There are many bookstores in Lamifa City.
Just like the Booksellers’ Market near Atherton Square that Siles had visited before, it could be called the most comprehensive bookstore. Professor Calverley had also mentioned that he would go there to purchase and select books.
As for some other bookstores, there were comprehensive bookstore chains, as well as specialized, single-category bookstores—such as the map shop Siles had visited in the West City, or Grenfield’s antique bookstore.
Furthermore, there were some well-funded publishers who opened bookstores for the books, magazines, journals, and other merchandise they published. Benton seemed to own such a shop.
The bookstore where the novelists gathered was a small, privately owned bookstore located in the bustling commercial district in the northwest corner of the East City, right next to the Folklore Society’s headquarters.
Because of this, after finishing breakfast in the morning, Siles simply walked here along Hayward Street.
He was still very unfamiliar with the architecture in Lamifa City, typically only traveling between the university and the Historical Society. Therefore, it was his first time discovering that there was actually a bookstore here.
The weather was getting colder, and Siles had already put on a heavy coat and a turtleneck sweater. This kind of weather would last for a while; until after the continuous rainy season in October, Lamifa City would welcome true winter.
The name of this bookstore was “Beane,” which appeared to be the name of the bookstore’s owner. The bookstore as a whole was a small three-story building, its outer garden planted full of flowers.
The interior style was somewhat similar to a concept store on Earth. It wasn’t just a bookstore; it also sold drinks, meals, and some souvenirs. The third floor was a private area not open to the public.
Siles used the business card Benton had given him to have the young waiter open the door for him.
Inside, Siles saw the roaring flames of a fireplace. A waft of warm air mixed with the fragrance of flowers, accompanied by the old ink scent of books and paper, all rushed into Siles’s breath together.
He saw a row of bookshelves and a few scattered sofas. This place looked even more like a “salon” than the Salon of the Historical Society.
Three people were sitting there, discussing something.
One was a lady around forty years old, and the other two were men in their thirties. Only as Siles walked closer did he hear that they were actually discussing and evaluating the novel Siles had recently published, The Rose’s Revenge.
“…I think he is a writer who likes to pander to his readers,” one of the men commented. “Men like outgoing, proactive, and lively noble ladies, and women like mysterious, powerful avengers with tragic backgrounds. It’s human nature.”
“Since it’s human nature, it’s not surprising that he became famous with such a book,” the other man said. “He was probably able to become famous overnight because of this book.”
The former continued, “Seriously. Actually, I prefer Miss Astrid.”
Miss Astrid was the neighbor of the male protagonist, Ludwig, from his youth in The Rose’s Revenge.
Miss Astrid was born weak, rarely went out, and always quietly gazed at the outside world from behind her window, or lowered her eyes to read books. Ludwig often communicated with her through the window.
When Ludwig was young, he was close to some disreputable people, and later offended important figures who sought revenge. He thought those people would take revenge on his friends, but he didn’t expect that it would ultimately be Miss Astrid who suffered a sudden and tragic fate.
“Miss Gwen lived among happiness and flowers; even when encountering danger, Ludwig would save her,” the other man sighed as well. “But Miss Astrid could only die in despair and confusion. She didn’t even know why she met with such an incident.”
Siles listened quietly on the side.
The older lady noticed Siles’s arrival. She said in surprise, “I’ve never seen you before, sir.”
The two men exchanged glances, simultaneously guessing—a newcomer? But what new novelist could join them at this time? Unless…
“Siles Noel,” Siles said in a flat tone. “Nice to meet you.”
The scene was awkward for a moment.
Then, the lady said, “So it is you.”
The men coughed a couple of times and introduced themselves.
What caught Siles’s attention was that the lady was exactly Antonia Carmin.
So Siles took the book Grenfield had given him earlier out of his bag and said politely, “Ms. Carmin, my teacher is very fond of your works. Could I ask you to sign it for him?”
Ms. Carmin said very gently, “Of course. You can call me Antonia; no need to be so formal.”
“Thank you,” Siles whispered.
