As Siles had expected, the Historical Society indeed possessed a “finding” ritual.
Furthermore, this ritual could even determine the state of an item.
Therefore, when Director Bellow mentioned that “the Revelators of the Second Corridor found your manuscript had been incinerated,” Siles remained calm on the surface, but inwardly, he couldn’t help feeling a wave of lingering fear.
Fortunately, he had prudently chosen to burn that notebook; otherwise, this lie might have actually been exposed. Of course, when deciding to do so, Siles had considered the possibility of being exposed.
The subsequent development of this matter satisfied Siles; at least after changing offices, there were no more signs of anyone breaking in.
However, with the accumulation of Siles’s reputation in the Historical Society and the spread of some rumors, he suspected that the mastermind behind the scenes might have grown to despise him immensely, just waiting for the right moment to strike.
This possibility did not surprise Siles.
He tried his best to maintain his vigilance.
He stayed in his office until noon, sorting out various thoughts and possibilities. Then, he went out for a meal, returning to the Historical Society in the afternoon to visit Ms. Bernita Aston’s side.
Bernita Aston was a capable and composed lady of around forty. She always wore a women’s suit with short hair, appearing quite out of place in the female fashion of this era.
Siles had also met her husband, who was likewise a member of Ms. Aston’s project.
He seemed to take pride in his wife’s honors and research. Therefore, when people addressed his wife as “Ms. Aston” instead of “Mrs. Boyle,” he didn’t appear frustrated or angry.
“My wife was already a member of the Research Department before we got married, and they are more accustomed to calling her Ms. Aston; I know this, of course. Besides, she isn’t respected just because she became my wife,” Mr. Boyle would explain.
Mr. Boyle also had some reputation within the Historical Society because of their marital dynamic.
“Professor Noel.”
When Siles arrived at the room for Ms. Aston’s project, Mr. Boyle greeted him. Siles nodded at him, glanced around, but was surprised to find that Ms. Aston wasn’t there.
“Are you looking for Bernita?” Mr. Boyle said. “She had some matters to attend to and has left.”
Siles nodded in understanding.
Mr. Boyle looked around, confirmed that no other Revelators were paying attention to their conversation, and led Siles into another empty room.
Upon arriving, he breathed a sigh of relief: “Professor Noel, please forgive my caution. In fact, it is precisely because of your matters that Bernita…”
Siles couldn’t help but frown: “What happened?”
“Because of your project,” Mr. Boyle said softly. “Of course, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with your project. However, some people believe your project is problematic.”
Siles remained silent.
He thought to himself, Am I being… isolated?
“Bernita won’t refuse to collaborate with you over this. She wanted me to tell you that, and… we also hope you’ll pay attention to your safety.”
Siles felt a bit incredulous; he said, “I believe my project is meaningful.”
“Of course, of course… I think so, too. However, I must remind you,” Mr. Boyle said. “Not everyone inside the Historical Society thinks the same.”
Siles wondered how many people had reminded him of this by now. He sighed slightly and asked, “Do you think… someone would actually try to kill me?”
Mr. Boyle was startled; the middle-aged man was a bit timid. He hesitated for a moment, then finally said, “You are still young… I mean, there are some things you don’t know.”
Siles asked, “Has something similar happened before?”
“More direct than you,” Mr. Boyle said. “There was once a reckless young man who directly stated… that humans could become gods, and he actually researched in that direction.
“And… he really… produced some… I’m reluctant to say it, but it could be called results. He reproduced the power of gods, at least a portion of it.”
Siles suddenly asked sharply, “How long ago was that?”
“…Fourteen years ago.” Mr. Boyle’s gaze seemed to hold profound meaning. “You might have heard of this point in time.”
Fourteen years ago. A change in the Grand Duke’s seat in the Duchy of Konst. The fallout between the Historical Society and Mr. Xia of the Dawn Revelation Society. Grenfield breaking ties with his teacher.
Siles’s heart sank slightly.
