“Good evening, Nona.”
“Good evening, Mr. Ghost.”
Nona stood there, staring at Mr. Ghost with a pair of wide eyes, before speaking up. “Nona didn’t break her promise today. That’s wonderful. Nona isn’t a bad child.”
Mr. Ghost chuckled softly at her words.
“So, Nona, is there anything you can tell Mr. Ghost today?”
Nona tilted her head slightly and answered, “Yes. Mr. Ghost, you told me before that there were other children like me who got sick. So, after I woke up, I went around to take a look.”
Mr. Ghost was taken aback, then quietly waited for Nona’s next words.
Nona’s gaze drifted toward the lawn not far away. A moment later, a few faint figures of children flickered into view upon it. This was Nona’s dream, so Nona could alter the environment here. Of course, she rarely did so, mostly because she did not seem to understand how.
Nona said, “I saw several children. None of them really wanted to talk to me, and some even…” She crinkled her nose. “…it felt like they were scolding me, as if I had done something wrong.”
“Are you all locked up?”
“I don’t know if you’d call it locked up,” Nona replied. “Those doctors feed us and give us treatment… they make us sleep properly, use the toilet properly, and take our medicine properly. It’s still that bitter medicine—the kind I used to take before. Back when Grandfather was still around.”
…Medicine? A sudden flash of inspiration struck Mr. Ghost’s mind.
He remembered that Mrs. Lampson had once taken Mike to West District’s Darwin Hospital for a free consultation, after which the doctor there prescribed him medicine. Mrs. Lampson had mentioned that the cost of that medicine drove her family to financial ruin.
…Could it be the same medicine?
Furthermore, Nona mentioned that she had taken this medicine before. Was her belief that she was taking medicine in that dark room a hallucination? A dreamlike fantasy? Or perhaps at that time, she had already lost the ability to distinguish between reality and illusion?
While Mr. Ghost was lost in thought, Nona continued talking.
“Those children don’t look very healthy—at least, not as healthy as I am,” she murmured. “Though it seems they all left their parents to come here. I don’t know how they ended up here either.
“…There was one child who was a bit nicer to me. He secretly told me that the others didn’t like me because the doctors were always taking care of me and paying attention to me, while they didn’t get such good treatment.
“I think… if that’s the case, their attitude is quite normal. But I don’t understand why the doctors pay so much attention to me, either. I think it might be because I arrived earlier than them.”
Mr. Ghost pondered for a moment, then asked, “Nona, how do you know those people taking care of you are doctors?”
Nona froze for a moment, then whispered, “But, Mr. Ghost, how could they not be doctors?”
“Why do you think they are doctors?”
“Because… because…” Nona bit her lip. “Because when Grandfather took me to the hospital for treatment, the doctors there were the ones wearing white clothes. Now, these people are wearing white clothes too, so they must be doctors, right?”
Mr. Ghost experienced a sudden realization. White clothing? That was indeed a defining trait of doctors—at least, that was how it was at Darwin Hospital.
He remarked, “Nona really is a clever child.”
Nona immediately nodded her head with excitement. “Nona is a clever child!” she declared.
“So, Nona, have those doctors mentioned when you can leave?”
“…Leave?” Nona hesitated.
“Yes. You are receiving treatment right now, but one day you will be discharged and go home. You’ve heard of that before, right? When Grandfather took you to see the doctor, the doctor would make you take medicine, and then let you go home. Because your illness would get better.”
Nona thought for a moment, then nodded forcefully. “Right, I am supposed to go home. I need to go back to Grandfather’s side. But those doctors don’t seem to have said that I can go home.”
“Did they say that your illness hasn’t cured yet?”
Nona hesitated, then whispered, “Mr. Ghost, I’m only telling you. You can’t tell anyone else, okay? This is our little secret in the dream.”
Mr. Ghost paused involuntarily, then replied, “Of course. Nona, I will keep this secret for you.”
