Siles carefully examined the specific content of this manuscript, discerning relevant information from the scrawled, mad, and fearful handwriting.
Then he realized this seemed to be reading notes.
Of course, these reading notes weren’t so formal, with no excerpts or reflections. It was more like Professor Cabel had casually written down some thoughts while reading.
The entire sheet was about the size of four palms, with content roughly divided into four sections.
In the upper left corner, Professor Cabel had written several doubts: “Is the content of this book true or false?” “Unknown origin…” “If it’s true, then surely…” “Damn! Damn! How is this possible!”
This content had no real substance but perfectly reflected Professor Cabel’s nervousness, fear, and unease while reading.
He had obtained a book of unknown origin whose content shocked him greatly, even shaking some… long-held belief.
In the lower left corner, Professor Cabel repeatedly wrote several words: “Shadow,” “Madness,” “Silence.” “Shadow”, “Shadow”, “Madness”, “Madness”, “Silence”, “Silence”.
There was also a word secretly written in the corner: “Slaughter.”
Siles stared at the word “slaughter” for a while.
In the upper right corner, Professor Cabel seemed to have excerpted a passage… like a monologue in short sentences. Several words were blacked out, and several characters were written too carelessly and messily for Siles to even recognize.
“I don’t believe (blacked-out writing) will die.
“Deities should forever dwell above (illegible writing).
“Believers should forever prostrate before Them.
“There must be something we don’t know.
“…There is something (blacked-out writing), always silent in the darkness…”
Siles quietly gazed at those few lines, countless possibilities flashing through his mind in an instant.
This passage—whether it was an excerpt or Cabel’s own words was unclear—gave Siles a subtle sense of dissonance. He didn’t know where that sense of dissonance came from.
Suddenly, a notification sounded.
[Spirituality +1.]
…Spirituality?
Siles took a light breath.
Just by looking at this vague text, this manuscript with messy handwriting, his spirituality had directly increased by one point?
Before this, when he left that room at the Historical Society, a notification had also sounded in his mind, telling him both his spirituality and knowledge had increased by one point. That was normal—after all, he had just obtained information related to Revelators.
That was the first time hearing about such things; very likely it wouldn’t increase so quickly afterward.
But now, just by looking at this manuscript, his spirituality increased by one point?
In the type of tabletop games Siles played, spirituality often related to deities. To explain it more colloquially, the higher the spirituality, the higher the possibility of encountering supernatural events—the easier it is to “see ghosts.”
He didn’t know if this world had ghosts, but higher spirituality made one more likely to discover anomalies and encounter dangers.
He had gained two spirituality points in just one day.
Siles felt his future was uncertain.
He couldn’t help but look up at the motionless dice on the desk, his mood increasingly complex.
He looked down again at the last part of this manuscript—the lower right corner. There was an eye symbol, but over this eye symbol, an X had been drawn, and the two vertical lines were painted quite thickly.
…Did this symbol represent Antinam? Then what did this X mean? Was it disdain for Antinam, or…?
As Siles’s imagination ran wild, his spirituality increased by another point.
Siles immediately closed his eyes. Although his expression remained calm, this manuscript with not much information had caused him to gain two spirituality points—a real loss.
If only there were a Keeper to tell him why his spirituality was increasing, that would be better. However, that irresponsible Keeper of his completely ignored him.
What was making his checks? What was notifying him of attribute point increases? Siles knew nothing.
After a moment, he took a deep breath. Without opening his eyes, he fumbled to cover this manuscript with other papers, set it aside, then opened his eyes.
He had gained two spirituality points. Although he hadn’t obtained any information, besides this manuscript, he actually had a lead—what book had Professor Cabel read? Why had he suddenly submitted his resignation? Why had his teaching assistant mysteriously disappeared?
…Could that book be a temporal trace? Could something have happened to both of them?
Siles felt this was tricky and dangerous. That messy office seemed to still hide many secrets.
He realized that on Earth, researching past history might be safe, but in this world, possessing the power to reenact past events meant the past itself was dangerous.
He stood up, went to the window, and looked at the rain and night beyond the blurred glass, gradually calming down. He thought that, in any case, this matter required a much longer investigation process.
For now, he ultimately still had to focus on his lesson preparation work.
Siles stood for a while, feeling he had finally completely calmed down, then sat back at the desk. He placed that manuscript—which temporarily had no research value and which he dared not research—at the very bottom of the drawer, then began reviewing Professor Cabel’s lesson plans.
As night deepened, Siles organized the general framework and course outline for the Age of Silence literary theory and also compiled a rough reading list. The reference sources were the reading list Professor Bright had once given him and the old book he had browsed in the antique bookstore this morning.
Of course, he prudently chose contemporary works, not having students read literary works from before the Age of Mist. He didn’t know if any students possessed Revelator qualifications.
When he finally put down his pen, Siles exhaled with slight relief. He noticed the inkwell was almost out of ink, so he mentally added an item to tomorrow’s shopping list.
He stopped working, tidied up all the materials and papers on the desk, then turned off the wall lamp. After resting with his eyes closed for a moment, he got up, planning to wash up and rest.
At this time, he heard footsteps in the corridor outside. He wondered—had that folklorist returned, or had that couple who left early and returned late come back?
He didn’t hear the sound of a door opening or closing, so he figured it might be tenants from upstairs. He thought no more of it and went to the washroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He thought flush toilets truly were one of the symbols of civilizational progress.
