After the club activity ended, the students bid farewell to Siles one by one.
The theme of this club activity had been the Ashless Lands. Herman Grove’s expression looked a bit nervous, yet he remained extremely excited. He likely knew about many of the dangers of the Ashless Lands but was still highly anticipating the upcoming archaeological expedition.
When he said goodbye, Siles specifically instructed him to pay attention to his safety during the future expedition.
“Especially, be careful of those bizarre, old items. Do not stare at them,” Siles urged.
Herman looked somewhat puzzled, but based on Professor Noel’s consistent authority, he nodded sincerely and earnestly, saying he would remember.
When Angela and Millicent bid Siles farewell, Siles noticed that Millicent Austin’s face was exceptionally pale. This student was always like this—looking fragile, fearful, and uneasy—perhaps due to her innate personality and physical condition.
Siles guessed she might have been frightened by some of the dangers and rumors surrounding the Ashless Lands.
As they left, Siles also saw Angela speaking to Millicent in a low voice.
After absentmindedly saying goodbye to the students, Siles stood alone at the front of the classroom, falling into deep thought for a moment.
The medical student Herman had mentioned who participated in the archaeological expedition… could it be Chester Fitzroy?
If so, then it made perfect sense why the Church of the Past had spent so much time investigating Chester. It was highly likely that Chester had encountered something during that archaeological expedition, and it had happened in the Ashless Lands.
Even for the Church of the Past, the Ashless Lands were not an easy place to investigate or explore, let alone the fact that the incident took place many years ago.
Siles felt curious about this. However, whether that person was actually Chester or not remained unknown.
He figured he could only wait for Knight Commander Bunyan’s next letter.
Despite being heavy-hearted, when Siles walked into the Historical Society the next day, he was still full of energy. For this, he ultimately had to thank Akamara’s power.
His assistant, Annelin Moore, was already waiting for him. No matter how the external rumors evolved, this young assistant always maintained an enthusiastic and supportive attitude, which touched Siles somewhat.
“Professor, the Revelators who volunteered for the experiment are already waiting for you outside Room 450,” Annelin said.
Siles nodded and asked, “How many people are there?”
“Many people signed up, but Director Bellow specifically selected two of them,” Annelin said. “He said you would understand why these two were chosen when you saw them.”
Siles was a little surprised.
What were Director Bellow’s selection criteria? Were their pollution levels not very high? Or did they have some understanding of Siles’s project themselves?
At the door of Room 450, Annelin bid Siles goodbye: “If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.”
“Alright,” Siles said.
Although Annelin was Siles’s assistant, he knew his boundaries and had never actually witnessed Siles’s experimental process. He had explained this before: he viewed it as a therapeutic process.
Those corrupted Revelators chose to expose their true inner thoughts to Siles, and Annelin felt he had no right to spectate on others’ privacy for the time being.
Of course, the main reason was that Siles’s experiments were currently on a small scale. Annelin was his administrative assistant, not a research assistant, so there was no need for him to participate just yet.
He greeted the two Revelators waiting at the door, then pushed it open, and the three of them walked into Room 450 together.
Both Revelators were male—one middle-aged man and one young man. They both looked very excited, but that excitement, combined with their inherent corruption, made them appear somewhat awkward.
Siles had grown accustomed to such expressions over the past few weeks. These corrupted Revelators wouldn’t realize there was anything wrong with their expressions. They couldn’t detect their own issues.
The three sat down on opposite sides of the sofas. As usual, Siles sat on one side, and the two corrupted Revelators sat on the other.
“Please introduce yourselves first,” Siles said.
The young man spoke first: “My name is Larry Lampson. I’m from the Second Corridor.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “Director Bellow said I needed to bring a personal item I carry with me?”
“Yes,” Siles said.
Larry nodded, then said, “I study the harmonica at the Ambrose Music Academy.” He pulled a small harmonica from his pocket. “This should be the item I usually carry around.”
Siles said thoughtfully, “That’s good.”