Nona let out a breath of relief, then said, “Mr. Ghost, I feel like… they don’t seem to want to cure my illness. I can still hear those voices in my head, but the doctors say that’s normal and want me to tell them what those voices are saying.
“But… but… isn’t that only happening because I’m sick?”
Nona looked exceedingly lost and anxious, but soon her mood brightened up again, like a little girl who flipped between anger and happiness in an instant.
She said, “Though, I think maybe it’s because my illness is very special, so they want to study it. I know what research means! I really want to help other people who have this illness!
“Those people talking inside my head, it’s so strange… Other people must find it strange too, right?”
Nona trembled slightly, then tried her best to calm herself down.
She said, “So… if I keep staying there and let them study my condition, then could other people get better because of that research?”
Her eyes looked toward Mr. Ghost, immensely pure and innocent as she asked, “Is that how it works, Mr. Ghost?”
Mr. Ghost found himself trapped in a dilemma of how to answer. He didn’t even know what to say.
In the end, his hand gently rested on Nona’s hair, softly rubbing the little girl’s braids. He spoke, “Nona, you are a good child. Only a kind child would think like that.”
Nona continued to gaze at him.
Mr. Ghost let out a sigh. “But… Nona. Other people might not be as kind as you.”
Nona suddenly burst into tears.
Mr. Ghost squatted down and gently embraced the crying girl.
“I know… I know, Mr. Ghost. But I’m so scared. I’d rather they were doing some kind of research—I’d rather they wanted to study this illness to help other people get better.”
Nona sobbed uncontrollably.
After a short while, she spoke again, “Can I still go back to Grandfather’s side, Mr. Ghost?”
“You can,” Mr. Ghost said softly. “Nona, you must remember one thing.”
Nona slowly wiped away her tears, looking up at Mr. Ghost with curiosity. “What? What do I need to remember?”
“You are Nona,” Mr. Ghost said. “Do not forget your name. You are Nona.”
“Nona… Nona,” Nona murmured softly. “But, Mr. Ghost, Nona is Nona. Why would Nona forget her own name?”
Mr. Ghost patted her head and said, “As long as you can remember your name, then one day, sooner or later, you will be able to return to Grandfather’s side.”
As long as Nona does not forget herself. Mr. Ghost stared deeply at the little girl.
Nona still seemed quite confused, but she nodded her head forcefully and said, “Nona will remember! I am Nona, Grandfather’s Nona!” She thought for a moment, then cleverly applied the idea further: “The Nona that Mr. Ghost knows! Not any other Nona!”
Mr. Ghost smiled. “Yes, Nona. Remember yourself.”
Afterward, their conversation shifted back to the voices inside Nona’s head.
“So, Nona, what exactly did you hear?” Mr. Ghost asked patiently.
Nona looked somewhat dazed as she thought for a moment, then said, “They… want to escape.”
“From where?”
“From…” Nona shook her head slightly. “…from escaping out of my head. Ah, if I shake my head just a little, they all feel dizzy. It’s so funny!”
Mr. Ghost was also amused by Nona’s words.
“Besides that?” Mr. Ghost asked again. “Is there anything else besides that?”
Nona tilted her head in thought for a moment, then said, “They are arguing with each other.”
“Arguing about what?”
“Arguing…” Nona spoke slowly, “…arguing about who should go out first and who should go out second. But they all seem very afraid of someone who has never spoken.”
“Has never spoken?”
“There are several voices inside my head, but there is one person who has never spoken. But I know that person exists. They all know it, too. I know it as well.”
“Why doesn’t this person speak?”
Nona thought for a moment and said, “That person is asleep.” She whispered softly, “Can’t wake them up.”
“…What would happen if they are woken up?”
Nona’s eyes widened, and she said, “It’s just… it’s just that they can’t be woken up.” She stuttered, “When someone is sleeping, how could you wake them up?”
The little girl genuinely seemed to think this way out of pure simplicity.
Mr. Ghost could not help but frown. He asked again, “So, when did you become aware of this person’s existence?”
