2. Lamifa University

In the dim, dilapidated, and dust-laden antique bookstore, a middle-aged man with a full beard sat lazily behind the counter. He wore a slightly worn suit and glasses, engrossed in a book with yellowed pages.

A wind chime hanging at the door jingled, signaling a visitor’s arrival. However, the man neither looked up nor stood, merely saying casually, “Feel free to browse. Call me if you need anything.”

Then, he buried himself back in his book.

Siles stepped into the bookstore and surveyed his surroundings.

It was a modestly sized shop. According to the text on the doorframe, it was called “Glenfiel Antique Bookstore.” Inside, there were two rows of bookshelves and a few cramped tables stacked with books—not new ones, but volumes exuding the musty scent of aged ink.

The original body’s memories contained no trace of this bookstore.

Siles placed his black long-handled umbrella by the door and, as the owner had suggested, began searching for books on his own. He didn’t understand why the sound of dice had echoed in his mind earlier.

He tried mentally communicating with the die, seeking its presence, but to no avail. In the end, he decided to enter the bookstore.

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“Glenfiel. You can call me Glen,” Glenfiel said nonchalantly. “I have to ask, why are you interested in Silent Era books?”

“I study Silent Era literature,” Siles replied.

He already understood what the book was. It wasn’t an original work from the Silent Era but a contemporary scholar’s work, introducing several famous Silent Era texts—a sort of guidebook.

For Siles, it was somewhat basic, but for students taking his course as an elective, it seemed like a decent introductory read. He mentally considered adding it to the reading list for his students.

Then he noticed Glenfiel had been silent for too long.

He raised his eyes to look at Glenfiel.

The middle-aged man was staring at him with an inscrutable gaze.

Siles paused briefly, then asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Was there something wrong with studying Silent Era literature?

Glenfiel stroked his brown beard, muttering to himself as if soliloquizing, “Silent Era… literature… hmm… no, no, this won’t do…”

Siles glanced at him, then lowered his eyes again, flipping to the book’s title: A Brief Discussion on Three Blasphemous Novels of the Silent Era and Their Ideas. He committed the title to memory.

At that moment, Glenfiel made a decision. He pulled open a drawer, retrieved a business card, and handed it to Siles. “Here.”

Siles took it and glanced down.

“Lamifa Historical Society. Vice President, Joseph Morton.”

Glenfiel said, “I don’t have what you’re looking for here, but this card might help.” His tone carried a suggestive undertone. “This is, after all, a semi-official organization.”

Siles narrowed his eyes slightly, and the sound of rolling dice echoed in his mind again.

【You need to make a knowledge check.】
【Knowledge: 45/80, Failure.】
【You couldn’t glean any information from this ordinary business card. You feel you should find the person named on it.】

Another check triggered? What was the mechanism behind these triggers?

In tabletop games, players typically requested checks from the game master. In certain special cases, the game master might initiate a check for the players.

But in both instances Siles had encountered, the checks were triggered automatically, like a rigid computer program.

What kind of scenario was he in? Who was conducting these checks for him?

Was there something he was supposed to learn from this business card? It was merely the card of a historical society’s vice president. What could it offer him? Silent Era manuscripts? Documents?

Siles pondered this while thanking Glenfiel.

He felt confused and wary, but the die in his pocket remained quietly in place, as if nothing had happened. In the end, Siles left the bookstore with a book title and a business card.

It was now nearing nine o’clock, and Siles hadn’t eaten breakfast. While waiting for a public carriage at the Logan Market station, he bought a small piece of bread from a nearby bakery and swallowed it with some difficulty.

He mulled over the fact that, although he would leave West Lamifa in a week, how he would manage that week was a question in itself.

The original body had been an outstanding student, earning scholarships annually, and his mother sent living expenses each semester. However, during the period after graduation while job hunting, rent and living costs had nearly depleted his savings.

The legal currency in the Konst Duchy, where Lamifa City was located, was called the “duke coin,” a lightweight coin made from precious metals. Comparing it to Earth’s currency, Siles estimated a duke coin was roughly equivalent to 100 units of currency.

There were also “marquis coins,” worth about 10 units, and “earl coins,” worth about 1 unit.

Most conversions in this world used a decimal system: 1 duke coin = 10 marquis coins = 100 earl coins, which was convenient. For He Jiayin, an Earth native, this was immensely relieving.

