musicians of old

Chapter 945 "A Friend" (Part 2)
“It’s not entirely reassuring.” The female assistant, Nicole, paused, then lowered her voice and leaned closer. “But based on some of the intelligence I’ve gathered…”

Roy listened intently from the sofa, his brows furrowing and his expression becoming somewhat serious: "You mean you're sure? Confirmed by multiple pieces of evidence?"

"There's no mistake. It involves too long a border and the commotion is too great. The troops stationed in Theoline and Janus have withdrawn, as have the investigators from the Special Patrol Bureau. It's not a rout, it's an orderly withdrawal, not a partial withdrawal, it's a complete withdrawal."

"Furthermore, the symptoms of those 'worm-related' infected individuals who were previously secretly detained by various organizations have all lessened, and some have even fully recovered, though they remain very weak."

Roy gently put a small spoonful of chocolate into his mouth and began to ponder deeply.

My experience traveling to the "X coordinate" a month ago
That process was tortuous, long, glorious, and exhausting, with countless moments of despair and turning points, woven into a thick braid, feeling more tortuous and lengthy than all my previous experiences, or even the sum of many, many more lives.

All the heavy joys and sorrows, beautiful memories, great regrets, heart-wrenching suffering and unwavering aspirations were sealed in a layer of frosted glass. As for the end, it seems that many people dedicated their spirituality to a noble goal, but the specific details, especially the crucial links, are like shadows under the spotlight, blurry and unclear, as if smoothed and repaired by some self-protective subconscious.

Anyway, in the end, you come back. Everyone has their own moment when they suddenly become "more certain" that they are on a car, a carriage, or a train on their way home, or when they realize it, they are cutting a slice of food from their plate, or lying in their own steamy bathtub, waking up from a nap. So, deep down, they tell themselves that they are indeed back, finally back.

Perhaps this is how it feels to come back from the abnormal zone. Fanning had been there before, and Roy had heard Fanning describe it to him before.

In short, regarding the fact that a month had passed without Fanning's return, everyone maintained a strange mix of anxiety and certainty. Firstly, from a utilitarian perspective, the spectacular performance at the closing ceremony of the Harvest Festival that day brought a subsequent "dream-fulfilling victory" to the Turner Theatres. There had indeed been a lot of complicated work and support recently, but everything was absolutely fine. It was definitely one of the most "fulfilling busyness" and "happy troubles" in the world.

Moreover, more "good news" continues to come.

Roy is now even vaguely "guessing"—no, not guessing. The result pieced together from a large amount of information is already self-evident. It's just that the facts themselves are too astonishing, directly ending the "doomsday narrative" that has existed since humanity began using knotted ropes to record events. This forces her to only dare to call herself a "guess"—the anomalous zone seems to be gone, the "worm" seems to be gone, and the problem of the unknown source of the spread, the "X-coordinate," seems to have been completely solved!
Isn't this good news? If so, the outcome of the tower climb is further strengthened, and the "anxiety and certainty" mixed during the waiting for Fanning can overshadow the former.

However, when "good news" becomes too abundant and bizarre, it may give rise to a more unknown, subtle, and instinctive fear.

The three of them, Roy, Sheeran, and Joan, have been acting strangely lately.

It seemed to contain something intangible, something completely unknown, yet seemingly higher than true knowledge or the status of "Pureroma"—as described by Joan, who had already reached the level of an Ordered Being—because this thing itself caused psychic and true knowledge to be generated almost spontaneously within the brain! And it seemed entirely "correct and safe," unlike any contamination that could be caused by an evil god organization. In fact, even worshipping evil gods could not achieve such spontaneous and rapid progress!

Their strength was increasing, and increasing very quickly. Hilan, a mid-level Knower, had already reached the high-level limit; Roy had reached the limit of the third level of Profound Understanding; and Joan could rise to the fifth level of Order or even higher at any time. What was even more incomprehensible was that, while observing near the Shining Tower, they discovered that all the door hinges were afraid of their touch! All of them! Even those phases they hadn't studied!
This whole thing is so bizarre and unbelievable. Anyone who has ever followed the "right path" would be incredulous. They wouldn't even dare to try to go through the door. Every time they had that thought, they felt an instinctive fear.

The living room fell silent for a moment, with only the crackling of the firewood burning in the fireplace and the occasional sound of horse-drawn carriages from the distant street.

"Clang—" "Clang—"

The gilded clock on the wall struck three times; it was three in the afternoon.

Then, the sound of a piano began.

The sound came from the ground floor, in the area used as a reception hall, where a nine-foot Boethius grand piano stood. The music was soft, an improvisational fragment, a pleasant melody, its rhythm loose yet impressive, possessing a wonderful potential to develop into a piece. The left-hand accompaniment consisted of only a few thin rhythmic chords, recognizable as a signal motif from the work of the Romantic master Anton Cornelius.

Everyone looked up.

Roy was the first to react. She put down the intelligence file in her hand and walked quickly toward the stairs. Sheeran and Joan followed behind her, and Walter and Olga also stood up. Congreve took off his chef's hat.

The spiral staircase leading from the second floor to the first floor.

Fanning sat in front of the piano.

He wore a simple white shirt, gray jacket, and gray trousers—a less formal, more trendy style of suit. His face was expressionless, calm, and his gaze was focused as he listened intently to each note he played, even though it was very simple for him.

Hearing footsteps, he stopped and turned to look at the crowd.

"You're down? I just got back," he said, his tone as casual as if he'd just gone for a walk.

Roy stood in the doorway, opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Shiran's hand rested on the stair railing, her knuckles turning slightly white. Joan's eyes were wide open, something glittering within them.

Walter breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping: "My teacher, my boss, you've finally come to my aid."

He didn't finish his sentence because everyone then noticed that there was another person in the reception hall on the first floor.

The man was sitting at the bar counter, facing away from them, looking out at the linden trees in the courtyard. He was dressed in a very retro gentleman's suit, with a top hat of the same color, and leaning against a cane. From behind, he looked like a gentleman about Walter's age.

He has a very artistic temperament. Intuitively speaking, there is a high probability that he is a "musical master", or even a "avant-garde musical master".

Strangely, when I tried to look closely at his face, my gaze would always unconsciously drift away. It wasn't that he was avoiding anything, but rather that I couldn't concentrate on him for long. It was like looking at dust in the sunlight; it was there, but I couldn't grasp the focus. The only thing I could remember was the upturned beard under his top hat.

"Carol, why are you only getting back now?" Joan walked quickly to Fanning, leaned close, and asked in a low voice, "Who was that person? Did he come with you?"

"A friend."

Fanning stood up from in front of the piano and slowly closed the piano lid and cloth.

"Just arrange a place for him to stay; this friend prefers a more secluded spot."