Nona tilted her head and thought for a long while before saying, “It was after I left that dark room. Ah, no, no—it was after I woke up.”
Mr. Ghost was startled.
In that case, this person must have appeared in Nona’s head much earlier… Was it after Nona obtained that copper-cast flower?
His heart suddenly sank. He wondered what Nona’s coma, as well as that dark room, truly signified.
He could not obtain the answer to this question from Nona’s mouth. Thus, after a moment of distraction, Mr. Ghost spoke, “Nona, one more question. Do you still remember the flower that Grandfather gave you?”
“Of course I remember!” Nona said. “Grandfather only disappeared after he gave me that flower!”
“So, Grandfather asked you to deliver that flower to… a doctor, right?” Mr. Ghost asked. “How did you know where that doctor was?”
“I… just knew.” Nona seemed not to fully grasp Mr. Ghost’s meaning. “Because… because I was very familiar with that doctor. He was… he was the doctor at the hospital.”
“Was he the doctor who treated you before?”
“Yes!” Nona nodded forcefully.
“And then you handed that flower over to that doctor, but he wouldn’t let you leave. You felt a lot of pain and fainted. Afterward, you found yourself in a dark room, hearing some people talking, but you couldn’t speak to them.
“You heard them saying they were going to escape the next day, so you planned to secretly follow behind them. However, when you actually walked out of that dark room, you realized that dark room didn’t exist at all, and you had simply woken up… Is that right?”
Nona thought for a moment and said, “Yes.”
“You told me before that you were taking medicine in that dark room as well. In truth, you weren’t actually taking medicine in the dark room—that was just your imagination, right?” Mr. Ghost said gently.
“Ah! I don’t know either… it should be like that,” Nona said. “I seem… unable to tell the difference between the two situations.”
Mr. Ghost nodded. “Don’t be afraid, Nona. You are indeed sick, which is why this is happening. However, those people do not want to cure you. They want to do some bad things that might threaten all of Lamifa City…”
He phrased it this way, but Nona could not quite comprehend it.
So Mr. Ghost changed his phrasing: “It might end up hurting Grandfather.”
“Ah!” Nona gasped, speaking with a trace of anxiety. “Then… then how can we stop them?”
“I am currently stopping them,” Mr. Ghost said. “Are you willing to help me, Nona?”
“Of course! Mr. Ghost, please tell me, what can I do?” Nona said. “I also… I also don’t want to keep staying here anymore. It hurts so much… so much…”
Their conversation today had lasted quite long, Mr. Ghost thought to himself. However, he had indeed gathered a lot of information from Nona, even if it was scattered and fragmented.
He spoke, “You only need to do one thing, Nona.”
Nona widened her eyes, staring at Mr. Ghost with utmost seriousness.
“Remember the conversations between those ‘doctors’,” Mr. Ghost instructed. “Especially what they say in front of you that isn’t directed at you. You don’t need to remember everything clearly—just remember a few key words.
“Keep these words silently in your heart and do not let it show on your face. When I come to your dream next time, tell me what you’ve remembered, Nona.”
Having Nona do anything else would very likely expose her motives and put her in danger. The only thing Nona could do was quietly and covertly listen to the conversations of those doctors, then memorize any information accidentally leaked.
Even if Nona inadvertently revealed that she heard the doctors’ conversations, those adults would not care about a little child—especially since they would not know, nor could they ever believe, that a “Mr. Ghost” was actually talking to Nona inside her dream.
Nona nodded her head and said, “Nona understands! Mr. Ghost, wait for my good news!”
Mr. Ghost offered a slight smile and said, “See you in twenty-one days, Nona.”
“See you in twenty-one days, Mr. Ghost,” Nona replied.
Nona’s dream suddenly shattered into pieces. He returned to the isolated island.
Standing upon the soft red mud, he silently reviewed this conversation with Nona, extracting useful information from it.
Nona was locked up in a place related to Darwin Hospital. Darwin Hospital—or rather, the mastermind behind the scenes—was conducting some kind of human experimentation on a group of children.
