"Art Consultant" Commission

November 25, 912 of the New Calendar, Monday—the day of musicology professor, composer, and conductor Anton Conall's funeral.

At five in the morning, the night was still deep, the streetlights sparse, and there was still some time before people got up to start work.

Heavy snow drifted down from the sky as a hired carriage raced through the deserted streets.

Fan Ning wore a solemn formal suit and leaned against the carriage seat, curled up from the cold, but he was not the least bit sleepy.

He had slept fitfully all night. Too many things had surfaced in his mind: scenes from his previous life, moments from his transmigration, the figure of Teacher Anton, and all kinds of Hidden Knowledge he had obtained from Vyadlin.

It had already been the third day since he transmigrated.

At first, he had felt as if Caloen's memories had poured into Fan Ning's memories on Earth.

Although he could access the original owner's memories at any time, the distinction between primary and secondary consciousness had been crystal clear.

But now...

"Although I've initially glimpsed the true will behind the surface of the world, and the path of the Knower has clearly appeared beneath my feet..."

"Yet I can barely even distinguish my own memories anymore. Did the consciousness of Caloen from another world pour into my mind, Fan Ning's..."

"Or was I Caloen all along, merely dreaming a dream about that so-called Earth, a dream that lasted more than twenty years from my perspective?"

Fan Ning's gaze was lost. After a while, he closed his eyes and shook his head hard.

"The people on Earth called me Fan Ning, while the people here call me Caloen Van Ning. I'm still that same Fan Ning."

"Fan Ning on Earth was an ordinary person who loved music. Caloen Van Ning here is also an ordinary person who loves music."

"On Earth, my father became a folk artist after being laid off, making a living by taking odd jobs outside. Here, my father is a folk artist who once even owned an art gallery."

"Besides, I became a student majoring in music and gained a great composer as my teacher. Although he has passed away, this life that has returned to graduation season has given me the chance to fulfill my dreams and make up for my regrets."

"Whether all of this is coincidence or something else, I'm still me. Nothing about me has changed."

"I'll make the First Symphony resound beneath the baton in my hands."

"I'll uncover the truth behind my teacher's death."

When he opened his eyes again inside the carriage, his gaze had regained its clarity and determination.

The most important thing now was to find a way to obtain the Luminous Essence Elixir and use the marker obtained from the Turner Art Gallery to advance as a Knower.

Only then would he have the ability to deal with the unknown dangers that might come later.

Around five-thirty in the morning, Fan Ning arrived at the Sun Church of Saint Leniya University.

Professor Anton Conall was a devout believer of the Church of the Sacred Sun, the oldest of the three major Orthodox Churches in the modern world. It had originated in the Holy Kingdom of Janus on the Western Continent and had been permitted to spread its teachings within Tioleian.

Fan Ning looked up at the tall, sharp-edged behemoth looming in the darkness. A domed sphere rose from the center of its pointed arch, while snowflakes crossed his field of vision and landed on his cheeks.

Looking ahead, he saw that the main doors were ajar. Light shone brightly through the stained-glass windows bearing the emblem of the Lord of Witnesses, the Undying Fire.

He climbed the snow-covered steps, pushed open the doors, and showed his musicology—

The last few rows of long tables near the entrance were occupied by school staff who had worked through the night and were now resting their heads on their desks.

From a distance, he saw flowers clustered around the Sacred Sun altar, with a black grand piano to one side.

Beneath the altar, only two slender figures sat in the first row.

Fan Ning remembered having encountered another scholar's funeral before. It had rained heavily that day, and people had begun lining up two hours in advance. Beneath the steps, the black umbrellas had formed a solid mass,

and along the road from the church entrance to the school's west gate, carriages and automobiles had formed a long line—the deceased had been highly respected not only in academic circles but also held a prominent position in society. By comparison, the church was deserted inside and out.

Although there was still an hour and a half before the ceremony officially began, it was clear that Anton Conall's death had caused very limited ripples, despite his being a full professor at Saint Leniya University.

