“Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” Siles replied.
In Room 666, the five Revelators gathered.
As soon as Siles sat down, Eric asked him, “What connection do you have with the Second Corridor?”
“What?” Siles was slightly startled.
Eric said, “I heard some people discussing your name… but not about your research project.” He recalled, “It seemed they were discussing your… manuscript?”
“I heard about that too,” Darrell interjected. “You lost a manuscript? I heard people complaining about the History Society’s security.”
Mrs. Fuller also added, “I’m already drafting a list of lost items here. The First Corridor seems to be planning to compile a list of things Revelators have lost recently.” She paused, “They don’t seem very concerned about your manuscript, though.”
Angela blinked, then said, “There’s no news from the Council of Elders on this.” She changed the subject, “However, before I came here, I heard a few Elders discussing something about pollution levels… It seems a Revelator was cured?”
Siles couldn’t help but say, “You all are very well-informed.”
“Of course,” Angela said proudly. “We have eyes and ears in all five departments, after all.”
Siles then gave them a complete account of what had happened that morning. He didn’t mention that the manuscript was actually still with him. Since he had already put the story out there, he intended to make it truly “lost.”
At noon, he had gone to buy a new notebook, and then genuinely tried to rewrite the contents of his original draft notebook from memory while in Room 450.
If you’re going to put on an act, you have to go all the way… at least while at the History Society today.
After hearing Siles’s explanation, his companions suddenly understood.
“It seems someone is suspicious about the whereabouts of your manuscript,” Eric recalled. “I heard a lady saying something like, ‘He really did lose it.'”
That must be Doris, Siles thought.
As expected, someone was testing him through Doris. However, this matter definitely couldn’t bypass Mr. Grace, the head of the Second Corridor.
Not long ago, Mr. Grace had abandoned the investigation into the museum gatekeeper’s theft case. If these two events were connected… the stance of the Second Corridor’s head seemed somewhat difficult to discern.
Was he a lapdog for certain people in the Council of Elders? Or was it just outward compliance but inward defiance?
Siles didn’t want to make a judgment at this time. But he did feel that the History Society was rife with internal factions and had a complex atmosphere. He supposed this was a common ailment of large organizations.
If it were an organization like the Folklore Society, the atmosphere might be better, but there wouldn’t be as many opportunities or access to knowledge.
You win some, you lose some.
“That’s a shame, Professor,” Angela said. “I imagine your notebook must have contained many inspirations.”
Siles also couldn’t help but sigh.
…Because he actually had to copy the contents of the draft notebook word for word.
Oh well, he thought, this can also serve as a way to organize all the thoughts I’ve had recently.
The atmosphere was quiet for a moment.
Then, Mrs. Fuller asked with interest, “So, you really succeeded in curing a Revelator’s pollution?”
“You can’t exactly say that,” Siles replied. “His own factors played a huge part; I merely did the guiding work.”
“That’s more than enough,” Eric said in amazement. “Trust me, you’ll be highly sought after within the Society, especially by the Revelators in the Second and Third Corridors.”
This was already the second time today someone had said this to Siles.
Siles said, “This is just one successful case. There isn’t a complete, systematic treatment method yet.”
Darrell couldn’t help but say, “This is already amazing enough!”
“But it’s not universally applicable,” Siles stated precisely.
Darrell was taken aback, then mumbled, “I guess that’s a scholar for you…”
Siles: “…”
Angela was the first who couldn’t hold it back and burst into laughter. She tried hard to suppress it—after all, this was her elective course professor. However, she simply couldn’t help it. A rigorous, serious professor and a careless, sloppy young boy… their conversation was like a chicken talking to a duck, making Angela laugh uncontrollably.
Soon, Mrs. Fuller and Eric also couldn’t help but chuckle.
Amidst his companions’ laughter, Siles sighed and said, “It really is just a coincidence… Not everyone can achieve the level Colin did.”