Of the two men watching on the side, one of them—the very one who had said Siles liked to pander to readers—coughed awkwardly at this moment and said, “Mr. Noel, may I ask you a question?”
Siles said, “Of course, Mr. Davis.”
This man’s name was Maynard Davis, a well-known mystery novelist in the city. His style was much colder and gloomier than Ms. Carmin’s works, and thus he wasn’t as popular as Ms. Carmin in the mass market.
However, within the realm of mystery novels, he was considered widely renowned.
As for the other man, his name was Arvid Norton, a famous adventure novelist. His works were known for being thrilling, exciting, and fraught with danger, though he himself possessed a gentle, gentlemanly demeanor.
Maynard Davis asked, “Did Miss Astrid… really just die like that?”
Siles looked up at him, thinking that this was indeed a fanatic fan of Miss Astrid.
He simply said, “Yes.”
Maynard asked unwillingly, “Is there no… chance of resurrection?”
Siles paused slightly, then said, “If there is a sequel, perhaps. But,” he used the same excuse he had used to deal with Grenfield to deal with this gentleman, “she might stand on the opposite side of Ludwig.”
Maynard’s face turned bitter, and he sighed heavily, “You are too cruel.”
Arvid Norton couldn’t stand it anymore from the side. He said, “Don’t stoop to his level, Mr. Noel. He likes writing mystery novels, and his head is full of suspects and crime scene clues all day; he has no sense of social grace.”
Maynard glared at him, then turned to look at Siles, brewing his words for a moment before saying earnestly, “I am very sorry, Mr. Noel. I don’t really think there is anything wrong with your work. Actually, I also like The Rose’s Revenge very much.”
Arvid added from the side, “It’s just that the sales of his last few novels haven’t been satisfactory, so his mindset is unbalanced.”
Maynard opened his mouth, finally closing it in frustration.
Siles said, “It’s nothing. I didn’t feel angry.”
Siles wasn’t that petty, nor did he care very much about others’ evaluations of his work. He had already been a somewhat reputable novelist on Earth, and knew very well how to adjust his mindset.
Furthermore, in this world, writing novels was just a side job of a side job for him.
Arvid said sincerely, “The reason your work could receive such a good response in the market is because it is good enough, exciting enough, and enough to win the appreciation of readers.”
“You exaggerate,” Siles said modestly. “I have also read your works; they are very gripping.”
Antonia Carmin laughed, “Stop flattering each other. Mr. Noel, this is your first time coming to the novelists’ gathering, let me introduce it to you.”
Subsequently, Antonia shared some information related to this gathering.
The novelists’ gathering at Beane Bookstore was geared towards well-known novelists in Lamifa City. The bookstore’s owner was a retired publisher, hence providing such a venue for novelists to interact with each other.
They would exchange inspirations for novels, writing techniques, and some other matters here. Sometimes, they just shared trivial things from their daily lives.
“There are about 16 novelists in total who participate in this gathering,” Antonia smiled and said. “Including you, there are 17. However, not every writer comes here every Saturday. At least I’ve never seen a full house.”
“I’ve only ever seen seven or eight so far,” Maynard said. “I really don’t know what they’re doing all day.”
Siles realized that Maynard was just a straightforward person who said whatever came to his mind.
Arvid said, “This is just a gathering during leisure time.”
Maynard didn’t refute this.
Antonia said, “However, you two arrived very early today as well. Is something the matter?”
Speaking of this, Maynard suddenly got excited: “Do you remember I said before that I joined a detective club?”
Detective club? Siles was slightly taken aback and looked at Maynard.
For a mystery novelist to join a detective club didn’t seem out of line. However, for him to mention it at such a gathering clearly had another purpose.
“I found out that the cases occurring in the real world are indeed more bizarre than the novels we write,” Maynard exclaimed. “A few well-known detectives in the city have even participated in the investigations of some major cases.
“I heard them talk about a few, and benefited a lot. That will probably provide a lot of inspiration for my next novel.”
