A date, in theory, ought to begin with sweet words from the moment two people meet.
Yet Siles and Chendo’s Monday date began with a question from Siles: “Chendo, what is the last recorded record regarding Ligadia within the Praia family?”
“The last record?” Chendo was taken aback for a moment and pondered briefly before replying, “That would likely be the final recorded account of a believer witnessing Him before Ligadia vanished.”
Siles asked, “And what was that?”
Chendo recalled carefully, then said, “It was a document I read a long time ago, so I don’t remember it very clearly. It mentioned that during the Age of Shadows, a believer gained an audience with the deity and received a sentence… or something along those lines.
“In short, right after that, this believer suddenly embarked on a journey and was never seen again. He claimed he was setting out to pursue the divine will.”
Setting out on a journey to pursue the divine will. Siles momeled over the phrasing.
For believers of Ligadia, such a course of action was hardly unusual, but the timing was uniquely distinct. Gaining an audience with Ligadia during the Age of Shadows and deciding to do this…
It sounded as though he were carrying out a task for Ligadia.
Siles pondered for a moment, then shook his head with a gentle sigh. “Truly shrouded in layer upon layer of mystery.”
Chendo naturally took over his coat, hat, and other items, saying softly, “Perhaps we can head out first. The weather is quite lovely today.”
Siles glanced sideways out the window. It was a rare, clear, sunny day. The pleasant weather brightened his mood; he set his documents down on the desk and put on his clothes.
Chendo intimately nuzzled Siles’s cheek and murmured, “Even the weather smiles upon our date.”
Siles couldn’t help but smile at such childish sentimentality.
Sometimes, it was difficult for him to imagine what kind of environment Chendo had grown up in to develop such a personality.
To the outside world, Chendo possessed an unexpectedly cold and arrogant demeanor. Although he held his identity as an Old God’s Scion in utter disdain, the information asymmetry sometimes made it hard for him to converse with ordinary people on equal terms.
Yet in front of Siles, Chendo was an entirely different person. Something far more profound bound the two of them together.
Perhaps that could be called fate. After all, when Siles arrived in this world, he was destined to embark on this journey, and destined to meet Chendo one day. The secrets of the world tied them inextricably together.
In the information provided by the Praia family, not much was mentioned regarding the identity of “Old God’s Scion”. There were only scattered sentences noting that this “Scion” status was not a matter of traditional marriage and childbirth, but rather a form of spiritual inheritance.
This explanation did not surprise Siles; he found it hard to imagine a conceptual deity marrying and having children with a mortal in the ordinary sense. Yet he remained puzzled by its origin and underlying nature.
Why was it Chendo, of all people, who inherited this power?
This puzzle continually lingered in his mind, though he knew Chendo himself did not know the answer either.
As they stepped out the door, Siles cast the matter to the back of his mind. After his conversation with Grenfield, Siles realized that he had been in contact with concepts related to the Old Gods a bit too frequently as of late.
…Those are dangerous things, far removed from reality, Siles warned himself. Remember to stay grounded.
He would much rather stroll through Lamifa City with his lover on such a bright, sunny day than bury his head in ancient documents that had been covered in dust for hundreds of years. After all, he was no longer alone.
It was Monday. Their schedule for the morning was to locate the suspicious Time Trace Mike had obtained three years ago, and then head to Baker Bank before noon. For the afternoon, they planned to visit the museums of Lamifa City.
There were numerous museums in Lamifa City, including public and private ones, and many private collectors occasionally displayed their acquisitions to the public.
Ever since Madame Fuller had mentioned the exhibition from Middleton, Siles had realized that since coming to the Fisher World, he had not yet visited a single museum in this world—what better place to showcase its past and history?
Thus, he had promptly added it to his dating itinerary with Chendo.
First, however, they had business to attend to.
After eating breakfast at the Lamifa University dining hall, Siles and Chendo took a hired carriage to the West District. Naturally, a tracking ritual had to start from the last place the object was seen.
Siles wasn’t entirely sure of the exact home address of the Lampson family, but he knew the location of that small church. The Lampsons surely lived somewhere nearby.
On the way, they discussed various possibilities, though it all remained pure speculation in the end.
Upon arriving at the small church, Siles pulled the small earthenware bowl from his pocket, along with the magnifying glass gifted to him by the detective, Jon. He had learned [Trace Tracking] at the History Society and knew that during the ritual, the blue glow visible to him would be of immense help.