Mrs. Fuller smiled and said, “Of course, we understand. But, Professor, what we mean is that you can afford to be a little proud. After all, you did successfully help a Revelator escape the torment of pollution.”
Siles shook his head, not wanting to claim credit.
Eric then said, “Then we await your complete treatment plan.”
“Exactly!” Angela said. “I can feel it, Professor, after what happened this morning, the Council of Elders’ opinion of you has changed. This is a good thing.”
Mrs. Fuller said thoughtfully, “Perhaps they too have been polluted by the will of the Old Gods.”
These words made the others quiet down.
Angela and Darrell looked at Mrs. Fuller, at a loss.
Finally, Siles said, “They will wait for more cases, a safer and more effective… ritual. They won’t truly participate in the current experimental stage.”
Eric nodded in agreement, “Big shots are always like that.”
After this slightly serious topic, Angela joked, “Looks like I won’t have to worry about being polluted in the future—though of course, I’ll still be careful.”
Siles nodded.
The topic then shifted to everyday matters, as they chatted about each other’s lives and work.
Mrs. Fuller and Angela talked about annoying administrative tasks.
Angela complained about the endless stream of documents, files, and tedious meetings in the Council of Elders, while Mrs. Fuller mentioned that the First Corridor was currently compiling a list of novice Revelators who had joined the History Society in recent months, verifying exact joining dates everywhere, which was a real hassle.
For a moment, the two of them found they had a lot in common.
Siles thought for a moment, then looked at Eric and asked, “I wanted to ask you something, Eric.” Seeing Eric nod, he continued, “Has the Greyson Food Company completely monopolized the market in the West City?”
Eric paused, recalling for a moment before saying, “Pretty much… yes. When it comes to food, whether finished products or raw ingredients, those shops are almost all Greyson’s, or supplied by Greyson.
“Not long ago, my wife, daughter, and I went to a restaurant in the West City for dinner, and I heard the owner saying that most restaurants in the West City have also switched to sourcing their raw materials from Greyson.
“Greyson’s ingredients are cheap and high quality. My wife says so, my neighbors say so, and even restaurant owners, chefs, and customers say the same. I really don’t know where they get such affordable raw materials.”
Hearing Eric say this, Siles also developed some doubts. “Are Greyson’s ingredients… truly of such high quality?”
He had always heard that Greyson’s ingredients were cheap and delicious, but he hadn’t bought any himself, nor had he tried any of Greyson’s finished dishes, except for that one time he bought Greyson’s pastries for Anthony and Mrs. Fenn when visiting their home.
Therefore, despite constantly hearing news about Greyson, he had no real sense of it.
Eric nodded repeatedly, even showing a look of fond reminiscence, “They are indeed very good. Part of the reason I look forward to going home every day is because of the meals.”
Siles felt something subtle. He once again had that thought—Greyson Food Company’s business was so good… were they really not mixing in some strange substances?
On second thought, perhaps it was just a price war?
Before monopolizing the market, they use low prices and good quality to drive out competitors; once they monopolize the market, they can raise prices indiscriminately. This was a common tactic in business competition.
Perhaps that was Greyson Food Company’s plan.
Siles pondered.
Beside them, Angela and Darrell had also been listening to their conversation.
Darrell suddenly asked, “Greyson… is that the company behind the culinary town in the southern suburbs?”
“Southern suburbs?”
“Culinary town?”
The focus of the few people was quite different.
Darrell continued, “My parents saw an ad for the culinary town in the newspaper and plan to go for a day trip tomorrow. I heard there’s a lot of good food.” He wore an expectant expression.
“A culinary town…” Angela also looked a bit expectant.
“Southern suburbs…” Eric seemed a bit confused. “Where exactly in the southern suburbs?”
“What’s wrong?” Siles realized Eric’s confusion wasn’t about the name “culinary town.”
