With a plan firmly in mind, Zhou Mingrui felt a newfound sense of calm settle over him. The anxiety, confusion, and unease were relegated to the corners of his mind, no longer as overwhelming.
For the first time, he allowed himself to sift through the fragmented memories Klein had left behind.
Zhou Mingrui habitually rose from his seat, turned off the gas valve, and watched as the wall lamp dimmed, fading to darkness. Then he sat back down, absentmindedly running his fingers over the brass cylinder of the revolver while pressing a hand to his temple, reflecting on the disjointed memories like a dedicated moviegoer engrossed in the scenes.
Perhaps due to the bullet wound, Klein's memories felt shattered, like broken glass. Not only were they incomplete and lacking cohesion, but critical details were missing as well. For instance, the origins of the finely crafted revolver were unknown. Was it a suicide or a murder staged as one? And what was the meaning behind the ominous message in the notebook, *"Everyone will die, including me"*? Had Klein encountered anything strange in the two days before the incident?
It wasn't only these specific memories that were fragmented; even his knowledge seemed incomplete. In his current state, Zhou Mingrui doubted Klein would be able to graduate from university if he were to return—despite being away from his studies for only a few days and having always been diligent.
"In two days… the interview at Tingen University's history department…"
"Universities in the Kingdom of Loen have a tradition of not retaining graduates directly as faculty… The professor provided one recommendation for Tingen University and another for Backlund University…"
...
As Zhou Mingrui absorbed these scattered scenes, the crimson moon outside began to descend, sinking toward the horizon until a faint light crept over the eastern sky, painting the horizon with a golden hue.
From the inner room, he heard soft sounds as someone stirred, followed soon by the sound of footsteps nearing the partition door.
"Melissa's up… she's as punctual as ever," Zhou Mingrui mused with a small smile, feeling an inexplicable sibling-like affection toward Melissa due to Klein's memories.
Yet, he reminded himself with a smirk, *I don't actually have a younger sister…*
Melissa, unlike Benson and Klein, hadn't completed her primary education at the Sunday school of the Church of the Goddess of the Night. By the time she was of schooling age, the Kingdom of Loen had enacted the Elementary Education Act, establishing the Committee on Elementary and Intermediate Education and increasing funding for public schooling.
Within three years, numerous public elementary schools sprang up, many of them taking over former church schools. These schools maintained strict religious neutrality, steering clear of the influence of the Lord of Storms, the Goddess of the Night, and the Church of Steam and Machinery.
Compared to the one-penny-per-week Sunday schools, the public elementary schools charged a relatively steep fee of three pence per week. However, Sunday school only ran once a week, while public elementary school offered classes six days a week, making it effectively close to free education.
Melissa, unlike most girls her age, was fascinated by gears, springs, and bearings, aspiring to become a steam mechanic.
Benson, who had experienced the disadvantages of limited education, understood its importance and supported Melissa's ambition, just as he had encouraged Klein to attend university. After all, Tingen Technical School offered intermediate education without requiring the additional expense of grammar or public school.
Last July, at fifteen, Melissa passed the entrance exam and was accepted into Tingen Technical School's Steam and Machinery department, where her weekly tuition rose to nine pence.
However, around the same time, Benson's employer, an import-export company, was heavily impacted by the instability on the Southern Continent. Both profits and business volume plummeted, resulting in layoffs exceeding a third of the staff. To keep his job and support his family, Benson was forced to take on heavier tasks, often working overtime or traveling to harsh environments—just as he had been doing these past few days.
Klein had wanted to help his brother bear the financial burden, but as someone from a modest background who had only managed to enter university from a regular grammar school, he keenly felt his own limitations. For instance, the ancient Fusac language, foundational to all Northern Continent languages, was something noble-born children and the wealthy had studied since childhood. Klein, on the other hand, had only encountered it for the first time in university.
Klein's memories flashed through Zhou Mingrui's mind, of countless nights Klein had stayed up late, rising early to barely keep up with others, graduating with only average grades despite pouring all his effort into his studies.
The memories of his brother and sister filled Zhou Mingrui's thoughts, grounding him in a sense of familiarity. But then he heard the creak of a door handle, and the door to the inner room began to open. Suddenly aware of the revolver in his hand, Zhou Mingrui snapped back to reality.
This was a semi-restricted item! The sight of it could scare a child!
And the wound on my head!
Seeing Melissa about to come out, Zhou Mingrui quickly pressed a hand to his temple, confirming that the injury had already healed. In a hurry, he yanked open the desk drawer and tossed the revolver inside with a loud *thud.*
"What was that noise?" Melissa asked, looking over with curiosity.
She was at the prime of her youth, her face thin and slightly pale from a lack of proper nutrition, yet her skin had a natural glow, radiating a youthful charm.
Meeting her inquisitive brown gaze, Zhou Mingrui forced a calm demeanor. He reached for the nearest object on the desk and smoothly closed the drawer, concealing the revolver. His other hand discreetly touched his temple, feeling only smooth skin where the wound had been.
