SOP CH26: Tales of the Spades

On the verge of death, Madam Spades’s memories drifted back to the past—

In 1805, Everday Hamlet.

This was a small village situated on a high slope. The summer days were exceptionally long, leading people to call it the “Place Where Sunlight Remains Eternal.” Thatched cottages were scattered about, accompanied by a small, timeworn church. Lush green grass flourished, and a shimmering river flowed below the slope, picturesque and serene.

To the east of the hamlet stood a stone-built farmhouse where the bitter aroma of herbs—angelica root, sulfur, leeches, and toad skins—lingered year-round. This was the Spades family cottage. Old Man Spades had once been an apothecary beloved by the villagers, often treating minor ailments like boils and common colds. Yet this kind-hearted and skilled apothecary had been taken by the Grim Reaper several years ago, an event that left the villagers sighing in sorrow.

Old Spades left behind a daughter named Morana. Her hair resembled freshly sun-dried flaxen thread, gleaming golden in the sunlight. She possessed amber eyes, an upturned nose, and wore an old cotton dress often stained with various herbal tinctures.

Morana lost her mother at a young age and was raised by her grandmother. However, good times did not last; her grandmother too was soon plagued by illness. Morana taught herself from the pharmacopeia her father left behind, mastering medicinal formulas and preparation methods with extraordinary intelligence. To make a living, she extracted tinctures and quinine to relieve pain and cure malaria for the villagers. The villagers pitied this frail yet resilient girl. Though still young, her face was already etched with hardship, the corners of her mouth often pressed tight, revealing a line of unwavering determination.

During the day, Morana was endlessly busy grinding cinchona bark and soaking powder in ethanol. When she finally managed to carve out a moment of free time, she would join the children to fly kites.

Her kite was crafted by her grandmother, its frame made of reed stalks, pasted with cotton paper and painted with Alba rose patterns. Back then, her grandmother had not yet been defeated by illness, her deft hands moving nimbly. But as time flowed on and her grandmother fell ill, the kite became battered and torn. Morana had patched it with linen and oiled paper countless times, even attaching a small medicine vial to maintain its balance.

On this day, Morana grabbed her kite, ran out the door, and sprinted toward the open meadow at the edge of the village.

In the meadow, she ran into her friend Daisy. Daisy exclaimed excitedly, “Morana, why are you cooped up in your room all day? We haven’t seen you in ages!”

Morana’s stern expression softened slightly: “I’m testing a medicinal formula.”

“What formula are you testing? For colds or sore throats?”

A mature smile, ill-suited for a child, appeared on Morana’s face:

“A formula for eternal life.”

The kite flew up erratically into the sky, then caught the wind and soared. She loved watching the kite fly high in the heavens, resembling a bird freed from all shackles, unbound by the earth and gravity, untangled by death and destiny. In this year, Morana was thirteen years old, completely ignorant of the trajectory her future would take.

Though buried in pharmaceutical research, her interest in it was merely lukewarm. She had seen many emaciated patients ingest various concoctions, only to succumb to the Grim Reaper in the end, passing away miserably. Because of this, she began to doubt the profession she and her father practiced. Whenever she saw her grandmother coughing incessantly on her bed, a single thought took root ever deeper in her mind:

“The key to the formula for eternal life might not lie within medicine at all.”

While Morana was lost in thought, a sudden cry of alarm rang out beside her.

“Morana, your kite—”

Snapping back to reality, Morana saw that her kite had somehow gotten snagged on an oak tree. The oak was incredibly tall, pointing straight up toward the sky.

This was a treasure handcrafted for her by her grandmother. Burning with anxiety, Morana circled the oak tree with Daisy. However, the branch snagging the kite was simply too high; it was nearly impossible for a child to climb up to it.

“What should we do? How about I go fetch an adult from home?”

Daisy furrowed her brows. Morana shook her head. “That’s too much trouble for them; they should be busy in the wheat fields during the day.”