“The southern suburbs… roughly a bit east of Mount Hughes,” Darrell gestured.
Eric frowned. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Sorry… what I mean is, try to be careful when you go there, and don’t go near Mount Hughes.”
“Is there something wrong with Mount Hughes?” Darrell was visibly startled.
Mount Hughes was just one of the mountains in the range in the southern suburbs. It sounded unremarkable, and was even a popular spot for tourists and climbers because it offered a view of the entire Lamifa City.
Eric explained, “I’ve been organizing the past files of the Second Corridor, as you all know.” He started, and seeing the others nod, continued, “I found that… things seem to always happen near Mount Hughes over the past decade or so.”
…Over a decade? A spark of inspiration flashed through Siles’s mind.
“Over a decade?!” Angela was equally shocked. “But… Mount Hughes, and some of the surrounding mountains, aren’t those places where many people go for tourism and relaxation?”
Overall, the suburbs in the four directions of Lamifa City each had their own regional attributes.
The western suburbs were a transportation hub. Because the earliest developed area of Lamifa City was here, the West City connected to many other cities in the Duchy of Konst. Consequently, the western suburbs became Lamifa City’s transportation transfer station to the outside world.
Lamifa City’s train station was also located in the western suburbs.
The northern suburbs were where the mansions of dignitaries were located. Just like Professor Calverley, whom Siles had visited, many wealthy nobles liked to build villas in the northern suburbs to stay for a while when they wanted some peace and quiet.
The eastern suburbs housed many villages under Lamifa City’s jurisdiction, such as Siles’s birthplace, the town of Merlin. Beyond these villages were also some roads, though not as developed or complete as those in the western suburbs.
As for the southern suburbs, that was where mountains and rivers passed through. For example, the Canla River, which ran north to south, started from a source further north and eventually flowed into Lake Dane in the southern suburbs.
Because of its beautiful scenery, the southern suburbs were a popular destination for many Lamifa residents looking for short trips out of the city. Building a culinary town in the southern suburbs was a rather excellent choice; it could attract plenty of tourists.
Yet now, Eric was saying that accidents had occurred frequently at Mount Hughes over the past dozen years or so.
“Are Old God followers gathering there?” Mrs. Fuller thought thoughtfully. “However, the Lamifa City authorities couldn’t possibly make such matters public.”
“…Indeed,” Angela said blankly.
It seemed that as a noble lady, Angela had previously visited the southern suburbs for leisure, perhaps even Mount Hughes itself.
Amidst the silence, Darrell asked carefully, “So… should I tell my parents to cancel tomorrow’s trip?”
The atmosphere eased slightly.
Eric shook his head and said, “No, there’s no need. It’s just that I think it’s best you avoid Mount Hughes.”
Darrell immediately nodded. “That’s good! I still want to go to the culinary town to eat!”
Mrs. Fuller looked thoughtful, then said, “Why don’t we all go together tomorrow?” She smiled, “Eric, you can bring your wife and daughter, and Angela, you can invite your friends too.
“I think, setting aside the issue of Mount Hughes, the culinary town would be a nice place for an outing.”
Angela was taken aback, then nodded, “You’re right!” Her mood inexplicably brightened. “That really is a good idea! I haven’t gone out for fun in a long time. The September weather is very lovely.
“Once it gets to October or November, I really won’t want to go out.”
Eric thought for a moment and suddenly realized he hadn’t taken his wife and daughter out for a long time either, so he also nodded.
Siles nodded as well. He thought, perhaps he could invite Lorenzo and treat him to a meal. His roommate had helped him a lot, both academically and in daily life—tirelessly helping Siles fetch his mail.
Thus, the proposal was unanimously approved.
Because of this, their gathering ended early today. Angela and Eric were busy going back to tell their friends and family about tomorrow’s outing. Mrs. Fuller also had to go home to prepare.
Darrell had to go home to do his homework—this caused Angela to burst out laughing, but then she looked at Siles, thought about her own elective course assignment… and her smile gradually vanished.