He remembered that Grenfield had once mentioned this lightly. Grenfield said someone had tried to borrow the power of a past god; in the end, some died, and some went mad.
At the time, Siles hadn’t thought much about it, assuming it was just normal academic research.
But now, as he found himself deeply involved, he realized just how much conflict this research had sparked within the Historical Society.
And it remained a taboo that people were unwilling to mention to this day.
Siles’s project had merely brushed the edge of this topic, yet it had already caused so many people to scramble to warn him about his safety.
Siles fell silent for a moment, finally asking, “That young man… how is he now?”
“He’s dead,” Mr. Boyle said. “Some believe he died in that experiment. Others believe someone else killed him. So… do you understand what I mean? You must, absolutely must, never mention the Three Elements of the gods again.”
Siles nodded.
Filled with worry, Mr. Boyle told him to come back next week, and then bid Siles farewell.
Siles was grateful for Mr. Boyle’s reminder, just as he felt guilty for the trouble he brought to Ms. Aston. However, a mocking curve couldn’t help but rise at the corner of his lips.
He thought to himself, The Three Elements of gods… I haven’t even specifically analyzed the power of gods, merely explained the titles of gods… and already people are so impatient that they even went to warn Ms. Aston.
Could this warning be related to the office break-in earlier? Because he hadn’t stopped his project after that incident, and had even continued experimenting?
He thought that by publicly announcing the loss of his manuscript after that incident, the mastermind might feel some apprehension. But looking at it now, the other party was acting entirely without restraint.
Perhaps they felt his resistance was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
This was truly…
Siles couldn’t help but shake his head.
He recalled his conversation with Grenfield.
Grenfield had said that within the Historical Society, some were overly superstitious, believing “gods are gods, and humans are humans,” while others were overly arrogant, thinking that divine power naturally belonged to human mastery. Grenfield himself belonged to the centrist faction.
The Superstitious Faction, the Power Faction, and the Centrist Faction. Siles believed there were probably other classifications among these three.
The events of fourteen years ago might have been an attempt by the Power Faction. They failed. After that, the Superstitious Faction gained the upper hand, and the Centrists had increasingly less ground to stand on.
Judging from various aspects and the tones revealed by different people, the current members of the Elders’ Council were mostly stubborn, conservative old men who formed cliques, and this atmosphere showed signs of spreading downwards.
Just think of Carol’s complaints regarding the museum gatekeeper’s theft incident. He even had an argument with Mr. Grace, the head of the Second Corridor, over it.
The root of all these events might stem from that project fourteen years ago, which shattered the balance of power between the factions.
Fourteen years ago, Grenfield might have been young and frivolous; perhaps he didn’t agree with the arrogance of the Power Faction, but he also felt it was an attempt worth making—humans couldn’t be covered by the shadow of gods forever, right?
But his teacher, the Vice President of the Historical Society, Joseph Morton, didn’t seem to think so.
However, judging by Grenfield’s sparse words about Joseph Morton, the Vice President didn’t belong to the Superstitious Faction either.
More accurately, Morton believed the Revelators possessed a formidable power, and this power should be mastered by humans, but through a more conservative, safer approach; additionally, he was superstitious about the authority of gods.
…Joseph Morton was a superstitious member of the Centrist Faction? And Grenfield was a power-oriented member of the Centrist Faction?
Siles couldn’t help but muse; just one Historical Society could fight like this. Four hundred years had passed, the power system of the Revelators still hadn’t been fully deciphered, yet this group fought with such enthusiasm.
He thought, If that’s the case, then the dispute sparked by my project is far from over.
Perhaps some people associated his project with the one from fourteen years ago. They projected the image of that reckless young man onto Siles.
The reason Siles hadn’t faced harsher treatment was, firstly, because his research was genuinely meaningful, and secondly, because Grenfield and some other proactive high-ranking members were protecting him.
Most importantly, Siles was still weak enough and hadn’t yet researched anything truly useful.
