Saint Byrens Comprehensive College

Because he was sleeping in an unfamiliar place, Shade woke very early the next morning. Feeling for the pocket watch by the bed and seeing it was half past six, he thought of going downstairs to see whether a newspaper had been delivered. He knew that people in Tobesk City generally had subscriptions to newspapers.

The previous Detective could be considered middle class no matter how one looked at it, and his work required him to read newspapers to keep up with the news. Therefore, it was indeed possible that Shade would inherit the newspapers from before.

Wearing slippers, he went down the stairs to the 1st Floor foyer. He curiously looked towards the sealed-off 1st Floor, thinking that when he had time, he could pry off a Wooden Board and look inside.

He turned on the Gas Lamp in the foyer. Unfortunately, there was no newspaper pushed through the mail slot onto the doormat.

He shook his head regretfully, intending to change clothes and go out for breakfast. But just as his slipper touched the first stair, he unexpectedly heard the sound of a bell.

There was a door pull outside this apartment building. When pulled, the rope would move the gears inside the door and ring a bell on the inner side, serving as a simple doorbell.

"Has the newspaper deliveryman come? No, why would the deliveryman knock? Could it be time to pay next month's newspaper subscription?"

With his meager savings, Shade thought in some alarm. He calculated the money he had left and uneasily turned to look at the front door. No matter who was outside, he could not possibly know them. It was unlikely they had come to collect money; they had most likely come looking for the previous owner of this place.

"Perhaps a new client?"

In a worse scenario, perhaps the landlord had come to collect rent.

There was no peephole or anything of the sort in the door, so Shade could only walk over and, after translating with the language knowledge he had gained yesterday, ask:

"May I ask who it is?"

An answer immediately came from outside. It was a familiar voice:

"Is this the Hamilton Detective Agency? I'm Bill Schneider. Do you remember me? The psychologist from yesterday. We exchanged business cards outside the newspaper office opposite the Nightingale Club."

On this fog-shrouded morning, one of the few people in this world whose name Shade knew had Come Here to visit him.

Not expecting the Visitor to be Doctor Schneider, Shade stood behind the door, unsure whether he should open it. His brief hesitation alone was enough for the psychologist outside to understand the Detective's wariness:

"Mr. Hamilton, don't overthink it. Though it is strange to visit at this hour, I mean no harm. Time is short, so please look at this first."

As he spoke, the man outside slipped a sheet of paper through the newspaper slot.

"Do you remember what I said yesterday? Adult education, correspondence courses. Detective, you possess a very special talent."

Shade bent down to pick up the paper, then raised the brightness of the foyer's Gas Lamp slightly. In its light, he saw that it was an admissions brochure.

"Hm?"

He suspected his eyes were playing tricks on him, or that he had not fully woken up yet.

The sheet in his In Hand was roughly the size of A4 paper, its silver border outlining the shape of a rolled parchment scroll. It was an admissions promotional document from an institution of higher learning called "Saint Byrens Comprehensive College." Other than the school emblem at the top, shaped like "a book bound in chains," there were not many patterns. Most of the page was filled with printed text.

Saint Byrens Comprehensive College was not recruiting ordinary students. They were recruiting adult students for "correspondence courses."

Aside from that, the paper listed the college's ten departments, tuition fees, enrollment dates, academic year system, admissions requirements and restrictions, and the recommended application process. At least in those respects, it was merely an ordinary school.

"But why isn't there an address for the school?"

Shade only asked after a long while, then was surprised that he had not asked whether the man had a mental illness. He had come early in the morning to give an admissions document to a stranger.

"Your observation is sharp."

The psychologist outside praised him, then asked:

"Then could you at least let me come inside to talk? Perhaps I can answer your questions about the Another Me in your head."

The voice in his mind did not appear upon being mentioned. Shade, inside the door, opened his mouth, but ultimately opened it.

The middle-aged doctor carried a briefcase and stood on the steps in a brown overcoat and a silk cap, with somewhat thick black boots on his feet. His neatly groomed mustache was as impeccable as before, and his blue eyes made him seem very likable:

"Don't forget your milk."

He pointed at the milk box to the left of the door. His accent was standard, and he was probably a local of Tobesk City:

"When I arrived Just Now, the milkman had only just left."

"Alright, come in."

Shade nodded hesitantly, sizing up the doctor while trying to put on a friendly expression himself. He picked up the key from the shoe cabinet to unlock the milk box, and the psychologist only followed him through the apartment door after Shade had retrieved the milk bottle.