Arvid said, “You joined that detective club in the first place for your next book.” He continued, “Tell us, what did you hear from there?”
Siles listened silently on the side, finally understanding.
Maynard had probably joined a detective club in the city to actively seek change and find some inspiration due to the poor sales of his previous mystery novels. And now, he felt he had indeed gained a lot.
However… a detective club.
Siles narrowed his eyes slightly. In the tabletop RPG game he played before transmigration, one of the character sheets was a detective.
Could they be a member of this detective club?
“There are many ways those detectives get involved in cases. Either the client comes to them directly, or they notice some unusual signs in their daily lives, or they see pleas for help or news reports in the newspapers.
“Sometimes, police officers also ask for their assistance in investigations. After all, these detectives possess quite a few information sources, especially those the authorities aren’t well-suited to intervene in.”
Maynard’s tone clearly implied that those were somewhat illegal channels.
Subsequently, Maynard coughed twice: “What I heard about is an unsolved cold case that hasn’t yielded any results even now. Do you all remember that horrific family annihilation case in the city back in early August?”
Siles froze there. Antonia and Arvid both revealed thoughtful expressions.
After a moment, Siles said, “The Darrow family?”
Maynard looked at Siles in surprise, then nodded, “Exactly! This case completely stumped the police detectives, and there’s still no result to this day.
“Naturally, some detectives volunteered to investigate this case. They found some clues not mentioned in the official reports.”
Hearing this, Antonia also remembered the case: “I remember… the newspapers said at the time that everyone in this family was killed with a single strike in their home. But the family’s heir had his corpse dumped in the… eastern suburbs? And there were signs of abuse after death.”
“Yes,” Maynard said. “You have a great memory.”
Siles remained silent throughout. Hearing them discuss certain details of this case made Siles feel as if a lifetime had passed.
Brewer Darrow. Their former companion. Died in the desolate wilderness, and still hasn’t found peace to this day.
Siles sighed inwardly.
Maynard didn’t know that the deceased they were discussing was a friend of Siles’s.
Maynard continued, “The detectives were also investigating this case at the time, and asked a neighbor for a clue. They said that late that night, they heard a woman’s screams and roars coming from that house.”
“A woman?” Antonia asked. “Could it be a victim from the family?”
Maynard shook his head and said, “Another detective found a wig in the trash can outside the house. It was a woman’s long hair.”
Antonia was silent for a moment, then said, “You mean, someone disguised themselves as a long-haired woman, went into the house, and killed them. And the voice of that roaring woman belonged to the killer?”
“That’s what the detectives deduced,” Maynard said. “Neither the woman’s screams nor the discarded wig were mentioned in the newspapers.”
Siles thought to himself, this seemed to further verify the deduction that “Brewer’s fiancée was the killer, and her appearance and build were disguised.”
“But this doesn’t seem to explain much either,” Arvid frowned, pondering. “This can’t help us find that killer.”
“I’m not done yet,” Maynard said triumphantly. “These are just two clues. The third clue is the most important one.”
The other three listened attentively.
Maynard said, “The detective who found the wig, in order to confirm that this wig was indeed discarded by the killer and not by a neighbor around, specifically took the wig to ask the surrounding neighbors.
“Subsequently, a servant of one of the neighbors showed a strange expression, which he noticed. He interrogated this servant, and only then found out something: Early that morning, there wasn’t just the wig and some other daily trash in that trash can, there was also…
“An exquisite enamel cup engraved with marigolds.”
Marigolds?
They looked at each other in dismay, failing to understand what profound meaning this held.
Maynard was still speaking, “The wig was wrapped around that cup. The servant thought the marigold cup looked very nice, so he retrieved the cup, planning to use it himself.
“He didn’t expect someone would come asking about the wig, and in a panic, he exposed the matter of the marigold cup.”
Siles asked, “Where is that marigold cup now?”
“It’s being kept by that detective,” Maynard said. “Of course, he doesn’t know what that cup means either. His guess is that the killer might have used that cup to drink water, and specifically threw it away out of fear of leaving traces.”
