After resting for half an hour, Zhou Mingrui, who now fully identified as Klein, finally began to feel like himself again. During this time, he discovered four small black dots had appeared on the back of his right hand, perfectly forming a small square.
These four dots darkened and then lightened before disappearing quickly. Yet Klein knew they hadn't actually gone—they were merely waiting within him, ready to be awakened.
"Four points, a square… Could it correspond to the four pieces of staple food I placed in each corner? Maybe I won't need to prepare the offerings anymore—just use the steps and incantation?" Klein had a faint suspicion.
On the surface, this seemed promising, but the thought of something strange and unexplained dwelling within him was unsettling.
Thinking about how a seemingly random ritual from Earth could be effective here, recalling his bizarre, dreamlike crossing over, the mysterious, elusive world of gray fog, and the maddening whispers that had lingered during the "ceremony"—all of this sent a chill through Klein, despite the early summer heat.
He remembered a phrase he'd once heard: "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." Now, he understood the profound terror of confronting the unknown.
An unprecedented, uncontrollable urge to explore the supernatural realm, to learn more, to uncover the unknown, stirred within him. Yet there was also a part of him that wanted to bury his head and pretend nothing had happened.
The midday sunlight outside shone brightly, covering his desk in a layer of "gold dust." Klein gazed at it, feeling a small glimmer of warmth and hope.
He relaxed just a bit, only to feel an overwhelming wave of exhaustion rush over him.
Last night's sleepless hours and his recent energy drain left his eyelids feeling as heavy as lead, resisting every effort to keep them open.
Shaking his head, Klein gripped the edge of his desk, too tired to retrieve the rye bread from the four corners, and staggered over to the bunk bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell deeply asleep.
Gurgle! Gurgle!
Hunger woke Klein, and he opened his eyes, feeling utterly refreshed.
"Just a slight headache left," he said, rubbing his temple as he sat up, suddenly feeling he could eat an entire cow.
He straightened his rumpled clothes, walked back to the desk, and picked up the silver pocket watch etched with vine patterns.
Click!
The cover snapped open, and the second hand ticked rhythmically.
"Twelve-thirty. I slept for over three hours…" Klein swallowed, placing the pocket watch back in the pocket of his linen shirt.
On this continent, a day also has twenty-four hours, each hour sixty minutes, each minute sixty seconds. Whether these seconds matched Earth's, Klein had no idea.
Right now, though, thoughts of mysticism, rituals, or the gray fog world wouldn't even enter his mind. The only thing of importance was food. Food!
Only after eating could he figure things out! Only then could he make plans!
Without hesitation, Klein gathered the rye bread from the four corners, brushed off the thin layer of dust, and decided to use one piece as his lunch.
Since his hometown had the tradition of sharing sacrificial offerings, and the bread itself seemed unchanged, Klein—who had just five pence left—felt compelled to be frugal.
This inclination was likely influenced by the fragments of the original Klein's memory and his lifestyle habits.
Since gas was so costly that even using it for lighting felt wasteful, Klein pulled out the stove, added some coal, and paced around, waiting for the water to boil.
That rye bread would be too dry to eat as it was!
"Oh dear, am I really going to live a life of rye bread for breakfast and lunch, saving meat only for dinner… If it weren't for Melissa's thoughtfulness about my upcoming interview, we'd be lucky to eat meat twice a week…" With nothing to occupy him and hunger clouding his thoughts, Klein glanced around, his stomach grumbling.
Thinking of the pound of lamb, his gaze at the cupboard grew almost predatory.
"No, no, I have to wait and share it with Melissa." Klein shook his head sharply, rejecting the idea of cutting the meat in half to eat some now.
As a bachelor drifting through the city, while he mostly ate out, he had picked up enough basic cooking skills. He couldn't call himself a great cook, but he could certainly manage.
Turning around, Klein decided to distract himself. Then he suddenly remembered that, besides buying meat that morning, he'd also bought fresh peas and potatoes!
