Lord of the Mysteries Chapter 3 - Melissa

With his plan finally solidified, Zhou Mingrui discovered a newfound mental stability. The crushing weight of his panic and uncertainty dissipated into the far reaches of his consciousness. Only then did he possess the clarity to begin dissecting the remnants of Klein’s memories.

Zhou Mingrui rose to his feet out of habit and reached for the gas pipe valve. He watched the wall lamp flicker and fade until the chamber was swallowed by shadow, then settled back into his seat. While his fingers toyed absently with the brass cylinder of his revolver, he pressed a hand to his temple. In the deep crimson gloom, he began to sift through his recollections, acting as both the projector and the audience in a theater of the mind.

Due, perhaps, to the bullet having carved a path through his skull, Klein’s memories resembled a broken mirror. They were not only non-linear but riddled with significant gaps. Essential details were missing: how exactly this refined firearm came into his possession, whether his end had been a self-inflicted act or a calculated murder, the true significance of the ominous phrase 'Everyone will die, including me' scrawled in his notebook, or even if he had been entangled in any peculiar events in the days preceding the tragedy.

These mental voids extended even to his foundational knowledge. Given the current state of affairs, Zhou Mingrui surmised that if Klein were to return to the university, graduation seemed like an impossible milestone, even after years of relentless study.

... The red moon dipped below the western horizon, watched by Zhou Mingrui through the frosted windowpane. The moonlight ebbed until the first subtle glow of dawn broke, painting the sky in shades of gold.

A sudden stir of activity echoed through the apartment, followed shortly by the rhythmic thumping of footsteps approaching his door.

“Melissa’s up... punctual as always.” Zhou Mingrui offered a soft smile. Caught in the web of Klein’s memories, the sight of her felt deeply familiar, as if she were indeed his own flesh and blood.

He caught himself, acknowledging the contradictions. Melissa was quite unlike Benson or Klein. Her early schooling took place outside the Sunday schools typically administered by the Church of the Evernight Goddess. By the time of her youth, the Loen Kingdom had passed the ‘Basic Education Law,’ forming a committee dedicated to funding and elevating public education across the realm.

Within mere years, the government leveraged existing church facilities to establish numerous public primary schools, carefully adhering to religious neutrality. This strategy was designed to insulate education from the volatile frictions between the Lord of Storms, the Evernight Goddess, and the God of Steam and Machinery.

While church schools charged only a copper penny weekly, the three-pence fee for a public school might have seemed steep at first glance. Yet, the former only offered instruction on Sundays, while the latter provided six days of rigorous coursework. Effectively, the schooling was remarkably affordable.

Melissa was a rare breed among girls her age. From childhood, she had a fascination with gears, springs, and bearings, harboring a dream to forge a career as a steam mechanic.

Benson, keenly aware of how his own lack of high-level education had held him back, championed his sister’s ambitions just as he had backed Klein’s academic journey. Tingen Technical School was widely regarded as a solid vocational path, rendering further academic schooling redundant.

By July of the previous year, fifteen-year-old Melissa passed her entrance exams with flying colors, gaining a spot in the Steam and Machinery department at Tingen Technical School. Her tuition rose to nine pence each week as a result.

At the same time, Benson’s firm suffered from the instability in the Southern Continent. Earnings plummeted, projects dried up, and a third of the staff faced redundancy. To safeguard his position and keep their household afloat, Benson took on increasingly brutal shifts, frequently working overtime or traveling to harsh, inhospitable locales. That was where he had been for the duration of the past few days.

Klein had often agonized over his inability to relieve his brother's burden. As a commoner from an ordinary language school, he had felt completely out of his depth upon starting university. For instance, the nobility and the wealthy had been schooled in the ancient language of Feysac—the roots of all Northern Continent tongues—from a tender age. Klein, by contrast, had encountered it for the first time only after entering the university.

He faced similar hurdles constantly during his studies. Klein had pushed himself to the brink, sacrificing sleep and laboring into the early hours, only to graduate with mediocre results.

These memories of his elder brother and younger sister remained vivid in Zhou Mingrui’s mind until he turned the door handle. The sudden sensation of cold iron brought him back to reality: he was clutching a revolver.

With Melissa’s arrival imminent, he massaged his temples, hastily hauled open a desk drawer, tossed the weapon inside, and shoved the drawer shut.

“What’s wrong?” Melissa asked, casting a curious gaze toward the sound.