Antonia’s expression changed slightly.
Arvid couldn’t help but ask, “But this killer went there to murder people. Why would they drink water? Could it be they got tired of killing, so…”
Maynard revealed an expression of disgust and horror.
“Stop making blind guesses,” Antonia said gently but firmly. “Even though clues were found, the killer hasn’t been found. Everything is just baseless speculation.”
“Yeah,” Maynard sighed as well.
As mystery novelists, even though the core focus of many mystery novels had gradually shifted to the tricks of murder, they still hoped that murderers could face the judgment of the law rather than getting away with it.
The atmosphere in the room became somewhat stifling for a time.
Siles pondered the meaning of the marigold cup.
Previously, he had also come across a type of flower—the crocus. That was the symbol of Personari, the God of Reproduction and Life.
And marigolds… did that have any meaning? Could that be the symbol of a certain god?
The Brewer Darrow incident indeed faintly involved a god, because of the records in his family files. The chaotic lines high in the sky, the thing hiding in the dark clouds.
Siles guessed this might be Lusmi, the God of Stars and Light, but he hadn’t obtained any other corroborating evidence, so he couldn’t confirm the accuracy of this guess.
Could marigolds have anything to do with Lusmi?
However, it was just a cup engraved with a floral pattern. Perhaps it was just because marigolds looked pretty that the factory owner specifically engraved them on the cup as a selling point.
Siles would rather all this not involve gods.
Seeing the gloomy atmosphere, Ms. Carmin took the initiative to say, “Let’s not think about this anymore. One day, the truth of the incident will surface.”
Arvid laughed, saying, “These are words from your novel. I remember them clearly.”
“To be able to get away with murder. There’s no such good thing,” Ms. Carmin whispered.
Maynard sighed, saying, “Indeed.”
Arvid said, “Alright, let me talk about my business then.” He took a stack of papers from his bag. “I recently received a letter from a reader, mentioning a very ancient adventure manuscript.
“The reader said this seemed to be a manuscript left behind by their ancestor, which had been kept in the corner of the study. Since the Day of Divine Birth is approaching, they recently cleaned the house thoroughly, so they found this manuscript.
“It’s said that this adventure manuscript is very famous, and many explorers of the Ashless Lands are offering high prices for it. But there is no complete version of this adventure manuscript on the market, only some incomplete versions.
“He believes this manuscript is of high value, but isn’t sure if it’s really a first edition or original manuscript, or just some fabricated diary or dream narration, so he specifically sent a portion of it to me, asking me to help examine it.
“But… I don’t really know how to examine this kind of manuscript either. I don’t understand explorations in the Ashless Lands.”
Arvid revealed a distressed expression.
His novels mostly involved fictional locations for treasures, and the protagonists would embark on journeys to find treasures and secrets with their teams. His novels rarely touched upon the Ashless Lands.
The other three curiously leaned over to take a look.
Siles was the first to ask, “This is the original manuscript they found?”
“Yes,” Arvid nodded. “This reader sent it directly to me.”
Siles pondered for a moment and said, “I think this might be a copied version, or a published version. I’ve seen a travelogue of the Ashless Lands, and its content and handwriting were quite messy, sometimes even appearing illegible.
“And this adventure manuscript… the content is too neat and orderly, as if someone intentionally organized it.”
Arvid stared at it for a while and couldn’t help but nod.
At this time, Ms. Carmin had already picked up one of the pages to read. After a moment, she exclaimed, “How interesting.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve heard some rumors and information about the Ashless Lands, but this manuscript mentions areas I’ve never known about before,” she said. “Some urban legends within the Ashless Lands.”
Maynard also picked up a page to look at, and couldn’t help but nod, “Fireside chats, solitary shadows at midnight, monsters deep within the mist, giant shadows beneath the sea surface, altars and the calls of the Old Gods… This is really exaggerated.
“No wonder your reader guessed this might be a record of a dream. Some of the text is truly verging on madness.”
