Old-time musicians

Five fifteen in the afternoon.

At 90 Green Peacock Street in the Nelenia District, there was a crowd of people near the gate of the Women's Grammar School.

Sheeran, wearing a maroon court-style robe and carrying a small shoulder bag, left school after school, but it was not Fanning who picked her up today.

"Hurry up, I'll take you to a newly opened steak restaurant for dinner. Their fruit pudding and coffee milk dew that come with orders are very, very, very delicious."

Joan wore a loose white tea dress, holding a small soft hat, and hurriedly pulled Sheeran's arm with her other hand.

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"Joan, slow down, you stepped on me three times in a row." Sheeran's tone was a little helpless.

After the two had a full meal, they took a private carriage to the East Mecklen District.

No. 43, Kezdon Street, Woodpecker Consulting Office.

"Hello, sir, we are Joan Nissimi and Hiran Conor from St. Lenya University." A cheerful voice sounded.

The young man on duty at the front desk lowered his head, his nose almost touching the pages of the book. When he heard the voice, he quickly put on his high black-framed glasses. Seeing the two beautiful girls appear here, his first reaction was to stand up and greet them shyly.

"Good evening, ladies, do you need any advice?"

"Ah... no... I escorted Hiran here..." Joan shook her head.

"Oh, sorry." The young man suddenly remembered, "It's Mr. Fanning's friend, right?"

He squatted behind the counter and began to fumble: "Wait a minute, ladies, I have to find the spare key for 209."

"No need, Carloen gave me the key." Hiran said.

"Okay, I'll show you the way." The young man couldn't help but look at Hiran a few more times.

Mr. Fanning gave her his key directly, it seems that the relationship is indeed unusual.

"Xilan, I need to go back first." Joan waved goodbye and went downstairs.

It was lunchtime, and the corridor was filled with the aroma of coffee and food. Many civil servants were walking in and out. Xilan followed the young man a little restrainedly, then took out the key from her small bag and opened the door of room 209.

The young man turned on the gas lamp and heating facilities: "This is Mr. Fanning's office. You are welcome. He has told me to tell you that everything is free to use. I asked the staff downstairs to bring you some desserts and drinks. Mr. Fanning said you like to drink iced fresh milk, right?"

"Thank you." Xilan felt the other party's excessive respect and diligence, and responded politely.

Then he looked at Fanning's spacious and bright room with some curiosity. The environment here seemed to be of higher standards than her father's previous office.

"Sir, please tell me, did Carloen say that there is a book..."

"Here, here." The young man walked to the desk and opened the exquisitely shaped small drawer. "After Mr. Fanning's driver delivered it last night, the colleague on duty immediately put it here."

"Okay." Shilan picked up the velvet blanket folded on the fabric sofa and wrapped her body.

Then she sat on Fanning's chair, opened the small leather book and began to read and study.

"There is a row of disposable cotton mops, toothbrushes, and towels under the cabinet against the wall. I will be here all night. If you have anything, you can come to the front desk to find me or ring the bell at any time." The young man was very friendly and closed the door.

The night was completely dark at around seven o'clock in the evening.

A carriage stopped at the faculty and staff living area north of St. Lenya University. Joan opened the curtain and jumped down, entered the courtyard of Villa No. 6, and opened the door of Professor Anton's house.

She went up to the second floor, came to Shilan's boudoir, and turned on the gas lamp.

After cleaning the dressing table briefly and ensuring the tranquility and holiness of the environment, Joan took out various items, lit candles, and began to arrange the secret ceremony.

"... I hear you, praise you, God of the Open Door, Mother of the Holy Wounds, pay tribute to your great mark and terrible crown, words spew out from the fearful, those emblems open like lips and tongues, saying day and night, Holy, Holy, Holy... May the closed things fear your touch, may you witness the birth of the wound..."

Joan finished reciting the Turangalian prayer, ignited the parchment with the pattern of "wounded feet" with candlelight, threw it into the coarse salt dish to burn, and took off the spring of the mechanical wall clock and inserted it into the ashes.

Then, holding the tip of the spring, she walked along the wall of Hiran's boudoir, including the part near the bed. She also took off her shoes and stepped on the bed to draw a closed curve.

An imperceptible spherical inspiration barrier appeared in the room, as fragile as a soap bubble, and would burst if the balance was slightly disturbed.

Finally, she inserted the spring back into the mechanical clock, cleaned the altar, and blew out the candles.

After doing all this, Joan suddenly became cautious. She pinched a strange stone in her pocket, and purple fluorescence rippled on her body. She reached out and gently pressed a wall to make ripples, and disappeared into it.

Late at night.

A man in a black jacket walked slowly on the main road of the school villa area.

When he was approaching Building 6, the color and shadow of the whole person faded quickly, becoming empty and transparent, leaving only the main outline of the figure still visible, like a dynamic, unfinished but accurate sketch.

He flexibly climbed over the courtyard wall, jumped onto the roof, and reached out to touch the glass window on the second floor.

The window surface and the wooden structure behind it suddenly beat slightly like a heart, and quietly opened after a few breaths.

The man in the jacket who looked like a "sketch" stood quietly at the door for a while, as if sensing whether there was something inside, then he grabbed the door handle of Xilan's boudoir, twisted it gently and pushed it in after repeating the same trick.

He walked to the bed and looked at the velvet blanket wrapped around the girl's figure.

He slowly raised his hand and pulled it open.

The plush toys surrounded the slender Barbie doll and lay quietly on the bed.

The man's scalp tightened and he turned back suddenly, but he did not feel anything unusual in the surrounding environment, and then he breathed a sigh of relief.

In the dark, he looked at the bed a few more times in doubt, covered the blanket back, tidied it up a little, and quickly retreated the same way.

What he didn't notice was that the mechanical clock in the boudoir had stopped half a minute ago.

...

The next morning.

The vice president's office in the administrative building.

"Mr. Huxley, the preliminary report of the investigation team has been prepared according to your request. Please review and issue it."

The neatly dressed civil servant knocked on the door and walked to the large oak desk and handed over the documents.

"Thank you." Huxley looked up from the pile of documents, reached out to take the signature, opened the attached text at the back, scanned it carefully and quickly, and stayed on the name of the main sender for a few seconds.

The gentleman named Sternike in the main sender column has two respected identities. In the public's view, he is the president of St. Lenya University, and to the members, he is the president of the Bologna School at St. Lenya University.

In the past two years, Mr. Sternike has been in Uvransell for a few years. Huxley, the vice president, presided over most of the school's daily work. Although he can keep energetic, he has been silent in the sculpture art circle for many days and has hardly produced any new works.

After shaking the pen twice vigorously, Huxley suddenly had an inexplicable feeling after signing the submission form: Although the members and civil servants of the Bologna School all came from the old aristocratic families of the empire, they knew each other well and were loyal and reliable, but this highly administrative and closed internal organizational process really made it difficult to evaluate the gains and losses.

"Dinglingling, dinglingling——"

The vice president picked up the pure black telephone receiver and heard the sweet and polite voice of the girl on the other side.

"Uncle Huxley, it's me..."

After a few simple greetings, Huxley listened to the other party's brief story for about a minute in silence, and then said to the civil servant standing aside, waiting to take the submission form:

"Wait, don't send it out yet."