Siles planned to go to the Salon.
Speaking of the Salon, he suddenly thought of the Dawn Revelation Society, so he carefully revealed some information. The others listened with great interest.
None of them had joined a faculty yet, either out of lack of interest or simply lacking the time; so now, hearing that Siles had joined the Dawn Revelation Society, they couldn’t help but feel surprised and curious.
But when he mentioned that this had also drawn the attention of certain big shots in the History Society, his companions began to sigh.
“Professor, you really need to pay attention to your safety,” Angela said. “Whether it’s the overt matter of the Three Elements of the Divine, or the covert matter of the Dawn Revelation Society.”
She looked around a bit nervously, mumbling, “I really feel we should change our meeting place. The History Society gives me an unsafe feeling.”
Mrs. Fuller and Eric’s responses were more mature, but the content was similar, both advising Siles to prioritize safety and secrecy.
Only Darrell had a slightly different opinion. He probably felt it was unfair, saying, “Why should the Professor be the only one threatened by those big shots and forced to stay on guard?”
Siles looked at him.
Darrell thought for a moment, then added, “Can’t we turn the tables?”
Hearing this phrase, Siles deeply felt that Darrell’s middle school education had indeed been useful.
“Turn the tables?” Angela blinked, seeming very interested in this idea.
Siles felt a touch of warmth—for his companions’ worry and care—but he still said, “I can’t let you risk drawing the same attention.”
“No,” Mrs. Fuller said thoughtfully. “No one will expect us to be secretly helping you. After all, only Carol knows we are together. And he can’t possibly know that you are a member of the Dawn Revelation Society.”
Siles hadn’t mentioned that Carol was also a member of the Dawn Revelation Society. He looked at Mrs. Fuller, the eldest among them, with some surprise.
Because of Mrs. Fuller’s age and experience, their group often deferred to her opinions.
Mrs. Fuller paused, then continued, “Our goal isn’t to actually launch an attack or strike back, but rather…” She pondered, “at least investigate and find out exactly who is pulling the strings in the dark.”
Darrell immediately agreed. Young boys were never keen on enduring things silently.
Angela also immediately agreed. Her literature history professor being harassed made her extremely unhappy.
These three had made up their minds, so Eric, who had been wavering, immediately sided with them, even urging Siles: “I think we can’t remain passive all the time.”
Since he had even used the word “we,” Siles, who was still somewhat hesitant, could only sigh and agree to the proposal.
Angela gave a small cheer, looking very excited, muttering something about “first operation.” Darrell reacted similarly.
The three older Revelators looked at them indulgently.
The maintenance of this study group might have initially just been for Brewer Darrow, but slowly, through the museum gatekeeper case and Siles being targeted, they had gradually formed their own ideals and principles of action.
Though still weak, they were growing.
Then, Angela said somewhat seriously, “I think we really do need to change our meeting place.”
They had initially chosen Room 666 because they were accustomed to it. But now that they were secretly resisting certain big shots in the History Society’s upper echelons, this room was no longer as secure.
“Perhaps we could imitate the Dawn Revelation Society and establish a private faculty in the Salon?” Darrell suggested.
Angela hesitated.
Mrs. Fuller shook her head. “I think the Dawn Revelation Society is a special case. Other faculties are required to register all their members in the First Corridor, rather than keeping them secret.”
Mrs. Fuller, who handled Salon-related affairs, was very clear about matters concerning faculties. They were indeed confidential to some extent, but only on the surface. For insiders of the History Society, such lists were crystal clear.
Darrell immediately shook his head, retracting his own suggestion.
Mrs. Fuller said, “I know of a private club in the city, just a bit south of the History Society.” She smiled, “I have an investment there. Perhaps we can meet there every Saturday afternoon; it can guarantee sufficient privacy.”
