Henri sat on the window ledge, his eyes blankly staring out.
In his hand, there was a blank sheet of paper lying on his lap.
Meanwhile, the pencil in his right hand was twitching impatiently, while his left hand held the paper tightly.
He fixed his gaze on the blank paper.
"This blank piece of paper...
"What the hell for?"
The old man left this paper without a clue.
But there seems to be a point to his actions...
In this fantasy, nonsensical world, anything is possible, but what exactly does the old man want?
Talking to me?
Why not speak with your mouth... hand over the paper instead...
Because he couldn't speak? That's why he handed over the paper? But this paper is blank... what message do you want to hand over to me?
Henri had tried all sorts of things before—such as holding the paper close to the fire, hoping for invisible ink to appear, then waiting for days hoping the writing would appear on its own like some cheap magic from a novella. However, the results were nil.
The paper remains blank!
Immersion in water was also an option. But fearing that the paper would crumble, he decided to make it the last option.
A long sigh was heard from Henri who bowed his head as if he was tired of living.
"Should I just soak it in water?"
Henri sighed deeply, his gaze returning to the pencil in his hand. He had thought about using a pen, but he was afraid that something would mess up the paper, so he chose a pencil instead, which could be erased with an eraser.
Carefully, he wrote one question to try something.
"Who am I?"
Seconds passed. The paper didn't answer. Henri was disappointed and he began to feel like a fool messing around with an inanimate object.
He stared blankly at the pencil writing in front of him, then grumbled, "It's no use." His hand moved, and in one swift motion he erased the writing. The pencil flew again, but this time he tried something else.
Something a little more... specific.
"Who are you?"
Henri's eyes widened instantly, his fingers holding the pencil trembled. Letters started to appear on the surface of the paper!
"Armand Lefevre."
Henri's eyes were narrowed. Is this the name of that old man?
Henri immediately felt energised after getting his question answered, he immediately moved his hands to write another question.
"Are you the old man?" he wrote with some hesitation.
Again, the answer came, fast as lightning:
"Yes."
Henri raised an eyebrow. Seriously? Is this some kind of joke? He felt something was off, but his instincts forced him to keep asking.
He still didn't believe that this piece of paper could answer his questions.
But putting that aside, right now, in his brain, he had prepared the questions that were important to ask him.
Since he was an old man who must have lived a long life, he would ask something specific about what was going on in the world and why he and his friend had been summoned. If the old man wasn't senile, it should be easy to get an answer.
"Why are you giving me this paper?"
This time, the answers came more slowly.
"Destiny."
Henri was quiet for a long time. His lips twitched when he read the word "destiny".
This word tickled him with revulsion. Not because he did not believe in fate, but rather the absurdity of this situation.
He was religious but he was reluctant to believe in destiny.
Henri leaned back.
"What do you mean destiny?"
"You will save this world."
The answer just came out of nowhere.
Henri stared blankly at the writing, then suddenly chuckled, an ominous laugh. His eyebrows lifted, his lips tugged obliquely in a cynical smile.
Me? Saving the world? he whispered sarcastically. I am a human with a rotten heart. I am not a hero in heroic stories.
He put the pencil down for a while, feeling something much more intriguing on his mind. If this was a joke, then it was a really bad joke. He looked down at the paper, searching for a more realistic answer.
Instead of asking how to be a hero, he decided to ask something more important to him. Something more personal.
"How can I go home?"
Henri waited impatiently, his heart beating wildly, even to himself. He kept looking at the writing that never appeared on the paper.
But then, the writing appeared again.
"Bring the gift that I gave you."
Henri was silent, puzzled by the words. Gifts? he thought. What does he mean? The old man hasn't given him anything, other than this paper!
Can we go home from this world with that gift?
"Wear it when the time has come."
Henri's eyes narrowed. I haven't even asked yet and he's already answered...
"When?"
There was no reply. The paper fell silent again. Henri chuckled in irritation. Bastard, you didn't tell me the time!
He picked up the eraser and erased the last piece of writing with quick, frustrated movements. Endless questions began to haunt him, but, strangely, the paper provided no further answers.
Henri stared at the paper for a moment, then with a lazy movement he folded it and put it into his jacket pocket.
Saving the world? Nonsense...
"If I have to save the world," he thought, "I'll do it my way, or maybe... not at all."
He looked up at the sky.
At this moment, his eyes trembled violently, his body shivered in an instant—in this state, in his head a glimpse of the question asked by his friend, Chloe flashed.
"If it's suddenly night, what do you think will happen?"
In the reflection of his eyes, the sky was now purple, and the sun, which seemed to have been swallowed up by the sky, had set.
This world has come to life completely... That's what he thought.
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A/N: If you want to read the 7 advanced chapters with a faster update frequency than the webnovel, you can read it on my patreon whose link is below:
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By the way, don't forget to throw a power stone and leave a review to motivate me :)
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