In the dim, shabby, dust-filled antique bookstore, a bearded middle-aged man sat lazily behind the counter, wearing a slightly worn suit and glasses, looking at a book with yellowed pages.
The wind chime hanging at the entrance rang, signaling a customer’s arrival. But the middle-aged man neither looked up nor stood, only casually saying: “Feel free to browse. Call me if you need anything.”
Then he continued burying his head in his book.
After Siles walked into the bookstore, he looked around.
This was a bookstore with a not-so-large storefront. According to the text on the doorframe, it should be called “Grenfield Antique Bookstore.” Inside were two rows of bookshelves, along with several tables crowded with many books—but none were brand new; rather, they were books imbued with the smell of old ink.
The original body’s memory contained no record of this bookstore.
Siles placed his black long-handled umbrella at the entrance and, as the owner had suggested, searched on his own for the books he wanted. He didn’t know why the sound of dice had appeared in his mind just now.
He tried conversing with the dice in his mind, seeking the dice’s presence, but gained nothing. Finally, he decided to enter this bookstore.
He first noticed how old these books were. Old didn’t necessarily mean ancient, but it absolutely meant this bookstore owner had considerable connections. According to the knowledge in his memory, after entering the Age of Mist, people had only begun using printing technology about three hundred years ago.
The Age of Mist was the era they currently lived in. And before the Age of Mist was the Age of Silence. Age of Silence literature was precisely Siles’s area of expertise.
He scanned the books in this bookstore somewhat critically and found that most were from the current era.
He didn’t really expect this shop to have ancient books from the Age of Silence, but for various reasons, he asked the consistently silent owner: “Excuse me, do you have any books related to the Age of Silence?”
Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man immediately raised his head, his gaze somewhat oddly sizing up Siles. Then he said: “Yes, I do.” He casually lifted the book in his hand. “This is one.”
Siles walked to the front of the counter, glanced down at the grayish-black stains and dust on the counter, and only asked: “May I take a look?”
The middle-aged man’s expression became even more peculiar. He muttered something, looked at this calm-faced young man with black hair and black eyes before him, hesitated, then placed the book in front of Siles.
“What should I call you?” Siles looked down at the book while asking.
“Grenfield. You can call me Gren.” Grenfield said casually. “I have to ask, why are you interested in books from the Age of Silence?”
“I research Age of Silence literature.” Siles answered.
He already understood what this book was. Not an original work of Age of Silence literature, but a contemporary scholar’s work introducing several famous works from the Age of Silence—a book similar to a reading guide.
This was somewhat basic for Siles, but for those students who would take his elective courses, it seemed like a good introductory reading. He pondered the reading list he would give those students.
Then he realized Grenfield seemed to have been silent for too long.
So he looked up at Grenfield.
The middle-aged man was looking at him with an inscrutable gaze.
Siles froze slightly, then asked: “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Was there something wrong with researching Age of Silence literature?
Grenfield stroked his brown beard, then muttered as if talking to himself: “Age of Silence… literature… hmm… no good, no good, this won’t do…”
Siles glanced at him, then looked down and turned to the book’s title: “Three Blasphemous Novels of the Age of Silence and a Brief Discussion of Their Thought.” He memorized this title.
At this time, Grenfield had already made his decision. He pulled open a drawer, took out a business card from it, and handed it to Siles: “For you.”
Siles took it and glanced down.
“Lafami Historical Society. Vice President, Joseph Morton.”
Grenfield said: “What you want, I don’t have here, but I can give you this business card.” His tone carried a suggestive meaning. “This can be considered a semi-official organization.”
Siles narrowed his eyes as the sound of dice rolling came through his mind once again.
[You need to make a Knowledge check.]
[Knowledge: 45/80, failure.]
[You failed to obtain any information from this ordinary-looking business card. You feel you should find the person on the card.]
Another check was triggered? What exactly was the mechanism for triggering checks?
In tabletop RPGs, generally speaking, players request checks from the game master; in some special situations, the game master might also proactively give players a check.
But in any case, both checks Siles had encountered so far were automatically triggered, like a rigid computer program.
What kind of scenario was he in? Who was making these checks for him?
Should he have obtained some information from this business card? But this was just a Historical Society official—what could he bring Siles? Ancient books from the Age of Silence? Documents?
While thinking, Siles thanked Grenfield.
He felt confused and wary, but the dice in his pocket remained quietly there, as if nothing had happened. Finally, Siles left this bookstore with a book title and a business card.
By now the time was approaching nine o’clock, and Siles hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. While waiting for the carriage at the Logan Market public carriage stop, he bought a small piece of bread from a nearby bakery and swallowed it with some difficulty.
He pondered in his mind that although he would be leaving the West District in another week, how he would get through this week was also a problem.
The original body was an excellent student who could obtain scholarship quotas every year, and his mother would also send living expenses each semester. However, during this period of job hunting after graduation, rent and living expenses had already depleted his savings.