Soon, Siles fell asleep to the sound of pattering rain. The next morning, he still woke up quite early.
He lay in bed for a moment, spending some effort reviewing yesterday’s events and today’s tasks, then slowly got up, washed, changed clothes, and went out.
Outside was still a gloomy rainy day. The wind had picked up, and dark clouds covered the sky—it seemed a downpour was about to fall.
Siles prudently brought his umbrella and everything else he should bring. In the first-floor entrance hall, he again encountered Mrs. Fenn. This time, Mrs. Fenn’s worry and annoyance were displayed almost undisguised on her face.
She absentmindedly dealt with Siles’s greeting.
Siles said: “I’m planning to go to Logan Market. May I use your kitchen later?”
“What? Oh… oh, of course you may, Mr. Noel. Just remember to clean up.” Mrs. Fenn said. “Men always have such difficulty showing their skills in the kitchen.”
She said this with a hint of displaced anger.
Siles looked at Mrs. Fenn, thinking—had something happened to her husband, or had something happened to her son?
Mrs. Fenn’s husband, Mr. Fenn, was a merchant who traveled between Lafami City and the Ashless Lands, apparently dealing in expensive furs—this was something Mrs. Fenn had said with a somewhat boastful tone.
He was away from home year-round, always returning to Lafami City when the rainy season was about to end. Since it was already late July, Mr. Fenn was probably about to come home.
…Since Mr. Fenn wasn’t home, then what was making Mrs. Fenn so anxious at this moment was most likely her son.
That young boy…
Siles’s mind turned with some thoughts, but he didn’t ask unnecessarily. He only nodded politely, then left 13 Milford Street. Walking from Milford Street to Logan Market took about ten minutes.
Along the way, Siles finally had the mind to observe his surroundings.
Milford Street was located in a relatively lively area of Lafami’s West District. The street was always bustling with people, most of whom wore expressions of hurried exhaustion. Carriages drove past pedestrians, occasionally transmitting sounds of conversation or commotion.
There were sewers here, water pipes, flush toilets, shops, and windows. Compared to some other places in the West District, this neighborhood was relatively advanced, though it couldn’t compare to the East District.
Most buildings in this neighborhood were three or four stories high, with brownish-red brick walls that were somewhat peeling. Street greenery was rare, and most doorways faced directly onto the street.
Soon, Siles arrived at Logan Market.
He saw Grenfield Antique Bookstore again, but perhaps because it was earlier today, Siles found the bookstore hadn’t opened yet. He had originally planned to visit that kind shop owner along the way, but now he could only go to the market first.
Logan Market was a large commercial center—not only a farmers market but also a daily necessities mall.
Siles first returned the goat milk glass bottle, then bought ink and paper, some cardboard boxes for packing luggage, and several long loaves of bread that could be stored longer, as well as jam, cheese, and such things.
Then he went to the farmers’ market to buy some vegetables.
He planned to cook some hot soup—honestly, don’t challenge his cooking skills. Being able to cook some soup and broth to eat with bread was already a decent meal.
Nothing more than hotpot with white bread. A strange but filling combination.
Since he planned to cook something like hotpot, he had to buy suitable soup base and seasonings. Siles saw a spice shop at the corner of the road and walked over.
He paused at the spice shop entrance and found that there was an advertising board promoting barbecue seasonings, MSG, sauces, and such things that seemed to be selling quite well—there were many people inside shopping.
Siles looked at these advertisements with interest, comparing them to corresponding seasonings on Earth. He found that this world and Earth were still somewhat similar in certain aspects.
When he walked into the shop, he found the shoppers were all plainly dressed women over thirty years old. They cast curious glances at Siles arriving at this place, then focused on queuing.
Siles found that most customers were queuing for MSG. He was quite curious about the taste of otherworldly monosodium glutamate, so he also joined the end of the line. Unfortunately, he couldn’t buy any because MSG was selling too well and was directly out of stock.
Siles heard the clerk shouting: “Liquid beef is out of stock! Out of stock! Come back tomorrow! Come back tomorrow!”
This term “liquid beef” left Siles somewhat taken aback.
After listening to what others said, he learned it was now popular to put MSG directly into broth to cook, which could produce a savory taste similar to beef, so MSG had the alternative name “liquid beef.”
…Supposedly, MSG was indeed originally made using beef.
Siles couldn’t help but show a complex expression.
He suddenly thought—if he could reproduce some seasonings from Earth, could that be a way to make money? Or could he also sell some recipes?
Thinking about this, he absentmindedly bought some sauce and soup base, then left.
After that, he went to buy some vegetables and meat. The lively sounds around him also lifted his mood somewhat. No matter what world, farmers’ markets were always so noisy, full of human vitality.
As he was leaving, he heard people arguing in front of a newly opened butcher shop. It seemed this shop had just opened with quite cheap prices, drawing the dissatisfaction of other butcher shop owners.
Siles stopped to listen for a while, then looked up at this new butcher shop’s name—Grayson. He thought that if it was really cheap, next time he could also come here to buy meat.
Then he left Logan Market.
He had bought a pile of things, spending nearly three Duke Coins, with the most expensive being the packing boxes and vegetables.
From a distance, he saw that Grenfield Antique Bookstore had already opened for business. He looked down at the large pile of things in his hands. After hesitating for a moment, he ultimately went back first, hurriedly breaking off a small piece of bread for breakfast.
Then he went out again, heading to visit that mysterious Grenfield.