If he could really discover a ritual capable of clearing mental corruption, and if his reputation continued its positive growth within the Historical Society, then the current hostility—which was merely at a warning level—would quickly escalate.
…But even so, was he really going to abandon this project?
No, he wouldn’t do that. He hoped to research a ritual capable of removing corruption.
It was he who faced the pleading eyes of those Revelators suffering from mental corruption; it was he who brought them a glimmer of hope; it was he who confirmed, through the dice roll, that human will could resist divine will.
Siles made up his mind and didn’t think any more about the struggles behind the scenes. He turned and left the Historical Society, taking a public carriage back to Lamifa University. It was only two o’clock.
On his way back, he noticed some changes on the streets.
The weather was getting colder; October was fast approaching.
The October Market would begin in the second week of October and last until the end of the month—more than half a month in total.
Therefore, at this time, people had already begun preparations for the market.
An entire block’s worth of streets was being cleared and slowly decorated. Different merchants and booths needed to be confirmed, goods had to be transported here, and flyers, booth maps, and product catalogs had to be prepared in advance.
At the gathering last week, Siles had heard Mrs. Fuller mention these things. When he visited the Fenns not long ago, he had similarly heard Bertram Fenn complaining.
Bertram said that this year’s October Market was preparing to be exceptionally grand because the Withered Wasteland development plan was about to be made public; but correspondingly, the various preparations seemed utterly chaotic.
Despite starting preparations half a month early, the specific booth numbers and zoning still hadn’t been clearly communicated to the merchants. Some merchants’ goods were stuck halfway due to the weather, leaving them uncertain if they could even participate in the market.
The Ashless Lands were also thrown into chaos because of the Withered Wasteland development plan. Everyone wanted a slice of the pie, let alone the big merchants.
The most crucial part was the railway development plan.
And within that, there was an easily debatable detail.
When people first explored the Ashless Lands, each country used its own railway gauge standard to lay tracks. As a result, the gauges of many railways in the Ashless Lands were inconsistent.
Since the countries now intended to unite and jointly develop the Withered Wasteland, all these railway gauges needed to be standardized to facilitate transportation.
And this matter caused various countries, factories, and merchants to fight fiercely.
No one knew if the locations where the new tracks were to be laid were safe, how much material or how many workers would be consumed, whether operations would run smoothly after completion, or if they would become critical transit hubs for freight and passenger flows.
But the existing tracks were different. They represented a known situation, yet they now needed to be re-laid and repaired.
Naturally, some ambitious factory owners set their sights on the new tracks, while merchants seeking stability focused on the profits from relaying the old ones.
In short, this matter was causing an uproar everywhere recently.
The chaos in the Ashless Lands even affected the Revelators market. Prices for various potions and time tracks were rising lately; at least from Siles’s observations at the salon, the price hikes were not insignificant.
Siles couldn’t help but sigh softly: An eventful autumn indeed.
Returning to No. 6 Hayward Street, Siles bumped into Lorenzo, who was just leaving, at the door.
“Good afternoon, Siles,” Lorenzo said. “I’m heading to Professor Dunlop’s class. I’ll be busy after this.”
“Good afternoon, Lorenzo.”
Siles greeted him.
Siles didn’t know if it was because of the previous incident in the gourmet town, but over the past two weeks, Lorenzo seemed to have abandoned his habit of going out to play; he was remarkably well-behaved, making Siles view him in a new light.
Of course, according to Lorenzo himself, it was simply because he had spent all his salary.
Since payday was coming up in a few days, Siles was quite curious if Lorenzo would resume his previous indulgent lifestyle.
Yet Lorenzo was saying he would “be busy.”
Siles couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you getting busy?”
Lorenzo casually replied, “Because someone discovered a new underground tomb in the Ashless Lands, so Professor Dunlop is probably going to lead an archaeological expedition. I have to help cover his classes, so naturally I’ll be busy.”
