Message from Number Four Hope

Hope didn't intend to let things he couldn't confirm for now trouble him. He set aside the matter of the Transparent Monster and continued enjoying his lunch.

Either way, this meal wasn't bad—no abuse like he'd expected. He'd thought that since he was imprisoned, his food would be the same as any prisoner of this era: only slop and moldy buns.

But the canned peas were merely bland, not hard to swallow. And the Fried Onion Rings made up for the lack of flavor.

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

That actually made it harder for Hope to feel at ease.

He could always rely on "Uncertainty" to "escape" at any time. A door lock was useless to him, but it could help him block Wilbur or Lavinia—the sound of them unlocking it would give him a warning and more reaction time.

Now, of course, he could still predict their approach by listening to footsteps, but it was still a bit less reliable.

So Hope still didn't take out the contract paper and pen from under the bedside table, nor did he return to the Rose Garden to retrieve Elizabeth's Pocket Watch.

He finished all the peas, tossed the tin can into the trash bucket, and left the uneaten onion rings on the bedside table.

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

After doing all this, Hope closed his eyes again, and his figure appeared on the rooftop.

He did nothing there and immediately returned.

This let him confirm no one was spying on him.

But because the position of the handcuffs might shift, he didn't dare teleport his wrist directly back into them. He had to make an extra teleport after returning to the room.

That wasted some time and carried some risk.

Hope lay on the bed, his back to the room's door. That way, even if Wilbur suddenly came in, he'd have some reaction time to hide whatever was in his hands.

Hope reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the paper scrap. This one should have been left by Number Four Hope. Now, at last, he had a chance to look at it.

After taking it out, Hope first let out a sigh of relief—he could read the words on the newspaper. No reading barrier.

According to Lavinia, this newspaper came from the Arkham GG-Man. Arkham seemed to be the nearest city to Dunwich, and Miskatonic University, where Elizabeth studied, was located there.

The torn-off part was an incomplete obituary:

"On the night of June 4, 1928... we announce with endless grief... passed away from illness, only 22 years old... she remained strong throughout, but ultimately treatment was ineffective... the funeral will be held on June 10 at... though her life was short, she will forever bloom in our hearts..."

From Old Williams's calendar, yesterday was June 5. This should be yesterday's newspaper.

Cutting off the obituary was a photo of the deceased, neatly clipped out.

She was a very pretty girl. Since it was a black-and-white photo, her hair color wasn't clear, but her hairpins and earrings seemed valuable.

The obituary wasn't short, and with the photo attached, it took up a fair amount of space. The girl's family must have been quite wealthy.

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

The original content on this side seemed to be an interview with "Dr. Francis Morgan," where Dr. Morgan detailed the process of excavating a certain tomb.

But since the interview was incomplete and Dr. Morgan used too many specialized terms, Hope didn't understand it.

Number Four Hope's message was written over it in pencil:

...Hope rubbed his eyes.

He had long awaited Number Four Hope's message, hoping to learn about the previous Hopes and get answers to some questions.

And he had always held a suspicion that aside from Number One Hope, the other three Hopes might be "transmigrators" like him—fellow "countrymen."

But now he couldn't understand Number Four Hope's writing. Those scribbles like ghostly symbols looked like dozens of earthworms tangled together.

Was she a doctor?

Hope quickly realized that his inability to read it wasn't entirely due to messy handwriting. The text didn't seem to belong to any of New Federation, Chinese, or English—the only three languages Hope could read.

It seemed to be—Hope ran through every language he'd ever seen in his mind—this earthworm-like script, was it Russian?

Hope frowned.

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

It gave him a stifling feeling of meeting a fellow countryman in a foreign land, only for that countryman to be mute.

He could guess why Number Four Hope used Russian to leave the message. After all, in a different world, there was no better encryption than a language from one's former world.

This could effectively prevent prying by natives like Wilbur. And with the messy handwriting, even if the note really fell into Wilbur's hands, he'd probably just think it was Hope's random doodling.

The photo of the dead girl was probably intentional too. Though a bit disrespectful to the deceased, it could disguise the note as Hope clipping a pretty girl's picture from the newspaper for his collection.

If Hope were to leave a message for a possible Number Six Hope, he'd also consider Chinese first.

But... Hope bit his nails... did Number Four Hope really never consider the language barrier?

The natives' prying was blocked, but now the successor couldn't read it either...

He wondered if Old Williams's Reading Potion, besides increasing reading speed, came with a translation function. Otherwise, learning Russian in this world was a pipe dream...

Hmm, I could try visiting Old Williams's place when I have free time.

He clearly had plenty of materials left, and the steps to make the potion didn't seem too difficult.

But not now. Robert's death should affect Wilbur and Old Whateley quite a bit. They might suddenly want to talk to me. I'd better not go out all day today.

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

He had only just lain down on the bed when weariness washed over him, and he decided to take a nap for the first time in a while.

The moment he closed his eyes, his numbers surfaced:

Agility: 1.31, Physique: 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 increase or decrease.

Still... the last number on the first line had been fifteen before... it had increased by one, but he couldn't yet determine the cause. Too many changes had happened today.

But since it had increased this time, there would surely be more opportunities for it to increase in the future. As long as he repeated it enough times, finding the pattern shouldn't be too difficult.