In a dark, dilapidated, and dusty antique bookstore, a middle-aged man with a thick beard sat lazily behind the counter, wearing a slightly worn suit and glasses, looking at a book with yellowed pages.
The wind chimes hanging at the door rang, indicating the arrival of a customer. However, the middle-aged man neither looked up nor got up, simply saying casually, "Please feel free to look around; call me if you need anything."
Then, he continued to bury himself in the books.
After entering the bookstore, Ciels looked around.
It was a bookstore of modest size. According to the inscription on the door frame, it should be called "Glenfield Antique Bookstore." The shop had two rows of bookshelves and a few tables, with many books crammed together, none of them brand new, but rather books with the smell of worn ink.
This bookstore didn't appear in the original owner's memories.
Celes placed his long-handled black umbrella at the entrance and, as the owner had instructed, began searching for the books he wanted. He didn't know why the sound of dice had echoed in his mind earlier.
He tried to communicate with the dice in his mind, searching for their presence, but to no avail. Finally, he decided to enter the bookstore.
He first noticed the books' age. Age didn't necessarily mean antiquity, but it definitely meant the bookstore owner was someone of considerable importance. According to the knowledge in his mind, after entering the Mist Age, people only began using printing technology nearly three hundred years ago.
The Mist Age was the era they currently lived in. Before the Mist Age was the Silent Age. The literature of the Silent Age was Celes's specialty.
He scanned the books in the bookstore with a slightly critical eye, finding that most were from this era.
He didn't really expect this shop to have any ancient books from the Chronicle of Silence, but for various reasons, he asked the perpetually silent shopkeeper, "Excuse me, do you have any books related to the Chronicle of Silence?"
The middle-aged man immediately looked up, giving Ciles a slightly strange look. Then he said, "Yes." He casually held up the book in his hand. "This is it."
Ciles walked to the counter, glanced down at the gray-black stains and dust on it, and simply asked, "May I take a look?"
The middle-aged man's expression became even stranger. He muttered something, looked at the calm-faced, black-haired, black-eyed young man before him, hesitated for a moment, and then placed the book in front of Ciles.
"What's your name?" Ciles asked, looking down at the book.
"Grenfell, you can call me Glenn," Glenfell said casually. "I have to ask, why are you interested in books about the Chronicle of Silence?"
"I study the literature of the Chronicle of Silence," Ciles replied.
He already understood what this book was about. It wasn't the original literature of the Silent Era, but rather a work by a contemporary scholar, introducing several famous works from that era—a kind of introductory book.
This was somewhat basic for Cyles, but it seemed like a good introductory text for the students taking his courses. He mentally considered a reading list for his students.
Then he realized that Grenfell seemed to have been silent for too long.
He looked up at Grenfell.
The middle-aged man looked at him with an inscrutable gaze.
Cyles paused slightly, then asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Was there something wrong with studying the literature of the Silent Era?
Grenfell stroked his brown beard, then muttered as if to himself, "The Silent Era…literature…um…no, no, this won't do…"
Cyles glanced at him, then lowered his eyes, turning to the book's title, "Three Blasphemous Novels of the Silent Era and a Brief Discussion of Their Ideas," and memorized the name.
At this moment, Grenfell had made his decision. He pulled out a drawer, took out a business card, and handed it to Ciles: "Here you go."
Ciles took it and glanced at it.
"The Ramifa Historical Society. Vice President, Joseph Morton,"
Grenfell said. "What you want, I don't have here, but this business card is for you." His tone was suggestive. "This is a semi-official organization."
Ciles narrowed his eyes, and the sound of dice rolling echoed in his mind once more.
[You need to perform a knowledge check.]
[Knowledge: 45/80, Failure.]
[You couldn't obtain any information from this ordinary business card. You feel you should find the person on the card.]
Another check triggered? What exactly is the mechanism for triggering this check?
In tabletop role-playing games, usually players request checks from the host; in some special cases, the host might proactively perform a check for the players.
But regardless, the two checks Ciles has encountered so far have been automatically triggered, like a rigid computer program.
What kind of scenario is he in? Who is performing these checks for him?
What information could he possibly glean from this business card? But this was merely the head of a historical society; what could he possibly offer Ciles? Ancient books from the Silent Age? Documents?
Ciles pondered this as he thanked Grenfell.
He felt a mixture of confusion and wariness, but the dice in his pocket remained unperturbed, as if nothing had happened. Finally, Ciles left the bookstore with the title of a book and a business card.
It was nearly nine o'clock, and Ciles hadn't eaten breakfast yet. While waiting for a carriage at the Logan Market's public carriage stop, he had bought a small piece of bread from a nearby bakery and swallowed it with slight difficulty.
He pondered to himself, even though he would be leaving West City in a week, how he would spend that week was a problem.
The original owner of this body was an excellent student, receiving scholarships every year, and his mother would send him living expenses each semester. However, during the time he spent looking for a job after graduation, rent and living expenses had already depleted his savings.