Siles understood, and asked with some interest, “Roughly when will they depart?”
“Perhaps mid-October, in a few weeks. It always takes some time to prepare. I don’t know if they can make it before the Day of Divine Birth celebration.” Lorenzo said, “So I only have these few weeks left to familiarize myself with the lesson plans. I guess Professor Dunlop won’t be at school for the rest of the year.”
Siles wondered: Will Herman Grove participate in Lamifa University’s archaeological team?
In the tabletop RPG plot, the apostate Hamlin had the chance to blend into Lamifa University’s archaeological team to leave Lamifa City. Could the archaeological team mentioned in the script be referring to this archaeological discovery?
Then, perhaps Herman Grove would also be involved in this archaeological activity?
Siles hoped everything would go smoothly. After all, the apostate had already been caught, so this archaeological expedition shouldn’t encounter any mishaps.
Lorenzo bid Siles farewell and then left No. 6 Hayward Street.
Siles walked upstairs, returned to his bedroom on the third floor, opened his notebook, and thought about his recent tasks.
At Lamifa University, everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion. Classes, apprentices, the club, society, and his paper—every item was moving forward methodically according to plan.
His side job as a novelist was also doing fine. He planned to attend the novelists’ gathering Benton mentioned this weekend. He secretly reminded himself not to forget the signature Grenfield requested.
As for the new novel… he would set it aside for now. Even though he told Mr. Benton he had an outline in mind—which was true—he hadn’t had the time to work on it recently.
Meanwhile, matters concerning the Revelators had entered a subtle stalemate.
His project was still ongoing, and Siles believed he had indeed found a feasible method. But the problem was that he seemingly had to be more cautious. This shift in mindset made Siles feel somewhat helpless.
Furthermore, a few matters requiring investigation had hit a standstill.
The whereabouts of the apostate’s files remained unclear. Siles had previously reminded the Church of Bygone Days to investigate Dr. Chester, but there had been no news since, making Siles wonder: was Dr. Chester’s past really that difficult to investigate?
The same went for Professor Cabel’s disappearance. Siles read the few books Professor Cabel had once borrowed, suspecting that Professor Cabel had found the manuscript mentioned in Lost Inheritance, which prompted his departure from Lamifa City.
Based on his understanding of Professor Cabel, the latter was already pursuing first drafts and original copies of books; a manuscript lost in history like this would probably deeply fascinate him.
The problem was, Siles had no idea what Professor Cabel actually obtained. Thus, the issue circled back to the question: What materials did Professor Cabel read?
Both the museum gatekeeper incident and the Darrow family affair had seen their investigations suspended by the Second Corridor. After so much time, no new clues had truly surfaced.
They didn’t know the current state of the gatekeeper’s sick granddaughter, nor did they know the true identity of Brewer Darrow’s fiancée.
Eric had once mentioned he would investigate the underground gangs’ recent activities; he wondered if Eric could bring back any useful information. Of course, Siles didn’t hold out too much hope.
After the gatekeeper incident, the underground gangs would definitely be more careful.
Moreover…
Take the gourmet town incident, for example. The events from two weeks ago had now seemingly faded away; Siles hadn’t even heard any rumors of an investigation from the Revelators side.
Many things simply dissolved silently into nothingness without anyone realizing.
Siles couldn’t help but sigh.
After thinking for a moment, he cleanly tossed these worries to the back of his mind, shifting his attention to more pressing matters.
Tonight’s Deep Sea Dreamscape.
Last night, he had seen a ruin at the bottom of the sea in the Deep Sea Dreamscape. That scene had etched itself deeply into his brain, impossible to forget for a lifetime.
However, this new discovery didn’t bring any progress to his exploration of the Deep Sea Dreamscape. He still didn’t know what that place meant, nor did he know what he could do there.
So, his intention after entering the Deep Sea Dreamscape tonight remained unchanged: he wanted to see if he could exert any influence on those dream bubbles.
