Mrs. Louisa Lampson had a son named Michael Lampson.
Michael was thirteen years old this year. When he was ten, Mr. and Mrs. Lampson began discussing sending him to school, considering a middle school in the West District.
At that time, it was merely under consideration, as they still needed to save up enough money to afford the tuition and meal fees.
Three years ago, under the brilliant summer sunshine, the Lampson family had envisioned moving into a grand house in the East District one day. Three years later, amidst the cold winter snow, Michael Lampson lay in a frigid grave. Only his mother stood watching this scene.
Only seven or eight people stood inside the small chapel. Louisa Lampson stood at the very front, her expression blank. Her eyes stared vacantly at the small coffin ahead. Shortly, Michael Lampson’s body would be cremated.
The bishop of this small chapel was a white-haired old man. In a heavy, indistinct voice, he recited the eulogy.
“Young child…!”
Siles faintly heard him say.
“…May your soul rest in the embrace of our God.”
The eulogy ended quickly. Louisa offered a pale smile and thanked the bishop mechanically. A few young men stepped forward and carried the coffin to the back of the chapel. Louisa let out a sob, her body trembling.
She held onto the chapel chair for support. A woman walked over to comfort her, but soon, the people in the chapel gradually dispersed. Just like that, the funeral came to an end.
Siles walked to her side and said softly, “Mrs. Lampson, my condolences.”
Louisa was dressed in plain black outerwear, having made herself presentable enough to summon the courage to attend her son’s funeral. Her eyes were red, and her voice trembled: “Mr. Noel. My child… my Michael…”
She collapsed onto the chair, her gaze dull, cold tear trails running down her cheeks.
Siles sat down beside her.
After a moment, Louisa’s emotions slowly settled—or rather, subsided into a stillness like stagnant water. She said in a low voice, “Sir, I would like to ask a favor of you… I am willing to pay any price for it.”
“…Please, go on,” Siles said.
In truth, he required nothing from Louisa. He thought to himself, however, that he could not refuse a mother’s resolve right now. If anything, he felt that letting her express this would make her feel a little better.
Those suppressed, frantic, and sorrowfully desperate emotions always needed an outlet. Louisa’s “at all costs” phrasing was precisely the manifestation of such feelings.
Siles maintained a quiet, solemn stillness, silently listening to Louisa’s words.
“…When I returned to Lamifa City, I considered reaching out to you. But I guessed you might not have returned to Lamifa City yet, and I had to attend to my husband’s funeral. So, the matter was delayed for a while.
“As the weather grew colder, my neighbor suddenly mentioned that Darwin Hospital was hosting a free clinic, and that a widow like me could bring her child for a consultation. I was moved by the idea.
“After I returned, Michael’s condition seemed to have improved quite a bit. He even recognized that I was his mother, not some evil ghost trying to harm him. But sometimes, he would still wake up in panic during the night, talking to himself in a half-awake state, as if conversing with someone.
“I was still worried, so I took Michael to Darwin Hospital. The doctor there examined Michael’s condition and prescribed him a medication… To afford that medicine, I spent every last penny I had.”
At this point, Louisa suddenly raised her head and looked toward a relatively small statue of Antinam placed at the front of the chapel. She murmured, “I suppose I should be grateful that funerals at the Church of the Past are free of charge.”
Siles remained silent.
Louisa suddenly let out a low laugh, then said almost hysterically, “Funerals are free, but everything else costs money! Medical visits cost money, medicine costs money, rent costs money; living costs money, but dying doesn’t!”
She let out a heart-wrenching wail. In her eyes, if only she had enough money, Michael’s madness could have been cured. But money was precisely what she lacked.
Because of this, they had no choice but to seek ways to earn money; because of this, they went to the Ashless Lands; because of this, their family was destroyed.
Siles hesitated for a moment, ultimately able to offer only a dry, “My condolences.”
It felt as though he had been repeating this line to Louisa constantly.
