Only after resting for half an hour did Zhou Mingrui, who already thought of himself as Klein, recover. During that time, he discovered four black dots on the back of his right hand, forming a small square.
The four black dots faded and soon disappeared, but Klein knew they remained hidden within his body, waiting to be awakened.
Four dots, a square. Could they correspond to the four portions of staple food in the four corners? Will I no longer need to prepare food in the future, and can just go straight to the steps and incantation? Klein had a vague guess.
That seemed rather convenient, but having something of bizarre origins that he knew little about inside his body was always frightening.
When he thought of how an inexplicable occult practice from Earth could actually work here, of his strange transmigration in his sleep, of the mysterious, illusory world of gray fog whose significance he did not know, and of the bouts of whispers that had lingered around him during the "ritual," nearly driving him mad, Klein could not suppress a shudder-a shudder in the sweltering weather of late June.
He had once heard a saying: "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." Now, he deeply understood that fear born of the unknown.
For the first time, he felt an uncontrollable, powerful urge to make contact with the mystical world, learn more, and dispel the unknown. He also had the escapist impulse to bury his head and pretend nothing had happened.
Bright sunlight outside the window spread a layer of "gold dust" over the desk. Klein gazed at it, as though touching a trace of warmth and hope.
He relaxed a little and immediately felt exhaustion surge over him like a tide.
The sleepless night and his recent exertions made his eyelids as heavy as white lead, drooping uncontrollably.
Shaking his head, Klein braced a hand against the edge of the desk. Without bothering to put away the rye bread in the four corners, he staggered over to the bunk bed. The moment he lay down and his head touched the pillow, he fell fast asleep.
Gurgle! Gurgle!
Hunger woke Klein. He opened his eyes, feeling refreshed.
"Except my head still hurts a little." He rubbed his temples and sat up, feeling as though he could eat an entire cow.
Smoothing the creases in his clothes, he returned to the desk and picked up the silvery-white pocket watch decorated with trailing vines.
Click!
The cover sprang open, and the second hand ticked away.
"Twelve thirty. I slept for over three hours..." Klein swallowed and slipped the pocket watch into his linen shirt pocket.
On the Northern Continent, a day was likewise divided into twenty-four hours, each hour into sixty minutes, and each minute into sixty seconds. As for whether each second lasted as long as one on Earth, Klein had no way of knowing.
At that moment, even words such as mysticism, ritual, and world of gray fog could not enter his mind. What mattered most right now was food, food!
Only with a full stomach could he think of solutions! Only then could he get things done!
Without hesitation, Klein retrieved the rye bread from the four corners, flicked and shook off the little dust clinging to it, and planned to make one loaf the staple of his lunch.
Since his hometown had a custom of sharing sacrificial offerings after a ritual, and the four loaves of rye bread looked completely unchanged, he felt he ought to be a little thrifty, especially with only five pence left in his pocket.
Of course, the original owner's fragmented memories and habits also exerted a subtle influence.
Since gas was so expensive that even using it for lighting pained him, he brought out the stove and added some coal. Klein paced back and forth as he waited for the water to boil.
Eating that kind of rye bread dry would choke him!
"Sigh, am I going to live on black bread in the morning, black bread at noon, and only get meat at night... No, if Melissa weren't taking my upcoming interview into account, we'd only have meat twice a week..." With nothing to do and too hungry to think about serious matters, Klein looked around.
At the thought of that pound of lamb, even his gaze toward the cupboard seemed to turn a little green.
"No, no, I have to wait and eat with Melissa." Klein shook his head sharply, rejecting the idea of cutting off half and cooking it now.
As a single dog making his way in a big city, he had mostly eaten out, but he had still developed basic cooking skills. His food could not be called delicious, but his skills were sufficient.
Turning around, Klein intended to put it out of sight and out of mind. Just then, he suddenly remembered that besides meat, he had also bought tender peas and potatoes that morning!
Potatoes! Inspiration struck Klein. He spun back like a whirlwind, rushed to the cupboard, and took two potatoes from the small supply.
He first went to the communal washroom to scrub their skins clean, then put them straight into the kettle to boil with the water.
After quite some time, he took the seasoning box from the cupboard, lifted the lid, and sprinkled a tiny amount of coarse, yellowish salt into the water.
After patiently waiting another few minutes, Klein lifted the kettle and poured the soup that was not really soup into several cups and a large bowl. Only then did he fork out the two potatoes and set them on the table.
Phew!
He peeled off a little skin and blew on his hand. The aroma of boiled potatoes gradually spread, whetting his appetite.
His mouth watered furiously. Ignoring the fact that he had only peeled half the potato and that it was still a little hot, Klein picked it up and took a huge bite.
Fluffy! Fragrant! A sweet aftertaste! Klein's heart instantly filled with emotion. He wolfed down both potatoes, even eating some of the skin.
Only then did he pick up the large bowl and take a satisfying sip of "soup," its faint saltiness washing away the dryness in his mouth.
I loved eating them this way as a child... With something in his stomach, Klein silently sighed as he broke apart the rye bread and softened it in the "soup" before eating it.
Perhaps the earlier "ritual" had consumed too much energy, for he ate two whole loaves-a full pound.
After drinking the "soup" and tidying up, Klein felt completely alive again, once more experiencing the joy of being human and enjoying the brilliant sunshine.
He sat back down at the desk and began considering what to do next.
I can't run away. I have to find a way to make contact with the mystical world and become a Beyonder, as Justice and The Hanged Man called them.
I have to overcome the fear caused by the unknown.
For now, my only option is to wait for the next "gathering" and see whether I can overhear the Spectator potion formula or some other mystical knowledge.
There are still four days until Monday. Before then, I need to confront the original owner's own problems. Why did he kill himself? What happened to him...
