Lein’s body was being controlled, slowly turning in a circle around the room, his gaze sweeping over the books arranged on the shelves.
They must have once been quite respectable collectibles—dark leather spines, gold-embossed titles, uniform bindings.
But now none of that was visible.
The gold embossing on the spines had long since flaked off, leaving only faint indentations.
The leather covers were covered in gray-green mold spots, and the edges of some books had become as brittle as dead leaves, as if they would crumble to powder at the slightest touch.
Lein felt a subconscious pang of regret.
Places to read books on Ash Lane were few and far between; Mr. Slone’s shabby night school bookshelf was already considered a rare treasure, and the collection here was at least three to five times larger.
If only they were still in good condition, if only he could move these books back…
He chuckled at his own thought.
Even if the books were intact, the entity controlling him probably wouldn’t let him sit here peacefully and read.
Just then, his body reached out and took a stack of old newspapers from the top of the bookshelf.
The newspapers were not in much better condition than the books.
The paper had long since yellowed to a near-brown, edges curling and brittle, with fibers broken at several folds, but at least they hadn’t grown mold.
Lein straightforwardly spread open the top newspaper, as if he wasn’t worried about further damaging the already hard-to-read pages.
Dust sifted down from the paper, raising a small gray haze in the dimness.
Most of the ink-printed text was blurred, some passages smeared into dark blue blotches by water stains, completely illegible.
But some content remained barely intact; the large headline characters had withstood time better than the body text.
Lein’s eyes landed on a barely legible headline on the front page, and he subconsciously recited it in his mind:
“Kingdom Government signs agreement with Sorn Shipping Company, granting permission to open a new route in the Lost Sea.”
“Northern Colony Governor announces new land reclamation plan, expected to provide at least 300,000 pounds of raw cotton to the mother country.”
“Famous explorer Rowell White announces third expedition plan…”
Then Lein suddenly realized these were from over two hundred years ago.
What did that mean?
Could the original owner of this house have been someone from two centuries ago?
Lein wasn’t particularly surprised.
The history of Ash Lane, or the Eastern District, could even be traced back to the Old Clay Kingdom period.
What really felt off to him was something else.
An old house that had been uninhabited for two hundred years—why hadn’t it been demolished yet?
The City Hall bunch might be useless, doing nothing all day, but tearing down dangerous buildings was something they were willing to do.
Who would pass up a chance to skim money from construction funds?
Even if it wasn’t demolished, homeless people would have taken over such an unoccupied empty house.
No matter how rundown, it was better than freezing on the street.
Ash Lane had no shortage of homeless people—how could an abandoned house have lasted until today?
Could there really be some supernatural force at work here?
Adeline was somewhat dissatisfied.
She had let Lein make a full circle in this strange house, but he hadn’t found anything at all.
The Sharp Hook Gang’s hideout was better—at least there she could scavenge some junk to sell, but this house didn’t even have anything valuable.
This house was so strange—when it first appeared yesterday, the card for the House of Trembling had a shocking warning written in blood-red letters.
She had thought there might be something incredible hidden inside, but after turning it upside down, she found nothing but dust and rat droppings.
Only one room left.
Hesitating, Adeline moved the card over.
As the loading bar finished, ink spread across the map, outlining the room’s shape.
A row of bookshelves against the wall, spines scattered and content unreadable.
A desk under the window, with an oil lamp and a brush holder on it.
Just then, a line of text appeared next to the card.
[A study? I can smell the ink volatilizing and fermenting in the air. No one has entered this room for a long time, and I am the first. I don’t know if it’s an illusion, but it might be true—something is calling me?]
Here it comes!
Adeline’s eyes lit up, and she unconsciously sat up straight.
She quickly moved Lein’s card toward various things in the room, trying to trigger some interaction, but previous attempts had failed, with no response.
Until she moved the card to the stack of old newspapers on top of the bookshelf.
[Kingdom Government announces it will sign the South Island Agreement with Sorn Shipping Company…]
[Northern Colony Governor announces new land reclamation plan…]
[Famous explorer Rowell White announces third expedition plan…]
[…The content on these newspapers is from over two hundred years ago. This house has quite a long history.]
Adeline suddenly froze.
Because she had read all of this—in that book, A General History of the Kingdom of New Claire.
The Lost Sea was the old name for the southern sea area during the Great Expansion Era, and by the New Calendar Era it had been renamed the Southern Trade Sea.
Rowell White’s third expedition took place at the end of the Great Expansion Era, just over two hundred years ago.
The Northern Colony land reclamation was probably around the same time.
The old newspapers she had Lein retrieve from the eerie house on Ash Lane contained content that was almost exactly the same as the kingdom’s general history.
What did this prove?
It proved that the Lein Kelin she controlled through this card and the world she lived in were on the exact same timeline.
She and Lein Kelin existed in the same world, the same era.
Adeline had always had a question: Was this card game really just a magical game?
Now, that question seemed to have been partially answered.
Adeline leaned back on her pillow, read the newspaper descriptions a few more times, and calmed down.
This was indeed a major discovery, worth this exploration.
But more evidence was needed.
She moved the card to the only place in the room she hadn’t interacted with yet—the desk.
Lein’s body walked toward the desk.
A thick layer of dust covered the desk, the gray-white powder spread evenly and completely.
The chair was the same—dust on the backrest, dust on the seat, and a clean line of dust around where the four legs touched the floor.
He took in all the dust, resisting in his mind, but his body sat down without concern.
Lein pulled open the drawer. It was empty.
But he didn’t pull his hand back.
He reached deep into the drawer, opened a hidden compartment as if he already knew it was there, and took out something.
It was something like a diary.
Brown hardcover, edges worn and frayed, paper curling slightly from moisture.
Only a few lines of ink writing at the bottom of the cover.
The handwriting had faded until it was almost illegible; Lein could only barely make out the outline of the first few letters.
Put together, it was…
Heber Rost.