However, Chendo suddenly stopped him.
Chendo’s gaze lingered on the magnifying glass before he said, “Professor Noel, I recall you mentioning just a few days ago that you didn’t possess any relevant Time Traces. So, may I ask—where did you get this magnifying glass?”
Siles: “…”
That tone was certainly unusual.
Siles deliberated briefly before honestly mentioning Jon Mansfield, the young detective.
“A young detective,” Chendo said in a low, dramatic tone. “Are you disdaining me for my age?”
Siles exchanged a silent look with Chendo, then quietly slipped the magnifying glass back into his pocket. “In that case, you do it.”
Chendo instantly beamed, preening triumphantly. “Precisely! I cannot let you handle Time Traces of unknown origin. Even if you think I’m being childish or prone to jealousy, I consider this a necessary level of vigilance.”
There’s truth to that, Siles thought. Detective Jon’s identity and stance were indeed somewhat suspicious. But Chendo’s tone and words just now certainly hadn’t carried that meaning.
Of course, Siles didn’t mind. It was just a bit of playful affection between lovers, wasn’t it?
He tugged helplessly at Chendo’s braid.
Chendo pulled out a bloodline transcript, casually plucking the character “Seek” (寻) from it. Siles couldn’t quite read the text written on it, but Chendo helpfully explained, “The meaning of this sentence is that people are always seeking something on their journey.”
Siles thought about it and said, “That fits what we are doing right now rather well.”
Chendo couldn’t help but chuckle, whispering, “Indeed it does.” He paused, dropping the character onto the earthenware bowl, where a patch of ash-gray mist silently began to simmer at the bottom. A moment later, the mist wafted upward, drifting sluggishly toward a certain direction.
If Siles and Chendo didn’t keep pace, the mist would pause, spinning in circles as it waited for them.
Siles remarked, “This is quite a miraculous power—almost as if it can alter its form according to your intent.”
“It does seem that way,” Chendo pondered. “I was taught that when using this power, I must maintain a definite… ‘intent’? Hoping to use the characters in these transcripts and master copies to achieve a goal… I’ve grown accustomed to doing it like this.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
Intent. He thought.
The power of a Revelator and the power of Chendo seemed to be two completely different systems. Yet in the end, both belonged to the powers of this world, reaching the same goal through different paths. Therefore, there had to be some commonality between them.
…The power of replication. In the power system of Revelators, people rarely seemed to consider the presence of “subjective intent.” After all, they merely wished to replicate a established, explicit power that had occurred in the past.
If using a Revelator’s power was like opening a completed, saved webpage, then when Chendo used his power, it was as if he were freely modifying a rough framework of a webpage to make it take whatever shape he desired.
…If it really aligns with this analogy, then these two methods of using power are no longer on the same level. Chendo’s power is more ‘advanced,’ Siles thought.
He mulled over this while Chendo walked beside him, fingers intertwined, comfortably savoring Siles’s presence. Chendo was content to be quiet like this, as long as Siles was there.
They walked through the chaotic streets and crowds of the West District. The weather was lovely today, and many people were out purchasing daily necessities. They threaded through streets, communities, markets, and stalls, their expressions wearing a lightness like clouds parting after rain.
Siles and Chendo blended into the crowd, appearing no different from the local residents.
A moment later, the crowd gradually thinned, then grew dense once more. An atmosphere entirely distinct from the earlier mood settled around them. People’s footsteps grew hurried, their expressions turning indifferent and anxious. A somewhat tall, aged building appeared before them.
…Darwin Hospital.
The ash-gray mist halted right in front of the entrance to Darwin Hospital, hovered in circles for a moment, and then slowly faded away.
Siles asked, “Does this mean the missing item is inside?”
“…It’s a bit strange,” Chendo said. “In theory, we should have been guided to the exact location. But just now, that subtle guiding sense in my mind suddenly vanished, replaced by a chaotic, bewildered feeling. Then, it disappeared entirely.”
Siles was taken aback, realizing that the “ash-gray mist” visible to him was invisible to Chendo. Chendo only experienced a subtle sense of guidance through that power.
Siles knit his brows slightly, whispering, “Almost as if it got lost?”