The object he had grabbed from the drawer was a silver pocket watch with intricate vine and leaf engravings. A gentle press of the top button made the lid pop open.
It was the most valuable item left by the siblings' father, a Royal Army sergeant. But being secondhand, the watch had frequently malfunctioned over the years. Despite multiple repairs, it remained unreliable, embarrassing Benson several times when he'd tried to wear it as a status symbol, until he'd finally given up and left it at home.
Melissa, however, had a knack for mechanics. After mastering some basic principles at technical school, she'd taken to tinkering with the watch, recently even claiming she'd managed to fix it.
As Zhou Mingrui observed the unmoving second hand, he instinctively twisted the crown to wind it.
He turned it several times, yet there was no resistance, no sound of a tightened spring, and the second hand remained stubbornly still.
"It seems like it's broken again," he muttered, searching for something to say as he glanced at Melissa.
Without a word, Melissa shot him a look, strode over, and took the watch from his hand.
Standing in place, she pulled up the crown and gave it a few precise turns. The soft ticking of the second hand started up almost immediately.
Isn't pulling it up supposed to adjust the time? Zhou Mingrui's expression froze in surprise.
Just then, the distant chime of the cathedral bells echoed through the air, ringing six times, clear and haunting.
Melissa listened to the chimes, then pulled the crown a bit higher and made a few more adjustments to set the time correctly.
"All done," she said shortly, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. She pressed the crown back into place and handed the pocket watch back to Zhou Mingrui.
Zhou Mingrui responded with an awkward but polite smile.
Melissa gave him a long, meaningful look before grabbing her toothbrush, towel, and other essentials, then turned and left for the communal washroom.
"Was that… a look of both exasperation and pity?"
"The look you give to a clueless older brother?"
Zhou Mingrui chuckled to himself, closing the pocket watch with a *snap,* then pressing the button again to open it.
As he absently repeated this action, his thoughts drifted to an unsettling realization.
If Klein's death had indeed been a suicide—at least for now, he'd assume that—it would have caused quite a noise without a silencer. Yet, Melissa, just a room away, had remained oblivious.
Was she simply a heavy sleeper? Or was there something inherently strange about Klein's death?
*Snap.* Open. *Click.* Close. When Melissa returned, she found her brother repeatedly opening and closing the watch with a vacant expression.
She looked at him again, a trace of exasperation in her eyes, and spoke in her sweet voice:
"Klein, take out the remaining bread. Remember to buy fresh ones today, along with some meat and peas. Your interview is coming up, so I'll make lamb stew with peas for you."
With that, she pulled the stove out from the corner, kindling a fire from the remaining embers to heat a kettle of water.
Before the water reached a boil, she opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet, carefully taking out a tin of low-quality tea leaves. She sprinkled in about ten leaves, pretending it was genuine tea.
Pouring two large cups each, she and Zhou Mingrui shared two slices of rye bread over the tea.
Though this bread was free from wood dust and had less bran, it was still hard to swallow. Hungry and weakened, Zhou Mingrui forced himself to eat it, washing each bite down with tea and silently grumbling about the taste.
After a few minutes, Melissa finished her portion, tidied her long black hair, and looked at him.
"Remember, only eight pounds of bread. It's hot, and too much will spoil. Don't forget the lamb and peas."
Is she really watching over her bookish brother? He smiled and nodded. "Got it."
In the Kingdom of Loen, Zhou Mingrui estimated that one pound was close to the half-kilogram weight he was familiar with based on Klein's memories.
Melissa, finished with breakfast, packed up the last slice of bread for lunch, donned their mother's worn-out lace bonnet, and picked up her homemade bag for her books and supplies.
Since it wasn't a Sunday, she had a full day of classes ahead. Walking to Tingen Technical School took her around fifty minutes. While there was public transport at a penny per kilometer (with a maximum of four pennies within the city and six pennies to the suburbs), Melissa usually left early and walked to save money.
As she opened the door, she paused, half-turned, and said, "Klein, don't buy too much lamb and peas. Benson might not be back until Sunday. And remember, only eight pounds of bread."
"Yes… got it," Zhou Mingrui replied, a bit helpless.
Inwardly, he repeated the word "Sunday" a few times.
In the Northern Continent, the year was similarly divided into twelve months, with each year containing 365 to 366 days, and each week having seven days.
The yearly division seemed scientifically derived, making Zhou Mingrui suspect this world was a parallel to his own. The seven-day week, however, had its roots in religion, with seven orthodox deities worshiped across the Northern Continent: the Eternal Sun, the Lord of Storms, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, the Goddess of the Night, the Mother Earth, the God of War, and the God of Steam and Machinery.
Watching Melissa close the door and leave, Zhou Mingrui let out a sigh, but soon shifted his focus back to the luck-changing ritual.
*I'm sorry… but I really want to go home.*