Silent Crown

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Still in the library, more than half the day had passed but Ye Qingxuan was still empty handed. He had found no clues at all! He had looked through every record and file related to the Royal Academy of Music. The pile towered beside him.

"Collection of Personnel Files at the Royal Academy of Music," courses and schedules of the different schools, records of school anniversary celebrations, summary of announcements, staff lists of each school, pictures of large-scale ceremonies, newspaper interviews about the Academy, the salaries for each year. There were even lists of the classrooms and dorms…

Ye Qingxuan had read through all of it from noon to mid-afternoon! He had a more holistic understanding of all four schools and sixteen majors, but it did not matter at all. He had not found anything that he had wanted, and accidentally learned too much about what he did not care about. In order not to miss any details, he had even held his nose and read through Sydney's autobiography! But in the end, all he got was the amazing adventures of the stupid man's youths, but they were probably made up.

Moon Chant, Ye Lanzhou, Ye Qingxuan's father…He seemed to have never existed. He had disappeared from every record and memory in the world. If Ye Qingxuan did not remember him, would he be entirely forgotten?

—

After reading the last book, Ye Qingxuan had lost all hope. He collapsed onto the pile of books, sinking into a gray state. There was no sign of any Easterner in any of the records! And especially not an Easterner that had been the vice principal. Was Hermes lying? Even though Hermes had a bad personality, he did not seem like the type to lie for fun. What was going on? Who had erased all of the records?

"He didn't even leave behind the lecturer's name on the class schedules!" Ye Qingxuan punched the ground angrily and stuck his middle finger up at the air, "Why don't you go big or go home and get rid of the sign-in sheet too?" Of course, no one replied in the silence, but Ye Qingxuan froze.

He shot up from the ground, finally having realized something. "That's right. The sign-in sheet…every public lecture would have included the professor's signatures! Otherwise, it would be impossible to calculate their salaries!" The best thing was that those useless pieces of paper counted as lecture material and would be collected by the library.

"Sign-in sheet! Sign-in sheet!" Ye Qingxuan chanted like a lunatic as he started searching through the shelves. But after a long while, he was still empty-handed. He could not find it.

In the centuries that the academy had existed, there must have been millions of lectures. If every lecture had a sign-in sheet, at least ten warehouses would be needed to store them all. Why would they be here? And even if they were, Ye would not be able to find them in the giant library, right?

He sighed in despair, trying to resist the urge to slam his head against the shelf. When he looked into the surging darkness, his eyes lit up. He might not know but…they would know! If they knew where the personnel files were, then what Dominic called 'little things,' raised in the library, would know the place like the back of their hand.

"Hey, anybody here?" Ye Qingxuan looked around and raised his hand. "Does anyone know where the sign-in sheets from the Royal Academy of Music nineteen years ago are?"

"…" As if a group of people were staring coldly at him, no answer came from the darkness.

"Come on, I know you're listening! Help me out!" Ye Qingxuan's expression was still genuine. "Don't be like this. What if we make a deal?"

The darkness remained silent.

"Hey, if I can help you with anything, I'll be glad to do it!" Ye Qingxuan raised his voice. "At least consider it! Friend, I'm the concertmaster…why don't we make a deal? People should help each other! There's a saying from the East that goes, 'everyone works for me and I work for everyone.' Can't you at least give me a hint?"

A long time passed before a voice said, "Marble." The soft voice that came from behind Ye Qingxuan was like a little girl's.

"Huh?" Ye Qingxuan looked back in shock, but there was nothing there.

The voice rang again as if it had never spoken before. A faint hand made of dust reached out from the darkness. There was a shiny marble between its three fingers, and it shook it before Ye Qingxuan's eyes. "Marble. Want."

Ye Qingxuan was overjoyed. "Yes, yes! I'll get you a bunch of marbles when I get out! But it's kind of hard to find ones made of bone. Is glass okay? What color do you like? Red? White? Or green?"

The darkness surged and there were soft sounds, as if the beasts were discussing amongst themselves. After a while, the dust hand raised two fingers. "One hundred. Every kind."

Ignoring the fact that they did not know how to count, Ye Qingxuan nodded quickly. "Great! It's a deal!"

There was the soft sound again, then the dust hand rose slowly, pointing at Ye Qingxuan. "Promise?"

Ye Qingxuan raised his own hand and gave it a high five. "I promise." Of course, the high five was silent. The dust hand dissipated, leaving no trace behind. And then boom!

The floor under Ye Qingxuan suddenly cracked open and collapsed, a hole appeared. There was a sharp cry and then the youth was gone.

—

Screaming, Ye Qingxuan fell into the darkness. Quickly, he landed with a thud on a giant pile of something. Dust flew and swirled in the air, choking him. Light from some unknown source illuminated the underground room.

Ye Qingxuan climbed up from the pile of notebooks with difficulty. He looked around in shock, realizing that he seemed to be in a landfill. In the vast underground square, there were piles and piles of books. The tattered records had been tossed there, forgotten for years until a giant hole appeared in the corner of the wall.