Beside him, the middle-aged man introduced himself: “I am Bart Evans, from the First Corridor. I am a copyist for the Historical Society.” From the small bag he carried, he took out a quill pen carefully kept in a box. “This is the item I brought.”
Only then did Siles understand what Director Bellow meant. He seemed to have deliberately chosen Revelators who already possessed specific time tracks of their own.
Siles nodded and said to the two Revelators, “Then, we can begin.” He paused, then continued, “Today’s experiment is different from the previous ones, as you may have heard.
“I hope to find a method—a ritual—that everyone can use. Of course, you can rest assured; there is no danger in this experiment.”
Both Revelators looked visibly relieved and squeezed out dry smiles.
Siles observed them.
Judging from their outward appearances, the depth of their corruption wasn’t particularly severe. The younger one, Larry, looked quite normal; aside from being a bit neurotic, it was hard to tell he was corrupted at all.
The copyist, Bart, seemed to possess an odd nervousness. His brown eyes would constantly fixate on others, but whenever the other person noticed and looked back, he would carefully and frantically avert his gaze.
He had a stiff, unsettling aura about him, as if having been immersed in ancient papers for so long, he carried that decayed, fragile, and deathly still temperament.
Siles roughly explained what they needed to do today.
Larry hesitated, then asked, “You mean, we just… try to reproduce what we’ve always been doing?”
“No, you must reproduce the actions you were accustomed to in the past, but during a ritual time,” Siles emphasized. “Using a potion with at least 5% purity.”
He took a bottle of potion out of the drawer and added, “If you aren’t currently in ritual time, you can drink a little now.”
When Siles left his dorm this morning, he had already consumed a potion to enter ritual time. His main goal was to observe the movement of the blue radiance during the experiment.
Right now, he could see that neither of the two men across from him had any blue radiance on them; they hadn’t taken any potions. Fortunately, the Research Department had provided his project with some potions as essential research supplies.
Soon, both Revelators drank the 5% purity potion and began attempting what Siles had described.
Larry picked up his harmonica, stood by the window, and tried to reproduce the movements he always used to play it; meanwhile, Bart sat there, holding his quill, hesitatingly trying to write something.
Siles saw no signs of movement in the blue radiance on their bodies.
He spoke up: “You need to choose a moment from the past when you weren’t corrupted. Recall the time, the place, the scene, the actions, the mood of that picture… Try to detach yourselves from your current situation.
“You are Revelators, and right now, the entity you want to borrow power from is your past self.”
Both Larry and Bart looked pensive.
Larry was the first to start playing the harmonica. At first, it was just a few monotonous notes, like a beginner slowly grasping the techniques of playing. After a while, the sound gradually became smoother.
When the melodious sound of the harmonica rang out, Siles and Bart exchanged a glance. Bart put down his quill and turned to quietly observe Larry, his eyes carrying a timid, profound probing.
He seemed to want to learn some experience from Larry.
Siles also observed Larry. He noticed that the blue radiance gradually wrapped around Larry’s harmonica. Larry slowly closed his eyes, as if immersed in another world.
At the same time, as the harmonica’s music grew fluent and beautiful, the blue radiance transformed into musical notes, bouncing and merging into Larry’s brain one after another.
Siles thought with some confusion: Is this considered effective?
The next second, something unexpected happened. He noticed that the blue musical notes merging into Larry’s brain gradually connected together, forming a protective membrane similar to a helmet, firmly protecting Larry’s brain from the inside out.
After a moment, a faint, greyish-black substance seemed to exude from Larry’s brain, subsequently dissolving into the air. Yet the blue light membrane did not disappear.
When the song ended, Siles saw the blue protective membrane dim slightly in color, but it remained.
Larry dazedly opened his eyes.
The room was dead silent.
After a moment, Siles asked, “How do you feel?”
“Very, very…” Larry said blankly, “Very wondrous! Extremely wondrous!” He suddenly grew agitated and excited. “Your method works!”
Siles said, “Can you describe how you felt just now?”
He had seen the activity of the blue radiance, but he didn’t know what Larry had felt personally.
“I was playing a piece from when I first started learning the harmonica.” Larry calmed his excitement and slowly explained. “I tried hard to recall my mindset back then, and the entire learning process.