Darrell cheered, “That’s so cool!” He said, “Mrs. Fuller, you’re amazing!”
A genuine smile emerged in Mrs. Fuller’s eyes. She said gently, “It is my honor.”
In her twilight years, she had unexpectedly found a certain zeal that usually only belonged to the youth. She had already enjoyed a long enough life, a happy enough family, and abundant enough wealth; all that awaited her was the silence of death.
Therefore, she was glad to maintain this friendship that had appeared at the end of her life.
“18 Hauswell Street. That’s the address of the club,” Mrs. Fuller said. “It just so happens we are going to the southern suburbs tomorrow. I’ll give you the club’s business cards then, and the room where we’ll meet. You need the business card to enter the club.”
They all nodded, then bid each other farewell and left the History Society.
Siles didn’t leave; he still had the Dawn Revelation Society gathering.
Before going to the Salon, he thought for a moment, put on his glasses, and then walked to the Salon’s entrance hall. The entrance hall automatically changed his appearance to the Postman look he had used previously.
However, Siles changed it back to the Croupier. The Croupier, now wearing glasses, looked slightly more refined.
Then, he stepped into the Salon. He vaguely sensed some gazes directed at him, but unsure if it was his imagination, he couldn’t be bothered to pay them any mind. He walked toward the stage and went behind the curtain.
In the Dawn Revelation Society’s room, the Knight, the Paperboy, and the Noblewoman had already arrived.
“Croupier!” the Knight greeted him proactively.
The Croupier nodded at him.
The four of them sat around the coffee table. This time, the Noblewoman didn’t complain about the conflict with her stepdaughter; instead, she also brought up the culinary town, as well as some rumors concerning Mount Hughes in the southern suburbs.
She said worriedly, “The culinary town’s opening is drawing many people there. I really don’t know if something will happen.”
The Paperboy chuckled, her crisp, childlike voice stating a very realistic point: “But you can’t possibly drive them all away. People love to taste good food.”
“That is true,” the Noblewoman nodded.
The Knight asked, “What culinary town?”
The other three looked at him simultaneously.
The Paperboy shook her head: “You’re really behind the times, Knight.”
The Knight tapped on his metal armor.
“Alright,” the Paperboy corrected herself, “It’s a place in the southern suburbs. There’s lots and lots of good food there.”
The Knight nodded thoughtfully.
The Croupier said, “Perhaps the company behind the culinary town is unaware of the issues in the southern suburbs.”
The Noblewoman paused, then sighed, “That’s true.”
Ordinary people couldn’t possibly know that accidents frequently happened in the southern suburbs. And what proportion of the population were Revelators? Furthermore, the people who knew about this had to be those with broad social circles or unique information sources—like Eric.
The Croupier was somewhat curious in his heart: how did the Noblewoman know about this? But then he remembered that the Noblewoman was also a famous wealthy merchant, about to become a noble’s wife, and a senior Revelator… he immediately felt it wasn’t strange for her to know.
Their topic then shifted to some comparisons between Revelators and ordinary people, naturally touching upon some of the troubles Revelators faced, such as out-of-control Time Traces and Old God pollution.
Then the Paperboy mentioned the name Siles Noel. She said, “I heard this person found a method to deal with pollution. This is truly a good thing.”
The Croupier felt as if the Knight had cast a subtle glance his way. He remained silent.
The Knight said, “I heard as well. It seems there was a successful case today, causing quite a stir within the Society.”
“It succeeded?” The Paperboy looked very surprised. “I haven’t heard about that yet.”
The Noblewoman said, “Wait and see if there are more successful cases. If there are, I hope he can cure my brain too.” She pointed at her own head.
“Regarding pollution,” the Croupier spoke up at this moment, “I have a… hypothesis.”
The other three all looked at him.
The Croupier, his face calm, spoke slowly and methodically: “Since Revelators borrow the power of someone from the past, and using a certain path’s power long-term might turn one into a follower of that god…
“Then, does this mean that the pollution from the will of that Blessed One turns the Revelator into another person?”