She was in the bloom of her youth, though the lack of a nutrient-rich diet meant her face was somewhat gaunt and pale; yet, her skin held the natural vitality of youth. Seeing her brown eyes fixated on him, Zhou Mingrui forced a calm expression. He grabbed a nearby object, used it to mask the drawer, and pressed a hand to his temple, confirming his wound had indeed vanished.

He produced a silver pocket watch decorated with a vine-leaf pattern, clicking the latch open.

Held within was a portrait of their father. It was the only item of significance left behind by the Royal Army sergeant. Being a refurbished piece, it had grown temperamental with age, frequently failing to keep time. It had been a source of shame for Benson, who had once used it as a status symbol before finally setting it aside in disgust.

However, it seemed Melissa’s technical aptitude was more than just a hobby. After deciphering the watch’s internal mechanics, she had utilized tools from her school to perform a repair. She claimed, quite recently, that she had successfully fixed it.

Zhou Mingrui stared at the open watch, the second hand frozen. Instinctively, he wound the top dial.

Even after several turns, he heard no tension from the mainspring. The second hand remained dead.

“Looks like it’s broken again,” he muttered, latching onto a topic to bridge the silence.

Melissa offered him a deadpan expression, stepped forward, and reclaimed the watch from his hands.

Standing unmoved, she pulled the small pin on the crown. A series of quick turns followed, and suddenly, the crisp tick-tock of the gears resumed.

Zhou Mingrui froze, utterly stunned.

In the distance, the muffled tolling of a cathedral bell began—six strikes, faint and ethereal.

Melissa tilted her head, listening to the chime, then adjusted the pin to synchronize the time with the tower bell. 'It's fixed,' she stated flatly, pressing the crown back down and returning the watch to him.

Zhou Mingrui attempted a sheepish, polite smile.

Melissa gave her brother a sharp, lingering look before turning toward the cupboard. She gathered her cleaning kit and towel before exiting the room to head toward the communal baths.

Zhou Mingrui sat in silence, chuckling to himself. He snapped the watch cover shut, opened it again, and repeated the motion, his mind busy with other concerns. The watch clicked rhythmically until Melissa returned from her wash and spotted his repetitive, distracted fumbling.

A look of mild exasperation touched her features as she spoke. 'Klein, clear out the pantry. Make sure you pick up some fresh bread today—get some peas and meat as well. Your interview is coming up. I’ll make a stew with mutton and peas.'

She set a portable stove down, lit a handful of charcoal, and set a pot of water to boil.

While the water reached temperature, she pulled out a drawer where she kept her most prized possession—a rusted tin of bargain-bin tea leaves. She tossed a pinch into the pot, maintaining the pretense of real tea.

Melissa poured two generous servings and divided their portion of rye bread. Zhou Mingrui, still feeling the lingering fatigue of starvation, forced the dry bread down, grumbling internally.

Minutes later, Melissa finished her meager meal. She smoothed her black hair, which fell to her vest, and leveled a serious gaze at him. 'Don't forget the bread. Eight pounds is plenty. It’s too warm out; it’ll go stale or rot otherwise. And the mutton and peas—don't forget!'

Zhou Mingrui offered a compliant nod. 'Understood.'

Regarding the local weight measurement, Zhou Mingrui cross-referenced Klein’s instinctual knowledge with his own. One 'pound' seemed to align closely with half a kilogram.

Melissa said no more. She stood and cleared the remnants of their meal. After packing the last scrap of bread for her lunch, she donned a worn veil cap—a relic of their late mother—and slung her satchel of books over her shoulder, ready to go.

It wasn't Sunday, meaning a full day of lectures awaited her. Walking to Tingen Technical School took fifty minutes. While public carriages were an option—costing a penny per kilometer—Melissa consistently chose to walk to save every spare coin.

Just as she reached for the door, she faltered, glancing back over her shoulder. 'Klein, don't overbuy the mutton or peas. Benson might be home this Sunday. And remember, just eight pounds of bread.'

'Right, I’ve got it,' Zhou Mingrui replied, suppressing his growing exasperation.

At the same time, he echoed the word 'Sunday' repeatedly in his mind. In this world, the year was divided into twelve months totaling 365 or 366 days, and the week was split into seven days, just as he was accustomed to.

The monthly cycles, dictated by the stars, made him wonder if he had stumbled into a parallel reality. The weekly cycle, however, was clearly linked to religious practice, honoring the seven orthodox deities of the Northern Continent: the Eternal Blazing Sun, the Lord of Storms, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, the Evernight Goddess, Mother Earth, the God of War, and the God of Steam and Machinery.

Watching his sister vanish through the doorway, Zhou Mingrui let out a long sigh as his focus finally narrowed to the ritual for luck enhancement.