The beginning of this experiment seemed to date back three years ago, though it was also possible it had started even earlier, just that nobody knew about it.
After all, judging from Chendo’s investigation, the West District’s Darwin Hospital had long possessed rumors and a reputation of “devouring children’s lives.” That was very likely an impression formed by the parents of the victims.
However, as of now, no one seemed to have considered that this was a deliberate act by Darwin Hospital.
From Nona’s words, he realized that after Nona was locked up, she seemed never to have met that doctor who had originally treated her again. In other words, the doctors involved in this matter should be divided into two groups: internal and external.
Externally, one group of doctors naturally sought out targets.
Internally, another group of doctors conducted this long-term experiment.
…Therefore, the doctor Nona encountered was a key figure. He needed to find a way to probe, but he could not alert the enemy either.
In addition, the “person who was asleep” that Nona mentioned gave him an idea.
Could that be… similar to another “personality” created after Nona suffered mental pollution?
When Nona was inside that dark room, was it this “personality” coming online to take over Nona’s body? In some novels on Earth, this situation was quite common.
He did indeed entertain this guess, but where did this “personality” originate from? That copper-cast flower? That sounded exceedingly dangerous—even Nona instinctively knew that person must not be woken up.
…Moreover, regarding those other children who were locked up, was their attitude toward Nona really just to compete for the doctors’ attention? Could it be that the actions of that other “personality” had frightened those children?
Thinking this far, he felt that his imagination was becoming a bit too wild. He could not base other riddles on a completely fictitious, unprovable assumption.
He decisively set these thoughts aside for the time being.
Finally, he thought that, as expected, the center of the entire vortex still seemed to be Darwin Hospital. They were painstakingly searching for a long-hidden conspiracy.
He pondered for a moment, then gazed at this eternally quiet deep sea of dreams.
Today, Emil Harrison still did not dream. He had always wanted to talk to the boy about the Rubik’s Cube, but now it seemed he could only wait until the next deep-sea dream.
…He was actually somewhat worried about whether his further mastery of Akamara’s power would be related to that Rubik’s Cube appearing in reality. He really didn’t know if Emil would do something.
He shook his head, forcing himself to temporarily set aside this worry, and then focused his attention on the act of “searching dreams”.
Now that he could search dreams, he naturally had to try out this function, and even research it. But when he thought about whose dream he should search for, he could not help but hesitate slightly.
Whose dream should he search?
He considered Chendo, or other acquaintances. However, dreams were often a person’s most private domain. The closer he was to a person, the more embarrassed he felt about viewing their dream.
He thought for a moment and came up with a suitable candidate: Jonathan Bryant. Perhaps he could discover some secrets from the Minister of Finance’s dream.
He immediately chanted the name silently in his heart, but that vast sea of dreams provided no response whatsoever.
…Did it mean the other party was not dreaming?
He could not help but frown, feeling a trace of regret. Missing this opportunity meant waiting another twenty-one days. Who knew if Jonathan would be dreaming at that time?
He pondered for a little while longer. Just as he was about to study how to leave the deep-sea dream, a whimsical idea popped into his mind.
What if he searched for Siles Noel’s dream?
It sounded like a nesting doll, but he had always felt confused about his appearance in the deep-sea dreams, and his face reverting to He Jiayin in that dark room had only deepened this confusion.
To him, the two identities of He Jiayin and Siles Noel always carried a subtle yet undeniable sense of severance. Even though he had gradually integrated into the Fisher World; even though he had slowly gained a sense of identity as Siles Noel.
With this thought in mind, he made up his mind. At least for him, this was a worthwhile attempt.
“Search for Siles Noel’s dream,” he chanted silently in his heart.
Following that, a peculiar ripple surged toward him from front to back, and then back to front. He felt a moment of trance, and then suddenly, his perspective seemed to be elevated… No, it was similar to the feeling he got when he made a judgment on “Siles Noel.”
