Entry V
Today, for the first time in a long while, I can finally say something with a bit of lightness:
We made it through.
The pressure of these past days has felt like a stone suspended above our heads, ready to fall at any moment.
But now—there is light breaking through.
And who would've thought the one to change everything…
was Livia and that "treasure map" she found on that idle afternoon behind the northern hills?
That piece of parchment—
turned out to be real.
We followed the markings, sent out a few trusted workers, and began quietly digging late at night.
What we unearthed was a stone-sealed ancient well.
At first, there were scattered jewels and relics.
But deeper down—there were sealed stairs, and a vast hidden vault.
We brought in a few trustworthy antiquities experts, and every single one of them was left speechless.
Then came their unanimous verdict:
These were noble treasures from the early Empire.
Authentic, rare—and worth a fortune.
We didn't report it—and we couldn't.
So, following Edgar's suggestion, we each took a small share.
The rest was secretly funneled into the Urban Expansion Special Fund.
Edgar and I also arranged to discreetly distribute a portion of the artifacts to several capital officials.
The effects were immediate.
Within days, all the applications that had been stuck for weeks were suddenly approved.
The long-delayed budget was released.
Even the local merchants who'd been sitting on the fence began jumping in to invest.
It was as though the expansion plan had caught fire—
and now burned with unstoppable momentum.
Unemployed laborers found work again.
Vagrants began to disappear from the streets.
Even the old inn we used to frequent had a new sign and fresh lamps.
The days that once drained away like sand in an hourglass…
were beginning to feel full again.
We even redrew the entire urban layout for the north and south districts, beginning our rebuilding efforts in the city's poorest corners.
All of this should be cause for celebration.
But for some reason…
I feel an inexplicable dread.
Not fear in the usual sense—
but a kind of unease that seeps out from the bones.
I look at some of the artifacts we brought out of that vault—
some shimmer with unnatural hues.
Some emit a faint glow at night.
They don't feel like metal.
They feel like they're breathing.
Edgar says I'm just too tense.
That I'm overthinking things.
But…
Am I?
Entry VI
Today I have to write down this fear.
Not because it's gone—
but because it's grown.
Among the treasures Livia found,
there was one object that stood out above all the rest.
It looked like a cup—but not quite.
Made of silver-white metal,
etched with unknown patterns we've never been able to decipher.
At the base—an embedded gemstone that resembled quartz, but pulsed—
as though it were beating.
We began calling it "The Holy Grail."
At first, it was just a curiosity: a rare piece, well-preserved, probably of great value.
But then… things happened.
One day, while keeping watch over the Grail, Edgar joked:
"If this cup really has magic, I wish the saline flats in the northeast would become fertile. That'd be nice."
We all laughed.
But two days later, workers reported strange changes in that exact area.
The ground looked different.
The soil—softer.
Moist.
We called in a soil specialist.
He examined it for hours, and then said something that chilled us to the bone:
"This kind of soil could only form after centuries of natural evolution.
It's impossible for it to have developed like this in just a few days."
Edgar insists it's coincidence. That belief creates results.
But I don't believe it.
Worse still,
I've started noticing that some items from the vault are missing.
Not blatantly so—
but in subtle, hazy ways.
Like I could swear there used to be a small green dagger in the corner.
Now—nothing.
No holes.
No broken locks.
Just… gone.
When I asked the guards,
they all said nothing had changed—
that I was remembering wrong.
But I know I'm not.
Every time I stand in front of the Grail,
I feel like it's watching me.
No—not like with eyes.
It's a feeling.
Being watched, from inside the marrow.
I can't look at it for too long.
And lately, I've started dreaming—
of the Grail growing larger and larger—
until it fills the whole sky.
A sky full of silent screaming.
I'm beginning to regret this.
Did we open something that should never have been opened?