“From stumbling to becoming skilled and fluent. I reproduced that process. Slowly… it’s hard to describe the feeling. I closed my eyes. And then… it was as if I really was a beginner again, relearning this piece from scratch…
“…Yes, it was as if I forgot all the playing techniques I’ve mastered now! My mind, my will, was immersed in that process of learning and playing, as if I had returned to the past.
“And then… and then… I lost myself in it. Do you know what I mean? It was as if I forgot my current state… forgot the corruption on me, my troubles. As if I had never been corrupted at all…”
Larry’s words started to become jumbled again. After a moment, he took a deep breath. “I feel my current state is much better.”
Siles took out a rectangular stone resembling a paperweight from the drawer and handed it to Larry. “[Shadow of the Old Gods]. Let’s test it.”
Larry nodded vigorously, his face flushed entirely red. He carefully took the paperweight, hesitated for a moment, and then firmly pressed his hand onto it.
The stone emitted a faint blue light, rising to one-tenth of its capacity.
Larry let out an exclamation of surprise. “This is incredible! I was at three-tenths before!” He looked at Siles with utmost reverence.
Siles smiled slightly. “Congratulations, Larry.”
Larry babbled some incoherent words of thanks.
Siles turned his gaze to Bart and said, “Bart, will you try as well?”
Bart nodded silently. He whispered, “Then… I will copy down the words I wrote the very first time I transcribed a book.”
Siles confirmed, “There was no corruption when you transcribed your first book, right?”
Bart shook his head.
Siles thought for a moment and handed the stone to Bart as well. “Measure it first.”
Bart reached out, lightly touched the stone, and then quickly pulled his hand back. The stone lit up halfway.
Neither Siles nor Larry showed any strange expressions, which made Bart sigh in relief. The middle-aged man sat timidly on the sofa.
Siles then said, “Let’s begin.”
Bart picked up his quill, earnestly dipped it in ink, and began writing intently. Siles noticed that his handwriting was beautiful, and his writing speed was very fast.
As word after word fell onto the paper, the blue radiance gathered from the tip of his pen into characters, merging into his brain. Bart unconsciously closed his eyes, but his hand continued to write skillfully.
Siles saw a greyish-black substance far denser than Larry’s appear over Bart’s head before dissipating.
Greyish-black substance… Siles thought thoughtfully. That must be the mental corruption they suffered. He had seen similar scenes over the past few Saturdays.
But why was the substance always greyish-black? Why was there a universal commonality in this regard?
A few minutes later, a complete article had been written down. Bart opened his eyes and stared blankly at the paper in front of him.
Beside him, Larry couldn’t wait to ask, “How was it?! Mr. Evans, did you feel it too?”
Bart let out a long sigh of relief. His whole person seemed to relax a bit, and he even revealed a gentle smile. He said softly, “Yes… yes. I feel an incredibly light sensation.”
He murmured almost to himself, “It’s as if a shadow covering my body suddenly vanished all at once.”
Siles handed the corruption-measuring stone to Bart. Bart reached out and touched it, and the stone lit up to one-fifth.
Although this level of corruption was still higher than Larry’s, compared to their initial states, the efficiency and speed of this purification seemed utterly incredible.
Looking at Siles, Bart couldn’t help but say, “Professor Noel, this is truly miraculous.”
Siles said, “Perhaps it’s just because the two of you perfectly met the conditions.”
Musical notes and written characters corresponded to their respective pasts and time tracks. In other words, if not for their professions and daily habits, their self-healing wouldn’t have gone so smoothly this time.
Larry said, “That is already miraculous and extraordinary enough. Professor, when do you plan to announce these results to the public?”
“We need more experiments, as well as some small-scale group trials,” Siles said. “We can’t achieve real results in the short term. You two are merely two special cases used to prove that such an experiment is indeed effective.”
Larry and Bart sighed with a mixture of relief and regret.
Bart said, “If you ever need anything in the future, please be sure to tell me. You saved my life.”