The Paperboy looked as if she had been pricked by something, her previously crisp voice becoming slightly hoarse: “…Turn into another person? What are you talking about?”
“Resurrection,” the Croupier said cleanly and decisively. “If a person is completely, thoroughly polluted, does that mean the ghost from the past has resurrected in their body?”
The faces of the Paperboy and the Noblewoman paled simultaneously. The Knight’s face was hidden by the metal helmet, so his specific expression couldn’t be seen.
After a moment, the Noblewoman said, “That is not a good hypothesis you have there.”
The Croupier said, “I only had this thought… after witnessing what some people look like when they are infected—deeply infected.”
“I don’t think it could be a ‘resurrection’ in the true sense,” the Paperboy said softly. “Their spirituality is not the same…”
Spirituality. The Croupier noticed the Paperboy use this word.
He knew that the terms “spirituality” and “will,” and what they pointed to, inherently existed within the knowledge system of Revelators.
Carol had mentioned spirituality and will when telling him about the image of Thaddeus. But to ordinary Revelators, these two concepts seemed unclear and ambiguous.
Yet the Paperboy could clearly state, “their spirituality is not the same.”
The Croupier’s eyes flickered, suddenly recalling Carol’s past words.
“After a human dies, spirituality dissipates, and a fragile will can no longer drive a heavy body.”
Death meant the dissipation of spirituality. Suppose a Revelator was polluted by the will of a Blessed One, but the latter was long dead, their spirituality long dissipated.
But… what if… The Croupier suddenly thought of a terrifying possibility.
What if the entity the Revelator borrowed power from… had never died?
If the entity borrowed from was an ordinary person, it shouldn’t matter—many rituals corresponding to 1% purity potions, like [Formless Shield], borrowed power from many ordinary people who were still alive.
But these rituals hadn’t caused any problems. In other words, the will of ordinary people was insufficient to shake the will of Revelators; this was a difference in power and soul.
However, higher-level rituals, such as borrowing the power of Blessed Ones, involved people from history who were already dead; their spirituality must have already dissipated.
So… there were only a few exceptions.
Borrowing the power of gods, borrowing the power of other still-living Revelators, and borrowing the power of one’s past self. The Croupier thought.
After the gods fell, did their spirituality, or rather, their divine portfolio, dissipate?
The moment he thought of this question, the Croupier almost instinctively gave a negative answer. That was an answer based on common sense—how could a divine portfolio dissipate so easily?
A divine portfolio precisely signified the power of a god!
As for borrowing the power of one’s past self, and borrowing the power of other Revelators… the Croupier couldn’t describe the specific nature of this risk. But he always felt it was like a subtle paradox.
The power of the past, of history. The power of time. What kind of power was that exactly? Was it endless?
A Revelator borrows power from the past, and another Revelator can borrow in the future the power that this Revelator had previously borrowed? Infinite nesting dolls?
Until he figured out the true nature of Revelator power, he might always experience this confusion.
After a moment of silence, the Knight suddenly said, “What you really want to say is that this is the channel through which Old God followers resurrect the Old Gods, right?”
The Croupier answered frankly, “Yes.”
The Paperboy and the Noblewoman were taken aback, only then realizing belatedly that instead of worrying about someone from the past resurrecting in the present, they should be worrying about those fallen gods regaining a body in this world through some method.
The implications of the two were worlds apart.
The Noblewoman said, somewhat troubled, “Could such a thing really happen?”
The Paperboy said with a tone of subtle sarcasm, “They are gods, after all. Who knows what the power of the gods truly entails.”
The Noblewoman also sighed.
“Alright ladies,” the Knight said, “This is just a thought, a hypothesis of the Croupier’s. We don’t need to be so worried.”
