21. The Four Hundredth Year

This time, Alfonso’s attire was much more normal. He wore practical brown casual clothes, distractedly heading downstairs, nearly colliding with Siles.

He snapped back, exclaiming, and repeatedly asked if Siles was alright.

Siles shook his head, his gaze instinctively drawn to Alfonso’s clothing.

Noticing, Alfonso said with a flourish, “The last gathering’s over… yes, over.” The eccentric, somewhat talkative folklorist continued, “I think when necessary, one should blend in… yes. Don’t stand out.”

Siles found it subtly amusing.

He listened quietly, and as Alfonso paused, about to bid farewell, Alfonso coughed, saying with a hint of boastfulness, “Don’t think the last gathering was just a bunch of costume enthusiasts’ revelry!”

Siles hadn’t thought so, but with Alfonso’s comment… well…

Unaware of Siles’s thoughts, Alfonso went on, “It was for the Godbirth Day celebration!”

The following parts of the text will be scrambled to prevent theft from aggregators and unauthorized epub making. Please support our translators by reading on secondlifetranslations (dot) com. If you are currently on the site and and you are seeing this, please clear your cache.

Qseckavb Pyu nlzlcayvksd?

Fkzlp rywple, vbld alnyzzle obyv kv oyp.

Xnvscla oyp yzoyup cwpu. Fvweldvp’ qkapv plxlpvla ldele, ryaldvp elyzv okvb vblka nbkzeald’p alvwad, yde zyvl Xnvscla xyajle Gdvkdyx’p ckavbeyu, pryodkdt xydu lhldvp.

Nkjl vbl okdvla bszkeyu xyajlv, vbl Qseckavb Pyu alhlzau, yde qsa vbl ewnbu yde nbwanb, vbl Qseckavb Pyu nlzlcayvksd.

Rv oyp, okvbswv iwlpvksd, vbl Isdpv Pwnbu’p zkhlzklpv vkxl. Ekvb Gdvkdyx yp vbl pszl tse, lhld kq Tl pllxle kdekqqlaldv vs pwnb bsdsap, qszzsolap yde svblap eyale dsv ekxkdkpb Tkp ektdkvu.

Mbwp, vbl Qseckavb Pyu nlzlcayvksd talo taydela lynb ulya.

Fkzlp vbswtbv, vbld pyke, “Mbl Qayde Pwjl oydvp vs elhlzsr vbl Odezlpp Nydep, ps bl’p yeekdt svbla nwzvwayz lzlxldvp vs vbkp ulya’p nlzlcayvksd?”

Gzqsdps, ycswv vs prlyj, typrle yp kq pllkdt y tbspv. “Tso eke usw jdso!”

Siles said, “A deduction.”

Alfonso stared incredulously. “You’re too sharp.”

This was the second time Siles was called “sharp.” Anthony Fain, a kid, said it first; now Alfonso, making Siles more embarrassed.

He said softly, “It’s just… reasonable inference.”

Alfonso shook his head. “Not something most would think of instantly.” He pulled a business card from his pocket, handing it to Siles. “I think I should extend the hand of friendship.”

Siles took it, smiling. “You’re an honorary professor at Lamifa University?”

“Yes, but I don’t teach,” Alfonso said. “Those kids are too mischievous. I just want to pick a few talented students as apprentices.”

He paused, realizing something, and gave Siles another ghostly look.

“I teach at Lamifa University, Silent Era literary history,” Siles said. “Trust me, it’s a coincidence. I got the job recently.”

Alfonso’s eyes widened. “Terrifying. My colleague lives in the same building, and for two months, we didn’t know.”

Siles couldn’t help but chuckle.

He recalled learning Angela Clayton was his student today, then meeting Alfonso, his colleague… too bizarre.

Alfonso sighed, then said, “No wonder Mrs. Fain said you’re moving tomorrow. To the university dormitory?”

“Yes,” Siles replied, then asked, “You’re not staying on campus?”

Alfonso shook his head. “I’m rarely at the university. Its location is too remote; I’m not keen. But I visit occasionally and can drop by to see you.

“If you need anything, write to me. I’d welcome it.”

Siles smiled, thanking him.

Alfonso bid farewell, heading out for his errands, always leaving at this hour.

Recalling the footsteps in the corridor the last time he met Alfonso… Siles suddenly felt suspicious. Was it Alfonso? Or… someone else?

Siles stood, pondering, then shook his head, leaving the dim corridor for his warm room.