Larry quickly followed suit: “Me too. Professor, I really don’t know how to express my gratitude.”
“Participating in the experiment also carried risks, it’s just that you succeeded.” Siles said in a low voice, “There’s no need to thank me so much.”
Despite his words, Larry and Bart’s expressions didn’t change. They naturally felt deep gratitude toward Siles.
They chatted a bit more about their feelings and details during the ritual process, and Siles recorded some of these aspects in detail.
He figured that for next week’s experiments, he had better find some more ordinary Revelators, rather than people like Bart and Larry, whose professional tools inherently served as time tracks.
Of course, this experiment was indeed a success, which was worth celebrating.
After the two Revelators left, Siles organized the records of this experiment and went to Director Bellow’s office.
Director Bellow was standing by the window; his old, thin figure looked exceptionally exhausted. When Siles entered, he turned around, revealing a somewhat nervous expression.
“How did it go?” Director Bellow asked.
Siles said, “It was a success.”
He briefly recounted the process and results of the experiment, especially the corruption levels measured by the [Shadow of the Old Gods] ritual.
Director Bellow let out a huge sigh of relief and revealed a sincere smile. He said, “It is truly everyone’s fortune that you became an Revelators and joined the Research Department.”
Siles wasn’t quite used to such direct praise, but people in this world just liked to express their emotions this way. He couldn’t help but pause before saying, “However, the project still needs more experiments and research.”
“I understand that, of course, Siles,” Director Bellow laughed. “It’s just that your research has already helped many people.”
Siles nodded, saying, “I hope it can help even more people.”
Director Bellow asked, “Will you still need such Revelators for next week’s experiment?”
“Did you deliberately choose these two?”
“Of course,” Director Bellow said. “The time track—or rather, the time track used in this ritual—might need a significant connection to the Revelators themselves. The closer, the better.”
“I thought so as well,” Siles said.
The harmonica to Larry, the quill to Bart—those were things they were incredibly familiar with in the past, perhaps even the tools they relied on to make a living. Naturally, those would help them in this ritual.
Simply put, if they needed to find an anchor point in the past, these two Revelators, because of the harmonica and the quill, practically already held their anchors in hand. They merely needed to secure them somewhere on the shore.
Other Revelators might not be so lucky.
Take Siles himself, for example; he might not even be sure what his anchor would be.
…A novelist’s… keyboard?
He slightly resisted that answer.
Director Bellow nodded and said, “Then it seems to be effective. In this ritual, the closer the connection between the time track and the Revelators, the better.”
“Yes,” Siles said. “But we also need to see how it works for others.”
“I understand. I will randomly select a few Revelators,” Director Bellow said. “Let’s hope for good news next week as well.”
Siles whispered, “I hope so too.”
He said goodbye to Director Bellow, left the Historical Society, and took a walk near Atherton Square. The weather was growing colder, and fewer people were around the square. People didn’t like to go out in this weather.
Siles walked along the tree-lined avenue for a while before arriving at No. 18 Housewell Street. It was still early, not yet eleven o’clock.
Siles presented the business card he received from Mrs. Fuller and successfully entered the discreet private club.
From the outside, No. 18 Housewell Street looked like an ordinary street-side building. The vicinity was a quiet neighborhood where detached houses were very common.
No. 18 Housewell Street had three floors in total: the first floor was the reception hall, the second was the lounge, and the third was the service hall. Put simply, the second floor was where guests met, and also where Siles conversed with his friends. The third floor was the dining area.
Siles liked the privacy here, so he made it a habit to come for lunch on Saturday afternoons.
“Good afternoon, sir.” As Siles arrived on the third floor, a waiter approached quietly. “Will you have the same meal as last week today?”
“Yes,” Siles said softly.
The waiter guided him to his usual seat. It was a window seat, from which he could see the spire of the Central Cathedral of the Church of the Past in the distance, as well as the statue of the first Grand Duke of Const in Atherton Square.
After eating lunch, Siles went down to Room 52 on the second floor. The second floor didn’t actually have over fifty rooms; the room numbers were randomly shuffled to prevent people from pinpointing exact locations.