It was as if he suddenly snapped his eyes open again, only to behold a massive bubble—a dream bubble. That dream bubble was so immensely vast and terrifying, accommodating stars, puppets, the sea surface, an isolated island, red mud, and the ruins at the bottom of the sea.
He saw himself; he saw a man standing all alone upon the red mud of that isolated island. He looked at him, witnessing his shocked expression, imagining that he himself must bear the exact same expression at this moment.
The surroundings were pitch black, while that bubble existed fragilely yet obstinately. At the very bottom of that giant bubble, deep within the ruins beneath the sea floor, he saw a marvelous, multicolored mist spreading out toward a much broader expanse of land.
…A lonely, empty farm; a chimney. The chimney’s smoke drifted and slowly rose, transforming into a multicolored mist, which then expanded as if blown up by human effort, inflating into a massive deep-sea dream.
Siles snapped awake.
[Knowledge +1.]
The dice provided a prompt, but Siles was currently in no mood to care about the increase in Knowledge.
He was merely stunned, thinking: What was that? A farm? Why would a farm exist beneath the deep-sea dream?
A clearer thought surfaced in his mind: That is likely Akamara’s true “paradise.”
In fact, Siles had always been quite confused about two characteristics of the deep-sea dream.
First, he had read the manuscript of the painter Leon, and then he could enter the deep-sea dream.
Even if Akamara was a relatively gentle and merciful deity, Her “divine kingdom” shouldn’t be so easily accessible, right?
Thaddeus’s paradise—the Moshaque Hills—even selectively chose believers to enter. The paradises of these gods could not possibly accept everyone without exception.
Second, traces of Lusmi existed within the deep-sea dream, and those stars were even directly hanging in the sky.
This appeared somewhat unbelievable. Could the difference between a deity’s power and another deity’s power really be this vast? So vast that Lusmi could leave Her own power within another deity’s “paradise”?
If the deep-sea dream was merely a branch of Akamara’s true paradise, then it became much easier to comprehend.
The deep-sea dream accommodated the dreams of all humanity. This was a manifestation of Akamara’s power. And if Lusmi was coveting Akamara’s power, She would surely start from the deep-sea dream. She was likely interested in Akamara’s “power,” rather than Her “paradise.”
Another piece of evidence supporting Siles’s line of thought was that when compared to the paradises of other deities—Ligadia’s Tauohetia Cemetery, Thaddeus’s Moshaque Hills, and Hoodoka’s Temple of Belan—those “paradises” felt more like independently existing scenes.
Yet the deep-sea dream was overly vast. The dream bubbles of all humanity?
Chendo had once said that these “paradises” were the former residences of the deities. Since they were locations where deities used to live, would a deity place those numerous dream bubbles right beside Her own “home”?
…Perhaps it wasn’t impossible; after all, that was an Old God.
However, if one truly placed the deep-sea dream alongside other known “paradises” for comparison, a more suitable reference point should be the “shadows” of the Temple of Belan—such as the tribal ruins that Alfonso and the others had accidentally stumbled into.
Didn’t that fit the characteristics of the deep-sea dream much better?
In short, that strange farm that suddenly flashed into view gave Siles a sudden sensation of catching a glimpse of the truth.
After staring blankly for a moment, Siles slowly let out a sigh of relief, feeling his mind gradually calm down.
Only when he truly calmed down did he realize that all his thoughts just now had actually overlooked a premise—he had searched for his own dream in the deep-sea dream, and what he saw was the deep-sea dream itself.
…This indicated that the deep-sea dream was his dream.
Siles could not help but be stunned.
He suddenly understood. If the deep-sea dream was indeed Akamara’s “paradise,” then when he searched for his own dream, he shouldn’t have seen that scene—the scene where the deep-sea dream and a mysterious farm were connected by chimney smoke.
In other words, his dream was likewise encompassed within a certain “scene.” It was just that his dream bubble was slightly larger, and because he had obtained a portion of the power belonging to Akamara, his dream bubble also included the dream bubbles of other humans.