Louisa trembled, then gradually calmed down. In a raspy, slurred voice, she said, “I’m sorry…” She lowered her head and wiped away her tears, her withered fingers covered in chilblains. “I understand what you mean… I really do. But some things…”
She remained silent for a moment.
Finally, she said, “I hope you can help investigate the cause of Michael’s death.”
…The cause of death? Siles couldn’t help but freeze. He thought to himself, but hasn’t Michael’s body already been taken away to be cremated?
Louisa continued, “On that train, it was the first time I heard the term… ‘out-of-control Time Trace.’ At that time, my husband…
“You saw it too. My husband seemed to suddenly become an entirely different person. That feeling was so strange, somewhat similar to Michael’s behavior. So, after returning to Lamifa City, I asked around for more news.
“…Some neighbors in the West District knew a few rumors about it. What they said was vague and unclear. I only grasped a rough idea—that they were objects possessing miraculous powers.
“Then… I thought of Michael. Michael… he once obtained an object. I didn’t know what it was either. We were too busy, and I didn’t look closely to figure out what it actually was.
“I would rather he had simply fallen ill than become a completely different person because of that terrifying, incomprehensible thing. I don’t understand how such a thing could happen, I don’t understand… why our lives suddenly turned out like this.
“…Three years ago. It was three years ago when Michael’s mental state suddenly began to deteriorate. Now that I think back on it, it seems he also got that object three years ago…”
In a deep voice, Siles asked, “What was it?”
“I don’t know either,” Louisa said softly. “During that time, Michael’s mental state was terrible, as if he had suddenly gone mad. We didn’t have the time to carefully inspect the items in the house; back then, our home was constantly a mess.
“The only thing I remember is that it seemed to be a chain, either a bracelet or a necklace. Michael carried it with him at all times.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
Louisa continued, “I believe that might be… the truth behind Michael’s death. But over the past two days, I’ve been searching everywhere and can’t find it at all. I thought perhaps he accidentally dropped it somewhere when he ran out a while ago.”
She looked at Siles with an expectant gaze: “Do you have a way to retrieve that object?”
A search for a lost item? Siles thought to himself.
He pondered for a moment, then said, “It is possible. However, I will need you to provide a personal belonging of Michael’s.”
Chendo had mentioned several search rituals to him before, and the ritual manuals provided by the History Society also detailed many relevant Time Traces.
In short, if a Revelator wished to track down a specific item, they first needed to understand the appearance of the object, secondly, understand the owner of the object, and lastly, ideally obtain something associated with that object.
For instance, another personal belonging that had also been carried by the item’s owner.
Knowing this, Siles made the request to Louisa. Of course, he might need to find a specialized search ritual—[Trace Tracking] was a potential option, though he would also need a suitable assistant to “provide power.”
…If the tramp Bourne hadn’t stood on the opposing side of the Church of the Past, his high Investigation attribute of 89 points would have been a magnificent choice. Siles couldn’t help but sigh regretfully in his heart.
Louisa seemed to fall into deep thought. After a moment, she said, “His clothes and daily necessities have all been burned. The neighbors felt that… they felt those things would bring bad luck.”
This statement made Siles frown. He realized that after losing her husband and son in quick succession, a widow’s life in the West District would likely be extremely difficult. Yet, at a loss for an immediate solution, Siles couldn’t think of a way to help Louisa right away.
Give her money directly? But Louisa Lampson wasn’t a young homeless child like Jimmy. How to offer assistance was a question that required careful consideration.
Louisa said, “…Would the small bowl Michael used for meals work? That was his dedicated bowl. Ever since he fell ill, we always prepared his food in that bowl specifically…”
As she spoke, her expression began to crumble once more.
Siles spoke at the appropriate moment: “Of course that will work, Mrs. Lampson.”
Louisa took a deep breath and said, “Please wait a few minutes for me. I’ll run home and bring that bowl over.”
Siles nodded. He did not follow her, knowing that Louisa likely needed a moment of solitude right now.
He waited for less than ten minutes before Louisa returned with a slightly chipped earthenware bowl. She said, “This bowl was bought specifically a few years ago.