Each fixed room had a specific key. Half of the key was kept by the guest, and the other half was held by the behind-the-scenes operators of No. 18 Housewell Street.
The waiter would give the guest the other half of the key when they arrived and take it back when they left.
Of course, No. 18 Housewell Street couldn’t guarantee 100% privacy. However, since Mrs. Fuller was one of the behind-the-scenes investors, this ensured their meetings wouldn’t be leaked.
Furthermore, it was quiet enough here to prevent any disturbances.
Room 52 was like an ordinary family’s living room, with bright windows and shining floors. The decorations and furniture in the room were clearly expensive and exquisite, carrying an ancient and quiet atmosphere.
It came with a small kitchen counter where one could prepare drinks, or have the waiter prepare pastries or afternoon tea in advance.
Siles read a book here for a while. Sometime past twelve, Eric arrived.
“Good afternoon, Siles,” Eric said. “You’re here quite early.”
Siles said, “It’s quiet enough here.”
“Indeed,” Eric nodded.
After a while, the others arrived one by one. They sat casually on the sofas or chairs, chatting with one another. Siles heard Mrs. Fuller talking with Angela about the October Market.
At this point, Eric suddenly said, “There’s something I think you’ll all want to hear.”
The other four cast curious glances at him.
“What happened?” Angela was very curious.
Eric said, “Remember the matter with the museum gatekeeper?” He looked at the people around him, confirming they remembered, then continued, “I said before that I would keep an eye on the movements of the underground gangs in the West City. I actually found some clues.”
They immediately grew serious, and the atmosphere in the room turned solemn.
Mrs. Fuller asked, “What is it?”
“I’ve recently gotten involved in the daily affairs of the Second Corridor,” Eric said. “Not actual investigations, but handling letters from residents… complaints, requests for help, inquiries, and so on. You all know this.”
They all nodded. Darrell couldn’t wait to ask, “So, what was mentioned in these letters?”
Eric hesitated, then finally said, “I believe it’s connected. I found a significant number of letters from the West City, all mentioning that in the middle of the night, they saw inexplicably appearing figures.
“They seemed to think they were ghosts… or spirits of some sort. This issue has apparently frightened quite a few people, so many residents wrote to the authorities hoping they could solve the problem.
“These letters were forwarded from the government, so I think this matter will likely attract people’s attention.”
Angela said, “Don’t you live in the West City too? Have you encountered this?”
“No,” Eric shook his head.
Siles thought for a moment and said, “I’ve heard about this before.” He paused, then added, “Before Lamifa University started its term, I lived in the West City for a while.
“At that time, my landlady mentioned this rumor to me, saying it was best not to go out after eight o’clock at night because people would see inexplicably appearing shadowy figures on the streets.
“Later, an Revelators living in the West City gave me the same warning.”
“An Revelators!” Angela gasped. “So, there really is a hidden truth behind this?”
Eric looked somewhat puzzled.
“I don’t know either,” Siles shook his head. “I thought it was just a fabricated urban legend. I’ve never seen those figures.”
Eric hesitated, then said, “I thought it was the underground gangs causing trouble.”
Mrs. Fuller said, “You think those figures are the underground gangs operating?”
“Do you remember the Ernestine Trade Fair?” Eric asked. “The trade fair is located in the underground tunnels of the West City. And those tunnels connect everywhere, with the vast majority controlled by the underground gangs.”
Siles suddenly understood. “You mean, the reason those figures inexplicably appear and inexplicably disappear is because they are moving through the underground tunnels?”
Eric said, “That’s what I think.”
Angela clapped her hands. “That makes sense! Ordinary residents wouldn’t possibly know where the tunnel entrances are or where they lead. They would just think those figures appeared out of thin air.”
Darrell said in confusion, “So… the underground gangs are active in the middle of the night? What are they trying to do?”
“I don’t know either,” Eric shook his head. “If they really are after the profits of the Ashless Lands, which is why they were collecting time tracks before… then now, the Day of Divine Birth is getting closer and closer.”