He said this, but the Croupier understood that the Knight knew what he was trying to hint at—what Brewer Darrow had once said, “containers.”
So the Croupier said, “Yes, I was just speaking casually.”
Their topic then shifted to other areas. But it was all everyday chatter; the Paperboy and the Noblewoman even started talking about gardening.
At 4:00 PM, this gathering concluded.
The Paperboy and the Noblewoman left first.
In the Dawn Revelation Society’s room, the Knight took off his helmet, breathed a sigh of relief, and then asked seriously, “Is this your hypothesis, or a verified conclusion?”
“A hypothesis,” Siles said. “However, I couldn’t think of any other logical possibilities.”
Carol choked on his words, then said in frustration, “That’s really—!”
Siles changed the subject, asking, “Is there still no progress on the investigation into Brewer’s fiancée?”
Carol shook his head and said, “This matter is currently being handled by a team in the Second Corridor. But… perhaps you can understand, the Second Corridor receives many cases every day, and Brewer’s incident happened over half a month ago.
“With no progress in the investigation over such a long time, so…”
“…Even if it was a massacre of an entire household?”
Carol spoke with an indescribable emotion, “It will only become a strange anecdote in the newspapers, a topic of conversation for people after meals. It’s only been half a month now; give it a few months, a few years, who will still remember the Darrow family?”
Siles frowned at Carol’s words. He looked up at Carol, feeling that this man, who usually laughed so heartily, seemed overly serious and pessimistic right now.
Siles then said, “If they truly want to resurrect the Old Gods, they will definitely reveal their flaws.”
“Perhaps,” Carol said. “…Sorry. The things that have happened recently have made me…”
Siles looked at him quietly.
That calm, composed gaze made Carol calm down as well. He said, “Not long ago, I had an argument with Grace. The head of the Second Corridor. Because of the museum gatekeeper incident—remember?”
Siles was slightly taken aback. He realized, Could one of the participants in the argument with Mr. Grace that Eric heard about have been Carol?
Carol said, “I act as a liaison between the First and Second Corridors… or rather, a preparatory member of the Council of Elders.” He hesitated a bit but didn’t elaborate on this matter. “In short, Grace’s decision to abandon the investigation angered me greatly.”
Siles asked, “Because of certain big shots?”
“Not entirely. Grace had no intention of currying favor; he just felt there was no need to waste time on that case since the item had already been recovered… but I hoped to at least investigate what the underground gangs in the West City were up to.”
Carol wore a rather frustrated expression.
Finally, he said, “I just feel that the History Society… I mean, in the Revelator circle, people’s attitudes and thoughts, and their stances…” He shook his head.
Siles reached out and patted Carol’s shoulder… his metal armor.
“Forget it,” Carol suddenly said cheerfully. “Actually, I understand that the Second Corridor has too many things to do and is overwhelmed. And Grace is obligated to prioritize cases of a more serious nature.”
“Indeed,” Siles also nodded.
The Second Corridor abandoning the investigation into the underground gangs was simultaneously an abandonment of Brewer’s case. There were perhaps many other… many cases that ended up unresolved. Siles could understand; just as Carol said, there were too many incidents.
But his true worry was that it was hard to say these two matters had simply ended or concluded like this. What if their negligence and perfunctoriness now led to some irreversible consequences in the future?
Wasn’t it due to their carelessness that Brewer Darrow had lost his possible chance at survival?
Siles sighed inwardly.
Carol said, “I will continue to keep an eye on it… if there’s any news. I sincerely hope that your hypothesis this time does not come true.”
Siles remained silent.
“By the way, keep up the good work on breaking free from pollution. I believe the vast majority of Revelators support you,” Carol said, adding a tactful reminder, “And don’t worry too much about certain higher-ups. There are even more higher-ups waiting for your conclusions and results.”
Siles nodded and said, “I will.”
After giving his advice, Carol checked the time and bid Siles farewell. In the blink of an eye, Siles was the only one left in the room.