Once his mind was made up, Siles checked his pocket watch: a little past 2 PM.
It was still early. Thinking about his schedule for tomorrow and the tasks he needed to accomplish later, Siles decided to seize the time to organize the content of his paper.
His two apprentices were already sorting out materials for their papers. Their term papers were much simpler than Siles’s, so they progressed much faster; right now, their initial drafts were outlined and they were in the writing phase.
Siles also needed to speed up the progress of his paper; after all, he needed to get it published in a journal by the end of November.
That meant he only had two months left.
He spent some effort organizing the structure, outline, and reference materials for his paper, and in the evening, he left his dorm to grab dinner at the cafeteria.
As October approached, it got dark earlier and earlier. By the time Siles finished dinner and returned to his dorm, the sky was completely black. Siles took a quick hot bath, washed his clothes, tidied the room, and read the newspaper as well as some journal papers from September.
Reading the newspaper was a habit he picked up from Lorenzo. Siles was very curious about the newspapers of this era. At this point in time, he could already see many reports related to the October Market.
It mentioned that this year’s October Market would begin on October 10th and last until the 25th—a full half month.
And October 20th was the Day of Divine Birth. On that day, a bustling and grand Day of Divine Birth celebration would take place. Grand Duke Konst was also expected to announce the Withered Wasteland development plan on that day.
Previously, Darrell had told them that the Third Corridor had begun discussing the order maintenance plan for the Day of Divine Birth well in advance. Back then, Siles hadn’t realized that a storm was brewing.
But now, clearly sensing the arrival of the October Market and the atmosphere of the impending announcement for the Withered Wasteland development plan, he recognized the crisis lurking beneath this liveliness.
The Ashless Lands involved countless interests, including those of ordinary people and the Revelators. The development plan was certainly a good thing, but perhaps not for everyone.
Furthermore, the Day of Divine Birth was a time of revelry for the people every year. Stirring up trouble during such times didn’t seem to be a rare occurrence.
Siles felt somewhat worried about this.
Before bed, he read a novel—for Siles, in this era, reading was virtually the only entertainment left. He had no interest in smoking, drinking, feasting, whoring, or gambling, and felt a deep aversion to some of those activities.
Thus, reading became his only way to relax.
At 10 PM, he went to sleep right on time and subsequently entered the Deep Sea Dreamscape.
After his routine circling walk, he stopped at the center of the isolated island, deep in thought. Then, he picked a random direction, walked to the edge of the island, squatted down, and scooped up some seawater with his right hand.
A dream bubble similarly floated in the palm of his right hand.
He looked into this randomly chosen dream. The owner of the dream seemed to be a young child, currently dreaming of playing in the countryside with other young friends; it looked warm and beautiful.
However, the scenes of the dream flickered rapidly. Soon, the child dreamed of bizarre scenarios: fleeing, illness, narrow alleys, a basement, a mysterious person… The images flashed and jumped like a nightmare, and the owner of the nightmare, startled, was on the verge of waking up.
At this moment, he chose to intervene. Unsure of how much he could achieve, he merely prodded the cluster of seawater tentatively with his left hand.
The next second, he felt the world spin. When he truly regained his senses, he was surprised to find himself in a shaking, flickering dark room.
…Saying the room was shaking didn’t mean the ground beneath his feet was actually vibrating; it was more like a mental dizziness and grogginess. It felt as if he was inside a photograph, and someone was desperately shaking that photograph.
“Wait…!” he said with difficulty. “Don’t be afraid, everything’s fine now.”
Following his words, he felt an even more violent vibration… like the chaos of war. Subsequently, everything around him slowly subsided. The dark room fell into tranquility.
“…Who are you?” A little girl’s hazy voice appeared near his ear.
He thought for a moment, then finally said, “I am the ghost of dreams.”
He felt a young girl would like this concept.