Thanks to Mrs. Fuller and Siles’s information, they all now knew that Grand Duke Const would announce the Withered Wasteland development plan on the Day of Divine Birth celebration.
“The time is getting closer, so they’re planning to do something too?” Angela muttered to herself. “But what exactly are they doing?”
Darrell said dejectedly, “No one knows. This whole thing is so annoying. The Second Corridor just gave up the investigation just like that.”
Eric sighed too, lowering his voice: “I wonder how that gatekeeper’s granddaughter is doing now.”
Speaking of this, Siles turned to Eric and asked, “Do you know the name of the gatekeeper’s granddaughter?”
“Her name?” Eric paused, trying to recall. “I should have seen it in the files… let me think. I flipped through them not long ago. It should be… N-Nona? Nona Norrison.
“I remember it clearly because the first syllable of her first name and last name is the same.”
Siles nodded calmly on the surface, concealing the sudden storm surging in his heart.
…The owner of that dream really was the gatekeeper’s granddaughter! She’s still alive!
Siles didn’t know whether he should breathe a sigh of relief or worry even more for Nona.
Mrs. Fuller said, “Regardless, we now know that the underground gangs are still active. They didn’t achieve their previous goal, so something will definitely happen moving forward. When that time comes, we will know what they’re trying to do.”
Her tone carried a sophisticated and worldly implication, but no one could deny her words.
Darrell said, “Yeah. Besides, maybe we’re overthinking it—speaking of overthinking, I think the Revelators in the Third Corridor are overthinking things a bit too.”
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked with great curiosity.
Darrell’s tone was somewhat impatient, though not directed at anyone present. He said, “You probably can’t understand… I don’t really understand either. Those people preparing for the order maintenance of the Day of Divine Birth celebration are currently tense to a point of exasperation.”
“Tense?” Angela pondered. “Maybe that’s a good thing. What if something actually happens?”
“I understand that, of course,” Darrell said. “But… let me tell you what they’re planning to do. They plan to vet the identity of every merchant and guest participating in the October Market. You can’t participate without passing the background check.
“They believe the people participating in the October Market could affect the safety of the Day of Divine Birth celebration.”
“Ah… that’s a bit exaggerated,” Angela couldn’t help but say.
Siles also added, “Indeed. How do they guarantee the accuracy of their vetting?”
This era wasn’t the internet age of Earth, where everyone’s identity could be found in a database. There was no big data analysis, nor were there surveillance systems everywhere.
Under such circumstances, how could the Third Corridor possibly review every single person’s threat level?
“I don’t know either. Probably some Revelators methods… who knows,” Darrell said somewhat childishly. “But they’re already doing it. Especially targeting outsiders.”
Mrs. Fuller said thoughtfully, “They’re probably afraid that Revelators from the Ashless Lands might do something on the Day of Divine Birth?” She paused. “Or perhaps… Old God followers?”
Darrell looked startled. He couldn’t help but say, “Would anyone really choose to… do something at this time?” He paused. “The Day of Divine Birth celebration? Aren’t they worried the Church of the Past and Antinam might…”
Even if Antinam was a peaceful, low-profile god, He was still a god. Creating chaos on His birthday, wouldn’t that really…
Siles said quietly, “However, some Old God followers believe exactly that Antinam caused the fall of the Old Gods.”
Darrell’s face wrinkled up. He said, “Don’t say that… I really don’t want to face a chaotic Day of Divine Birth celebration.”
Angela sighed, looking at Darrell with a gaze of shared sympathy. “Who would? But this year is indeed special. They wouldn’t announce a development plan at this time in previous years.”
They all couldn’t help but shake their heads.
The Day of Divine Birth celebration, the Withered Wasteland development plan. Underground gangs, unknown Old God followers. Everything seemed to foreshadow a terrifying conflict breaking out on the Day of Divine Birth.
“There’s really nothing we can do anyway,” Mrs. Fuller said softly. “Keep sharing information and stay vigilant. If you notice any unusual signs, notify each other as soon as possible. No. 18 Housewell Street can serve as an information hub.”