“At the time, we used to buy bread from a bakery, and there was a pastry chef there with whom we had a bit of a acquaintance. Around that period, her health wasn’t very good, and she constantly felt weak, so she left the bakery to do some handicraft work at home.
“This bowl was purchased from the craft shop where she later placed her items on consignment.”
Saying this, Louisa suddenly forced a bitter smile: “I suppose that would be a rather suitable job for me as well.”
Siles froze slightly, sizing up the earthenware bowl with an unusually surprised expression.
He thought to himself, three years ago? A pastry chef who resigned due to poor health? Currently doing handicraft work?
…Wasn’t that Mrs. Eric Collens?!
Siles’s impression of that lady was fixed on the image of a thin, pale, yet gentle middle-aged woman. He hadn’t expected that Louisa Lampson, whom he met by chance on the train, actually had a past connection with Mrs. Collens.
He remembered Mrs. Collens’s name was…
“…Mrs. Harriet Collens?” Siles asked. “Is the pastry chef you mentioned this lady?”
Louisa stared at Siles in shock, completely astonished, and couldn’t help saying, “You… how do you know her?! What a coincidence… You actually know her?”
Siles was also somewhat surprised that it really was Harriet.
He then said, “The address I left for you, 13 Milford Street. Right now, Mrs. Collens is acting as the rent collector there.”
“To think that’s the case!” Louisa couldn’t help exclaiming. “When I went to deliver the letter, I saw her husband, but not her. I had no idea she was there as well…”
Her voice gradually softened, a mix of surprise and emotion in her tone. Three years had passed, time had flown, and old acquaintances were reuniting.
She seemed inclined to re-establish their connection. Siles was pleased to see this happen, so he said, “Perhaps when you have time, you can pay them a visit. They will surely be more than happy to receive you.”
As Siles said this, he thought to himself that he had mostly been dealing with Eric all this time. He hadn’t expected that on Eric’s wife’s side, there was actually such a subtle, faint thread connecting things together.
Thinking up to this point, he suddenly paused. Shortly after, he warned himself: don’t be misled by the prophet theories that fellow Alfonso believes in. The relationship between Louisa and Harriet was merely a coincidence.
…Hopefully.
Once that topic passed, Siles bid Louisa farewell. Louisa looked as though she intended to head home, and after watching her depart, Siles hesitated briefly before returning inside the chapel.
He found the chapel’s bishop, the white-haired elderly man, and inquired about Louisa’s situation. The bishop appeared somewhat surprised, but very gently shared the Lampson family’s past with Siles.
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lampson had stable employment; they worked odd jobs all across the West District—errands, cleaning, driving carriages, laundry, weaving, and so forth. They did everything. Yet, their circumstances never improved.
Now that both Mr. Lampson and young Michael had passed away, Louisa would likely have to continue her previous busy lifestyle, even as a widow.
Siles nodded thoughtfully. He pulled three ten-note bills from his wallet and entrusted them to the elderly, gentle bishop, asking him to deliver the money to Louisa later under the guise of a “charitable donation.” He didn’t dare give too much, nor was it appropriate to do so.
Regardless, it was a small gesture of goodwill. He thought.
Having completed this, he finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the stifling emotion in his heart ease somewhat. He stepped out of the small chapel; outside, the snow had stopped, leaving a light dusting along the roadsides. Orienting himself, Siles headed toward Ernestine Tavern.
In a nearby abandoned house, he located Jimmy.
Jimmy was wearing a heavy overcoat, and upon spotting Siles, he smiled and greeted him.
“Good morning,” Siles said.
“Good morning, sir. Thanks to you, otherwise we might have all frozen to death in this cold weather,” Jimmy said with genuine gratitude. “Thank you for your help and kindness. The money you gave made life a bit easier for all the homeless children in the West District.”
Siles smiled faintly and said in a low voice, “No need for thanks.” Shifting the subject, he asked, “I came here regarding the matter of the tramp Bourne. Anthony mentioned you saw him?”