Chendo looked up at Darwin Hospital before him. After a brief pause, his emerald eyes narrowed slightly. He said playfully, “Perhaps this hospital isn’t quite as simple as it looks on the surface.”
Siles nodded in complete agreement.
It was past nine in the morning in the West District. Light filtered through thin clouds, falling onto the somewhat aged structure. It stood about four stories high. Though a hospital, it lacked the specialized, complex architectural structure of one on Earth.
On the contrary, it was simply an ordinary four-story building. The glass windows looked quite filthy, hazily revealing the crowded, bustling scenes inside.
Siles could see from afar the busy, crowded lobby on the first floor. Figures in white coats moved through the crowd, their steps hurried and exhausted. The line of patients waiting for consultation spilled from the first-floor lobby onto the open ground outside.
…So Darwin Hospital has indeed been extremely busy recently, Siles thought.
This phenomenon had likely begun around the transition between autumn and winter a while back. Once the first snow fell, the situation naturally worsened. People were struggling to cope with the harsh frost.
But… Siles suddenly realized a problem: If the hospital was so busy, why would it offer free consultations?
Siles didn’t actually know much about the operational mechanisms of hospitals in this era. However, free consultations should logically be opened when the hospital was less busy. Why open them to West District residents precisely when things were at their most frantic?
Furthermore, Louisa had mentioned back then that “widows like me can bring our children for a checkup.” In other words, these free consultations were not open to everyone, but targeted specific demographics.
And among those demographics happened to be Mike Lampson, who had left an unknown Time Trace behind at Darwin Hospital.
…Hopefully it’s just overthinking. Perhaps the hospital had simply decided to offer free checkups for residents because winter was approaching.
Siles stared deeply at the dingy, unrefined facade of Darwin Hospital.
Chendo asked at the right moment, “Shall we go inside and take a look?”
Siles thought it over before shaking his head sensibly. “No. Knowing that the suspicious lead ends at Darwin Hospital is enough. We need to investigate this hospital further.”
Mike Lampson’s death might be connected to this hospital; moreover, Siles had to consider another question: Was Nona Norrison’s matter also connected to this hospital?
Another reason Siles was reluctant to enter was the obvious presence of numerous sick patients inside. Given the protective measures and safety standards of this era… the Earthling in him didn’t want to risk exposure.
Chendo nodded understandingly and said, “Then, Siles, we should head to Baker Bank.”
The main branch of Baker Bank was located near Atherton Square in the East District. Coincidentally, the Lamifa Museum was also nearby.
…Or rather, many important buildings in Lamifa City were clustered around Atherton Square, including the Royal Palace, the History Society, the Central Cathedral of the Church of the Past, and more. This was likely the most prosperous—and naturally, the most prone to incidents—part of Lamifa City.
When they arrived at Atherton Square, Siles brought up the Greyson incident from a month ago.
Chendo said in sudden realization, “To think only a month has passed.”
Siles paused, remarking, “A lot truly has happened in this past month.”
Chendo said, “That was when I met you for the first time.” He paused, then added, “Our relationship has progressed by leaps and bounds over this month. Though, I will never be satisfied.”
Chendo held Siles’s hand, tucking it inside his own coat pocket. Chendo claimed it was to warm Siles’s chilly hand. Now, his fingers gently tickled Siles’s palm.
Feeling the tickle, Siles instinctively tried to pull back slightly.
Chendo gripped his hand tighter, intertwining their fingers one by one in absolute intimacy. Then, with immense satisfaction, he declared, “I look forward to that day.”
Siles: “…”
He pondered carefully, at a loss for how to respond. In the end, he could only say, “There should be such a day.”
“‘Should’?” Chendo muttered. “I consider it an absolute certainty.”
“That depends on how far into the future it is.”
Chendo said in mock shock, “How far into the future could you possibly delay it?”
Siles mulled over the question, finding it hard to say. After all, he was growing more and more accustomed to Chendo’s presence. So he said, “That depends on you.”
Chendo’s emerald eyes narrowed slightly. As if suddenly understanding something, he said, “Should I try harder? Or… should I be more proactive?”
Siles: “…”
He felt Chendo was already plenty proactive… Wait, look at what they were discussing out in broad daylight.
Siles decisively changed the subject: “We’ve arrived at Baker Bank.”
