to Siles, knowing the history of every book and its bookplate like the back of his hand.
Such a massive, tedious undertaking, yet it appeared on every single book he collected. This further highlighted the immense amount of energy and time Calverley had dedicated to this lifelong passion.
With a humble yet subtly proud tone, he stated that he was indeed a prominent figure among the collectors of Lamifa City, and that he had yet to find any collector within the Duchy of Konst whose collection surpassed his.
Siles praised the volume of his collection and asked curiously how he managed to collect so many books.
“The bookseller market in the East City, that is a place I visit frequently,” Calverley said. “There are also some other trade fairs. I know some booksellers who will also save rare books for me.
“In addition, my old friends also help out. Of course, I also help them keep an eye out for things they want. We are a consortium.”
Siles understood.
He was somewhat curious about these “old friends” Calverley frequently mentioned. Perhaps they were all prominent figures in Lamifa City?
But he didn’t pursue that line of questioning. He simply changed the subject, saying, “I’ve heard that some books are taken away by certain people in the city. Is this true? The Lamifa University library has quite a few complaints about this.”
Calverley’s expression changed slightly, and he said, “If it’s just for one’s personal collection, then of course there’s no problem.”
Siles caught a slightly odd element in that sentence.
Clearly, Calverley had collected some books that weren’t so “ordinary,” and he himself knew it perfectly well.
Siles hadn’t expected his casual topic to hit a sore spot for Calverley, so he said, “Of course. Books are always very precious.”
This made Calverley smile and nod. Sitting in his wheelchair, he and Siles looked together at the massive number of books he had collected.
A moment later, he said, “Sometimes I feel my life lies within this.” He spoke almost in a murmur, “My life, my story, my past, my death… will all converge here.”
Siles looked down at him, seeing the old man’s withered white fingers.
His days are numbered. Siles faintly had this premonition.
“…My days are numbered,” Calverley sighed, “and I have no children, no nephews or nieces. Nor do I wish for these books to accompany me into the grave. Young guest, do you understand my meaning?”
Siles’s visit seemed to have stirred some thoughts in Calverley.
Siles said softly, “Because words are eternal. But we are not.”
Calverley’s eyes widened slightly, and he subconsciously looked up at Siles. Finally, his voice trembling, he said, “Yes. Those books, they will last forever, even without me, it will be the same…”
His voice gradually lowered. Siles heard him murmuring words like “life” and “value.”
Siles thought for a moment, then added, “But ultimately, words are written by humans, aren’t they? Gods may fall, but the works created by humans are eternal.”
Calverley was silent for a long time, then slowly nodded.
After a moment, he said, “Your perspective probably wouldn’t be very well-received by one of my old friends. But, privately, I think you are right.”
Siles said nothing.
Calverley continued, “Alright, I’ll give you these two books. Consider it payment for listening to so many complaints.”
“It was nothing,” Siles said. “But, thank you regardless.”
Calverley chuckled.
Siles then toured the different floors of the mansion, appreciating some of the paintings, statues, and other artworks gifted to Calverley by his old friends.
Calverley kept him for dinner and had the butler personally escort Siles back to Lamifa University. He said Siles was very welcome to visit him again in the future.
Siles returned to Lamifa University in a rather pleasant mood.
But his pleasant mood was quickly shattered.
Because on this Monday night, he once again dreamed of the isolated island in the fog, the doll, and the night sky.