Unable to transmigrate back and simply walk away, Klein picked up the open notebook, intending to look through it for clues and see whether he could fill in the gaps in his fragmented memories.
Clearly, the original owner had a habit of taking notes and also liked using his notebooks as diaries.
Klein knew very well that the cabinet serving as the desk's right leg was packed with filled notebooks.
This one had been started on May 10. Most of its early entries concerned school, his mentor, and academic knowledge:
"May 12. Mr. Azik mentioned that the common language of the Balam Empire on the Southern Continent also originated from Ancient Feysac, making it a branch of Jotun. Why is that? Could all creatures possessing spirituality once have used the same language? No, that must be wrong. Even according to the Revelation of Evernight and the Book of Storms, in an age more ancient than antiquity, giants were not the continent's only rulers. There were also elves, mutants, and dragons. All right, those are only legends, only myths."
"May 16. Senior Associate Professor Cohen and Mr. Azik discussed the inevitability of the Steam Age. Mr. Azik believed it came about by chance. Without the sudden appearance of Emperor Roselle, perhaps the Northern Continent would still be in the age of cold weapons, just like the Southern Continent. My mentor thought he placed too much emphasis on the role of individuals. He believed that as the times progressed, even without Emperor Roselle, there would have been an Emperor Robert. In short, the Steam Age might have arrived late, but it would certainly have arrived. I felt their argument was rather pointless. I prefer discovering new things and reconstructing history shrouded in fog. Perhaps I should have studied archaeology instead of history."
"May 29. Welch came to me and said he had obtained a notebook from the Fourth Epoch. My Goddess, a Fourth Epoch notebook! He doesn't want to ask the archaeology students and would like Naya and me to help decipher its contents. How could I possibly refuse something like that? Of course, it will have to wait until after my graduation defense. I can't afford distractions right now."
Klein perked up at this point. Compared with the earlier notes on historical studies and debates over ideas, this newly mentioned Fourth Epoch notebook was more likely to have led to the original owner's suicide.
The Fourth Epoch was the era preceding the current "Iron Age." Its history was shrouded in fog and riddled with gaps. Even unearthed mausoleums, ancient cities, and documents were exceedingly rare. Historians and archaeologists could only piece together a little of its "original appearance" with the help of the seven major churches' vague theological texts, which focused primarily on religious instruction, learning of the existence of the Solomon Empire, the Tudor Dynasty, and the Trunsoest Empire.
Determined to dispel the fog and reconstruct history, Klein had little interest in the "first three epochs," which leaned more toward myth and legend. He cared only about the Fourth Epoch, also known as the "Age of the Gods," so his excitement was easy to imagine.
"Heh, looking at it this way, the original owner really didn't need to place so much importance on the interview or worry about his future employment..." Klein could not help remarking.
Universities were still scarce, and the vast majority of students were children of nobles or wealthy families. Once commoners gained admission, even if they faced discrimination because of their status and were excluded from others' social circles, as long as they were not extreme in their behavior, they could still build connections through group discussions and collective activities-extremely valuable connections!
For instance, Welch McGovern was the son of a banker in the City of Constant in Awwa County, in the Kingdom of Loen. He was generous and lavish with his money. Since he had frequently been grouped with Klein and Naya for assignments and reports, he had grown accustomed to asking them for help.
Without letting his thoughts wander further, Klein continued reading the notebook:
"June 18. Graduated. Farewell, my Hoy University!"
"June 19. I saw the notebook. Comparing its structure, word roots, and other features, I discovered it was a variant of Ancient Feysac. More precisely, Ancient Feysac has actually been undergoing small changes throughout its history of over a thousand years."
"June 20. We deciphered the contents of the first page. The author was a member of a family called Antigonus."
"June 21. He mentioned the 'Black Emperor,' which completely contradicts the era inferred from the preceding contents. Could my mentor's view be wrong, and 'Black Emperor' was actually a title shared by every emperor of the Solomon Empire?"
"June 22. This family called Antigonus seems to have held a prominent position in the Solomon Empire. The notebook's owner mentioned conducting a secret transaction with someone called Tudor. Tudor? The Tudor Dynasty?"
"June 23. I'm keeping myself from thinking about that notebook or going to Welch's place. I need to prepare for my interview! This is very important!"
"June 24. Naya told me they had made a new discovery. I think I should go take a look."
"June 25. According to the newly deciphered contents, the notebook's owner accepted a mission to travel to the main peak of the Hornacis Mountain Range and visit the 'Nation of Evernight' at its summit. My Goddess, the main peak of the Hornacis Mountain Range is over six thousand meters high. How could a nation exist there? What do they live on!"
"June 26. Are all these strange things real?"
The notebook ended there. Zhou Mingrui had transmigrated in the early hours of June 28.
"In other words, there actually was an entry for June 27. It was that sentence... 'Everyone will die, including me'..." Klein turned to the page he had first seen and reached this conclusion with a slight chill of horror.
He felt that to solve the mystery of the original owner's suicide, he should visit Welch and take another look at the ancient notebook's contents. However, with his extensive "experience" from novels, movies, and television dramas, he felt that if he went, and if the matter really was connected, he would most likely encounter unknown danger-those people who courted death by visiting castles they knew were haunted served as cautionary tales!
Yet not going was no solution either. Avoidance would never solve the problem; it would only allow matters to pile up until they burst through the dam and engulfed him completely!
Call the police? I can't exactly tell them I killed myself...
Bang!
Bang, bang!
A sudden series of urgent, forceful knocks came from the door.
Klein abruptly sat upright and tilted his head to listen.
Bang!
Bang, bang!
The knocking echoed through the floor's empty, deserted corridor.