At that moment, Daisy suddenly tugged her sleeve and called out, “There’s an adult over there. Let’s ask her for help.”

Turning her head at the sound, Morana saw a woman standing in the shadows of the distant woods. The woman was dressed strangely in a solid black bustle skirt and a black veil, from behind which two sharp gazes seemed to shoot out, staring fixedly at the two girls. She looked like a widow in mourning, cold and gloomy. Morana couldn’t help but shiver, saying, “N-no need. I can see the lady is wearing a skirt, so climbing a tree wouldn’t be convenient for her.”

“If only a strong gust of wind would suddenly blow and knock the kite down,” Daisy said, running toward the hamlet. “Wait here a moment, I’ll go find someone else to help!”

Morana wanted to call her back, but Daisy ran like the wind, disappearing from sight in the blink of an eye. Looking back again, the woman in the woods had vanished as well. Morana felt a chill creep over her: could that have been a ghost?

Before Daisy could return, the sky grew increasingly gloomy, leaden clouds piling up overhead. The wind picked up first, charging around wildly like a feral dog. Suddenly, a flash of bright light slashed down from the horizon, turning the entire world white, withered grass and dead leaves trembling within it. A thunderstorm had arrived.

Morana grunted and pulled hard on the kite string, but to no avail. Daisy would likely be stopped by the adults, prevented from going out in such stormy weather, and wouldn’t be able to return here anytime soon. If Morana didn’t put in more effort now, the kite would be destroyed in the torrential rain.

Raindrops began to fall, and the kite fluttered loudly in the wind, like a small flag about to fall apart. Her hair was plastered to her forehead by the rain, her face stinging from the whipping wind. Suddenly, a deafening thunderclap cracked overhead. Frightened, Morana fell backward, landing awkwardly in the muddy water.

Perhaps yanked by this force, the kite broke free from the branch, soaring through the downpour. Suddenly, the sky seemed to tear open as a bolt of white lightning struck down, hitting the kite directly.

In that instant, Morana felt her body suddenly disobey her commands, her limbs contorting violently as if suddenly twisted into an iron knot. She lost consciousness. An unknown amount of time passed before she regained awareness, her entire body aching. She realized she had been struck by lightning. Fortunately, the end of the kite string had been replaced with a silk rope for better grip. Because it had been held tightly in her palm and remained somewhat dry, it insulated part of the electricity, sparing her life by a hair’s breadth.

Dragging her feet over, Morana found the kite completely ruined, while the small vial attached to it flickered with a faint luminescence.

“What is… this?”

After hesitating several times, Morana finally reached out and touched the small vial. Inside was a marvelous substance, glowing faintly like solidified smoke, yet resembling flowing glass. The moment she neared it, Morana felt as if time had frozen, a single second seemingly stretching into countless centuries.

Suddenly, she recalled an ancient legend mentioned in her father’s collection of books: “‘Aether’ is the ethereal essence permeating the universe, holy and eternal.”

Holding the small vial, Morana trembled all over, looking up at the firmament. The sky was like spilled ink, the figures of deities obscured from view. Yet in that moment, she believed this was a gift bestowed upon her by the gods.

She had discovered “eternity.”

An old woman long plagued by illness was suddenly cured; this was earth-shattering news in Everday Hamlet.

Villagers poured into Morana’s farmhouse, watching her grandmother repeatedly swing a flail on the flagstone floor to thresh harvested wheat sheaves. With a ruddy complexion and nimble movements, the villagers couldn’t help but click their tongues in sheer amazement.

“Morana, what exactly did you use to cure your grandmother?” people asked curiously.

Morana was unwilling to conceal a gift from the gods, for that would be blasphemy. She announced the discovery of that night to the public, speaking with excitement: “God granted me ‘aether.’ I added it to the medicine and saved my grandmother’s life!”