Dressed in a black ceremonial robe and holding a bouquet of flowers, Fan Ning walked forward slowly. He bowed deeply to the mass of flowers, then bent down and placed the bouquet on the stone tablet before the coffin.

"Caloen, thank you for coming so early." A young girl's soft, childish voice came from behind him.

"No need to thank me, Hiran. Are you feeling better? How did you rest?" Fan Ning turned around.

The two girls before him wore pure-black mourning robes and had similar shoulder-length curly hair.

"I'm all right. The school has provided the necessary support for the funeral arrangements, by a professor's standards." Hiran pulled the girl beside her to her feet. "Caloen, this is my best friend, Qiong, Lord Nissimi's daughter. She has stayed with me these past two nights to keep vigil. You should have met a few times before, but I never formally introduced you."

Fan Ning looked at the girl, who was a head shorter than Hiran and had a beautiful baby face.

"Hello, Miss Joan Nissimi." Fan Ning inclined his head and lightly shook the small hand she extended, then told her his name and field of study.

"Hello, Caloen. I'm one year above Hiran. I already graduated from Saint Leniya Junior Grammar School, and I was admitted to the literature department as a freshman this year." Joan's voice was soft and sweet, carrying a cheerful, lively air. "Hiran said you're a young composer. Also, I often used to accompany my parents to exhibitions at the Turner Art Gallery. They like oil paintings."

"I don't think I've published anything particularly worthwhile..." Recalling the original owner's "creative history," Fan Ning replied somewhat sheepishly.

"Caloen, Qiong has something she wants to ask you to help with," Hiran said.

"What is it?"

"More precisely, it's a small commission." Qiong twirled a strand of her jet-black hair around her finger, smiling brightly. "My father is very interested in art investment, especially art collections. There's an auction at the Prudence Auction House this Thursday evening. I'd like to temporarily hire you as my father's art consultant. Would that be all right?"

"The Prudence Auction House? Why does that name sound so familiar..." Fan Ning thought for a moment, then remembered Teacher Anton's diary. "That's right! The Remnant of the Musical Scale was purchased by Teacher Anton from the Prudence Auction House! He also mentioned an informant who made recommendations and shared Group Leader Cecil's surname, but I can't remember the person's exact name. I'll have to look again when I get back."

His thoughts suddenly opened up.

Previously, he had felt that he had finished solving the mystery of the Remnant of the Musical Scale. After all, he had already obtained the item behind it.

But what he had failed to consider was that the origin of the Remnant of the Musical Scale itself was also an important direction for his investigation.

Seeing that Fan Ning did not answer for a while, Hiran pressed him, "Caloen, I'll be going too on Thursday evening to get some fresh air. Would you like to come? If you can offer any valuable opinions then, Qiong will pay you a small fee."

"It would be my honor to attend an art auction with two beautiful ladies." Fan Ning smiled slightly. "My artistic knowledge is still shallow, but if anything falls within a field I'm familiar with, I can offer Lord Nissimi a little advice. There's no need for payment."

"People should be paid for using their private time. When I recommended you to my father, I explained your connection with the Turner Art Gallery, and he recognized your value." A shallow dimple appeared in Joan's fair cheek. "Caloen, Hiran, then it's settled. We'll meet at five-thirty Thursday afternoon at the main entrance of Saint Leniya University."

Hiran finally managed to smile with some relief. "Then we'll see each other there."

The three of them chatted for a while longer. Suddenly, Fan Ning remembered something and asked, "By the way, Qiong, you're in the Faculty of History and Literature, right? Do you know Nora Carr?"

"Of course! Nora's the beautiful senior from our department. I know her." Joan gave him a knowing smile.

Do you two not know that she's already dead? Even Galvin has heard that someone from another faculty died. Is the police's secrecy really a good thing or not... Fan Ning felt somewhat speechless.

Then he felt relieved. Perhaps she lived off campus, and the timing had happened to cross over a weekend.

"When did you get to know her?" Joan giggled.

"Caloen, have you taken a liking to her? Qiong should be able to help you." Seeing that Fan Ning remained silent, Hiran spoke up as well.