The legal tender used in the Duchy of Constance, where Ramifa City was located, was called "Duke's Coins," a type of lightweight coin made from precious metals. Comparing it to currencies on Earth, Celes estimated that a Duke's Coin was roughly equivalent to 100 yuan.
There were also Marquis's Coins equivalent to 10 yuan, and Earl's Coins equivalent to 1 yuan.
The conversion units in this world mostly used a decimal system, with 1 Duke's Coin = 10 Marquis's Coins = 100 Earl's Coins, making the conversion relatively convenient. For Earthling He Jiayin, this was very convenient and a great relief.
There were also paper banknotes, however, in larger denominations. Commonly used notes include the 100-coin note, equivalent to one hundred ducal coins, and the 10-coin note, equivalent to ten ducal coins.
Currently, Ciles has three 10-coin notes, four ducal coins, and some marquis and earl coins, totaling approximately forty ducal coins.
To put it simply, forty ducal coins could sustain him in Ramifa for forty days. But that's assuming comfortable living conditions.
He's about to start his job and needs to purchase textbooks, teaching uniforms, and daily necessities, as well as prepare for his academic writing after starting. Even if some of these expenses are reimbursed by the school, forty ducal coins isn't enough.
After all, his salary isn't paid until the end of the month after the semester begins. His monthly salary is fifty ducal coins.
Ciles sighed slightly and swallowed the last bite of his bread, worth one earl coin. Just then, a public carriage pulled up along its designated tracks, pulling two carriages behind it.
Ciles checked his pocket watch and saw it was exactly nine o'clock. He boarded the carriage with several other passengers. There were no seats in the carriage, so everyone had to stand.
The carriage moved slowly along a fixed track and route, stopping frequently to let passengers on and off. The carriage swayed violently, and there was often an unpleasant odor, but every passenger had grown accustomed to this unpleasant experience.
After about two hours, Ciles finally arrived at his destination—Lamifa University. Lamifa
University was located in the northeast corner of the city of Lamifa, very close to the suburbs, and its main building was a large, castle-like structure.
It was said that this was indeed once a nobleman's castle, but when Lamifa was founded and the university was planned, the nobleman donated the building.
Surrounding the main castle were other buildings, including greenhouses, sports fields, and a library. Ciles's dormitory was located in a cluster of low-rise buildings west of the main castle of Lamifa.
Entering the campus, a vibrancy and life different from the old city immediately came through.
Some students who had returned to school early, wearing the uniform robes of Ramifa University, walked past Ciles, laughing and joking, assuming he was also a student and greeting him.
Ciles smiled slightly, nodded to them, and didn't explain the misunderstanding.
The original owner of this body had been a student at Ramifa University for four years; the first two were ordinary literature students, and the last two were research scholars. Ciles realized that his former juniors would likely appear in his classes.
A moment later, he walked across the large lawn in front of the main castle and entered the inner part of the castle through the main entrance hall. This ancient building, dating back to the Silent Era, exuded a heavy, profound aura, instantly calming Ciles upon entering.
The professor of literary history's office was on the fourth floor, a small, independent office.
This world, this era, although it had universities, didn't have the "science majors" of Ciles' hometown; most majors in universities were in the humanities, history, philosophy, languages, politics, geography, and the like.
The university's education system is divided into two parts: basic education and advanced education, totaling four years. The structure is roughly similar to undergraduate and graduate studies on Earth, but the latter still follows the old apprenticeship system.
Within the university and among faculty and students, students in advanced education are called "apprentices," while externally they are called "research scholars," a concept similar to graduate students on Earth—a combination of master's and doctoral degrees, still requiring study under a mentor.
Celes is a new professor and also needs to mentor apprentices, but his choice is limited. He will know who his students will be after the semester begins
… He hopes they will be easy to get along with.
Besides apprentices, Celes is also responsible for two general elective courses and two specialized elective courses within the Faculty of Arts and Sciences. Because his onboarding was very rushed, after his interview yesterday afternoon, he only had a general understanding of his future responsibilities…
Honestly, this makes his becoming a professor seem even more unbelievable. Just how rushed must the previous professor's departure have been for a newly graduated apprentice to become a professor within a week?
With this thought in mind, Ciles unlocked the office that the professor had previously used.
As soon as the door opened, he was hit with the smell of old, worn books. The stuffy air, mixed with dust, filled his nostrils, causing Ciles to involuntarily frown.
He surveyed the messy scene in the office, and after a moment, sighed softly.
Books and papers were scattered haphazardly in the small room, barely ten square meters; ink had spilled, and quill pen quills were tattered. The desk and chair were overturned, and books and items on the shelves were strewn haphazardly on the floor.
The sofa was covered in crumpled balls of paper and scraps of paper, displaying a scene of utter disarray.
How hurried and anxious must the former owner of this office have been when he left?
Ciles hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to go in.
"Cilles, aha! I knew you'd come today!" A deep, resonant voice echoed from the distant staircase on the fourth-floor corridor.
Ciles turned his head, then smiled: "Professor Bright."