“Ah! A ghost!” The girl’s voice sounded somewhat timid, yet carrying a restless excitement. “I know ghosts. They’re what people turn into after they die. I know this saying… I always feel like I’ll become a ghost, too.”
Her words sent a flash of doubt through his mind. Why would a young girl be thinking about death?
He didn’t dwell on it, merely asking, “And what about you? Who are you?”
“I am… I am Nona,” the girl said. “Mr. Ghost, you can call me Miss Nona.”
“Very well, Miss Nona,” Mr. Ghost said. “You were having a nightmare, weren’t you?”
“…Yes.” Nona’s voice sounded timid. “But, Mr. Ghost, you appeared. After you appeared, I stopped having the nightmare.”
“That’s because I drew your attention. If you have nightmares again in the future, just think about something else. Imagine you and your friends playing in the countryside; imagine your family bringing you delicious pastries.”
“I will, Mr. Ghost,” Nona said. “But I always have nightmares.”
“Why do you have nightmares?”
Nona was silent for a long time.
Mr. Ghost stood silently in the dark room. He couldn’t see anything around him, nor did he know exactly where Nona was. This was Nona’s dream, not his.
“…Mr. Ghost, I’ll only tell you this secret,” Nona whispered. “You mustn’t tell anyone else.”
Mr. Ghost said patiently, “I will, Miss Nona. I will keep this secret for you.”
Nona sounded relieved. “I’m locked up.” She said dejectedly, “I don’t understand… it’s so strange…”
Her tone carried a childish, not-so-serious anger and annoyance.
Mr. Ghost thought of Nona’s previous words, considered for a moment, and said, “Miss Nona, you’re sick, aren’t you?”
Nona gave a soft “Ah,” then said, “Mr. Ghost, you’re so smart.”
Mr. Ghost sighed inwardly. “Are you receiving treatment?”
“Maybe. But that stuff is really hard to drink, and I feel a lot of pain,” Nona said with some distress. “I know; Grandpa told me it’s the way to make me better. But…”
Her voice gradually lowered.
Finally, Nona said, “I’m a little scared, Mr. Ghost. I haven’t seen Grandpa in a long time.”
Mr. Ghost didn’t answer Nona immediately, because he had discovered a piece of information from Nona’s words that sent a huge shock through his heart: Nona is…?
“…Mr. Ghost?”
The long silence made Nona uneasy; her voice carried a hint of a sob.
Mr. Ghost said, “Don’t be afraid, Miss Nona.”
His steady voice calmed Nona down.
Mr. Ghost added, “I need to understand your situation, Nona. Otherwise, Mr. Ghost can’t give you proper advice.”
“Does Mr. Ghost just wander through children’s dreams and help us?” Nona asked.
Mr. Ghost said softly, “Yes.”
“Then I’m really lucky,” Nona said happily. But soon, she became dejected again. “But, Mr. Ghost, I don’t know my current situation either. I’m just locked up here, and someone is treating me.”
Mr. Ghost said, “Do you know where you are?”
“I don’t know,” Nona said. “Earlier, I fainted from the pain, and then I came to this dark room. I wanted to escape, but they caught me back so easily.
“Now, I don’t even know how much time has passed.”
Mr. Ghost said, “Who do you come into contact with every day?”
“There are quite a few people here; I can hear their voices, Mr. Ghost,” Nona said. “But they don’t seem to hear mine. I want to make them notice me, but I never can.”
Mr. Ghost fell into brief confusion.
However, soon after, the dark room began to shake.
Nona let out a cry, then said, “Mr. Ghost, it seems someone is waking me up!”
Mr. Ghost immediately said, “Miss Nona, please gather some information and try to figure out where you are locked up. In 21 days, I will come to your dream again!”
“Okay, Mr. Ghost,” Nona replied briskly. “See you another day!”
The dark room solidified in an instant, then shattered. In a daze, he returned to the dead, isolated island. He was still holding his previous posture, but the seawater in his right hand had already leaked away completely.