Morana’s medicine became a highly sought-after commodity in villages far and wide. A kite-flying craze swept through the populace, people waiting bitterly for thunderstorm days to arrive, yet few made a discovery like hers. The “aether” in the small vial seemed meager in quantity, yet appeared inexhaustible. People called it a “miracle” and practically worshipped her. Finally, one day, a gleaming ebony carriage rolled over the muddy roads and halted outside her farmhouse.

An old manservant wearing a dark wool uniform, his hair neatly combed with pomade, stepped out of the carriage and addressed her respectfully:

“Miss Spades, the Lord heard that you have received a ‘miracle’ and wishes to invite you to his manor for a conversation.”

Morana moved into the Lord’s manor.

The Lord had taken a fancy to the “aether” she discovered and recognized her talent for applying it to medicine. Thus, Morana and her grandmother took up residence in the manor. They donned neat cotton dresses, had servants attend to their daily needs, and everyone bowed respectfully to them. Morana was given a garden cottage to store various raw materials, where she could conduct her research on “aether” to her heart’s content.

The Lord was a gaunt man with prominent cheekbones, who often wore fine velvet tailcoats. Morana had once shared afternoon tea with him, asking why he chose to sponsor her. The Lord smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes shifting genially: “With Miss Spades’s discovery, supplemented by my resources, we can acquire ‘aether’ using massive manpower, producing more medicine so that tens of thousands of patients may find salvation.”

Morana felt comforted; if the power of a “miracle” could be used for a righteous cause, she would be completely satisfied.

From then on, she devoted herself entirely to pharmaceutical research in the garden cottage, ignoring the outside world. As months and years passed, she gradually discovered that “aether” might not be a substance that cured diseases, but rather an even more profoundly mysterious existence. More accurately, it was akin to the “physical substance of time.” Her grandmother’s illness would still emerge as time progressed, but “aether” could delay the onset of the disease. She tried touching the “aether” directly. The moment of contact brought a torrent of visions rushing into her mind, fragments of countless moments in time.

She informed the Lord of this discovery. Hearing it, the Lord was ecstatic, grasping her hands tightly:

“Miss Spades, this is an epoch-making discovery! ‘Aether’ is a gift bestowed upon us by the heavens, and you are the divine messenger here to enlighten us! This means that in the future, we shall be able to master time, rectifying the mistakes left in history and granting grace to all living beings.”

Moved by his sincerity, Morana squeezed his hands back tightly. “If I can add even a fraction of assistance to your cause, I would be immensely honored.”

Time flew by like a shuttle. Half a year had unwittingly passed in the Lord’s manor. Morana studied ancient texts and prepared potions, her skills growing ever more refined. One day, as she was about to take a carriage out of the manor to select Indian pepper and turmeric, she saw many villagers in tattered clothes lounging or lying outside the hedgerow, their eyes devoid of life.

Among them were faces she recognized. Morana hurriedly called the carriage to a halt. Just as she was about to step down, she saw the group of villagers dragging their weakened steps, surging forward like an angry tide.

Countless pebbles rained down, striking the glass windows as the villagers shouted: “Bloodsucking leech, give us back our children!”

Morana was completely baffled. Waiting until the hail of stones momentarily paused, she carefully opened the shattered window and called out: “Everyone, please calm down! What happened? It’s me, Morana. What’s wrong with you all?”

The furious villagers fell silent for a moment, looking at each other: “Morana?”

In the next second, the name ignited an even fiercer protest. People spoke all at once, cursing her with foul language. A tenant farmer, his face like half-century-old weather-beaten tree bark, cried out with tears streaming down his cheeks: “Oh, Morana, look at what you’ve done! You live in the Lord’s manor now, completely ignorant of the suffering outside!”

A peasant woman with bloodshot eyes cried: “The Lord is collecting a ‘lifespan tax’ from us now. He gathered a group of mechanics and, using the ‘aether’ you discovered, built a massive machine to extract human life. Each of us has to pay him three months of lifespan every year as tribute. If anyone disobeys, he sends guards to forcefully take away the children in their home. W-We have nowhere left to turn now!”

