The Origin of the Incident

"Uh, this is actually a portable lighting device. As everyone knows, the flashlights invented by the Empire in recent years have been too heavy, their light unstable, and their battery life too short. Out of curiosity, I bought a sample of a new patent from someone who claimed to be an inventor, but it soon became a piece of scrap metal. I suppose I was conned by a swindler..."

Under the unsettling gazes of the two officers, Fan Ning did his best to keep his tone solemn.

Whether you believe it or not, I believe it anyway.

Fortunately, he had left his backpack in a locker before attending the concert and only had his phone on him. Otherwise, one story would not have been enough.

"There have indeed been many strange inventions these days." The other party's expression revealed no emotion. "We'll need to keep it for now and investigate whether it's related to the case. That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Go ahead, Officer. It's just a useless piece of junk." Fan Ning waved his hand indifferently.

Inside, however, he was deeply frustrated. The only object he had brought with him through time and space had been taken away right at the start.

Fortunately, it had no battery and no signal. Even if they found some way to turn it on, they would not understand the language, and he would never admit anything even if they beat him to death.

He had already read the key information, and it did not seem to have any other use. He could barely count the matter as harmless.

"Tell us again what happened last night."

"What do I need to say?"

"Anything related to last night—what you know and what you experienced. Start from whatever point you think is necessary."

"All right, Officer."

Fan Ning reluctantly gathered his thoughts and spoke slowly:

"My major instructor, Professor Anton Conall, is a musicology professor and a composer. During the latter part of his artistic career, he became obsessed with researching ancient music from before the Gregorian Period."

"Several months ago, Teacher Anton obtained a stack of The Remnant of the Musical Scale at an antique auction. Put simply, they were sheets of paper covered with sequences of musical notes. After that, he began researching them day and night. As his closest student, I often went to his house to take part in small discussion gatherings."

"Last night was Friday. It was the class's regular open lecture, held in the school's small teaching hall, where we discussed some chamber-music composition techniques. Teacher Anton gave the instruction, I played the piano, and several violinists provided demonstrations. There were around twenty or thirty listeners, all students."

"As usual, Teacher Anton inserted some of his personal research into the lesson. The response was mediocre, and some people even left early."

"Near the end, however, two students showed interest in the ancient musical material. They came onstage and discussed it with me for a while. We took turns performing, then took turns going below the stage to listen to the results and give feedback to the performers."

As Fan Ning spoke, the outlines of two human figures beneath the flashing lights once again surfaced in his mind.

"The others gradually left. Teacher Anton also seemed to be in a hurry. He left without saying much to me."

"My memories broke off while I was sitting in the front row below the stage and listening. After that, I woke up in the darkness. I assume the officer already knows what I saw. In the end, I panicked and ran out of the chamber-music hall."

Fan Ning answered truthfully according to his memories, except for the matter of his time travel.

"Tell us about the discussion gathering you attended at the professor's house last time." Inspector Ellens continued.

"This Thursday afternoon, besides me and my teacher, there were two others. Um, their names were..." Another wave of pain struck Fan Ning's head. "Vulkan Harvey and Nora Carr. Those two."

Inspector Ellens continued in an even tone:

"Vulkan Harvey, male, a third-year piano major at Saint Leniya University. He was found dead in a school practice room yesterday morning. His body had been folded into the interior of a small grand piano in a twisted posture. The direct cause of death was asphyxiation. How he got inside remains unclear, and the scene showed no traces of anyone else's activity."

"Nora Carr, female, a third-year literature major at Saint Leniya University. She was found dead in the apartment where she lived alone last night. Her eyes, nose, and mouth had been densely sewn shut with needle and thread. The direct cause of death was asphyxiation. Examination of the scene indicated that she had done it herself, and no traces of anyone else's activity were found." Fan Ning broke out in a cold sweat as he listened.

As a highly exposed white-collar worker in the chemical industry, he felt that he had heard of and witnessed some "major incidents."

But these methods of death, and the scene he had seen yesterday...

Anxiety and terror suddenly filled his heart. "Then... then what about my teacher?"