…Was it possible for him to travel from the deep-sea dream to that peculiar farm?
Perhaps, precisely because he still remained in the deep-sea dream, this place had to be opened once every twenty-one days?
What if traveling to that farm required exceedingly pious faith? Siles pondered.
However, he thought again: since those followers of Old Gods who had long strayed off path could still enter Hoodoka’s Temple of Belan, he should also be able to find some way to enter that farm. After all, the Old Gods had already fallen.
The appearance of this farm also made Siles realize that his previous conception of a deity’s “paradise” had been far too narrow. The power of a deity seemed far grander and more mysterious than he had imagined.
Then again, a farm… that actually fit the impression left on him by Akamara’s incarnation as a little girl doll. He could not help but think so.
Amidst these random thoughts, time trickled by. The cold winter weather made Siles unconsciously sleep a while longer in his warm bed. However, Akamara’s power still woke him up at the designated time.
At that moment, a very vague, half-joking thought crossed his mind: Believing in Akamara like this isn’t so bad either…
When he fully woke up, he could not help but be amused by this joke—he wondered if he had been polluted by Akamara’s power.
On the other hand, he felt that he was purely expressing yearning for Akamara’s power from the perspective of an Earthling. That was easy to understand.
Nevertheless, Siles cautiously performed a Will check on himself, receiving a evaluation from the dice: “Alright, alright, stop torturing your brain.”
Siles: “…”
…Never mind.
He got out of bed, washed up, organized his notes (he had to do this every day because his life was filled with various troubles and problems, and relying on memory alone was not enough), read books, and so on, before going to have lunch with Chendo.
“Where do you plan to go for tomorrow’s date?” Chendo asked.
Siles said, “I don’t know much about fun places in Lamifa City.” He spoke with complete honesty, “Perhaps you actually know a bit better than I do.”
Chendo laughed, speaking with a touch of banter: “Your words are truly as expected—how about the South Suburbs? I heard the food town in the South Suburbs has reopened. Perhaps it can help you break through your psychological shadow.”
Siles froze for a moment, then finally nodded. He felt this was a good idea. Moreover, the cold winter weather made him want to consume some high-calorie, high-fat food.
The matter was settled just like that.
During the meal, Siles thought of another question and asked Chendo, “By the way, Chendo, do the records of the Praia family mention whether believers ever found Tauohetia Cemetery?”
Chendo shook his head, speaking with considerable regret: “No. From my perspective, those wandering poets ultimately failed. To this day, there is no definitive news regarding Tauohetia Cemetery.”
Siles realized this, and could only let out a sigh of regret.
After finishing the meal and bidding farewell to Chendo, Siles headed to Bain Bookstore to attend the novelists’ gathering.
“Good afternoon, Professor Noel,” Ms. Antonia Carmin greeted Siles. “Last Sunday was truly snowy; I’m afraid none of us stepped foot outside.”
“Indeed,” Siles nodded.
He glanced around and found that besides the familiar trio of novelists—Antonia, Maynard, and Arvid—there was also a stern middle-aged gentleman sitting there. Siles thought his face looked somewhat familiar, and after pondering for a moment, he remembered.
Mond Goldsmith, a historical novelist. Siles had once shared a carriage with him while heading to the October Market.
However, they had not spoken at the time, and had zero interaction ever since.
Aside from that shared trip to the October Market, this was only the second time Siles had seen him appear at Bain Bookstore.
Antonia introduced very warmly, “This is probably your first time meeting. This is Siles Noel…”
“I know,” Mond nodded simply, his tone lacking intimacy but maintaining a stern, rigid politeness. “Hello, I am Mond Goldsmith.”
“Hello,” Siles said. “I have read your works before; your prose is very sincere and grounded.”
These were not empty words; Siles had indeed read Mond’s works. Or rather, the original Siles Noel had.
For the people of this world, historical novels were like another interpretation of history. The vast majority of historical novelists possessed solid foundations in historical studies, which led students in related majors to read these works from time to time.
