July 15th arrived very quickly. For Furen, this day was no longer calm and peaceful, or at least, it finally broke the monotonous cycle of the last few days: house, shop, library, again and again.
Furen still hoped for a life that wasn't ordinary. But in this world, the unknown meant danger, and danger, for a Furen still lacking real power, was undoubtedly very bad news.
Of course, Furen hadn't been idle. Quite the contrary: even though he had spent most of his time immersed in new books, that didn't mean he hadn't done anything else.
After a long period of reading, Furen felt that the potion he had ingested was finally showing signs of being digested. He felt neither the bursting of stars in his body, nor the massive sensation of inner transformation he had been told about, but he perceived from time to time a particular vividness in his spirituality.
Meanwhile, Furen had finally finished reading the voluminous "Concise History of Philosophy, Ancient and Modern." He had also quickly skimmed Martin's astrology notes, just enough to get a first impression. In addition, he had finished all the books on magic on the sixth floor of the library.
As he had predicted, these magic books were nothing but hot air: a lot of useless words, no concrete explanations. Furen didn't want to read them, but his current "job" was precisely to read, and he had set himself a schedule... So he had no other choice but to dive in, gritting his teeth.
Yes, Furen now considered reading to be his job. Reading should have been a pleasure, but having literally nothing else to do, it had become real work, and unpaid work at that. But his increasingly active spirituality reminded him that it wasn't all in vain.
Besides his days at the library, Furen had also taken the time to see a magic show at the Bakal Circus. Incredibly, the show was exactly the same as those in his old world—just as predictable and just as outdated. The tricks were the same as everywhere else. Even though Furen didn't understand their secrets at all, he couldn't deny that he'd seen enough.
And so, in his office, holding the first cup of coffee he was finally able to make properly, Furen picked up the newspaper next to him to begin a new day.
These days, he'd skimmed through a few books on coffee, but without any real interest. He just wanted to know how to make it properly. Finally, he'd calculated an average: the water-to-coffee ratio should be around 15:1. It might not have been the most suitable for this particular coffee, but Furen wasn't striving for perfection. Even though he respected food and enjoyed what he ate, he didn't want to devote too much attention to it; a mere mortal didn't have enough energy to aim for excellence in everything.
After taking a sip of the fragrant coffee and reading his newspaper, Furen felt he had what it took to play a role in a British television series: the relaxed demeanor, the cup in his hand, the newspaper beside him. Provided, of course, that you didn't look at him.
As for the peaceful sensation of enjoying tea in a traditional setting… Furen looked at his clothes, an outfit close to a modern suit, with no relation to a long ancient robe, and abandoned the idea.
While leafing through Trier's Trade Gazette, which he read daily as a sort of light read, he came across a news item about crystal recovery. Everything was happening at once, he thought: today he was supposed to attend a philosophy conference, tomorrow he was to go to the Beyonders meeting… But that absent-minded boss hadn't even told him what time he was supposed to be there.
Mentally cursing his scatterbrained boss, Furen told himself he'd take a look tomorrow afternoon. Then he turned his attention to another newspaper.
After finishing the Trier Daily, having gained a general idea of the current situation in the city, and noting that no event was likely to conflict with his own business, Furen got up, got ready and set off for the library.
The philosophical salon was to take place in the afternoon, but that didn't stop him from studying a little beforehand. After all, life could stop, but studying couldn't… well… in theory only.
Arriving at the library, he picked up a grammar and vocabulary book in Old Feysac, but the pages filled with unfamiliar words distracted him: his mind began to anticipate everything that might happen in the drawing room. Overcome by anxiety, he finally closed the book with a swift gesture.
And he launched into a new internal monologue:
"In the last few days, I've tested my abilities twice on Miss Ashley. I can trust this faithful servant; no need to continue the tests. Phew… being alone at home is so complicated, and to think it's just because I'm too suspicious."
"Well, in that case, I could read a book on modern living rooms. That way, I'll know what to do to avoid being impolite."
However, on the shelves of the fourth and fifth floors, Furen found no books specifically devoted to salons. Fortunately, descriptions of salons were common in books on modern art and contemporary novels.
After quickly skimming two or three descriptions of philosophical salons without knowing whether they were true or not, Furen set off towards Trenk Street, in the Hoshino district.
The Scarlet and Gold Café stood out clearly from the other cafés and restaurants around it, or rather, the others were themselves very atypical. It was very different from the somewhat strange gold aesthetic he had seen before, or the simple style of the working-class neighborhood.
As its name suggested, the Scarlet and Gold Café's decor consisted primarily of scarlet and gold. In his readings on religion, Furen had discovered that scarlet wasn't the primary color of the Goddess of the Night, but was nonetheless one of her favorites, while gold was the color favored by the Eternal Sun. As a result, even though the café was beautiful, Furen felt ironically uneasy.
But he quickly dismissed that feeling. After all, he was not faithful to either deity, so that this discomfort should be left to the believers.
He checked the time: approximately 2:45 PM. It wasn't quite time yet, but Furen preferred to arrive early. It was a habit he'd had since childhood: at school, at work, he'd always been taught to be punctual, even to arrive before the scheduled time. Perhaps it was a good thing… but he didn't know if it was the norm for people in this world.
(End of chapter)