“Because the elderly in the village are dying one by one due to the ‘lifespan tax,’ the village’s population is plummeting. Morana, look at your hometown! It has become a desolate wasteland!”

Like a kicked anthill, the crowd swarmed aggressively around the carriage. Her face pale, Morana shook her head desperately. “I… this was never my intention. All this time, to cure everyone’s illnesses, I’ve been working desperately to develop medicine using ‘aether.’ Once I can create the ‘Water of Life,’ any disease can be cured…”

“What use is medicine? Morana, you are a demon, bringing us nothing but calamity!”

Suddenly, a furious roar erupted from the crowd, piercing Morana’s heart like a sharp sword.

She could no longer remember exactly how this farce ended. The chaotic silhouettes, the flying gravel, and the hurriedly arriving guards all blurred into a hazy gray mass before her eyes. When she returned to the manor under the guards’ protection, the Lord was standing in the grand hall, smiling amiably. Seeing that face sent shivers down Morana’s spine.

“My Lord, why did you do this?” Unable to hold back any longer, she roared at him. “Why use ‘aether’ to collect a ‘lifespan tax’ from the people?”

The Lord did not answer, merely ordering the guards to escort her toward her room. They paused before a glass window. Through the glass, busy servants could be seen walking about in the room. Among them, an old woman wearing reading glasses was carefully sewing a coat; it was Morana’s grandmother. A servant locked eyes with the Lord, walked coldly behind the old woman, holding scissors with the sharp tips hovering right above her head. That was the Lord’s spy, and her grandmother had become a hostage used to threaten her.

In an instant, Morana’s heart leaped into her throat.

Smiling genially, the Lord placed a hand on her shoulder, bringing a heavy, oppressive weight:

“Miss Spades, your discovery is world-shaking, but transforming it into results still requires unremitting effort. I feel deep sorrow for the villagers’ hardships, but to change the world, we must inevitably make some sacrifices.”

“You will continue working for me, won’t you, Miss Spades?”

The world before her eyes seemed to turn gray. Like a waterlogged sponge, Morana’s head nodded heavily downward.

In 1806, Britain was in the midst of the Industrial Revolution. At this time, the black smoke from factory steam engines licked the skies of Sheffield, while Tory and Whig debates in Parliament over strategies for the war against France still raged red in the face. Yet a sapling destined to change the world was taking root in the remote Everday Hamlet.

Someone had discovered “aether,” capable of granting eternity. This epoch-making discovery shook the world. Top scientists and mechanics gathered in Birmingham, utilizing “aether” as a power source and combining it with high-pressure steam engines to create machines capable of interfering with time. Thus, the course of history was thrown into turbulent waves by layers of compounding ripples.

The “precognitive” results of the time machine rippled through all classes of society. Academies attempted to monopolize the time machines, but the world had long known of aether’s miraculous effects. People everywhere began acquiring aether on their own; fields were filled with kite-flyers, and precognitions from time machines became wildly prevalent across society.

A duchess, learning that her diamond necklace would be stolen six months later and turn up around her maid’s neck, decisively threw the maid into Newgate Prison. Little did she expect that this very imprisonment would cause the maid, upon release six months later, to collude with thieves in desperation and actually steal the necklace.

Some Members of the House of Commons learned the outcome of a future vote via time machines, knowing the Parochial Schools Bill would pass by a three-vote margin. The proponents then frantically wooed those three swing voters, but when the three stood before the ballot box, resenting having their actions “foretold,” they abruptly cast opposing votes, completely tanking a proposal that had been poised to pass.

The docks fell into total chaos. The luxury merchant vessels Britannia and Ganges, along with dozens of other ships, collided with each other. The reason was that the East India Company and shipowners had dispatched men to gather intel from time machines regarding the future, choosing the optimal route to avoid storms. As a result, all the ships crowded into the exact same “safe channel,” smashing each other to splinters.