Arvid nodded, saying, “I’ve skimmed through it; it is indeed very chaotic. I think some publishers would be interested. People’s interest in the Ashless Lands is growing increasingly strong nowadays.”
“Of course,” Maynard said. “I also really want to go exploring in the Ashless Lands.”
Subsequently, their topics shifted to their respective dreams and their current trivial lives. At noon, they had lunch together at Beane Bookstore, and after the meal, they also discussed plans for their future works.
“What do you plan to write next?” Arvid, having drunk some wine, had somewhat fluctuating emotions and asked with a slightly excited tone. “I am very much looking forward to your work.”
Siles thought for a moment and said, “This novel has only just been published not long ago. By the end of the year or early next year, I will write a book… about exploration.”
“Exploration!” Arvid said in surprise. “That’s great! That’s my favorite genre!”
Maynard said, “Mr. Noel, why don’t you try writing a mystery novel? I can see your yearning and curiosity for mysteries in your work.”
Siles smiled slightly and said, “If there is a chance.”
Past 2 PM, Siles left Beane Bookstore. On the way back to the dormitory, he reviewed today’s gains—new clues regarding the Brewer Darrow incident, and many legends about the Ashless Lands.
The Ashless Lands… he couldn’t help but sigh.
Perhaps, only by truly going to the Ashless Lands could one understand what secrets were exactly hidden in that land once covered by the mist.
Siles thought for a moment, and temporarily put these matters aside. He currently had no time to focus on the mysteries of the Ashless Lands.
Time passed quickly. Siles’s daily life was very busy, but also very ordinary.
The departure date for Lamifa University’s archaeological team had been set for October 17th. That was a Sunday, which happened to be the weekend when exam week ended. Herman Grove was very satisfied with this.
This way, he would have exactly finished his study tasks for the first semester, and could participate in the archaeological expedition without any worries. Furthermore, he could also escape Lamifa City’s continuous dreary rain.
October 10th. Sunday. The first day of the October Market. There were still two days until the Deep Sea Dream Realm started again. Seven days until the archaeological team departed. Ten days until the Day of Divine Birth celebration.
On the morning of this day, Siles received two letters simultaneously. One from Emmanuel, and one from Alfonso Carte.
On this cold and gloomy morning, he silently held these two letters and returned to his bedroom on the third floor. He already had some guesses about the contents of the letters.
Emmanuel’s letter was very thick, as if stuffed with dozens of sheets of letter paper; while Alfonso’s letter was very thin, it seemed to contain some hard object inside.
Siles sat down at the desk, and first opened Alfonso’s letter.
There was only one sheet of letter paper in the envelope, with a few paragraphs written on it. The handwriting was somewhat sticky, as if Alfonso’s mind was full of hesitant and uneasy thoughts when he wrote this letter.
“…
“I will go to the Ashless Lands with Emmanuel. When you receive this letter, we have probably already departed.
“Please do not blame yourself, Siles. This is our choice, and also the fate we are destined to meet. The lives of those companions who died in the Ashless Lands, like shadows, have always covered our shoulders.
“I left some things for you in the room at 13 Milford Street, including what Emmanuel entrusted me to give you. Consider these our surprises and gifts to you. Please accept them readily; these are things you rightfully deserve.
“Enclosed with the letter is the room key. I have paid a year’s rent in advance. If you have any items that need storing, you can use that room as a safe house.
“Goodbye, my beloved friend. Please wish us a smooth journey.
“…”
Siles tipped the envelope, and a key slid out from inside, making a clinking sound. Siles sighed slightly, grasped this key, and then placed it in his wallet.
He then looked at Emmanuel’s letter.
Opening the envelope, Siles pulled out a thick stack of papers from inside. Among them was the letter Emmanuel wrote, as well as the completed, neatly organized translation drafts.
“…
“Please forgive my presumption, Siles. I think this is very likely our last correspondence—from me to you, unilaterally—so I hope to be honest.
“If you feel that it was the travelogue you sent over that pushed my old friend and me into the abyss of death in the Ashless Lands, then you are gravely mistaken. It has never been like that.
