All right, new information: the Joint Investigation Bureau had a very old cat...
But now Isaac also understood why Vilka could mobilize people to stir up trouble in Palmer. She was a member of the Ogway Family and a cardinal of the Church of the Golden Bough. Either status alone would naturally have plenty of people willing to serve her.
"By the way, since Vilka wanted my books, why didn't she just ask for them instead of sending someone to steal them?" Isaac asked. "With her status and position, I couldn't have done much if she'd forced me to sell them."
Carlo took his feet off the corner of the desk. "The answer's simple. She needs those books, but she doesn't want anyone to know she's looking for them. The books Lessing left behind contain some... things the fewer people know about, the better."
Isaac fell silent for a moment. Then Carlo suddenly said, "You know there's something in those books that isn't really suitable for others to know about, but you don't know exactly what it is, right?"
"...Yes."
While his adoptive father Edward was alive, he had always been open about his research, but he had been exceptionally secretive about those books and wouldn't let Isaac touch them freely.
Isaac had once thought it was an old man's collector's habit. After all, those rare books and manuscripts were indeed valuable. It wasn't until he sorted through the study that he noticed something amiss.
There was a wastebasket in Edward's study. The old man was in the habit of crumpling up drafts he wasn't satisfied with and tossing them into it. When he had time, he would fish them out and look over those unsatisfactory ideas again, so the wastebasket was only emptied periodically.
Once, while emptying the wastebasket, Isaac unfolded the discarded drafts one by one. Among them, he found crumpled sheets of writing paper addressed to "Isaac." They seemed to be a letter Edward had meant to write him.
Edward's letter was short, only a few lines, dealing in general terms with how to handle matters after his death. But it broke off when it came to what should be done with the books.
The letter said the books "need to be handled with care" and that "you may decide for yourself where they should go." But he had crossed out that sentence and replaced it with "perhaps entrust them to someone more suitable for safekeeping." After numerous revisions, it had been crumpled up and thrown into the wastebasket.
From this, Isaac realized that his adoptive father had some reservations about how to deal with the books, which had kept him from making up his mind. But Isaac had no way of knowing exactly what those reservations were.
Isaac had thought his adoptive father would tell him someday, but his sudden death had left Isaac to deal with the books himself, with his questions unanswered.
"Lessing was always indecisive and hesitant. He needed someone to give him a kick before he could make up his mind," Carlo said. "He didn't have many acquaintances in Palmer who could kick him, so I imagine he must have agonized over what to do with those books. That means you probably didn't hear about it directly from him."
"I didn't. I only became certain when I was sorting through the study and found those crumpled sheets in the wastebasket. He probably wanted to tell me something several times, but in the end..."
"That figures. With his personality, he was always looking back and forth when it came to making decisions, putting them off whenever he could for fear of choosing the wrong path. He put it off until he ran out of time, then left you with the mess."
"So what exactly is hidden in those books?" Isaac asked. "Since you know their value and that Vilka wants them, shouldn't you at least tell me something?"
"How would I know?"
Isaac stared. "You don't know?"
He had assumed that since Carlo had seized the books, he must have gone through every one of them.
"Of course I don't. I haven't looked through your pile of books," Carlo said with a shrug. "I intercepted them and sent them straight back to Vista. I wasn't interested in opening them up and checking their contents for you."
"You didn't even know what was hidden inside, and you still snatched them at the risk of offending Vilka?"
"Although I don't know the details, I do know what Lessing spent his life researching, so I have some idea of the general direction. Besides... I saw someone trying to snatch them, so I snatched them for myself. Anything that young lady would go to so much trouble to steal couldn't possibly be boring. I figured I'd get my hands on it first."
Isaac: "..."
That reason sounded very much like Carlo.
"Looks like I'll have to go through the books myself to figure out what's going on," Isaac said.
"Suit yourself. But since Lessing left the books behind, there can't be anything in them that would get someone sent to the stake at a glance. Otherwise, he would have burned them long ago instead of leaving them to cause you trouble," Carlo said. "Knowing him, he most likely encrypted them."
Isaac followed that line of thought. If there really was a secret hidden in those books, it certainly wouldn't be written directly on the title page for anyone to find. Encryption, concealment, and disguise were all possible methods.
The books themselves might even be only part of the clues, with the real heart of the matter hidden elsewhere...
He was already considering which book to start with that night when Carlo glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up. "All right, we've learned about as much as we need to. At this hour... hmm, we should be able to see the sunrise. No time to lose."
"Sunrise?" Isaac came back to his senses. "It's afternoon."
"Do I look like an idiot who can't tell morning from noon or night?" Carlo gestured for him to come out. "Sunrise happens at different times in different places. You need to learn to respect how things work in different regions."
Isaac had no idea what he meant, but he followed Carlo out of the office and back down the corridor.
When they reached the stairwell, Carlo didn't go downstairs. Instead, he continued backing up a few steps and stopped directly opposite the stairwell... then squatted down.
"...Boss, what are you doing?"
"Waiting for the sunrise."
Isaac glanced at the dusty window in the corridor, then looked at Carlo again and confirmed that he wasn't joking.
But Carlo had already beckoned to him. "Don't just stand there. Squat down. This is the best viewing spot. Miss it, and you'll have to wait until tomorrow."
Isaac hesitated for a moment, but finally squatted down beside Carlo in the corridor, facing the empty stairwell.
He thought he must look very stupid right now.
"Boss, what exactly are we..."
"Don't rush, it's almost time." Carlo gestured for silence. "Look, the sunrise is brewing. The horizon is about to be torn open, and its radiance will soon descend upon this land-"
Footsteps came from the stairs, and Isaac's gaze naturally turned to the stairwell.
Then a bald head slowly rose into view.
Isaac: "...?"
The head reflected the light from the corridor's ceiling lamp. It was smooth and gleaming, without a trace of stubble, like a polished ivory ball.
Immediately afterward, the face of a middle-aged man emerged. He had no facial hair, regular features, and the composed bearing of someone long accustomed to a management position. He wore the Joint Investigation Bureau's black trench coat uniform, his tie fastened with meticulous care.
And under the light, that bald head looked like the rising sun, dazzling and resplendent.
"Behold, the man with radiance atop his head, the man who enacts the sunrise, the most dazzling pearl in the entire Joint Investigation Bureau-Director Patrick has arrived," Carlo's voice rang out faintly.