The doctor was equally surprised by the sealed-off part of the 1st Floor, but did not say much. Instead, he and the silent Shade went up the stairs to Room 1 on the 2nd Floor.

After asking the doctor to wait for a moment, Shade returned to the bedroom to change clothes, then boiled water for his guest. Although there was no food at all in the kitchen, there was at least black tea for entertaining Detective case clients. Otherwise, Shade could only have served plain boiled water.

Once everything had been tidied up, the two finally sat down to talk.

The Living Room's upholstered sofa set looked quite old-fashioned, though Shade did not know whether it was antique. Two long sofas and two short ones surrounded a wooden Tea Table on all four sides, making it well suited for discussing business with clients.

The doctor and Shade sat on the Long Sofas facing each other.

"There is no need for introductions. First, I need to make you trust me."

Doctor Schneider, the psychologist with the small mustache, spoke first. Smiling, he thanked Shade for the black tea:

"I truly came here because of the college brochure I gave you Just Now. First, let me describe your current symptoms—"

"Wait a moment. What do symptoms have to do with a school?"

Shade asked, though he already had a guess In Heart. He was not a local and had seen those mad fantasies, making him more adaptable to this sort of situation. The Saint Byrens Comprehensive College the man mentioned was probably the same kind of school as Hogwarts.

"Of course they are related. Please listen to me. Mr. Shade Hamilton, can you hear another voice in your head?"

Though Shade tried hard to control his expression, he could see from the smile on Mr. Schneider's face across from him that he had failed.

The doctor added:

"Does that voice say strange and incomprehensible things? And are some of its words helpful to you? It whispers in your ear and suddenly speaks when you least expect it, yet it bears you no ill will."

Shade knew he could not hide it, so he nodded.

"And, Detective, these symptoms of yours must have appeared within the past seventy-two hours."

"To be precise, twenty-four hours."

Shade said.

"Then that is even better. We still have plenty of time, so it seems our Luck is quite good. After all, talent awakening lasts seventy-two hours. This Way, I have more time to explain the situation to you."

Doctor Schneider smiled.

"The symptoms above resemble manifestations of schizophrenia, but in my eyes, they are not."

He pointed at himself. His blue eyes looked at Shade, and he spoke very slowly:

"For certain people, the existence of an Another Me is a wondrous and dangerous talent. No, it should be said that this is an early manifestation of a talent. If properly guided, you will be able to see a more True World—a mysterious, dangerous world. If not properly guided—"

"Will I return to being ordinary?"

"No, something worse."

The doctor shook his head.

"I do not wish to deceive you. At least, there is no need to do so now. To put it plainly, this is a sign of Ring Arcanist talent. It is a very rare talent. You may regard it as a Gift of Fate or a Curse of Fate. As for Ring Arcanists, you can think of them as a special profession, one capable of wielding mysterious powers. I hope you understand what I mean."

The doctor was deliberately observing Shade's expression. This era was still an age of ignorance, and people who believed in the orthodox gods generally did not accept concepts such as "witchcraft." Fortunately, just as the doctor's investigation had indicated, the Detective across from him had been someone with a troubled mind only days ago. He had merely returned to normal because of his talent's awakening, so his views differed from those of ordinary citizens.

On the other side, his guess had been confirmed, and Shade nodded somewhat hesitantly. He wanted to feign surprise, because a normal person would certainly be surprised, but his heart was exceptionally calm at this moment—so calm it was almost excessive. He thought it might be because yesterday had been too stressful:

"In other words, hearing a strange voice by my ear is actually a manifestation of some sort of system, a system of power? Many people experience this? Like how some people can see farther, while others can hear more?"

Shade asked.

"Yes. 'I am you, and you are me.' Every Ring Arcanist is like this. If you successfully become a Ring Arcanist, that voice will accompany you for life and help you for life. That voice is your Another Me; only your perspectives differ. It will help you encounter this mad and clamorous world in a truer way, encounter secrets and the bizarre. Knowledge, information, and even words possess dangerous power. Beyond the safe world of ordinary people, we cannot directly bring our souls close to forces capable of warping us."

The doctor paused, giving Shade time to think:

"But the awakening period for Ring Arcanist talent is extremely brief. From the first whisper by the ear to the voice disappearing completely, it is usually within seventy-two hours. Moreover, not every talented person can hear that voice frequently and realize that it is not their own thoughts. They will only take it for a hallucination, or believe something is wrong with their ears.

"Therefore, Detective Shade Hamilton, whether it is the Three Great Academies or The Church, recruiting and training new people is extremely difficult. That is why I said we are both very fortunate."