He stood frozen for a moment, feeling a hint of loss. He stood up, looked around, and felt that this place hadn’t changed.
…No, wait.
He suddenly seemed to sense something and walked toward a certain direction on the island.
A few minutes later, on the soft red mud of the withered island, he discovered a verdant sapling. A water droplet clung to the sapling, resembling a dream bubble. But at this moment, the droplet was completely empty, seemingly indicating that the owner of the dream was not dreaming.
At this moment, Siles woke up abruptly.
He took a deep breath of the freezing early morning air and became fully awake. The warm bed held an enormous temptation, making him not want to get up at this hour.
But he still got up to wash, got dressed, turned on the wall lamp in the study, and under its faint glow, fell into deep thought.
Nona. Was that young girl from the dream the granddaughter of the museum gatekeeper, Anselm Norrison?
This was a very easy question to verify; he just needed to ask what the gatekeeper’s granddaughter’s name was. And intuition told Siles that he had indeed accidentally stumbled into the gatekeeper’s granddaughter’s dream.
Where was Nona locked up? The people who locked her up, what were they making her drink? Why did Nona feel constant pain? What kind of illness was Nona suffering from?
Siles thought of countless questions. He wrote them down, then sighed with some regret.
To find the answers to these questions, he would probably have to wait 21 days to visit Nona’s dream again. The investigation in reality could certainly continue, but it might not necessarily uncover anything.
Of course, Siles now had more motivation to investigate this incident.
Aside from the issue of Nona’s current situation, his experiment in the dreamscape this time had also given Siles a lot of information.
He could indeed enter the dreams of others; he merely needed to touch the dream bubbles with his hand. Furthermore, the dreams he entered would leave a mark on the isolated island—namely, the newly sprouted sapling.
Siles was unsure if such a sapling would continue to grow, or if it would turn into something else.
He thought: If entering other people’s dreams leaves a sapling in the red mud of the isolated island, then did this once barren, silent island used to be lush and verdant, like a true paradise?
But now, all that remained was soft red mud and a silent sea, the tall, lifeless puppet, the rotting stars, and the cold mist, quietly gazing at human dreams and the ruins at the bottom of the sea.
What exactly happened? What did this scene mean?
Siles couldn’t reach a conclusion.
He felt that if the Deep Sea Dreamscape truly was Akamara’s “paradise,” it shouldn’t look like this; at least, it probably didn’t in the past. Perhaps Akamara’s fall changed everything.
Now, the Deep Sea Dreamscape was like an empty shell.
But not everyone could enter this dreamscape, Siles thought.
One needed sufficiently high spirituality to enter, and sufficiently high willpower to enter safely.
Siles suspected that the past painter, Leon, had encountered the residual power of Akamara and, combined with relatively high spirituality, had dreamt of this scene. However, Leon’s willpower wasn’t high enough, so the moment he laid eyes on this scene, he fell into madness.
Siles had always harbored doubts and unease about why he could step onto the island and why he could remain sane and awake.
The only thing that could explain all this was the dice roll he made while facing himself in the mirror after waking up from his first entry into the Deep Sea Dreamscape. His willpower roll had succeeded, which was why he could repeatedly enter the dreamscape and maintain his sanity at all times.
In 21 days, he would once again have two opportunities to enter the Deep Sea Dreamscape. He had to use these chances well.
If Siles guessed correctly, then the act of “entering another person’s dream” did not count as a new discovery, which was why he didn’t wake up immediately after entering it.
This time, he woke up abruptly only after discovering the new sapling growing on the island.
But he likely couldn’t enter others’ dreams an infinite number of times either, Siles thought.
The function Siles wanted to try out the most right now was “Search.” He wanted to see if he could enter the dream of a specific person. Aside from that, he wanted to try actively influencing and modifying someone else’s dream.
21 days…
Siles calculated the time in his head. That would be October 13th and 14th.
It was quite a long wait.
He couldn’t help but sigh.
