Number Four Hope's Message

Hope had no intention of letting something he couldn't confirm for now bother him. He set the matter of the Transparent Monster aside and continued enjoying his lunch.

In any case, the meal was decent enough. There was no abuse like he'd expected—he'd assumed that since he was imprisoned, he'd be fed like a prisoner in this era, with nothing but slop and moldy steamed buns.

The canned peas were bland, but not hard to swallow. The fried onion rings made up for their lack of flavor.

Wilbur hadn't locked the door, since the only key had been swallowed along with Robert by the Transparent Monster. Until Wilbur bought a new lock, Hope's door would remain unsecured.

That actually made Hope uneasy.

He could use "Uncertainty" to "escape" at any time. A lock was useless to him, but it could help him keep Wilbur or Lavinia at bay. The noise they made while unlocking the door would alert Hope and give him more time to react.

Of course, he could also predict their arrival by listening for their footsteps, but that seemed somewhat less reliable.

So Hope still hadn't taken the contract paper and Steel Pen out from under the bedside table, nor had he returned to the Rose Garden to retrieve Elizabeth's Pocket Watch.

He ate all the peas, then tossed the tin can into the wooden trash bin. He couldn't finish the onion rings, so he left the rest on the bedside table.

There was a kettle beside the bed with some water in it. Hope poured himself a cup to wash away the lingering taste of coffee in his mouth.

After finishing all that, Hope closed his eyes again, and his figure appeared on the roof.

He did nothing, then returned.

That way, he could make sure no one was spying on him.

However, since the handcuffs might have shifted position, he didn't dare teleport his wrists straight into them. He had to teleport once more after returning to the room.

That would waste some time and carry some risk.

Hope lay on the bed with his back to the door. That way, even if Wilbur came in suddenly, he would have a little time to react and hide whatever he was holding.

Hope reached into his trouser pocket and took out the scrap of paper inside. It must have been left by Number Four Hope, and at last, he had a chance to read it.

After taking it out, Hope first breathed a sigh of relief. He could understand the words in the newspaper; he didn't have any trouble reading them.

According to Lavinia, the paper had come from the Arkham GG-Man. Arkham seemed to be the city closest to Dunwich, and Miskatonic University, where Elizabeth studied, was located there.

The torn section was part of an incomplete obituary:

June 4, 1928, evening... With immeasurable sorrow, we announce... passed away after an illness, at the age of just 22... She remained strong to the end, but ultimately succumbed despite treatment... The funeral will be held on June 10 at... Though her life was brief, she will forever bloom in our hearts...

The calendar in Old Williams's house showed that yesterday was June 5. This must have been yesterday's newspaper.

A photograph of the deceased had been torn off with the obituary. It had been cut out quite neatly.

She was a very pretty young woman. The black-and-white photo made it impossible to tell her hair color, but her hairpin and earrings looked quite valuable.

The obituary wasn't short, and the photo took up extra space. The young woman's family must have been quite wealthy.

Hope silently mourned for her, then turned the paper over.

The original content on this side seemed to be an interview with "Dr. Francis Morgan." Dr. Morgan had gone into detail about the process of excavating a certain tomb.

But since the interview was incomplete and Dr. Morgan used too much specialized terminology, Hope couldn't make sense of it.

Number Four Hope's message had been penciled over it:

...Hope rubbed his eyes.

He had been looking forward to Number Four Hope's message for a long time, hoping to learn about the previous Hopes and find answers to some of his questions.

He had also always harbored a hope that, aside from Number One Hope, the next three Hopes might all be "transmigrators" like him—fellow countrymen.

But now he couldn't understand Number Four Hope's writing. The scrawls looked like dozens of earthworms tangled together.

Was he a doctor?

Hope soon realized that the problem wasn't just the messy handwriting. The writing didn't seem to belong to any of the New Federation's languages, Chinese, or English—the only three languages Hope could read.

Could it be—Hope ran through all the languages he'd ever encountered in his mind—that this earthworm-like writing was Russian?

Hope frowned.

If it really was Russian, then aside from confirming that Number Four Hope was from Earth, he couldn't glean any useful information.

It felt like meeting an old friend in a foreign land, only to discover that the friend was mute.

He could guess why Number Four Hope had left a message in Russian. After all, in another world, there was no better code than a language from the world they'd once lived in.

That would effectively prevent Indigenous People like Wilbur from prying. And with the handwriting so messy, even if the note ended up in Wilbur's hands, he would probably just think Hope had scribbled on it absentmindedly.

The dead woman's photograph had probably been included on purpose, too. It was a little disrespectful to the deceased, but it could make it look as if Hope had cut a pretty woman's photo out of the newspaper to keep.

If Hope had to leave a message for a possible Number Six Hope, Chinese would be the first language he'd consider using.

But... Hope gnawed at his fingernail... Had Number Four Hope really not considered the language barrier at all?

He'd prevented the Indigenous People from spying, but now the next successor couldn't read it either...

He wondered if Old Williams's Reading Potion came with a translation function in addition to making it faster to read. Otherwise, learning Russian in this world would be utterly out of the question...

Hmm, I could try it at Old Williams's house when I have some free time.

He clearly had plenty of materials left, and the steps for making the potion didn't seem difficult.

But not now. Robert's death must have affected Wilbur and Old Whateley quite a bit. They might suddenly come looking for me to talk. I'd better not go out at all today.

Hope made up his mind and put the note back in his pocket.

He lay on the bed for a while, and weariness soon swept over him. He decided to take a long-overdue nap.

As soon as he closed his eyes, his stats appeared:

Agility: 1.31, Constitution: 1.55, Vision: 0.67, Mana: 0, 0, 16

Uncertainty: 1

Source-ification: 0.3

Curse of Darkness: 1

The number after "Uncertainty" was still "1." It seemed the number had nothing to do with proficiency; repeated use wouldn't make it go up or down.

But... the number before the last one on the first line had been fifteen before, hadn't it? It had increased by one, but he couldn't yet tell why. Too many things had changed today...

Still, since it had increased this time, there would surely be chances for it to increase again. If he repeated things often enough, finding a pattern shouldn't be difficult.