The others nodded. Afterward, their conversation shifted to more mundane daily topics.
Darrell suddenly remembered something and said, “By the way, my brother said the mist in the Ashless Lands has dissipated even more recently. Many explorers are choosing to get closer to those lands right now to investigate the situation.”
Angela couldn’t help but say, “Isn’t that extremely dangerous?”
“Of course,” Darrell nodded emphatically. “My brother said the exact same thing. But…”
“They’ll definitely still try to explore. It’s an opportunity to strike it rich,” Eric whispered.
Listening on the side, Siles couldn’t help but wonder: How does Darrell’s brother know this? From the Church of the Past?
The Church of Past and the Ashless Lands… these were two terms that didn’t sound like they would mix. Because the power of the Church of the Past was always confined within the various countries.
Legend had it that Antinam protected a few countries amidst the mist, preserving the flame of human civilization. From this perspective, the Church of Past and the Ashless Lands were distinctly separate.
However…
Siles remembered that not long ago, the Church of the Past in the Duchy of Const was probably investigating Dr. Chester Fitzroy’s past, right? If Chester really had gone to the Ashless Lands, then the Church of the Past would definitely investigate his experiences there.
That would inevitably form a connection with the Ashless Lands, and during the communication and investigation process, learning about the current state of the Ashless Lands wouldn’t be surprising.
The mist dissipating more… this should generally be considered a good thing. It was just that before the mist fully dissipated and the land beneath it became completely safe, people still had to keep a respectful distance from Gainesde.
As it neared 3 PM, their gathering ended.
Angela took out some pastries from her bag and distributed them among the group.
She said, “The chef at home tried a new recipe and made a bit too much, so I brought some for you. If it’s good, I’ll bring more next time.”
Darrell tasted one and commented, “It’s exactly your taste—way too sweet.”
Angela made a threatening gesture, saying, “I won’t bring you any next time.”
“Oh, mother of mine, this is absolutely delicious,” Darrell changed his tune. “Miss Clayton, your chef could definitely win a god’s favor with these culinary skills.”
The two youths playfully bickered. Mrs. Fuller and Eric both watched the scene, the looks in their eyes making Siles suddenly feel as if his own mindset had aged as well.
…This body was only three or four years older than Angela; why did he always feel like he was a whole generation apart from her? Of course, he was indeed Angela’s professor, and his soul was already in its thirties.
Siles sighed secretly in his heart.
After bidding farewell to his companions, Siles returned to the Historical Society once again.
He hesitated in the entrance hall of the Salon, ultimately choosing to enter using the Postman persona. He wandered around the Salon for a while, then returned to the entrance hall and switched to the Dealer persona.
When he walked into the Dawn Revelation Society’s room, the other three were already there. The atmosphere was as casual and dull as always.
The Noblewoman said, “I’m going to have a chat with my stepdaughter tomorrow. I hope the atmosphere of the conversation will be a bit better.”
The Newsboy offered a harsh critique: “No matter how pretty or rich you are, don’t expect your stepdaughter’s attitude to be very good. Just try not to fight.”
“I know that, of course,” the Noblewoman said. “Do you think our relationship will improve if I take her shopping at the October Market?”
The Newsboy was silent for a moment, then rolled his eyes.
The Knight said, “Don’t you know her preferences? A young lady… why not gift her some perfume or jewelry?”
“A young noble lady. Do you think she lacks those things?” the Noblewoman replied.
The Dealer thought to himself: You might as well gift her a rare and safe time track… she would definitely love that.
Of course, there was no need to say that out loud.
After a while, the topic finally shifted away from the Noblewoman and her stepdaughter.
The Noblewoman said lazily, “I’ve been quite busy lately. Let me give you an exclusive piece of news.”
“What is it?” the Newsboy said. “Don’t tell me it’s about your stepdaughter and husband again.”
The Noblewoman said disdainfully, “It’s not like I talk about those things every day… I’m talking about news from the Ashless Lands.”
“Oh?” The Newsboy’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?”
“It’s about… the ‘Non-existent City’.”
The Dealer’s eyelids suddenly lifted.