“Alfonso and I. The two of us were tortured souls in Lamifa City. We might be terrified for our whole lives, but unable to face our tragic pasts and experiences. We were cowards fleeing our pasts.
“It was you who freed us from this predicament, even if you were unintentional. You saved our souls, rather than harming us.
“Furthermore, even if we hold the resolve and perseverance of certain death, we won’t necessarily truly die there.
“In the drafts I translated, I deleted parts containing overly explicit clues and text mentioning the ‘Non-existent City’. I don’t think ordinary people in Lamifa City need to know these. They might be curses.
“And as for you… I know. If you intend to understand all this, you can look for Kellogg. That student can help you.
“Finally, that travelogue, along with some other items, I have placed at Alfonso’s residence. They are all left for you. I specifically left a few books related to your field of research for you, hoping they can help you.
“As I age, I gradually understand that once a person does something wrong in their youth, when they grow old and dream at midnight, those old people and past events will inevitably cling to you, to your dreams, making you miserable no matter what.
“Therefore, whatever it is, as long as you still have the capability in your youth, you must definitely resolve it then.
“In my youth, I didn’t die in the Ashless Lands. But many other things paid the debt for me.
“…”
Siles looked at the text on the letter paper, feeling a slightly melancholy emotion for a time.
A long time ago, he already knew that Emmanuel and Alfonso would make such a decision. But when this actually happened unexpectedly, Siles still felt somewhat resistant.
The Ashless Lands. The Non-existent City. He fell into deep thought. There was a vague idea that always floated in his mind, but he couldn’t make up his mind.
After a moment, he looked at the stack of translation drafts again.
Emmanuel actually could have sent this stack of drafts directly to Benton, but he still chose to send it to Siles, likely so Siles could read it through first to see if the content was suitable.
However, Siles was in no mood to read this translation draft right now.
He simply locked it in a drawer, and then began to ponder.
Today was Sunday. He was going to take a trip to Beane Bookstore to participate in the novelists’ gathering. This was a set schedule; because today happened to be the day the October Market started, he had agreed last week with several other novelists to go stroll around together.
Of course, other friends had also suggested this, including his roommate Lorenzo and his friends from the Historical Society. But since today was Sunday, he planned to meet up with the novelists and head over together.
As for whether he could run into other friends at the market, that would depend on luck.
Tomorrow he was going to take a trip to the West City.
Previously he had hired Anthony Fenn’s friends to investigate Greyson Food Company in the West City. And yesterday, Anthony wrote a letter saying they had investigated some clues, asking Siles to find them near the Ernestine Tavern on Monday to inquire about the situation.
Conveniently, he also had to go to 13 Milford Street to see what exactly Emmanuel and Alfonso had left for him.
Thinking of this, Siles couldn’t help but sigh.
He had classes on Tuesday; Wednesday and Thursday, aside from daily work, were also the times the Deep Sea Dream Realm appeared; Friday had the club; Saturday required going to the Historical Society… this way, the next few days were already fully scheduled.
He didn’t have the leisure time to feel sentimental and melancholy. If he felt doubtful or uneasy, then try to resolve it, don’t hesitate. He didn’t want Brewer Darrow’s tragedy to repeat.
Siles sat there and pondered for a moment, then got up, changed his clothes, and went out.
It was a gloomy morning. These past few days, Lamifa City had already started having showers. Siles had to bring an umbrella when he went out.
When he arrived at the third floor of Beane Bookstore, the room was already filled with the sounds of conversation and noise. This was a rare moment with a large crowd.
Siles had come here several times over the past few weeks, and each time there were only three or four people; but now, at a glance, he saw seven or eight people.
He walked over to the more familiar Arvid and Maynard, and heard Maynard talking about the detective club again.
He didn’t know whether this matter had roused the youthful adventurous spirit of this thirty-something-year-old man; ever since he joined the detective club, the novelists gathered at Beane Bookstore could often hear related things from his mouth.