A pile of books tumbled down like garbage. Formless power rose from the dust and hands formed by dust quickly organized the fallen notebooks. They were organized into squares even before they could land on the ground. From a bird's point of view, the useless papers and records looked as if they had been organized purposefully by some kind of power. They were like puzzle pieces in the hands of a child, built into the shape of a castle, city walls, fortresses, plazas…

Ye Qingxuan had fallen in the "pool" in the center of the "castle," splashed by the flying dust and papers. Within the countless flying dust particles, a tiny shadow appeared in the dust. It looked down at Ye Qingxuan and threw a heavy book at him. Then, it disappeared.

A faint voice floated in the air. "Remember marble."

"Thank you! Of course!" Ye Qingxuan waved at the darkness and hurriedly climbed out from the "pool." He flipped open the book as if he had found a treasure chest. The small bell on his wrist vibrated as a reminder that the day was ending soon. He did not have much time, but he did not care and quickly started skimming. "Introduction to Eastern Music Theory, Introduction to Eastern Music Theory, Introduction to Eastern Music Theory…"

The flipping of pages suddenly stopped. In the silence, Ye Qingxuan stared at the column of blank cells and the lonely name on the upper left corner. His expressions changed, oscillating between grief and joy.

The dancing dust finally settled, dirtying his white hair and entering his eyes. Maybe because he had spaced out, tears flowed out from the faint pain. The tears rolled down his cheeks, landing on the sign-in sheet. Gradually, it dampened the ink, blotting the name in cursive.

"I found it." Ye Qingxuan grasped the sign-in sheet and murmured, "Father, I found you."

After five years, he had finally proven that the man had not left mysteriously. He had once lived in this world, and had left behind the smallest mark. Even if it was small, it was enough to fill Ye with happiness, tears streaming down his face.

—

The ink blot on the sign-in sheet continued to bloom. The name had turned into a messy ink blotch, but stained by the tears, the words seemed to have been given a new life. They grew quickly on the page, transforming into a lively rune.

Shocked, Ye Qingxuan looked down at the ink. They were words that someone had once written in elaborate script with equal amounts drunkenness and ridicule. "After talking to the old guy yesterday, I learned something of Western music theory and composed this piece. I shall record it here for future fate."

The flowery notes took up practically the entire page. They danced like dragons and snakes, imprinting in the youth's eyes. Following that, the entire page glowed with cool moonlight. The glow radiated from the paper like a fountain. Countless music notes brewed in the light, solidifying and streaming into Ye Qingxuan with the flowing light. The fantasy-like melody sounded in his mind, invading his soul!

—

Suddenly, a sonorous melody played. Ye Qingxuan was pulled into a hazy illusion, uncontrollably submerged in the sudden music. It was the sound of a piano, but the melody was not gentle and graceful, but sharp and manic!

As if a child were banging on the keys of a piano, the music was random and crazed. It was sharp like metal cracking, copper scraping, and glass shattering. Tritones alternated, impacting the soul. The unsettling chords were favored by Satan, and therefore no proper musician used them. But her they had been used to create a seamless melody! The music was like a demon roaring and wailing. One could not help but fall into despair and pain until the entire world turned pitch black, never to have light again.

Ye Qingxuan shook, grasping his throbbing head. As his vision spun, a giant brush seemed to write calligraphy on his brain. It was forceful and aggressive, carving the music notes and melody into his soul. He would never forget the name of the music score—"Black Friday."

—

Late at night, when the youth was long gone, ghostly figures appeared in the corner of the library. They organized the mess of books and resources Ye Qingxuan had left on the ground, carefully putting them back in their places one by one. As they organized, the books scattered on the floor returned to the bookshelves.

When they picked up the "Personnel Files of the Royal Academy of Music," a resume that the youth had missed fell out, and floated down on the floor. It was from a military report, and included a few lines of cramped text. At the top, there was a picture of an old man. His expression was wooden and dazed, and his white hair curled slightly.

"'Abraham Wilson.' School of Abstinence, Resonance level.

Receiver of the Royal Rose Medal (later stripped of it) and the title of Honorable Citizen (later stripped). Former commander of the Dragon Riders. Sentenced to life imprisonment by the Court for committing a grave sin during a mission. Vouched for by Earl Grey Maxwell and pardoned by the Queen. Now allowed to work in the Royal Academy of Music as a professor of the School of Music History.

No record of marriage.

Kin: Adoptee—Charles.

Note: this man is extremely dangerous. Repeat, this man is extremely dangerous! Do not let him come in contact with any swords or arrows. Forbidden to wield ironware. Do not threaten or attack him in order to keep him from overreacting! Anyone who interacts with him should be strictly recorded.

Cease any attempts at removing the prosthetic arm. If he overreacts, send him to confinement. At the same time, at least three musicians must apply the aether seal on him. He must stay within three kilometers of the radius of the Royal Academy of Music. If he attempts to escape, shoot him at once. Do not question him about his position and mission from the military. In addition, do not mention any topic related to "Gaius" before him.

The military is not responsible for any losses suffered if the Academy does not obey these rules.

Over!"