The next morning, Adeline really didn’t feel like reading anymore.
She simply sat on the bed, staring into space.
The book called Poems of Fiperiana lay open on the mattress.
Then came a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Adeline picked up the book and closed it, pretending she had been reading quietly.
The oak door swung open, and Swan entered.
The old butler was dressed in his usual black formal attire, his hair combed immaculately, carrying a tray in his hands.
But on the tray was not food or medicine—instead, a wooden box about the size of a palm.
“Miss Adeline.”
Swan gave a slight bow.
“Sorry to disturb you.”
“Mr. Swan, is something the matter?”
Adeline glanced at the box, curious.
Swan placed the tray on the nightstand, picked up the wooden box, and offered it to Adeline with both hands.
“A few days ago, a minor noble who has business dealings with Lord Herman sent this over. He called it an ‘extremely interesting novelty toy.’ Since Lord Herman was not at the estate, I couldn’t very well refuse it, so I accepted it on his behalf.”
He paused, his tone flat as he continued,
“I spotted it while cleaning the study this morning. I thought Lord Herman probably wouldn’t have much interest in such a thing, so I took the liberty of bringing it to you. Since it’s a toy, it should bring you some amusement.”
Adeline was a little surprised.
In the past few days, although Swan had been respectful toward her, he had always maintained a butler’s sense of propriety—only asking about her condition and not interfering with her affairs otherwise.
This gesture today somewhat exceeded his duties.
Was it because of the things she’d asked yesterday?
As she thought this, she took the box and examined it carefully.
The box’s design was very plain, with no unnecessary decorations—just a flat, small container made of dark wood.
The wood had a deep color, close to dark brown, with fine annual ring patterns on the surface, but it felt very smooth to the touch, as if it had been carefully polished many times.
The edges were neat, the corners slightly rounded.
The overall craftsmanship wasn’t exquisite, but there was nothing to criticize either.
She turned it over to check the bottom—it was just as smooth as the front, with no markings or text.
“What is this?” Adeline asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Swan replied. “The noble who sent it said it was a toy, but he didn’t elaborate on how it’s played with.”
Adeline tried to open the box, digging her fingernail into the gap between the lid and the body, but there was no gap at all.
She turned the box over and over, searching for some opening, but all six sides were complete—no seams, hinges, or locks.
The entire box looked as if it had been carved from a single piece of wood.
“Mr. Swan, do you know how to open this?”
Adeline looked up.
Swan’s expression stiffened.
He cleared his throat.
“It arrived in this state. I didn’t examine it thoroughly—just confirmed it wasn’t dangerous… Perhaps there’s a special way to open it? I’ve heard that similar puzzle boxes are popular in the market these days. They need to be opened with a specific sequence or method.”
Adeline fiddled with it a few more times but made no progress.
She held the box up to her ear and shook it.
A faint rattling came from inside—something was in there.
At least it wasn’t solid.
“I’ll study it some more then,” Adeline said. “You can go ahead with your work.”
“Very well, Miss.”
Swan inclined his head.
“If you need anything, just call me.”
He turned and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Adeline placed the box on the nightstand and stared at it for a while.
A puzzle box?
In her previous life, she’d seen those things in short videos—usually wooden, looking like a single piece on the outside, but by pressing, sliding, or rotating certain hidden parts, the box would open.
Inside, there was usually a small gift or a note.
But she had felt every inch of this box and found no movable parts.
No raised wooden pieces, no indents to press, not even a tiny crack.
The whole box was seamless, as if it had been cast from a mold.
That didn’t seem like something that could be made with this era’s industrial level.
Adeline picked up the box and examined it again.
The wood grain looked natural, not like a man-made material.
With her limited knowledge of woodworking, to process a piece of wood to this degree—all six sides perfectly flat, edges without a single burr, surface smooth as a mirror—required a level of craftsmanship that must have been quite high.
At the very least, it wasn’t something any random carpenter could make.
She shook the box again.
The objects inside made a soft collision sound.
It sounded like paper or thin wooden sheets—not heavy, and more than one piece.
Could it be a solid block of wood that was hollowed out and filled?
But then there would have to be a plug or a lid.
She tapped each side with her finger.
The sounds were all similar—she couldn’t tell which part was hollow and which was solid.
Adeline fiddled with it for over ten minutes, trying every method she could think of.
Pressing, rotating, tapping, even trying to pry open nonexistent gaps with her nails—all failed.
She tossed the box onto the nightstand and leaned back against her pillow.
Forget it. I’ll deal with it later.
She picked up the book again, but she wasn’t reading.
Her mind kept drifting back to that box—what principle did it operate on, what was inside?
After a while, she picked up the box again and tried a more direct approach: brute force.
She grabbed the box by both ends and tried to snap it apart.
The box didn’t budge.
She banged it against the corner of the nightstand a few times, producing a dull thud thud, but the surface didn’t even show a scratch.
Adeline held the box up to her eyes and looked closely at the spot she’d hit.
No scratches, no dents—not even a change in the wood’s luster.
This wood was way too hard.
She simply threw the box onto the floor with force, repeating the action several times, but the box showed no signs of change.
Even though the carpet provided some cushioning, the impact should have been enough.
After exhausting herself with no results, Adeline tossed the box back onto the table.
She leaned back against her pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling.
Whatever. It’s just a toy. If I can’t open it, I can’t open it. Maybe it’s some boring prank prop or something.
Adeline yawned and pulled the blanket up higher, deciding to stop thinking about that stupid box.
Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened.
Lina brought dinner.
After Adeline finished eating, she read for a while.
When Lina came to clear the dishes, Adeline asked her to blow out all the candles in the room, leaving only a small oil lamp on the nightstand.
Lina did as she was told, then quietly slipped out.
Adeline lay in the darkness, listening to the faint factory whistle in the distance.
The city was not quiet at night—a low rumble constantly came from afar, as if the earth itself was breathing.
She turned over and wrapped the blanket tighter.
Couldn’t sleep.
Maybe she’d slept too much during the day.
Maybe there were too many things on her mind.
Either way, her consciousness was wide awake, without a trace of drowsiness.
Adeline stared at the dark ceiling, listening to her own heartbeat, her mind wandering in a mess of thoughts.
In the days since she’d crossed into this world, she had been receiving new information every day.
Every small thing made her think for a long time.
The history of this world, its social structure, its technological level, and her own situation in this body—everything needed digesting and adapting to.
Especially that box she couldn’t open today.