Twenty minutes later, Siles signed the necessary documents at Baker Bank, confirming the contents of Professor Calverley’s will. Professor Calverley had left a total of one hundred and thirty-five books to Siles, including many heavy and valuable volumes.
In addition, Professor Calverley had left a letter for Siles.
Siles hesitated briefly, opting not to open the letter immediately. He felt the letter’s contents might affect his current state of mind, so it was better saved for a more peaceful moment.
He slipped the letter into his pocket. Meanwhile, Chendo was confirming the delivery location with the bank staff: 32 Lowell Street.
They were shown into an elegantly decorated VIP room. A man—likely the manager—dressed in a formal tailcoat stood at the door, offering a calm, polite smile.
Siles thought for a moment before stepping forward to converse with him: “Good morning, sir. I have a question.”
“Please go ahead, Professor Noel,” the man replied immediately.
“I heard that Baker Bank offers safe deposit box services for storing valuable items, is that correct?” Siles asked.
He asked because Alfonso Carte had stored the fountain pen he brought out of that mysterious tribal ruin inside a Baker Bank safe deposit box.
Alfonso had shared the relevant information with Siles, leaving it up to him to decide whether to retrieve the pen, as Alfonso wouldn’t be returning to Lamifa City anytime soon. Siles was still hesitating, but he figured it was worth learning about the procedure beforehand.
The man nodded, saying, “Yes, sir, you are correct. If you store an item with us, we charge an annual custodial fee and provide a box number along with a combination.
“You can rest assured that any item left in our care is completely secure—it is impossible for any issues to arise.”
The more they say that, the more it feels like something is bound to go wrong, Siles thought.
So he asked directly, “A friend of mine previously stored an item at Baker Bank. He is currently outside the Duchy of Konst and requested that I act on his behalf. If I wish to retrieve the item, what procedures are required?”
The man listened attentively, thinking briefly. “Normally, the client must handle the procedure in person, Professor Noel—that is a strict rule.
“However, if you can correctly state the client’s identity, the safe deposit box number and combination, as well as the exact name and description of the item inside at the time of registration, while providing documentation proving your acquaintance with the client and signing a liability waiver…
“Then we can open the safe deposit box for you.”
Siles nodded, understanding. This served as multi-layered verification of his proxy status. Of course, looking at it from another angle, it meant the bank’s safe deposit box business was not entirely, absolutely secure in its essence.
…That was probably because he was judging the matter through the lens of Earth standards.
On the other side, Chendo finished speaking with the staff and walked over. He asked, “Do you plan on opening the box?”
Siles considered it briefly, then answered, “Perhaps it’s best to open it. At least take a look.” He turned to the manager. “If I only want to open it for a look without taking the item away, would it still require so many tedious procedures?”
The manager paused, hesitating slightly. “It’s not impossible…” He added, “I say this only because I know you are Professor Calverley’s beneficiary.
“You may not know this, but the bank itself shares a connection with Professor Calverley, so we can grant you a courtesy. You don’t need to provide those documents.
“However, you still must state the client’s name, the safe deposit box number and combination, and your knowledge of the item inside.”
Siles nodded in understanding. “That won’t be a problem.”
Shortly after, they reached the entrance of the underground vault. Siles provided the necessary information, and the manager led Siles and Chendo inside, followed by two burly bodyguards.
Reaching the final vault location required passing through several iron doors. Siles noticed a security mechanism likely similar to the door handles in the space behind the History Society’s door—unless recognized by authorized staff, no one else could enter.
A good security measure, Siles thought, assuming a Revelator’s power can be maintained continuously.
A few minutes later, they arrived at a safe deposit box illuminated by dim light. It was set into a cabinet, small and compact overall. The lock was an ancient, precise combination lock that required turning corresponding numbers and letters in a specific order.
Siles stated the combination: “Isherwood 391.”
Then, the safe deposit box was opened.
The manager politely lowered his eyes, avoiding looking inside the box, merely keeping an eye on Siles’s movements. He should have considered himself lucky for doing so.
Inside the box lay a solitary fountain pen. It looked entirely ordinary—a black barrel with a gold clip, resting horizontally. But at this moment, Siles was wearing [Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame].
From the perspective of the frame, the fountain pen appeared completely different. It looked as if it were formed from condensed steel-gray… no, almost pitch-black mist. Though one could still discern the shape of a fountain pen, black mist hovered slowly above its surface.