He sat there thoughtfully for a while, then also left. A moment later, the man dressed as a Postman returned, took the notebook from the bookshelf, put it into his mailbag, waited for a while, and then departed.
Siles took a public carriage back to Lamifa University, ate dinner at the cafeteria, and then organized and copied the contents of the draft notebook in his dorm room. He considered how to dispose of this draft notebook.
In truth, there wasn’t much content inside. Siles usually preferred using loose sheets of scratch paper rather than notebooks. But because carrying them around was inconvenient, Siles had later bought a notebook.
However, he had a lot to record daily, so the small notebook was quickly used up. This was already his second draft notebook, which he had just started using recently.
He thought for a moment. To prevent the History Society from using some object-finding ritual—like the [Trace Tracking] he himself had learned, or some other bizarre, advanced ritual—he ultimately decided to go all the way.
He took out a matchbox from the drawer—he occasionally used it to light the kerosene lamp—and completely burned the draft notebook to ashes. After this, Siles finally let out a sigh of relief.
The smell of burning filled the room. Siles waited for the smell to dissipate slightly before opening the window.
Afterward, he heard the sound of the door opening and closing downstairs. Knowing Lorenzo had returned, he went out to talk with him about tomorrow’s trip to the culinary town.
Lorenzo looked at Siles with an expression of sheer disbelief. He said, “How rare, you’re actually willing to go out.”
Siles was speechless for a moment—When have I ever been unwilling to go out? Haven’t I been going out often?
Lorenzo laughed. “Alright, thank you to my dear roommate for the invitation. I’ve been there before; tomorrow I’ll show you where all the good stuff is.”
Siles nodded, adding, “Some of my friends will be going too, but we probably won’t eat together. Just giving you a heads-up.”
“No problem,” Lorenzo shrugged. “What time tomorrow?”
“We leave at 8:00 AM. We should arrive around 10:00 AM,” Siles said.
“Sounds good.”
Having settled this with Lorenzo, Siles returned to the third floor and wrote a letter to be sent to the merchant Lanmere.
He had already received the travelogue translation draft and the copied manuscript of the first half of his novel yesterday afternoon, but then he had given himself a break and couldn’t be bothered to deal with serious matters, so he postponed writing this letter until today.
In the letter, Siles mentioned the publication of the travelogue and inquired about the possibility of publishing his own novel. After drafting and cleanly copying it onto letter paper, Siles stuffed the letter and other manuscripts into an envelope and set it aside.
He was going to the southern suburbs tomorrow. Just to be safe, Siles packed various things into his backpack: potions, the brooch, the black umbrella; he brought them all.
Carrying a subtle sense of unease, Siles washed up and fell asleep in bed.
Thanks to Akamara’s power. Even with a heavy heart, Siles still enjoyed a pleasant night’s sleep.
Early the next morning, he went out with Lorenzo. He first went to the carriage station outside the school to mail his letter, and then took a rented carriage to the culinary town in the southern suburbs.
Hearing they were going to the culinary town in the southern suburbs, the driver couldn’t help but remark, “There are really a lot of people going there recently.”
This immediately sparked Lorenzo’s interest, and he chatted with the driver almost the entire way, while Siles just listened absentmindedly, occasionally offering a sentence or two.
According to the driver’s description, people from the East City had been especially fond of taking their families to the culinary town on their days off recently. It had become a popular destination for family trips over the past week or two.
Lorenzo was practically beaming. He said, “I went there before. It really is a great place to go; the food there is truly delicious, some things I’ve never even seen before.”
The driver nodded, saying with a hint of anticipation, “Looks like I’ll have to take my wife for a trip too.”
After more than an hour, they arrived at the culinary town in the southern suburbs.
As soon as he stepped out of the carriage, Siles couldn’t help but be taken aback, for the sheer volume of the crowd gathered here was truly astonishing.