“Yes!” Jimmy answered hastily. “Just a short while ago… let me think, Thursday night, I saw him near the Kanra River.”
The Kanra River? Siles couldn’t help but freeze.
That location instantly reminded Siles of Michael Lampson.
Michael had run out of his house on Wednesday—the very day Lamifa City experienced its first snowfall. On Friday afternoon, his mother found his body along the banks of the Kanra River.
Meanwhile, Jimmy had seen the tramp Bourne near the Kanra River on Thursday night.
Siles wondered whether the last locations where these two appeared overlapped. Could the tramp Bourne be connected to Michael’s death?
Based on current information, Siles merely suspected it and could not be certain.
Perhaps the tramp Bourne had gone to the Kanra River for other reasons? Perhaps Michael’s body was simply dumped there? Perhaps they were merely at different banks and directions along the Kanra River—one dead, one alive—with no overlap whatsoever.
While Siles was lost in thought, Jimmy continued talking: “I went near the Kanra River to scavenge for junk. You know, there are quite a few noble mansions in the northern suburbs, so occasionally junk discarded by nobles floats down from the upper reaches of the Kanra River, which we can pick up and sell.
“Anyway, that night, we went over there. Then I spotted a figure… he… he originally looked like his entire upper body was submerged in the icy river water. I thought it was a corpse, but when we got closer, he suddenly sat upright.
“Only then did I realize he was the tramp Bourne. After that, we chatted for a bit.”
Saying this, Jimmy revealed an expression mixed with fear and annoyance, as if Bourne’s appearance had caused him some distress.
He hesitated briefly before saying, “He greeted us as if nothing was wrong. I asked him where he had gone over the past many days, but he turned around and asked me why my clothes were new, inquiring how I had the money to buy them.
“I was terrified at the time because I didn’t expect him to notice… I answered vaguely, saying I was just lucky and found clothes that were still fairly new. Then he said… he said he had been around the Kanra River this entire time, but hadn’t seen much of us…
“He said we must have struck it rich. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just mumbled a few words and parted ways with him. When we walked off, he was still sitting there, his upper body soaked through, yet he seemed completely unfazed by the cold… staring at us the entire time.”
Jimmy shivered.
Siles nodded slowly. The fact that the tramp Bourne could notice Jimmy wearing new clothes did not surprise Siles. After all, that was a TTRPG character sheet with an Investigation attribute as high as 89 points; he was merely disguised as a tramp.
However, why did he appear at the Kanra River? Why submerge his upper body in the water? Why talk to Jimmy about money and new clothes?
Siles felt quite puzzled by these questions.
He asked a few more details, but Jimmy only knew this much. Night had fallen heavily at the time, and he hadn’t clearly seen Bourne’s specific condition or attire—which was also why he was frightened, as Bourne had recognized his new clothes at a single glance.
Furthermore, after that incident, Jimmy never saw Bourne again.
Siles pondered for a moment, feeling it would be difficult to thoroughly investigate the core of this matter right now. Thus, he set those thoughts aside for the moment and simply asked, “What does Bourne look like?”
Jimmy thought for a bit and said, “He’s a man in his thirties, a bit hunchbacked, always squinting his eyes… Oh, right, he has a mole right here.” Jimmy pointed at the tip of his own nose.
Siles nodded to indicate he understood.
Jimmy realized the topic was coming to an end, so he hesitated for a second and asked softly, “Sir, may I ask… have you decided what kind of business to run in that shop?”
“Still considering,” Siles said. “Perhaps a decision will be made by the end of the year. What do you think about children’s toys?”
Considering that this world seemed to have no concept of “educational toys,” Siles ultimately only mentioned “children’s toys.”
Jimmy scratched his hair in confusion, asking rather perplexedly, “I don’t quite understand… what kind of toys?”
Siles found himself stumped as well. He suddenly realized that if he truly wanted to sell those toys, he would first need to get the people of this world to accept the corresponding ways to play with them.