The moment Siles laid eyes on the fountain pen, the sound of rolling dice echoed in his mind. He maintained his composure, but immediately yanked Chendo—who had curiously leaned in to look inside—behind his back, blocking his view.
[You need to perform a Will check.]
[Will: 93 (+2) / 94, Success.]
[Didn’t expect that, did you? Your caution has bought you your life—deserves a round of applause in celebration. But beyond celebration, even more mysteries await you. You should first ponder one question: What happened to the others who saw this fountain pen?]
Siles thought to himself that wearing the [Tranquil Heart] brooch when leaving the house was merely a precaution. Yet even he hadn’t anticipated that this “precaution” would actually save his life.
The first question flooding Siles’s mind was naturally the one posed by the dice: The others who saw this fountain pen.
Mulling it over, Siles closed the door of the safe deposit box. Doing so brought him a immense sigh of relief.
His Will check had succeeded, but that was clearly influenced by multiple factors.
On one hand, the required value for success in this check was extremely high, almost comparable to the danger he encountered back in the deep-sea dream. This point, coupled with the appearance of the pen he had just seen, proved that this item was directly connected to a deity.
On the other hand, Siles had encountered the danger while wearing [Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame]. He was directly beholding the truth, whereas ordinary people might not even realize the danger existed.
As he had always thought, knowledge was both a blessing and a curse. Understanding enough of the truth meant stepping into an equal measure of danger.
Alfonso had certainly seen this fountain pen before; he had even carried it with him. Yet judging from Alfonso’s usual demeanor, his mental state didn’t seem terribly deteriorated.
This was likely because he didn’t comprehend the true nature of this fountain pen.
…Of course, it’s also possible he is already insane without realizing it, Siles thought.
There were many possibilities, but short of actually using the [Shadow of the Old Gods] ritual to measure Alfonso’s level of spiritual pollution, Siles had no way of knowing for sure.
If that was the case for Alfonso, what about others who might have touched the pen? The explorer Albert Milne? Or the bank staff?
Doubts sprouted wildly in Siles’s mind.
Setting that issue aside, the properties of the fountain pen also gave Siles pause.
It appeared to be a fountain pen condensed from black mist. Based on Siles’s understanding of such mist, it should logically be a manifestation of an Old God’s power.
In other words, it was equivalent to an embodiment of an Old God’s power.
…Through “paradise of the gods,” Siles thought.
This fountain pen came from the shadow of the Temple of Belan. Ten years ago, when Alfonso and Emmanuel’s group entered Corinna Canyon, the Temple of Belan must have been floating directly above their heads.
They might have failed to notice it. Alfonso and Emmanuel might have been fortunate enough not to look up or trigger other lethal conditions, allowing them to escape successfully.
In short, at that moment, they had stepped into the domain of the “paradise of the gods.”
…”Shadow.” They stepped into the shadow of the Temple of Belan.
Just as Akamara’s domain pertained to dreams.
Dreaming humans might inadvertently stray near the “deep-sea dream”—Siles didn’t know the true name of Akamara’s paradise—while humans who stepped into shadows might inadvertently step into the Temple of Belan.
At that moment, “whether one could realize this” became key. Even if one realized it, it didn’t guarantee escape; conversely, if one failed to realize it, they might inexplicably flee unharmed.
…So this fountain pen is precise parallel to the Rubik’s Cube I gave the boy, Emil Harrison, in the deep-sea dream.
In that moment, a touch of regret welled up in Siles’s heart.
When he gave away that Rubik’s Cube in the dream, he had simply wanted to comfort a downcast boy. He hadn’t expected the Rubik’s Cube to actually manifest in reality.
From a more concerning perspective, had his action back then allowed Akamara’s power to see the light of day once more?
…No wonder one of the threads on that tall doll in the deep-sea dream snapped.
After a moment’s thought, Siles took a deep breath. It was too late for regret now. Though Akamara’s power seemed relatively harmless, it belonged to an Old God nonetheless.
If possible, perhaps he should retrieve that Rubik’s Cube, he thought.
“…What’s wrong?” Chendo peeked out from behind him. “The safe deposit box is already closed.”
Siles snapped back to reality and held onto Chendo. He said to the manager waiting nearby, “We can leave now.”
The manager nodded. Confirming the box was indeed locked, he escorted them out of the underground vault.