"Unfortunately, not long after you lost consciousness last night, we received word that Professor Anton Conall had shot and killed himself at home."

Fan Ning's head buzzed. Great waves of blood seemed to surge into his cheeks as all kinds of negative emotions welled up, indistinguishable as to whether they came from him or the original owner.

Fear, shock, overwhelming grief, and an inability to accept it.

In the original owner's memories, his mother's image was vague and indistinct. Professor Anton Conall held a position in his heart second only to his father.

A good teacher, a close friend, an elder...

Especially after his father disappeared, his own circumstances had plummeted.

Professor Anton was one of the few people who had treated him as well as ever.

In fact, according to his subconscious plans, he had intended to seek Anton's help immediately after leaving this place.

"Caloen, we're sorry for what happened to you."

Though the two officers offered words of comfort, the stronger emotion in their eyes was pity.

Researching an unknown relic, attempting a forbidden ritual, or encountering a hidden sorcerer... Nothing happened if one was lucky, but once something did, one either became a monster or eventually went insane. There were basically no survivors.

It was only a matter of time.

After the police asked a few more questions, they stood up.

"For mysterious incidents of this kind, we've already requested the Special Inspection Office's involvement. For now, we'll treat you as a victim, but the investigation isn't over. Do not deviate from your normal routine for more than twenty-four hours. Otherwise, you'll be treated as a fugitive."

Fan Ning's mind raced, but his expression was not very good.

After briefly accessing the original owner's memories, he understood why the police had looked at him that way.

Although technology and industry were flourishing in this era, the strange and mysterious had never truly gone away.

I might be screwed.

He could leave now. Should he try to seek protection, or take advantage of the situation and leave first?

The police did not seem to be paying much attention to him. Their attitude was closer to routine procedure.

But the Empire's mysterious institution, the "Special Inspection Office"... Behind it seemed to stand the "Knower," who possessed some kind of extraordinary power.

After what had just happened with the phone, Fan Ning was terrified that the Special Inspection Office would discover the truth about his time travel once it intervened, then take him somewhere to be studied as a lab rat.

But everyone else was dead, leaving only him. If he had to choose between two options, was staying alive more important, or was concealing the secret of his time travel?

This isn't a choice between two options. I need both.

He decided to leave immediately and try to decipher the contents of that mysterious text message.

But first, he had to pretend to react normally.

"Officers, you'll protect me and keep me safe, right?" Fan Ning asked urgently.

"Our duty is to maintain public order in this city, protect residents from violent attacks, and punish all kinds of criminals. But... that doesn't include some incomprehensible incidents. Caloen, it would be very difficult for us to stop you from stuffing yourself into a piano one day while practicing..."

The exchange was useless, but necessary.

"Sign here in the statement book. Then you can take the personal belongings you left behind from the rack by the door."

Fan Ning took the fountain pen and fluently wrote "Caloin Van Ning" in Hoffman, without the slightest hesitation.

Then he closed the door behind him.

The cold white light of the carbonized lamps still shone down. The wall clock in the corridor pointed to half past seven in the morning.

Fan Ning naturally put on his hat and gloves, took up his redwood cane inlaid with calcium-iron garnet, crossed the corridor, and walked to one side of the police station lobby. Then he stared at the mirror before him for a long time.

He was of medium height, with a somewhat thin and youthful build. He wore an old black formal suit and trousers, a white cotton shirt with linen at the collar and cuffs, and a pale bow tie that was slightly wrinkled.

It was the outfit he had worn for the academy's open lecture.

Beneath the black silk top hat was a young, handsome face, though his complexion was poor. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his lips were bloodless.

He took a deep breath and walked out of the lobby.

The sky was just beginning to brighten. A cold wind blew straight into him, making his entire body shudder.

The Theolan Empire was located in the Northern Continent, and Ufransel was an industrial city in the northern part of the Empire. By late autumn, the weather was already bitterly cold.

The fog hung heavy, blocking out the sunlight. Fine rain continued to fall from the thick, lead-gray clouds.