He sat, resting his eyes briefly. Thinking of tomorrow’s move and office organization, Siles felt a headache, already sensing back pain.

Good thing he had no classes Monday.

…But Monday afternoon was the Historical Society.

Siles sighed heartfeltly.

A week ago, during his interview, he received his course schedule.

No classes Monday; Tuesday morning, a specialized elective, evening, a public elective; no classes Wednesday; Thursday afternoon, another public elective; Friday morning, the specialized elective.

It seemed spacious, but with thesis writing, Historical Society lessons, Glenfiel’s invitation, and undecided apprentice matters, his schedule was as tight as an Earth high schooler’s.

…And he needed time to write a novel.

Worse, it sounded even more like a high schooler.

Siles’s head ached.

Thinking of writing, he took out Glenfiel’s gifted novel and the two bestsellers from the book vendors’ market, skimming them.

Antonia Kaming’s detective novel had love and hate, tied to murder cases; the adventure novels emphasized thrills, not girlish sentiments.

…Girlish sentiments.

Siles frowned, troubled.

As a man, writing romance was tough, but he could take a different approach.

After pondering, he wrote on scrap paper: A lonely knight hidden in shadows seeks vengeance for love. After a moment, he added: And is saved by love.

He nodded, satisfied.

First, it ensured a male lead female readers would like; second, it sparked debate among male readers over the “red and white roses.”

An Earth novelist needed such topic-setting flair—though the novel was just two lines.

He set the paper aside, turning to packing. Most items, like clothes, were boxed days ago.

Left were teaching plans, documents, and books, which he packed into a box. The manuscript from Professor Kabel, which raised his spirituality by two points, he blindly stuffed at the box’s bottom.

He packed daily necessities and miscellaneous items.

Finally, three neat boxes stood, leaving the room starkly empty.

Siles stood, dazed, then exhaled long.

It was the 400th year of the Mist Era, July 29. The start of a new century, its future unknown.

For Siles, tomorrow marked a new phase. Since arriving, he’d met many, learned much, gained knowledge.

He played a young man about to become a professor. But his soul remained an Earth outsider.

The road home was long. Siles sighed inwardly.

Fortunately, he wasn’t truly a young twenty-something. He calmly suppressed his emotions, sat blankly, then went to the washroom and fell into deep sleep early.

The next morning at seven, Siles packed everything, planning to hire a private carriage. Downstairs, he met Bertram Fain, heading out.

Hearing Siles was moving, Bertram kindly offered to drive him.

Siles hesitated, as the Fains had helped him much, but Bertram insisted, saying he was going to East Lamifa for business matters.

Freshly returned, he’d be busy with engagements.

Siles loaded his three boxes into Bertram’s car, bid farewell to Mrs. Fain and Anthony—the latter reluctant but awkwardly waving.

Siles sat in the front passenger seat, intrigued by this world’s car.

“First time in a car?”

“Yes,” Siles said, feeling, “Very smooth.”

“It’s cutting-edge for our era,” Bertram replied. “Not common in the Konst Duchy, more so elsewhere.”

Siles nodded, recalling his curiosity about this world’s energy, and asked, “How’s it powered?”

“Star dust,” Bertram said casually.

Siles froze, surprised by the… flamboyant name?

Bertram, driving carefully, glanced at Siles. “Never heard of it?”

“No.”

Siles felt the car’s smoothness—slow but stable, convenient, and pollution-free, astonishing for this era.

Thinking of this world’s transcendent powers, he wondered if star dust was tied to Revelators.

“Star dust is a product of the Endless Lands, a crystal that glows faintly at night. It looks like twinkling stars, so its discoverer named it star dust, and the name stuck.”

Siles nodded.

Bertram explained, “When burned or heated, star dust provides stable energy. One grain can power this car for nearly ten hours.

“I don’t know the specifics. It’s said tribes in the Endless Lands first used it for warmth in long winters.

“Merchants found star dust sources, spreading it to some nations. Many are hesitant due to low supply.

“I bought this car after acquiring some star dust in the Endless Lands.”

Siles’s heart stirred.

He asked firmly, “Do you have channels to invest in star dust?”

“Invest?” Bertram asked, surprised, then said, “I know a couple of merchants dealing in it, but I haven’t inquired… You think it’s promising?”

Promising? It’s a goldmine!

Siles, outwardly calm, said, “I think so.”

Bertram didn’t doubt him, nodding. “I’ll look into it.”