As the sky turned hazy with dawn, Siles changed clothes, went to the cafeteria for breakfast, and then headed to his office to prepare for talks with his apprentices and the afternoon public elective course.
It was an ordinary Thursday.
Friday morning, before heading out to his specialized elective classroom, Siles accepted a letter addressed to him from the postman. Seeing the signature of Knight Captain Bunyan on the envelope, his heart skipped a beat.
He thought to himself, Could this be the investigation results regarding Dr. Chester?
Although he was very curious about the letter’s contents, he had to head to class now and didn’t have time to open it. He placed the letter in his bag and went to the classroom.
The class finished. The afternoon was for the club activity.
Siles returned to the office, tore open the envelope, and looked at the contents of the letter.
“…
“Thank you for your suggestion, Professor Noel. We investigated Dr. Chester Fitzroy’s past. This took us some time, and we had an unexpected harvest.
“We believe this doctor should have no connection to the apostate Hamlin; however, his past might be linked to some other matters.
“Before arriving at a clear conclusion, please forgive me for being unable to explain the ins and outs of the whole situation to you clearly. However, you did provide us with very effective information and help.
“Once the matter is resolved, you will receive due compensation.
“…”
Looking at this riddle-like letter, Siles couldn’t help but frown.
He could tell that the Church of Bygone Days had obtained some useful information while investigating Chester Fitzroy, but it wasn’t related to the apostate Hamlin.
But what exactly was that information? To think that even with the power of the Church of Bygone Days, it took them this long to investigate?
Siles couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Noticing the time, he didn’t dwell on this matter any further—Knight Captain Bunyan had said that once the investigation was clear, he would inform Siles of the truth.
So he went to the cafeteria for lunch and then headed to the club’s activity location.
All fifteen students had arrived. When Siles walked into the classroom, they were enthusiastically discussing something. The center of the conversation was Herman Grove, who was sporting a silly grin.
These fifteen students were similar in age and had become familiar with each other after several club activities, so the atmosphere was very lively now.
They noticed Siles’s arrival and called out “Professor” one after another. Siles nodded in response and walked over to listen in on their conversation.
Shortly after, Siles understood—Herman Grove had indeed been selected by Professor Dunlop to join the university’s archaeological team soon.
Coincidentally, the archaeological team would depart after the end of the first semester.
Herman was obviously very excited about this, yet hoped to maintain some reserve, resulting in the constant silly grin on his face. The others were curiously asking about the location of this archaeological dig.
“In the Ashless Lands,” Herman said. “This is my first time going to the Ashless Lands.”
“I haven’t been there either. Doing archaeology in the Ashless Lands sounds very interesting.” The student from the medical school said with some envy, “It’s a pity someone with a major like mine probably doesn’t have a chance to join such activities.”
Herman thought for a moment, then suddenly said, “No, not necessarily. I’ve heard something about that.”
The others quieted down, looking at him curiously, wondering what he meant.
“The school’s archaeological team isn’t strictly made up of archaeology students,” Herman said. “Sometimes, depending on the location of the dig, students or professors from other majors might participate too.
“Moreover, every time there’s an archaeological expedition, doctors tag along in case of an accident. And sometimes, outstanding students currently studying in the medical school are selected!”
Hearing this, the medical student immediately got excited: “Then it seems I still have a chance!”
Herman nodded, saying, “A few years ago… I heard Professor Dunlop mention it. At that time, a medical student temporarily joined the archaeological team and went exploring… ahem, doing archaeology with them in the Ashless Lands.”
He accidentally slipped up and voiced his true thoughts. The young boy considered this to be a thrilling and stimulating adventure.
The others didn’t notice his slip of the tongue. Someone asked, “Do you know who that person was?”
Herman shook his head with some regret: “I’ve only heard that it happened.”
Siles listened quietly on the side, but an idea suddenly sparked in his mind.
He thought to himself: I might know the identity of that medical student—Chester Fitzroy, right?