At first, textile mill owners in Manchester were ecstatic about the invention. Obtaining the contents of next month’s Guardian in advance, they jotted down the market price of cotton, making a killing by buying low and selling high. But barely three months later, the market descended into absolute madness: everyone knew the future prices, so no one was willing to trade at current prices. Warehouses overflowed with mountains of cotton cloth, yet not a single merchant was willing to place a bid. Hordes of unemployed workers took to the streets, freezing and starving to death.

When Parliament finally enacted the Time Jump Technology Control Act, no one cared anymore. The market had collapsed, faith had shattered, and even the flow of the River Thames began fluctuating erratically—some said it was because too many people used time machines to travel back and dam the river upstream, hoping to bring the flood season to their drought-stricken manors early, resulting in the timeline of the entire river being twisted into a tangled mess.

In the alleys of London in 1806, a young girl in a black dress wearing a black veil watched the crowds in silence.

She saw long lines forming outside churches, emaciated people hoping to receive a meager portion of bread or potatoes to fill their bellies. Masses of refugees headed toward workhouses, while even more huddled on the streets, inadequately clothed, clutching chipped tin cans to their chests, waiting for passersby to drop a coin inside.

Morana gripped her cuffs tightly. A storm of shock and turmoil raged in her heart, impossible to calm. She knew this was the bitter fruit she had planted with her own hands, the colossal mistake she had forged. As early as that stormy night, when she picked up the small vial containing “aether,” she had already opened Pandora’s box.

Humanity did not yet possess the capacity to harness time. “Aether” allowed people to ascend to the ranks of deities, yet plunged the world into hell. Morana took a deep breath and turned away. She had a stash of aether hidden in her residence, and using the Lord’s resources, she had stolen the blueprints for the time machine. She had to figure out a way to resolve this absurd situation.

Right at that moment, footsteps echoed in the dark alley.

“Hello, Ms. Morana Spades.”

An exaggerated, deliberate voice rang out. Morana looked toward the sound, seeing a figure emerge from the alley’s shadows. The person wore a beak mask, dressed like a plague doctor, draped in a black cloak, and holding a short cane inlaid with a pocket watch. The man’s gait was peculiar, like a marionette on a stage.

“Who are you?”

“Pardon my rudeness for failing to announce my name,” the man bowed with theatrical flair. “I am called ‘Raven’.”

It was a strange name, certainly not a real one. Morana’s heart fluttered wildly like a netted sparrow. She asked: “What is your business here?”

“I have no tasks to trouble you with,” the man said. “Miss Spades, did you know? Because of your discovery of ‘aether,’ the world in the future will merge into one, and the boundaries between past, present, and future will cease to exist. The Time Entropy Group was established, seizing the authority to manipulate time. However, in the future, the Group observed that today, in 1806, you harbor thoughts of destroying both ‘aether’ and the time machine. To ensure your thoughts do not become reality, I have come to this place.”

Morana did not fully understand his words, yet she trembled instinctively. The person before her reeked of heavy bloodlust, like a killer seasoned by a hundred battles. She asked with a trembling voice:

“Who… exactly are you?”

Suddenly, Raven’s cloak billowed in the wind like a black sail. In a mere split second, Morana felt a sharp, tearing pain. Looking down, she saw a silver sword pierced straight through her heart.

It was a blade drawn from the short cane. Raven sheathed his sword elegantly; blood sprayed out, yet not a single drop stained him.

“I am a guardian of the temporal order. To use the language of the future, I would roughly be called a ‘time cleaner.’ It is my profound honor to take your life.”

The man spoke. Morana collapsed, still caught in the blank void of shock. Darkness swept over her, enveloping her like a nightmare. Through her fading vision, she saw the man take a step back, his voice carrying a smile.

“Farewell, the young lady who turned the world upside down.”