Soon, Siles and Chendo left Baker Bank. They found a restaurant near Atherton Square for lunch. As the sun climbed higher, it felt almost like a sudden return to summer.
While eating, the two of them even took off their coats.
Siles roughly explained the scene he had witnessed. Chendo didn’t seem puzzled as to why Siles could see that strange mist, perhaps assuming it was thanks to [Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame].
Or rather, it was the combined effect of a special trait inherent to Siles himself—he suspected it was the dice—and [Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame].
Chendo said thoughtfully, “Does that mean anyone who has seen that fountain pen is now a hidden hazard?”
“Perhaps,” Siles replied. “Though looking at it from another angle, if they don’t understand its true nature, the pollution they suffer might not be as severe.”
Chendo shook his head, taking a less optimistic view. He said, “Professor Noel, you might view it optimistically, but I certainly don’t. I believe it will become an enduring, long-term hazard.”
Siles was slightly taken aback.
“Your friend… Alfonso Carte.” Chendo’s voice softened slightly. “I don’t know if you’ll be angry at me for saying this… but he is the sole survivor to walk out of Corinna Canyon.”
Indeed, Siles thought.
The core issue was: How had Alfonso managed to walk out of Corinna Canyon alive?
Before those conspirators left for the House of Hales, they had casually killed Professor Cabel and Assistant Mervyn. They didn’t need to do that, but they likely knew they might not survive themselves, so they decided to clean up the site at the last minute.
…Then why was Alfonso spared?
Siles believed in Alfonso’s stance; he didn’t think this folklorist could be a follower of an Old God. In fact, Alfonso deeply detested Hoodoka.
Furthermore, Siles believed that at this point, Alfonso had no reason to hide information. He had explicitly told Siles about the fountain pen, after all.
Perhaps Alfonso survived because of his exceptional personal strength. Yet he had clearly left Corinna Canyon only after those conspirators departed.
It was a matter of order again. The Old God followers left first, and Alfonso left second. Had the former really failed to notice the latter? Alfonso himself had speculated as much.
That wasn’t impossible, of course, but…
Siles suddenly let out a soft sigh. “Chendo, I’m feeling troubled.”
Chendo paused.
“I originally thought the events at the House of Hales were settled,” Siles said in a low voice. “But now it seems it’s not that simple.”
Could those conspirators have deliberately spared Alfonso?
Showing mercy?
Given their ruthless habit of exterminating every lead—leaving prospective traitors behind to die at the last moment and killing Professor Cabel and Assistant Mervyn—Siles found it hard to believe they possessed such mercy.
So if they really had discovered Alfonso and chose not to kill him, there had to be a reason.
Without realizing it, Siles’s brow knit tightly together.
…Until a cool touch brushed against his brow. It was Chendo’s finger. Siles snapped his eyes up, meeting those beautiful, worry-filled emerald eyes.
“Don’t overthink it,” Chendo said almost tenderly. “Even if this world needs you to save it, it won’t be done in a brief moment like this. I’m truly afraid you’ll exhaust yourself; you ought to let yourself relax a little.”
Siles stared at him blankly for a moment.
After a short pause, he suddenly chuckled. “It’s cool.”
“…What?”
“Your hand. Shouldn’t you put your coat back on?” Siles said, reaching out to hold Chendo’s hand and gently rubbing his fingers. “But thank you, Chendo. I am truly grateful.”
It wasn’t that no one had ever said similar things to him. But… call him biased. Chendo was different. He had forced his way into his life, stubbornly claiming a place in his world.
Even if Siles had let him in himself, Chendo was Chendo.
“Although I don’t think you need to thank me for this, still…” Chendo said, shrugging. “Alright, you’re welcome. The pleasure is mine.”
With Chendo putting it that way, Siles no longer wanted to torment his brain with these unsolvable riddles. They finished their meal and headed straight to the nearby museum.
It was a two-story building possessing a meticulously refined atmosphere. It was quiet inside, and the color of the wooden floors carried a rich sense of history. Only a few scattered people were quietly browsing.
The Lamifa Museum was public and open free of charge, though visitors had to register their names and identities upon entry. Siles naturally listed his position as a professor at Lamifa University, while Chendo was listed as his teaching assistant.
Siles could feel the staff member showing an obvious sense of respect due to his status as a professor.