Across the street, several men in faded, yellowing vests stood around a coin-operated gambling machine outside a small tavern. They had cigarettes dangling from their mouths, high-crowned hats on their heads, and their hands tucked into their sleeves as they pounded their chests and stamped their feet in frustration.

On the right was a circular plaza. A huge billboard hung from the steel framework behind a knight's statue. A blonde woman in a white corseted dress smiled elegantly in the rain, while a fashionable water-blue lantern-sleeved gown made her arms appear exceptionally slender.

Fan Ning stepped into the street and merged into the noisy crowds. He brushed shoulders with gentlemen in formal wear carrying canes, then walked alongside ladies with powdered faces who led small dogs. The scents of perfume, coal smoke, and rotting garbage mingled with the intermittent smell of wood creosote drifting from some unknown alley, lingering around his nose.

Porters carried fresh river fish from the South Wharf District and unloaded them at scattered destinations. Small newspaper boys and flower girls darted out from among the workers, met Fan Ning's expectant gaze, and plunged back into the sea of people in the blink of an eye.

The garbage collection wagon in the plaza honked impatiently, urging people to move, only to be drowned out by the thunderous roar of steam from a massive airship in the distant sky.

Fan Ning suddenly found it difficult to breathe. The noise around him gradually twisted into unintelligible syllables, rushing through his mind like a roller coaster before speeding away.

He tried to stop himself from distinguishing them, but his thoughts seemed to grow clearer and increasingly uncontrollable, forcing him to ponder the meaning of every syllable. The murmured whispers gradually became frenzied shrieks, and the objects before his eyes began to distort into swirling hallucinations.

Fan Ning crouched down, clutching his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

End it. End it. This must be a nightmare. I'm the only one left. Once I go insane, or die completely, I'll wake up on Earth...

"No, there's still her. She could be in danger too..."

A figure suddenly surfaced in Fan Ning's mind.

He shook his head hard, forcibly stood up, and supported himself with his cane as he gasped for breath.

After the whispers and hallucinations weakened slightly, Fan Ning endured the discomfort and hurried toward the school.

From Public Security Branch No. 212 on Green Peacock Street in the Inelania District to Saint Leniya University No. 1, it took him only ten minutes to see the school's red walls hidden among the trees.

"Caloen!"

When he was still more than ten meters from the school's southern gate, Fan Ning heard a girl's cry. It was somewhat indistinct in the cold wind.

His heart eased slightly. He looked toward the voice without slowing his steps.

The girl before him carried a handbag and wore a loose, pale-purple court-style robe that was clearly ill-fitting. Beneath it was only a thin tea-colored cake dress. Her pretty face was utterly bloodless, her eyes red, and her lips tightly pursed. The ends of her shoulder-length wet hair curled slightly, beaded with rain.

Hilan Conall, the daughter of Professor Anton Conall, was sixteen years old. She currently studied at the Women's Grammar College, administered by Saint Leniya University, where she received the necessary elementary education.

Because of the relationship between the original owner and Professor Anton, the two of them were very familiar with each other.

In the original owner's impression, Hilan played the violin, studied diligently, and liked history books, opera, and cold drinks. She had an excellent relationship with her father. Although she was a full five years younger than him, she was mature and independent-minded in the way she viewed things. Whenever he interacted with her, he always treated her with the respect he would give someone his own age.

"Hilan, how are you?" Fan Ning's voice was low.

"I feel like there are some sounds in my ears," Hilan said softly, though her brows were drawn tightly together.

Looking at the girl's delicate but pale face, deep concern showed in Fan Ning's eyes.

Although Hilan had not attended the previous gathering where they discussed the material from The Remnant of the Musical Scale, she had inevitably come into contact with the relic on earlier occasions.

"Caloen, you don't need to worry about me." The girl slipped her fair wrist into her handbag. "I have something from Dad to give you."

"Put it away first."

Fan Ning hurriedly reached out to stop her, then took the handbag from her.

He recalled the contents of the mysterious text message, and the strange subtitle "[0/100]" lit up before his eyes once again.

If I want to stay alive, do I need to recreate the music from my memories before as many listeners as possible?

"There are too many prying eyes here. Come with me to the academy's practice room."