As Glenfiel had said, Lady Antonia Kaming was a renowned contemporary detective novelist.
The book he gifted Siles was her most celebrated work, titled The Truth That Fades with the Pointer. For Siles, who had been steeped in Earth’s internet-era culture, the mystery’s resolution wasn’t particularly perplexing.
But for readers of this era, it was likely earth-shattering.
This immediately sparked Siles’s thoughts. He might genuinely make money by writing novels. Copying Earth’s works would be unethical, but adapting his own past ideas to this world should be fine, right?
He needed to solve his financial troubles quickly.
If he pursued this, he’d have to research this era’s novel market.
Siles considered tomorrow’s schedule—Wednesday, with an afternoon visit to the Historical Society. He had planned to work on teaching plans in the morning, but with good progress, he could free up the morning to visit a bookstore in East Lamifa.
He also needed to find suitable textbooks and compile a reading list for his students.
…So, he had to work hard tonight.
Siles took a soft breath, stood, and went to the washroom to splash water on his face to stay alert. He ate a couple of bites of bread with jam, then dove back into work.
Late into the night, he finally completed most of the syllabus for one public elective course.
Leaning back in his chair, Siles closed his eyes, slightly fatigued. The lamplight filtered through his eyelids, carrying a warm, comforting yellow hue.
In the quiet midnight, a complex mood spread within Siles. Three days in this world, and his actions had been hurried and intense. Despite his outwardly calm demeanor, deep down, he harbored a sense of bewilderment.
Whether investigating the world’s truth or seeking a way home, a heavy force kept pushing him, never letting him pause.
He didn’t dare pause. To stop would mean thinking of his family and friends on Earth, all the things he cherished and missed. They tugged at him, reminding him countless times that he didn’t belong to this world.
Siles sighed softly. When he opened his eyes, his dark pupils showed no trace of that bewilderment or pain. He stood, bathed, brushed his teeth, changed, and washed clothes.
The continuous rain left his earlier laundry still damp. If the weather didn’t clear, he might need to buy new clothes.
…Speaking of which, he did need new clothes. He was about to stand before countless student eyes on the lecture podium.
Siles’s figure stiffened briefly as he washed clothes.
He sighed again.
The next morning, Siles woke, dressed, gathered his essentials, and headed to Logan Market to catch a public carriage. This time, he didn’t encounter Mrs. Fain at the door, leaving alone with his long-handled umbrella from Milford Street.
He was due at the Historical Society in the afternoon. In his memory, near Atherton Central Square, south of the Historical Society, was a large bookstore.
Siles recalled several times to confirm the bookstore’s exact location.
West and East Lamifa were separated by a winding river called the Kanla River. The two districts, roughly equal in size, housed nearly ten million residents.
As the capital of the Konst Duchy, Lamifa City was undeniably a massive metropolis.
Thus, even though Siles had lived here for a while, he couldn’t know every part of the city. This world lacked electronic maps.
Siles resolved to buy a map of Lamifa City.
Perhaps the bookstore sold maps? But this world’s bookstores might not be as categorized and comprehensive as Earth’s. There might even be specialized map shops. Get faster updates on novelping dot com.
The journey was bumpy. Since public carriages ran clockwise, Siles spent nearly three hours reaching the Historical Society.
When he disembarked, his face was pale, partly from the rough ride, partly from the overly long trip. He thought it was too time-consuming. Even to save money, it wasn’t worth the effort.
He decided to hire a private carriage for Saturday’s trip to the Historical Society—it would likely take just an hour.
Checking his pocket watch, he saw it was nearly ten. He quickened his pace toward Atherton Central Square.
This was the heart of Lamifa City. A bit further south was the Konst Duchy’s palace, where the Grand Duke, his wife, and their children resided in a grand, ornate structure.
But July’s rainy season had prompted the ducal family to vacation in a warmer, drier region, likely absent from Lamifa City for now.
Siles circled Atherton Central Square. Despite the overcast weather, many people strolled here. He noticed someone in a corner, painting on a canvas.
From a distance, it was a lean young man with gold-rimmed glasses.