The original body had read quite a few, and Mond Goldsmith was one of the very well-known authors among them.
Upon hearing Siles’s praise, Mond’s expression relaxed slightly, and he said with genuine sincerity, “Thank you.”
Maynard chimed in from the side, “Alright, gentlemen, no need to flatter each other back and forth. The novelists who can come here are all quite formidable; don’t underestimate yourselves, our skills are all about the same.”
Siles thought to himself that Maynard always had a knack for making sensible words sound unreasonable.
Arvid immediately smoothed things over with a couple of sentences, then asked with a bit of curiosity, “Mr. Goldsmith, what brings you here today?”
“While discussing a new book with my publisher, I learned that a portion of readers write letters to Bain Bookstore to share their thoughts on books and such,” Mond explained. “So, I came here to see if there are any reader letters written to me.”
They looked at each other in surprise.
Maynard was the first to speak: “There’s such a thing?”
Arvid also said, “I’ve never heard of it either… why would they send them to the bookstore?”
Antonia explained, “Such a habit does indeed exist. First, gatherings like ours are not completely unknown; some loyal, veteran readers know that such a gathering spot exists, so they write letters here.
“Second, this is a bookstore, after all. Many readers buy books here and want to offer suggestions or criticisms, but don’t know the address of the publisher or author, so they mail letters to the bookstore.
“Of course, I’ve never read those letters. The bookstore owner handles those mail items.”
Antonia shrugged.
“I also only heard about this situation, so I took the opportunity to drop by while I had time. I believe I have an obligation to read reader letters,” Mond said sternly. “Of course, coming away empty-handed is entirely normal as well.”
Maynard seemed to suddenly gain interest: “So, where are those letters?”
Antonia thought for a bit and said, “They should all be in that cabinet.” She pointed to a low cabinet against the wall corner on the third floor.
Maynard eagerly opened the low cabinet and retrieved a stack of letters from inside. He roughly checked the dates on the envelopes, then said, “These seem to be letters sent after the winter break; they haven’t been opened yet.”
He and Arvid sorted through the letters. Subsequently, Maynard said, “There are no letters written to us here… oh, wait, there’s a letter written to Professor Noel.”
Siles, who had been sitting quietly on the side, froze. He could not help but raise his eyes, speaking with some surprise: “Written to me?”
Maynard nodded, then handed the letter to Siles. With an air of encouragement, he said, “Please open it and take a look!”
The rest of the group also turned their gazes toward Siles.
Siles hesitated briefly before opening the letter. His mindset was very relaxed, assuming this was just an ordinary reader who had written a book review after reading his novel, The Revenge of the Rose, which they had purchased at Bain Bookstore.
Perhaps it’s a young lady, he thought. After all, The Revenge of the Rose counted as a romance novel.
However, as he actually read through the letter, an expression of profound astonishment gradually surfaced in his eyes.
“Mr. Siles Noel, I hope this letter finds you well.
“Please forgive my presumption. After finishing your work, I was overwhelmed with mixed emotions and felt compelled to write this letter. I believe this letter may never reach your hands, yet I must use this method to express my gratitude to you.
“…Mr. Ludwig. The male protagonist in your work. His past bears a resemblance to mine. It is only that no Miss Gwen ever appeared in my life to save me from my dark, gloomy existence.
“I was born in a foreign land and went to the Ashless Lands during my youth. I met a beautiful girl, and I secretly adored her; she bloomed upon my heart like a rose. But at that time, I was young and headstrong, provoking some bad people.
“…They killed her. To me, that was a bolt out of the blue. To seek revenge on me, they actually killed my beloved… what a cruel thing to do!
“I felt terribly sorry to her. Yet, I was incapable of even avenging her. I killed the men who murdered her, but I was powerless against the people behind them. I despise my own cowardly, useless self.
