When Durosong Nicholas, formerly the Sixth Prince of Girislav, entered the lord's chamber, Landen had already spoken with at least six of his subordinates and five nobles and priests from Night-Kirin City, one by one. Now, only the High-Rank lord and an Elf woman remained in the room.
"He's here. See if you recognize him." As soon as the Prince entered, Landen said something cryptic to the Elf.
"You..." The girl stepped up to the Prince, as if trying to see right through him, but she couldn't make heads or tails of it.
"Miss? Have we met?" The Prince looked puzzled.
"Mm..." The Elf glanced at Landen, then at the Prince, and asked quietly, "Do you remember that high-speed train? There were only four of us. I was one of the girls!"
"Ah!" Durosong felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. Suddenly dizzy, he felt memories of his previous life and the moment he'd first arrived come surging up from the deepest recesses of his mind.
"Looks like I was right! I knew the person who came to this world and insisted on making black powder had to be a fellow countryman!" Landen said casually from his seat on the sofa.
Durosong clutched his head and crouched on the floor for a long time before finally speaking. "So you did it on purpose that day, didn't you? You already knew I was developing gunpowder? You just wanted to prove in front of everyone that it was useless?"
"You're overthinking it. I've known for ages that gunpowder is completely useless in this world." Landen shook his head. "There was no need to do it on purpose, or in front of everyone. That's practically historical consensus!"
"Impossible!" Durosong still had a bit of a headache, but he wanted to prove that