Potatoes! Inspiration struck Klein, and he spun around, darting to the cupboard to grab two from his modest stash.
First, he took them to the shared washroom, scrubbing their skins clean, then dropped them directly into the kettle to boil with the water.
After a while, he took the spice box out of the cupboard, opened the lid, and sprinkled a small amount of coarse, yellowish salt into the water.
Patiently waiting a few more minutes, Klein lifted the kettle and poured the broth—if it could even be called that—into a few cups, then into a large bowl. Finally, he fished out the two potatoes and placed them on the table.
Whew!
He peeled off a bit of skin and blew on his fingers to cool them, as the aroma of boiled potatoes gradually filled the air, tantalizing his appetite.
Saliva flooded his mouth as Klein couldn't resist anymore. Even though he'd only peeled half of it and the potato was still a bit too hot, he took a big bite.
Fluffy! Savory! A touch of sweetness lingered! Klein's heart swelled with gratitude, and he devoured the two potatoes voraciously, even eating some of the skin in his haste.
Only then did he pick up the bowl and take a satisfying sip of the "soup." The slight saltiness washed away the dryness in his mouth.
"I used to love eating like this when I was a kid…" Klein thought, filled with nostalgic warmth as he tore off pieces of rye bread and soaked them in the broth to soften them.
Perhaps it was the depletion from the earlier "ritual," but he ended up eating two entire loaves—an entire pound.
After drinking the last of the "soup" and tidying up, Klein felt utterly alive once more. He could once again appreciate the joy of being human, basking in the warmth of the sunlight.
Sitting back down at the desk, he started to ponder his next steps.
"I can't run away from this. I need to find a way to tap into the supernatural world, to become one of those 'extraordinary individuals' mentioned by Justice and the Hanged Man."
"I have to overcome the fear rooted in the unknown."
"For now, the only path forward is to wait for the next 'gathering' and hope I can overhear the formula for the 'Spectator' potion or other mystical knowledge."
"There are four days until Monday. In the meantime, I should confront the original owner's unresolved issues—why did he choose to end his life, and what did he encounter…?"
Resigned to the fact that there was no going back, Klein picked up the open notebook, intending to flip through its pages and search for clues, hoping to fill in the gaps in his fragmented memories.
It was clear that the original owner had a habit of taking notes and even enjoyed using them as a kind of diary.
Klein knew that the cabinet serving as the right leg of the desk was filled with completed notebooks.
This one had been in use since May 10th. The early entries mainly discussed matters related to school, his mentor, and knowledge:
"May 12th, Mr. Azik mentioned that the common language of the Byrn Empire in the southern continent also originates from ancient Fusac, which is a branch of the language of giants. Why is that? Could it be that all intelligent beings once used a single language? No, that must be wrong. Even in the accounts of *The Revelations of the Night* and *The Book of Storms*, in an era more ancient than ancient, giants were not the sole rulers of the continent; there were also elves, other species, and dragons. Well, that's all just legend, myth."
"May 16: Senior Professor Cohen and Mr. Azik discussed the inevitability of the Steam Age. Mr. Azik believes it was a matter of chance; if it weren't for the sudden appearance of Emperor Roselle, perhaps the Northern Continent would still be in the era of cold weapons, just like the South. The professor, however, thinks Mr. Azik overemphasizes the role of the individual. He believes that with the progression of the era, if it wasn't Roselle, it would have been another figure like Emperor Robert. In short, the Steam Age might have been delayed, but it would have arrived eventually. Personally, I found their debate meaningless—I prefer uncovering new things, unveiling the history shrouded in mist. Perhaps I shouldn't have studied History but Archaeology instead."
"May 29: Welch came to me, saying he had acquired a notebook from the Fourth Epoch. My goddess, a Fourth Epoch notebook! He didn't want to consult anyone from the Archaeology Department and asked Naya and me to help decipher its contents. How could I refuse such an opportunity? Of course, this will have to wait until after my thesis defense—I can't afford distractions right now."