The legal currency used by the Duchy of Constance, where Lafami City was located, was called “Duke Coins”—a lightweight coin smelted from precious metals. Comparing horizontally to Earth’s currency, Siles figured a Duke Coin was roughly equivalent to 100 yuan.
There were also Marquis Coins equivalent to 10 yuan, and Earl Coins equivalent to 1 yuan.
Most conversion units in this world used decimal system: 1 Duke Coin = 10 Marquis Coins = 100 Earl Coins—the conversion was quite convenient. For the Earthling He Jiayin, this was very convenient and made him breathe a huge sigh of relief.
There were also paper bills. However, paper bills had larger denominations. Commonly used were hundred-coin notes worth one hundred Duke Coins, and ten-coin notes worth ten Duke Coins.
Right now Siles had three ten-coin notes, four Duke Coins, and some Marquis and Earl Coins on him. His total savings added up to about forty Duke Coins.
The most simple and crude way to put it was that forty Duke Coins could let him live in Lafami City for forty days. But that was under stable living conditions.
He was about to start his job and needed to purchase textbooks, professorial attire, daily necessities, and also needed to prepare in advance for academic writing after taking up his position. Even if certain portions could be reimbursed by the school, one couldn’t say forty Duke Coins would be enough.
After all, salaries weren’t paid until the end of the month after the semester started. His monthly salary was fifty Duke Coins.
Siles sighed lightly in his heart and swallowed the last bite of bread worth one Earl Coin. Just then, the public carriage came along the designated track, dragging two carriages behind it.
Siles opened his pocket watch for a glance and found the time was exactly nine o’clock. He boarded the carriage together with several other passengers. There were no seats in the carriage; they could only stand like this.
The carriage advanced along the fixed track and route at a slow speed, having to stop frequently to let passengers on and off. The carriage shook violently, and unpleasant odors often wafted through, but every passenger was already used to this terrible riding experience.
After about two hours, Siles finally reached his destination—Lafami University.
Lafami University was located in the northeastern corner of all of Lafami City, very close to the suburbs. The main body was a large castle-like building.
It was said this place had indeed once been a noble’s castle, but when Lafami was being built and planning to establish a university, that noble had donated this building.
Surrounding the main castle were some other buildings, including greenhouses, sports fields, libraries, and so on. The dormitory Siles was about to move into was located in a cluster of low buildings on the west side of Lafami’s main castle.
Entering the campus, a vitality and liveliness different from the old city emanated forth.
Some students who had returned to school early, wearing Lafami University’s school robes, walked past Siles laughing and chatting, and thinking Siles was also a student, even greeted him.
Siles smiled faintly and nodded at them, not explaining this misunderstanding.
The original body had been a student at Lafami University for four years—the first two years as an ordinary literature student, the latter two years becoming a research scholar. Siles realized that his classes would likely include former underclassmen.
Moments later, he walked across the large lawn in front of the main castle and entered the interior of the castle through the main entrance hall. This ancient building, first constructed during the Age of Silence, exuded a solid, profound temperament that made Siles calm down the instant he entered.
The literary history professor’s office was on the fourth floor—a small, independent office.
In this world, this era, although universities already existed, there weren’t “science majors” like in Siles’s homeland. The vast majority of majors in universities were literature, history, philosophy, language, politics, geography, and such.
The educational system in universities was overall divided into two parts: one was basic education, and one was advanced education—four years total. The arrangement was roughly similar to undergraduate and graduate studies on Earth, but the latter still followed the old apprenticeship system.
Within the school and among teachers and students, students in advanced education were called “apprentices,” while externally they were called “research scholars”—a concept similar to graduate students on Earth, a combination of master’s and doctoral students, still needing to study under a mentor.
Siles was a new professor who also needed to take apprentices, and he didn’t have much choice. After the semester started, he would know who his assigned student was.
…He hoped it would be a student who was easier to get along with.
Besides apprentices, Siles also needed to be responsible for two public elective courses and two major elective courses within the College of Arts and History. Because his appointment was so rushed, after completing his interview yesterday afternoon, he had only roughly understood his future responsibilities.
…Honestly, this made it even more incredible that he could become a professor. Just how rushed must that previous professor’s resignation have been to require a newly graduated apprentice to become a professor within one week?
With these thoughts, Siles used his key to open the office that the previous professor had once used.
As soon as the door opened, he smelled the scent of old books. Stale air rushed into his nose along with dust, making Siles involuntarily wrinkle his brow.
He looked at the chaotic scene in this office, and after a moment, let out a slight sigh.
Books and papers were scattered haphazardly throughout this room of more than ten square meters. Ink had been knocked over, and the feathers of quill pens were tattered. The desk and chair had fallen over, and books and items from the bookshelf had also fallen messily to the floor.
The sofa was covered with crumpled paper balls and shredded paper, displaying complete disarray.
Just how rushed and anxious had the previous owner of this office been when leaving?
For a moment, Siles didn’t know whether he should walk in.
“Siles, aha! I knew you’d come today!” An aged but vigorous voice came from the distant stairway at the other end of the fourth-floor corridor.
Siles turned his head to look, then smiled: “Professor Bright.”