There were also paper notes, though they had larger denominations. Commonly used were hundred-coin notes, equivalent to one hundred duke coins, and ten-coin notes, equivalent to ten duke coins.

Currently, Siles had three ten-coin notes, four duke coins, and some marquis and earl coins. His total savings amounted to roughly forty duke coins.

In the simplest terms, forty duke coins could sustain him in Lamifa City for forty days—under stable living conditions.

But with his upcoming job, he needed to purchase textbooks, professor’s attire, daily necessities, and prepare for academic writing after starting his role. Even if some expenses could be reimbursed by the university, forty duke coins wouldn’t suffice.

After all, his first paycheck of fifty duke coins wouldn’t arrive until the end of the month after the semester began.

Siles sighed softly in his mind, swallowing the last bite of bread, worth one earl coin. Just then, a public carriage rolled along its fixed track, pulling two trailing carriages.

Siles opened his pocket watch and saw it was exactly nine o’clock. He boarded the carriage with a few other passengers. There were no seats in the carriage, so they stood.

The carriage moved along its fixed track and route at a slow pace, stopping frequently to pick up or drop off passengers. The carriage rocked heavily, and an occasional foul odor wafted through, but the passengers were accustomed to this poor travel experience.

After about two hours, Siles reached his destination—Lamifa University.

Lamifa University was located in the northeast corner of Lamifa City, very close to the suburbs. Its main structure was a large, castle-like building.

It was said that this had once been a noble’s castle, donated when Lamifa City was established and plans for a university were made.

Surrounding the main castle were other buildings, including a greenhouse, sports field, library, and more. The dormitory Siles would soon move to was in a cluster of low buildings west of the main castle.

Upon entering the campus, a lively and vibrant atmosphere, distinct from the Old City, enveloped him.

Some students who had returned early, wearing Lamifa University’s uniform robes, passed by Siles with cheerful chatter. Mistaking him for a fellow student, they greeted him.

Siles smiled faintly, nodding back without correcting the misunderstanding.

The original body had been a student at Lamifa University for four years—two as a regular literature student and two as a research scholar. Siles realized many of his future students would likely be his former juniors.

Moments later, he crossed the large lawn in front of the main castle and entered its interior through the main entrance hall. The ancient building, constructed in the Silent Era, exuded a heavy, profound aura, calming Siles the moment he stepped inside.

The office for the professor of literary history was on the fourth floor, a small, private room.

In this world and era, despite the existence of universities, there were no “science disciplines” like those in Siles’s homeland. Most university disciplines were in literature, history, philosophy, languages, politics, geography, and similar fields.

The university’s education system was divided into two parts: basic education and advanced education, totaling four years, roughly akin to Earth’s undergraduate and postgraduate studies. However, the latter retained an older apprenticeship system.

Within the university, students in advanced education were called “apprentices” internally and “research scholars” externally, a concept combining Earth’s master’s and doctoral students, still requiring mentorship.

As a new professor, Siles would need to mentor apprentices, with little say in their selection. After the semester began, he would learn who his students were.

…He hoped they would be agreeable.

Besides apprentices, Siles was responsible for two public elective courses and two specialized elective courses within the Institute of Literature and History. Due to his rushed appointment, he had only briefly learned his future duties after yesterday’s interview.

…Honestly, this made his appointment as a professor even more astonishing. How abruptly had the previous professor left for a freshly graduated apprentice to become a professor in just a week?

With these thoughts, Siles used a key to unlock the office once used by the previous professor.

As the door opened, a musty smell of old books hit him. Stale air mixed with dust assaulted his senses, making him wince involuntarily.

He gazed at the chaotic scene in the office. After a moment, he sighed softly.

Books and papers were strewn haphazardly across the room, barely over ten square meters. Ink had spilled, and the quill’s feathers were tattered. The desk and chair were overturned, and books and items from the shelves were scattered on the floor.

The sofa was littered with crumpled paper balls and scraps, presenting a scene of utter disarray.

How rushed and anxious had the previous occupant been when leaving this office?

For a moment, Siles hesitated to step inside.

“Siles, aha! I knew you’d come today!” A robust yet aged voice echoed from the distant staircase in the fourth-floor corridor.

Siles turned his head, then smiled. “Professor Bright.”