Whether it was cases the detectives had solved in the past, or new commissions the detectives received, these things always made Maynard excitedly broadcast and explain them at the gatherings.
Of course, the reason he hadn’t gotten into trouble was that the people who listened to him talk about this were always the same few—Siles, Arvid, and Antonia, mainly these three.
The others seemed to know Maynard’s style and always avoided him.
At this moment, Maynard was excitedly saying, “There is a detective who received a commission from a major noble! Truly unbelievable, it’s said the deposit alone was several hundred-coin banknotes, and the goal is to investigate the death of a servant in the house.
“I’m not making this up, I’ve never seen any of these arrogant nobles willing to take out so much money for the death of a servant! How strange… truly strange enough…”
Saying this, he fell into deep thought.
According to Siles’s understanding of this mystery novelist, he was probably pondering what earth-shattering secret the servant’s death hid. A novelist’s imagination could always play a role at this moment.
“Good morning, Siles,” Arvid greeted Siles mildly.
“Good morning,” Siles nodded.
Maynard snapped back to reality, then said to him, “Congratulations! Professor Siles Noel, the sales of your debut novel have already crossed the thirty thousand copies mark. Although I really, really like this work, I also have to say, this is truly unbelievable.”
Siles said, “I think so too.”
He might be a bit like a startled bird right now. The eerie atmosphere in Gourmet Town previously, and even earlier, the items left by Professor Cabel he saw in the office, had all left a deep impression on him regarding the dangers hidden in this world.
Therefore, even though his work was selling well this time, and the publisher Benton wished he could treat him to three meals a day, Siles always had a vague sense of unease, always feeling someone was secretly plotting a conspiracy behind the scenes.
Although Benton kept saying that this many books had indeed been sold, and there were no signs proving Siles’s suspicions were correct, but…
This feeling of seeing shadows and jumping at them was truly uncomfortable.
“Maynard, I see you are just envying Siles’s achievements,” Arvid teased him.
Maynard widened his eyes, and finally said indignantly, “Wait until I draft a good story, let’s see if you’ll still laugh at me then.”
Arvid couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Siles smiled, but didn’t participate in their conversation. He had already discovered that teasing Maynard seemed to be a shared hobby among these novelists.
Prior to this, Maynard had actually achieved very good results; his ability to join this gathering proved this point. However, not every work of a writer could achieve the same good results.
They chatted for a while, and then set off. Beane Bookstore had specifically booked several carriages in advance for these novelists. The three of them rode together with another middle-aged gentleman.
That gentleman had an extraordinary bearing and piercing eyes, making both Arvid and Maynard afraid to speak in the carriage.
When they arrived at the destination and got off the carriage, after that middle-aged gentleman had walked away, Maynard finally muttered, “It really was him.”
“Who is that?” Siles asked.
Arvid said, “You might have heard of him, Mond Goldsmith, an author who writes historical novels.”
Siles suddenly realized.
Historical novels in this world were similar to “historical romances” on Earth, but more formal and serious in style and wording, more like writing history with the tone of a novel. Just slightly more vivid and interesting than academic monographs.
Therefore, writers of historical novels were often labeled by people as stiff and profound.
That middle-aged gentleman just now somewhat embodied such a demeanor.
They didn’t dwell on this topic for long, soon looking up at the market in front of them.
The October Market occupied almost an entire city block. This was originally a commercial district in the East City, similar to Logan Market in the West City. After the October Market gradually became a tradition, this area was always left vacant.
Due to the unique rainy season in October, and the narrow, crowded alleyway structure of this area, over the past few decades, the authorities of Lamifa City gradually erected arched glass skylights over the shops.
This formed the magnificent scenery of this arcade district. Rainwater hitting the arched glass made a crisp sound, while people strolling within didn’t have to worry about being bothered by the rain.
The first floor of the buildings was all used for shops and stalls; while higher floors might be some residents’ apartments. At times other than the October Market, the arcade district was just an ordinary residential area, only with more unique scenery.
At this time, merchants and guests had already gathered. Many, many merchants from the Ashless Lands put out their merchandise without reservation at this time.