He then said, “If there’s an opportunity, I can craft a few samples first for you to try out. Perhaps… the shop could sell a few other items as well.”
Jimmy nodded, displaying considerable interest as he said, “I understand. Sir, I look forward to the toys you’ll bring.”
Siles offered a gentle smile, then bid Jimmy farewell. As noon approached, he went straight to the nearby Ernestine Tavern for a meal. Eric happened to be present, so Siles took the opportunity to chat with him briefly, mentioning the matter regarding Louisa Lampson.
Eric couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise, “To think she was an old acquaintance of my wife! That truly is quite a coincidence.”
Siles nodded as well.
Eric said, “I hope my wife can offer some comfort to that poor lady.” Saying this, he shook his head again. “Though, in the end, she’ll have to pull herself through it.”
Siles agreed, but couldn’t help sighing. For a tragedy of this scale, it wasn’t something anyone could easily “pull themselves through.”
After lunch, Siles planned to head to Bain Bookstore to attend the novelists’ gathering. However, he suddenly recalled that he hadn’t checked on his shop on Dawson Street in a very long time.
He had previously asked the manager of the underground black market to clean up that shop, but after so long, Siles had given no further word to them. He was somewhat worried about any unexpected changes occurring there.
Additionally, quite a few events had transpired recently in the Duchy of Konst and the Ashless Lands. He was somewhat curious about the operational status of the underground black market.
Before long, Siles arrived at Dawson Street and once again met the man who had received him last time.
“Sir!” the man said. “I have a deep impression of you. Have you decided what shop you want to open?”
“I have a few ideas,” Siles said. “How has business been around here lately?”
“Oh…” The man suddenly hesitated, then asked somewhat cautiously, “Why do you ask that question? Please rest assured, our transactions here are proceeding just as usual.”
Siles thought to himself, the more you insist, the more suspicious it sounds. A guilty conscience needs no accuser.
He then asked, “Just a casual question. Is there really an issue?”
The man showed an embarrassed expression. He said, “It’s not… not the kind of issue you’re imagining, sir.”
They stood in front of that empty storefront. Siles turned to face him, his gaze cool and calm as he asked, “Then what is the issue?”
The man remained silent for a moment under his gaze, before finally saying helplessly, “Alright! Fine, sir. You might have heard some news, but no matter what, Dawson Street is still operating normally. It’s not something that high-level struggles in the Duchy can affect.
“Please don’t believe those baseless rumors. We’ve operated this black market here for many years. Every single year, there are related rumors going around, yet the following year, we’re still here, and we’ll always be here!”
Siles froze slightly, asking nonchalantly, “I’m willing to believe that, but is there any proof?”
He thought to himself, indeed, the atmosphere among the Duchy’s high-ranking officials recently has been far from peaceful.
“Proof…” The man hesitated, then said, “Can’t you see our business is still doing just fine right now?”
“It is fine now, but as for the future, no one can say for sure.”
The man looked at the empty storefront before them. Finally, he gritted his teeth and said, “Sir… you should know that behind us stands a Minister of the Duchy.”
A Minister of the Duchy. Siles narrowed his eyes slightly.
The entire administrative system of the Duchy of Konst could broadly be compared to a constitutional monarchy on Earth, though in the Duchy of Konst, the Archduke’s power was far greater than in similar systems on Earth.
The current Archduke maintained closer ties with the military, but his relationship with administrative officials—the “Ministers” mentioned by this man—was somewhat distant; furthermore, the nobles held a rather ambiguous stance.
Some of these nobles merely lived idle lives, while others possessed immense wealth, and a portion engaged in the administrative affairs of the Duchy. However, very few nobles could actually secure a Minister position; in the several-hundred-year history of the Duchy of Konst, only a handful of noble Ministers had ever existed.
Nobles keen on administrative affairs mostly assumed a detached role, appearing as “advisors,” “aides,” or “helpers” in a somewhat distant manner.
Yet it could not be denied that these nobles did exert a degree of influence over the Archduke and the Ministers.
