Professor Manning began chatting with Miss Louisa as if he knew her well. From the conversation, he seemed to know Miss Louisa's father:
"That fountain pen? I remember it. A friend introduced me to an old writer who lived two streets away, and I bought it from him. The writer was in very poor health at the time—dark circles under his eyes, unfocused, as though he had severe myasthenia gravis."
The professor sat in the chair behind his desk, his hands clasped together as he spoke.
Behind him stood an entire wall of bookshelves, but the books were not arranged neatly. Some even had slips of paper tucked inside, fluttering in the breeze from the window.
But Shade liked this style of decoration.
Miss Louisa glanced at Shade. The professor's description of the old writer made it obvious that the man had been drained dry by his obsession with the fountain pen. Perhaps before dying, he had finally resolved to sell the pen and distance himself from those temptations, but unfortunately, it had already been too late.
Fortunately, Professor Manning looked full of vigor. He had probably never used that fountain pen and had merely kept it as a collectible.
"Yes, this time I came specifically to buy that fountain pen from you. To be honest, the old writer you mentioned was my friend. He passed away two months ago."
Miss Louisa put on a regretful expression, and Shade followed her example by setting down his teacup.
"That fountain pen can probably be considered a relic. I was also an old friend of that writer, and I want to buy it back. You may name your price. As long as it is reasonable, I can accept it."
The professor considered it.
"If it is a friend's relic, then of course