The young man responsible for registration even helpfully explained, “Some exhibition halls on the second floor are temporarily closed due to an upcoming foreign art exhibition. But if you’re interested in foreign culture, you can visit again in a while.”
Siles couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Which country is it?”
“Mid… Mid-something. Apologies, I don’t remember the name clearly,” the man said apologetically. “Supposedly a coastal country.”
Chendo chimed in from the side, “Middleton?”
The man let out a soft exclamation, nodding hurriedly. “Yes, sir, you’re right. That’s the one.”
Chendo looked at Siles thoughtfully. His expression practically said, We can go now, but I can tell you what I’m thinking in a moment.
…Siles felt he had come to understand Chendo very well indeed.
Having registered, they stepped into the exhibition halls. The building was likely originally the residence of a noble, now repurposed into a museum. Each hall was structured around the original layout of the rooms, retaining many pieces of original furniture.
Although the museum was quiet overall, people occasionally conversed in low tones, so Chendo softly struck up a conversation with Siles.
“Do you know about Middleton?” he asked.
Siles said, “I’ve only heard people mention it briefly in passing. I roughly know that it’s a coastal country with a martial culture, and they seem to worship Amois, the God of Warriors and Pirates.”
Additionally, he recalled that Doctor Chester Fitzroy’s mysterious mother seemed to hail from Middleton. Though he had never sought confirmation from Doctor Chester regarding that rumor.
Chendo nodded, hesitated briefly, and then said, “I’ve been to Middleton before.”
Surprised to learn this, Siles asked with interest, “What kind of country is it?”
“How should I describe it to you…” It was rare for Chendo to show such hesitation in tone and expression. “It’s quite different from the Duchy of Konst.”
Siles paused, suddenly realizing a point: The civilization of the Fisher World had experienced gaps and regressions.
In the archival materials related to the Sardinian Empire, he had seen descriptions of “airplanes.” Yet in the Duchy of Konst, horses remained the primary mode of travel for everyone.
When he first learned of this, he had wondered whether different countries and regions developed at vastly different levels, given the isolation caused by the mist.
Chendo’s reaction seemed to confirm Siles’s suspicion.
He couldn’t help asking, “I’ve read materials on the Sardinian Empire. Is Middleton more advanced than Konst, or more backward? Don’t hesitate.”
Chendo cast a subtle glance at Siles, then cleared his throat softly, licked his lips, and continued, “More backward.”
…Siles acted as if he hadn’t noticed the subtle meaning behind Chendo’s brief pause. He simply waited quietly for Chendo to elaborate.
Chendo could only continue honestly, “It’s a peninsula nation reliant on fishing. If you ask me, the atmosphere there is more…” He mulled over his words before picking one, “…traditional.”
Siles grew thoughtful. “If they still worship Amois during the Age of Mist, such an atmosphere isn’t hard to understand.”
Chendo nodded in agreement, adding, “However, they are indeed fiercely martial… Or rather, the people of Middleton, whether men or women, possess an innately fierce aggressiveness. They are highly proactive, but also quite xenophobic toward outsiders.”
“That does sound quite different from Konst,” Siles said. “What about their economic level and technological development?”
“A bit behind,” Chendo said. “Their seafaring technology is decent, but their cities aren’t connected by trains. If you want to go to their capital, you can only ride a horse, take a carriage, or travel by ship. It’s quite a long journey, to say the least.”
Siles nodded, getting a general picture.
At that moment, they walked into a room hung with paintings. One of the paintings happened to depict a train. According to the short inscription below, it depicted the moment the first train ran in Lamifa City.
The artist’s name was unfamiliar to Siles.
They stopped before the painting. Siles couldn’t help remarking, “I still believe the train is a remarkable invention.”
Chendo agreed. “It makes long-distance travel much more convenient. Of course, I feel the current speed is still a bit slow, and the comfort leaves something to be desired. But one day, this mode of transportation will mature.”
“Yes,” Siles murmured. “That should be the future of this world…”
“…Gentlemen, is that truly what you believe?” A gentle, aged voice sounded beside their ears. Siles and Chendo turned to look, finding a white-haired old man with sharp, bright eyes.
His expression and tone were gentle, yet carried a firm, undeniable authority.
“I do not believe these chugging, whistling trains represent the future of our world,” he said. “The future of the world should be decided by the power each person holds firmly in their own hands, not by such external mechanical contraptions.”