…Which Minister was the one in this man’s words?
A name naturally surfaced in Siles’s mind—the Minister of Finance, he thought. However, proving his guess was difficult.
Siles remained silent for a moment, then said, “I understand.”
The man breathed a sigh of relief as well, speaking with great enthusiasm: “You don’t need to worry. In short, you can open your shop whenever you wish; we look forward to your arrival with all our hearts.”
Siles offered a noncommittal response, bade him farewell, and strolled around the underground black market. Unsurprisingly, he discovered that, overall, the business here was just as the man described—largely unaffected.
Of course, due to the weather, transporting certain goods had become difficult, causing prices for items—including Time Traces and a portion of daily necessities—to rise.
As he browsed, Siles suddenly realized that the children’s toys he intended to sell were entirely out of place with the overall style of the underground black market. He couldn’t help but wonder: can I really make money here?
Naturally, to a large extent, his goal in opening the shop was to spend the dividend money given to him by the Greyson Food Company back then. He always felt it was ill-gotten wealth, so putting it into circulation made more sense.
He browsed a bit longer, realizing that the variety of goods in the underground black market was remarkably diverse, including plenty of ordinary daily supplies. If this weren’t an underground area completely deprived of sunlight, Dawson Street would look almost like an ordinary market.
Of course, considering the Duchy Minister backing it, this was hardly surprising.
…What was truly surprising was that Siles unexpectedly ran into an acquaintance here.
Jon Mansfield. Jon the detective.
The young detective was standing by the entrance of a shop, gazing thoughtfully at a Time Trace displayed on a stall.
He noticed Siles’s gaze, turning his head to look over. His expression clearly showed surprise before breaking into a smile: “Professor Noel, long time no see.”
“Long time no see.” Siles walked over to stand before him. “I left Lamifa City during the winter break.”
“No wonder,” Jon said. “I was thinking of asking around among the novelists to inquire about your whereabouts.”
Siles was taken aback, saying in surprise, “Did you have something you needed to find me for?”
“Uh…” Jon rubbed his chin, then said, “It’s not… anything major. I just wanted to discuss the Greyson incident with you a bit, considering we experienced that scene in the palace’s back kitchen together.”
Only then did Siles come to a realization.
From a detective’s perspective, Jon was likely intensely curious about the hidden truth behind the Greyson incident. However, due to various reasons, the investigation and truth regarding the Greyson incident had been kept strictly confidential.
As for Siles’s discoveries in the Ashless Lands, even fewer people knew about those.
After some thought, Siles said, “Perhaps we can find another place to chat.”
“Of course!” Jon replied readily.
They walked along Dawson Street toward Logan Market. Conveniently, Siles could take a hired carriage from there to Bain Bookstore.
Along the way, Siles gave a general overview of the causes and consequences of the Greyson incident, briefly touching upon the events in the Ashless Lands. Naturally, he did not go into elaborate detail.
Jon listened thoughtfully, nodding occasionally. He did not over-interrogate any specifics. Once Siles finished speaking, he sighed, “So there were so many complex past events tied into it.”
Siles thoroughly agreed with his sentiment.
“Thank you for clearing my doubts.” Jon smiled. “By the way, I heard about what happened at the History Society. Congratulations, Professor, you successfully reclaimed the reputation you deserved.”
Siles froze slightly. He couldn’t help thinking, is he referring to the ‘Replicating the Self’ ritual?
How is he so well-informed?
Siles couldn’t help feeling somewhat puzzled, though he naturally thanked Jon. He thought to himself that the veil of mystery surrounding this detective was growing increasingly dense.
“No need to thank me, Professor. After all, this was something the History Society owed you,” Jon said with a smile.
These words made Siles feel once more that Jon seemed to hold a personal grudge against the History Society.
Considering that Jon had once joined the History Society and subsequently left, such an attitude did not seem entirely incomprehensible. Jon appeared to be attempting to pull Siles into his camp.