Upon reading this, Klein's spirits lifted. Compared to the previous records of historical opinions and debates, the mention of the "Fourth Epoch" notebook seemed much more likely to be connected to the original owner's suicide.
The Fourth Epoch was the age before today's "Black Iron Epoch," a period shrouded in mystery and lost records. Even uncovered tombs, ancient cities, and texts are rare. Historians and archaeologists have to rely on the vague, faith-oriented scriptures from the seven major religious organizations just to piece together a semblance of what came before, learning about the existence of the Solomon Empire, the Tudor Dynasty, and the Trunsoest Empire.
Klein, who was dedicated to piercing through the fog to restore history, had little interest in the myths and legends of the "Three Epochs Before." However, the "Fourth Epoch," also known as the "Era of Gods," fascinated him to no end. His excitement was evident.
"Looking at it this way, the original owner's anxiety about the interview and concerns over future employment seem somewhat unnecessary…" Klein couldn't help but sigh.
Universities were still rare, and the majority of students were noble or wealthy. Once admitted, even if commoners were discriminated against and excluded from others' social circles, as long as they weren't too extreme, they could still gain some valuable social connections through group discussions and activities—connections that were incredibly valuable.
For instance, Welch McGovern, the son of a banker from Constant City in County Sea, Ruen Kingdom, was a generous and free-spending man who often asked Klein and Naya for help with assignments and projects, having worked with them in the same group for a long time.
Without dwelling on other thoughts, Klein continued reading the journal:
"June 18: I graduated. Farewell, Hoy University!"
"June 19: I saw the notebook. Through comparisons of structure and roots, I discovered that it's a variant of ancient Fusac. To be precise, the language has been subtly evolving over the past thousand years."
"June 20: We deciphered the first page. The author is a member of a family called 'Antigonus.'"
"June 21: He mentioned a 'Black Emperor.' This completely contradicts the timeline inferred from the previous entries. Could it be that the professor was wrong and that the 'Black Emperor' was actually a title for each emperor of the Solomon Empire?"
"June 22: This family, the 'Antigonus,' seemed to hold a prominent position in the Solomon Empire. The owner of the notebook mentioned a secret deal with someone from Tudor. Tudor? The Tudor Dynasty?"
"June 23: I forced myself not to think about the notebook or visit Welch. I need to focus on preparing for the interview! This is extremely important!"
"June 24: Naya told me they made new discoveries. I think I should go take a look."
"June 25: From the newly interpreted content, it seems the notebook's author took on a mission to reach the peak of the Honaches Mountains to visit the 'Land of Night' at the summit. My goddess, the Honaches Mountains' peak exceeds six thousand meters—how could any nation exist up there? How would they survive?"
"June 26: Are these strange things really real?"
At this point, the notebook entries ended. Zhou Mingrui had transmigrated over on the night of June 28.
"So, there was indeed an entry on June 27. That line… 'Everyone will die, including me'…" Klein flipped back to the first page he had seen, feeling a slight chill as he made the connection.
He realized that to uncover the mystery of the original owner's suicide, he'd need to visit Welch and examine the ancient notebook's contents again. However, with his extensive "experience" in novels, movies, and TV dramas, he had a feeling that if he went, and if this matter was indeed related, he'd likely encounter some unknown danger—just like those characters who knowingly venture into haunted castles.
Yet, avoidance wasn't an option; ignoring the issue would only let it snowball, ultimately overwhelming him.
Should he report it to the police? But he couldn't exactly say, "I committed suicide," could he…
**Knock!**
**Knock, knock!**
A sudden, urgent knocking sounded at the door.
Klein straightened abruptly, ears straining to listen.
**Knock!**
**Knock, knock!**
The sound of knocking echoed through the empty, desolate hallway outside.