“For many years, I have continually wallowed in this terrible nightmare. Waking with a start at midnight, I often feel as if I can still see that young girl through the opposite window. But, ah, her life was eternally frozen at such a young, young age.
“Over these past years, I have immersed myself in literature, intending to heal my wounds this way. When I saw your work, I felt a shiver rise to my heart.
“If I were not certain that you knew nothing of my past, or were completely unaware of my existence, I would have thought you created this work using me as the prototype. No, perhaps Ludwig is my prototype, and I am merely a crude, poorly made imitation of him.
“The first half of my life was so similar to Ludwig’s; yet the second half of my life lacks even a fraction of that endured, powerful man’s strength.
“I do not dare crave for a figure like Miss Gwen to appear in my life, as if starting a new existence. I am a shadow living in the dark. Now, I only wish to avenge my ‘Miss Astrid,’ just like Ludwig.
“I have awakened as if from a dream, realizing my previous self-pity thanks to your work. I ought to do something; I must do something after all. If I cannot achieve it, then I should also sacrifice my life for my ‘rose.’
“If it is possible for you to receive this letter, then by the time you do, I will have already set off, leaving the Duchy of Konst for the Ashless Lands—the place where my beloved slumbers.
“How cold this winter is, yet this winter has ignited a fire within my heart.
“I extend to you my most sincere greetings and wishes. May your words inspire thousands upon thousands of mediocre people like me.
“Angus Keys.”
The further Siles read this letter, the more astonished he became. By the end, even his habitually calm face could no longer conceal his emotions.
Maynard asked impatiently from the side, “What’s written in the letter?”
Siles barely suppressed the storm raging in his heart, simply explaining, “It involves the privacy of a reader. After reading my novel, he was reminded of his own past life.”
“I see,” Arvid realized. “Your work must have deeply moved this reader.”
Siles remained silent. After a short pause, he suddenly asked, “Is Mr. Bain here today?”
The owner of Bain Bookstore shared the surname Bain, though he was not at the bookstore every day. He was an old man in his fifties who was said to have worked at a publishing house before transitioning to book selling. Due to his network from his publishing days, his bookstore business was quite good.
Antonia looked at Siles with a bit of doubt, then said, “He should be on the second floor.”
Siles nodded, raising the letter in his hand, and said, “Regarding this letter, I’m afraid I have to ask Mr. Bain a few questions.”
“Go ahead,” Antonia said gently.
Siles found Bain on the second floor of the bookstore.
“…Angus Keys?” Bain thought for a moment. “You mean that eccentric guy blind in one eye?”
Without waiting for Siles to reply, Bain continued, “I haven’t had much contact with him either. He used to come over once every half a month to buy books. He lived nearby, but I haven’t seen much of him recently.
“This letter was indeed left here by him. He specifically instructed me that there was no need to inform you about this letter, so as not to cause you any burden. I don’t know what he wrote in the letter, but I didn’t expect you to actually happen to find it so coincidentally.
“…So, what did he write?”
Bain asked with immense curiosity.
Siles brushed off Mr. Bain’s curiosity using the same explanation he had given earlier.
“So that’s how it is,” Bain realized with a sudden understanding. “I was thinking, I always saw him alone; he really was quite pitiable. He probably did go through some bad experiences in the past.”
Siles said in a deep voice, “Perhaps so.”
He thanked Mr. Bain, then left the second floor of the bookstore. For the moment, he was in no mood to rejoin the third-floor gathering’s conversation, so he stood at the stairwell landing, quietly gazing out at the quiet, heavy city through the window.
A real-life “Ludwig”? he thought.
He suddenly realized that this seemed to be the true reason for his further mastery of Akamara’s power.
People always remembered that Akamara’s Divine Title was related to dreams, yet forgot that She likewise commanded the power of “illusion.”
Siles’s novel created an illusory story, yet someone actually walked along this illusory path to practice their future. An illusory story had turned into a real story.
…A moment later, Siles slowly calmed down.
He thought to himself: May Angus Keys achieve his wish in the Ashless Lands.