Chatting as they walked, they reached Logan Market. Siles pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, finding it was already past twelve o’clock, so he bade Jon farewell.
Before departing, Jon seemed to remember something and said, “Right, Professor, I noticed the prices for Time Traces have been rising quite sharply lately—perhaps due to the weather, or perhaps some changes occurred over in the Ashless Lands.
“In short, if there’s any Time Trace you wish to purchase, it’s best to get it early to avoid missing out later.”
Siles thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t need any Time Traces for now… actually, wait, perhaps there is one—a Time Trace usable for [Trace Tracking].”
Detective Jon listened in surprise before saying, “In that case…” He pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and handed it to Siles, smiling as he said, “Allow me to give this magnifying glass to you then.”
Siles couldn’t help but freeze.
“Back in the back kitchen during the banquet, I lost consciousness. But when I woke up, everything had already been resolved. That was your doing, wasn’t it?” Jon said. “Even if you don’t take credit for it, I still keep your favor in mind. Besides, you just cleared my doubts.
“At any rate, I am a detective of sorts. Since this magnifying glass can offer you help, I’ll gift it to you.”
Siles hesitated briefly before finally taking the magnifying glass and thanking Jon for his kindness.
He thought to himself that, according to his memory, as a detective, Jon’s Investigation attribute was quite high as well. This indeed brought him a sigh of relief.
Of course, he felt certain that Chendo would have relevant search rituals available. Regardless, there was no need to decline Jon’s good intentions at this moment.
Soon, he bade Jon farewell and boarded a hired carriage bound for Bain Bookstore. Leaving behind Detective Jon, who remained standing in place, silently gazing in the direction where Siles had departed.
After a moment, Jon suddenly let out a laugh. He said, “Siles Noel…” He spoke the name with a somewhat playful tone, then muttered to himself, “Let’s see what you can discover with this magnifying glass.”
He laughed, turning around to glance toward Dawson Street in the West District of Lamifa City. He stared intently for a moment before withdrawing his gaze and walking slowly into the wind and snow.
Snow began to fall over Lamifa City once again.
The dreary, cold weather made Siles sigh as he stepped into the warm third floor of Bain Bookstore.
He sincerely hoped that when he left Bain Bookstore and returned to 6 Hayward Street, Chendo would already be waiting there, and the fireplace would be lit. The former Earthling who had once disliked open fires for heating had finally been awakened by the chilling air.
He sat down. Today’s novelists’ gathering had even fewer attendees—only himself, Antonia Carmin, and Maynard Daves.
With a mixture of amusement and concern, Maynard said, “Arvid’s cold has worsened again. How pitiful.”
Siles was somewhat surprised to hear this and said, “Wasn’t Arvid’s cold almost cured?”
“It was, but as soon as the first snow arrived, his condition turned bad again.” Maynard shrugged, looking at Siles with a hint of suspicion. “You look like you’ve caught a cold too?”
Siles said helplessly, “Indeed… but I’m almost recovered.”
Antonia remarked, “All of you must take care of your health. This winter is colder than ever before.”
Maynard nodded, adding, “I heard that some train tracks were crushed by the sudden heavy snow. And it’s only November. I really don’t know what things will be like over the next three months. If you ask me, spring had better hurry up.”
Siles couldn’t help but freeze for a moment.
Only then did he abruptly realize that this world was different from Earth; it lacked a highly developed transportation network. Furthermore, the mist blocked communication between numerous regions.
In other words, if a major weather disaster truly struck this winter, the industrial, agricultural, and economic systems of this world might fall into a temporary collapse.
It might not turn out so severe or terrifying, but all in all, it could still be termed a disaster.
He couldn’t help but echo Maynard’s sentiment.
Maynard rubbed his chin: “Train tracks crushed by heavy snow, trapped trains and passengers… this seems like it could be written into a suspense story. Though, it feels like I’ve heard this story somewhere before…”
He fell into deep thought.
Antonia laughed and said, “You’ve been constantly thinking about new novels lately. Why not peacefully pass this winter instead? The cold weather always makes people reluctant to pick up a pen.”