The surroundings were very bustling, and people’s faces beamed with a kind of joy of spending money. What made Siles feel relaxed was that there was none of that eerie feeling Gourmet Town had brought him here.
The novelists merged into the flow of people. However, in just a moment, Siles found that he had lost track of where his companions had gone.
He didn’t mind this matter, and simply started strolling around the market by himself.
The arched glass overhead carried a feeling of being both magnificent and dirty. The glass products of this era couldn’t reach the transparency of the era on Earth, so such glass mixed with impurities always gave people a feeling of distorted and blurred light.
The gloomy weather made Siles somewhat uncomfortable. He knew it would be like this for a very long time in the future; the scorching and bright sun of summer had already distanced itself from him.
Although he hated summer, he didn’t like winter either. He liked the weather in Lamifa City in September not long ago.
At the entrance, Siles saw a standing sign with a map of the October Market printed on it. Judging from the map alone, the scale of the October Market was even comparable to some large trade fairs on Earth.
He paid special attention to a large empty space in the top left corner. That wasn’t just a place for setting up stalls; there would also be some performances. Some song and dance troupes and theatrical troupes from all over the Duchy of Const, and circuses and magicians from the Ashless Lands, would perform during the October Market.
This bustling time could also bring them quite a bit of reputation.
Siles was very interested in those people from the Ashless Lands, so he carefully observed the route and walked towards the performance area.
Compared to the underground trade fair and Gourmet Town he had visited before, the things sold at the October Market were even more diverse, many stalls and shops had larger floor areas, and the merchandise was a dazzling array.
Along the way, he also noticed some items worth buying, such as some novel delicacies, some books and paper, some daily necessities, and some peculiar merchandise from the Ashless Lands, etc., but he wasn’t in a hurry to buy.
He had heard from Bertram that the merchandise brought out on the first day of the October Market was all used by merchants and vendors to test the waters, and there weren’t any truly interesting things—dangerous and mysterious things, that was probably what Bertram meant.
Since it was still early anyway, Siles decided to first go see the things he was interested in.
Furthermore, Siles also noticed that Greyson Food Company occupied quite a few of the stalls here. This was probably the promotional method proposed by the merchant Lanmir.
He found that many people were attracted by the aroma of the food.
Before long, Siles arrived at the empty space located in the top left corner of the October Market. This place was about dozens of square meters; the glass arcade ended here, and the fresh and cold weather rushed in.
If it rained later, the people performing here would set up a large canopy. That would give the atmosphere of the performance a more mysterious and dizzyingly fervent feeling.
People formed a circle, looking at the performers in the empty space inside the circle, occasionally letting out exclamations or loud laughter.
Siles looked over there. He saw a clown, his face covered in greasepaint, wearing very bizarre, comical, brightly colored clothing, making some strange, laugh-inducing movements.
The color of the clown’s pupils was a murky yellow, which made his gaze also like that of a dim-witted fool, carrying a feeling of muddled blankness.
Behind the clown stood two tents, one large and one small. In the large tent, the curtains were lifted, and Siles could see several circus signboards—magician, astrologer, beast tamer, and a large animal lying docilely beside the beast tamer.
And the small tent, the curtains hung down. Some men would occasionally go in and out.
Siles glanced at the tent, then focused his gaze on that clown.
A circus clown. That was exactly a character who appeared relatively late in the tabletop RPG game he played. However, his character sheet attributes appeared very interesting.
Constitution, Spirituality, Willpower. Among these three stats, aside from Constitution which was considered standard for a normal human, the other two stats were very bizarre—Spirituality was very high, while Willpower was very low.
If someone truly possessed such stat points, then he should have long descended into extreme madness. Because, he was obviously very susceptible to dangerous, out-of-control time tracks, and didn’t have enough willpower to break free from such madness.
However, the clown standing in front of people now, apart from looking a bit stupid and dull, had nothing else bizarre about him. Besides, shouldn’t a circus clown be like this?
…Such normalcy was precisely what was abnormal!