Siles didn’t linger, soon finding the bookstore from his memory. More accurately, it was a book vendors’ market.
It was bustling year-round. Countless vendors from across the duchy came, securing stalls to sell their acquired books in a short time.
It was a massive building with a glass-domed roof. On a clear day, the dome would gleam brilliantly, but now, it only drew a slight sigh from Siles.
People milled about, many clutching several books, unsure if they were satisfied or disappointed.
Siles wandered curiously, finding many intriguing books, noting titles for his students’ reading list and others that piqued his personal interest.
His heart stirred, but he suppressed his urges and headed to the popular fiction section.
This area was livelier, with men admiring detective and adventure novels and women drawn to knightly and romantic tales.
Siles picked up a few bestsellers, skimming their genres, then paused, thinking, where were the romance novels?
On Earth, novels focused on love and emotional entanglements, often dismissed by critics as “unrefined,” were immensely popular, especially among women, unmatched by any genre.
…Did this world lack romance novels?
Siles’s eyes lit up, realizing he could write a popular love story.
The more he explored bestsellers, the more he noticed the absence of romance novels and the feasibility of his idea. Amid the noisy chatter, he pondered.
He bought two books resembling romance novels: one an adventure story with a heroic theme, popular among female readers; the other similar, but starring a young noblewoman.
He placed them in his bag—a shoulder satchel, like a postman’s, he’d brought today.
He browsed other stalls, finding the market a mixed bag but uncovering more intriguing books. Recalling his meager wallet, he curbed his spending.
Finally, he stopped at a stall in a corner. Had he not circled the building’s interior on a whim, he might not have noticed it.
The stall’s owner, a young man in his early twenties, wore a disheartened expression. Likely arriving with high hopes, he hadn’t sold a single book and was now dejected.
When Siles stopped at his stall, he only said glumly, “Look around.”
Siles was drawn to a notebook with a parchment cover. His experience signing the Historical Society’s contract made him sensitive to this material.
This world’s papermaking was advanced, possibly thanks to Revelators. But older, handmade items like parchment, wooden slips, or stone tablets used for writing were costly and rare. Get faster updates on novelping.com.
Studying Silent Era literature, Siles noticed many manuscripts and original books used parchment or vellum covers, unlike modern wood-pulp paper.
This notebook immediately caught his attention.
He worried it might be a pre-Mist Era time track, but as he looked at it, the vendor said, “It’s a travelogue.”
His listless voice couldn’t deter Siles’s interest.
“Travelogue?” Siles asked. “Of what?”
“The Endless Lands,” the vendor said. “But I don’t know the specifics. It’s not in the Konst Duchy’s language.”
Siles paused.
The vendor explained further, “This travelogue was brought back from the Endless Lands by a merchant. He said its owner was an explorer, gravely injured. The merchant cared for him, but he died, giving the travelogue as payment.
“The explorer wasn’t from the Konst Duchy, and the text is in a foreign language. The merchant couldn’t find a translator or publish it, so it ended up with me.”
Siles asked rigorously, “What’s your relationship with that merchant?”
The vendor’s lips twitched. “That’s my father.”
Siles inquired, “If I buy from you, will your father object?”
“Of course not!” the young vendor said, somewhat annoyed. “This travelogue can’t be published! With so many countries beyond the Konst Duchy, who knows where that explorer came from or what language he used?”
Travelogue. Publishing. Siles pondered the combination of these words.
He asked keenly, “Does your father have publishing channels?”
The young vendor froze, then countered, “Why?”
For a moment, Siles hesitated about mentioning his novel-writing plans. But he ultimately lacked the impulse to discuss it with a stranger.
He only said, “If I happen to find a suitable translator later, we could consider publishing it together.”
The young vendor looked at him suspiciously.
Siles said, “Could you provide contact information?”
The vendor hesitated, then handed Siles a business card. “This is my father’s card.”
Siles glanced at the name: Jerome Lamir.
…Lamir? Wait, Merchant Lamir?!
Siles’s pupils contracted.
In his mind, the rattling sound of dice rolling echoed.