“That is indeed true,” Maynard nodded. “It’s just that I can’t help myself.”
Antonia gave a very elegant smile, merely saying, “You should learn from me. I’ve already begun refusing letters from publishers.”
Maynard stared at her in dumbfounded amazement.
Antonia said casually, “The postmen will simply take those letters back. Don’t worry, I specifically prepared tips for the postmen to avoid adding to their burden.”
Siles: “…”
An unheard-of method of delaying submissions.
Maynard looked at Antonia, finally squeezing out a sentence: “However, Mrs. Carmin, I am also greatly looking forward to your new work.”
Antonia smiled softly: “Then you may take your time looking forward to it.”
Maynard: “…”
He let out a sigh and curled himself into a ball.
Siles couldn’t help but smile.
They chatted about the weather, new works, food, and various other topics. Afterward, Siles asked Maynard about something: “Maynard, regarding that Detective Club you mentioned before, I have something I’d like to ask you.”
“Go ahead.” Maynard looked at him with curiosity.
“Regarding…” Siles deliberated for a moment, “…the tragedy of the Darrow family’s massacre. Do you still remember it? When I first came here, you mentioned it to us.”
Maynard thought with a somewhat vacant expression, then nodded slowly: “Right… right, I remember now. What about it?”
“A friend of mine investigated imagery related to the ‘marigold,’” Siles said. “She discovered that the marigold was once called ‘The Sun’s Bride.’ I’m not sure if this information is useful.
“So, I wanted to ask if you could introduce me to the detective who discovered the Marigold Cup.”
“So that’s what it is!” Maynard seemed intensely interested in the matter. After pondering for a moment, he said, “However, Siles, actually you already know that detective.”
Siles couldn’t help but freeze.
“Jon Mansfield,” Maynard said. “If I remember correctly, you two went together previously to handle the matter at Marquis Austin’s estate, didn’t you?”
Siles nodded. He felt quite astonished in his heart, after all, he hadn’t expected circumstances to be so coincidental.
He couldn’t help thinking that this was already the second time today he had felt such an exclamation—the first time was due to the connection between Louisa and Harriet, and the second was Jon.
Jon was actually involved in the Darrow family incident as well!
From his identity, a detective participating in a murder case seemed entirely logical; yet considering Jon’s far-from-simple identity, Siles cautiously placed a question mark over this connection.
He asked Maynard for more information about Jon, especially his contact details. However, Maynard shook his head with great regret. He wasn’t very sure either; within the Detective Club, Jon was an extremely mysterious figure.
Siles couldn’t help sighing regretfully.
Had he known about this earlier, he would have definitely asked Jon when he ran into him just now. But now that he had missed the chance, who knew when he would see Jon next.
Maynard, on the other hand, said enthusiastically, “Next time I go to the Detective Club, I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
“Thank you.” Siles expressed his gratitude to him.
They bade each other farewell around three o’clock. Under normal circumstances, they might have sat a bit longer, chatting or reading books there. But given that it was winter, leaving at dusk always felt excessively cold.
Siles conscientiously wrapped his scarf, put on his gloves, and donned his hat before heading out. Walking back to Hayward Street, he carefully reflected on his gains from the day—Michael, Bourne, Jon; Louisa, Harriet.
He couldn’t help thinking that there were two more tasks added to his to-do list.
He inevitably felt helpless about it.
When he returned to 6 Hayward Street, sure enough, Chendo was already there waiting for him, and he had brought good news.
“Kansas has sent over the materials you needed,” Chendo said in an unhurried manner. “They will surely offer considerable help for your paper.”
Siles froze slightly, then couldn’t help saying, “Of course. Thank you, Chendo.”
“It’s what I should do.” Chendo thought for a moment, then suddenly backtracked, “No, that’s not right.”
Siles looked at him in confusion.
Chendo’s emerald-green eyes met his, and then, with complete justification, he said, “Since I did bring you help, you ought to give me a reward.”
