Chapter 325: Chapter 329 Students Chapter 325: Chapter 329 Students Alice and Fenna hid in a dark corner of the alley, where they would wait for instructions while keeping an eye on the movents around the building.
Duncan and Morris arrived at the building with the black door.
The building was very quiet—it was to be expected, after all, the sun hadn’t risen yet, and the night of this world was never suitable for the average person’s activities. Most normal people had no nightlife after dusk; they went to bed early and waited for dawn as a norm.
But would the “Replications” returning from the deep sea also keep the sa routine as ordinary people?
Duncan looked up and noticed a conspicuous button on the door fra and pressed it twice.
Faintly, an urgent and piercing electric bell could be heard coming from inside the building—on this quiet night, the sound of the bell was particularly jarring.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t have co calling during the curfew,” Morris said, touching his forehead and speaking with a hint of hesitation, “if we disturb the neighbors, it will arouse suspicion.”
“But your friend may not be able to wait, it’s better to be early,” Duncan replied coolly. “Don’t worry about the rest, arousing the suspicion of the church or alarming the City-State authorities is all part of life; you should get used to being a mber of the Holoss.”
Morris opened his mouth to say sothing but nothing ca out, and at that mont, Duncan reached out again and pressed the doorbell twice.
Finally, they heard a series of hurried footsteps from within the building, accompanied by the noise of sothing being knocked over—then the living room lights turned on, and the soft light shone through the window next to the door and spilled onto the street.
The sound of the door lock turning clicked, and the black door opened a crack; a wary eye peeked through the gap, accompanied by a young and tense voice, “Who’s there?”
It sounded like a young woman.
Duncan and Morris exchanged a glance—one surprised, the other thoughtful, as if sothing had occurred to him.
“Is that you, Garland?” Morris ventured, “Is Mr. Brown Scott at ho? I am a friend of your teacher.”
He then turned to Duncan and whispered quickly but quietly: “It might be Brown Scott’s student; I’ve heard him ntion her.”
Duncan nodded in understanding. In the anti, the owner of the young voice behind the door clearly hesitated upon hearing Morris’s words before responding hesitantly, “I’m sorry, it’s too late, and the teacher is sleeping. Can we talk about this after sunrise?”
Morris furrowed his brow, as the situation was not as he had expected—he hadn’t anticipated that Brown Scott’s student would still be living in this house six years after his death. But after a brief mont of contemplation, he organized his words: “We’ve arrived too late and still haven’t found a place to stay—besides, your teacher wrote a letter earlier, inviting over.”
He paused for a mont before continuing, “My na is Morris Underwood; your teacher should have ntioned to you.”
The voice behind the door fell silent as “Garland” appeared to be rembering and thinking. After several seconds, she spoke again: “Then… please wait a mont, I’ll undo the chain bolt.”
The sound of tal clashing and chains rubbing against each other echoed in the night as the person inside removed the safety chain from the interior side of the door. The door finally opened, revealing a figure in the warm, bright light… a tall and sowhat odd figure.
The figure was barely a few centiters shorter than Fenna, with a height close to one ter ninety making them strikingly conspicuous. Unlike the tall but slender Fenna, this young woman standing at the door had a physique where strong, muscular outlines could be seen all over her body. But what drew more attention than her height was her skin, which had a grayish-white hue like rock and faint golden patterns on its surface.
Aside from these prominent non-human traits, her features were not much different from the usual young human won, even appearing rather… delicate.
Awoken in the dead of night, this young woman, who seed as if made of stone, was only wearing a loose nightgown. Her brown hair lay in slight disarray behind her head, and as she held onto the door fra with a cautious, scrutinizing gaze, she sized up the two uninvited guests standing at her doorstep.
Just as Duncan curiously examined her, she also curiously inspected Duncan—a burly visitor dressed in a black trench coat and wearing a wide-brimd hat, from whom no facial features could be seen through the gaps in the clothing, only layers of bandages.
Even for Frostfolk who are accustod to “bandages,” the visitor’s appearance felt a bit too oppressive.
Her muscles visibly tensed up.
“Ah, I forgot to say,” Morris’s voice suddenly rose, tily breaking the sowhat awkward and tense atmosphere. He turned to Duncan, “Brown’s student Garland is a Senkin Person—it’s indeed not common to see in the northern City-State.”
Then he looked toward Garland who was standing at the door: “This is Mr. Duncan, he is…”
“A friend of Mr. Morris, a traveler, an adventurer interested in Mr. Brown Scott’s research, hence I stopped by for a visit,” Duncan said proactively, “I hope this hasn’t caused any inconvenience.”
“…The teacher is resting, I’m not sure when he will wake up, but he did ntion that Mr. Morris might co to visit,” Garland spoke, her voice was light and hesitant in contrast to her tall and robust figure, and carried an air of fear-like lack of confidence. While talking, she barely dared to make eye contact with Duncan and Morris, just murmuring while stepping aside, “Please co in first, it’s quite cold outside.”
Morris thanked her, then he and Duncan stepped into the house.
The sound of the door hinge broke the silence of the night, the black door closed, and the street fell quiet once again.
Upon entering the front door, what they first saw was a rather simple living room. The furniture in the living room seed to have been used for upwards of ten or twenty years. On one side of the living room, there was a connection to the kitchen and dining room, and on the other side, there was a staircase leading to the second floor; beneath the staircase, one could see a narrow door that might lead to the basent or wine cellar.
In the bright light of the electric lamp, no suspicious dark corners could be seen in the living room. Everything that t the eye was very holy and… ordinary.
Duncan and Morris did not display excessive curiosity, simply taking a quick look around and then settled in the living room under Garland’s direction. The tall Senkin lady then entered the kitchen and busily began making tea and preparing so snacks.
“Would you like so sweet pancakes and sausages? That’s all we have right now…” Garland called out from the kitchen to her two guests, her voice carrying a hint of apology.
“Just a cup of hot water will do, no need for trouble,” Morris waved his hand dismissively and when Garland approached, he asked casually, “By the way, have you been living here all this ti?”
“Yes, I’ve been living here, ” Garland nodded, “The teacher had gone away for so ti. He gave the keys to take care of the place—so I simply moved over from the place I was renting before that, and have stayed ever since. Recently when he ca back, I continued to live here to take care of him.”
“He had been away for so ti?” Morris frowned subconsciously, “When did this happen?”
“…About five or six years ago, I think,” Garland reflected, not quite certain, her expression becoming sowhat sheepish, “I always can’t seem to rember dates correctly, the teacher often reprimands .”
Morris and Duncan exchanged glances.
“When did Mr. Brown co back?” Duncan asked as if in passing.
“About a month ago,” Garland seed not to have overthought it and simply answered the guest’s questions as if chatting idly, “He suddenly returned, said that traveling was tiring, and wanted to rest properly for a while… Oh, it was after that he ntioned wanting to invite Mr. Morris over as a guest.”
“I was also quite surprised when I received his letter, ” Morris continued smoothly, “He hadn’t contacted for many years, and the last ti I heard from him many years ago was that he was going to take a ship out to sea… ah, it seems it was a small cruise ship called ‘Obsidian’?”
While he spoke, he nonchalantly observed the reactions of the person before him.
However, Garland did not show any reaction upon hearing “Obsidian.” She just reminisced for a mont and then shook her head: “I don’t know about that, he didn’t tell much when he left…”
There was nothing amiss in the tone and deanor of the student as she answered.
However, her answer itself was clearly not quite right.
She didn’t know which ship her own teacher took when he left!
If it was an ordinary teacher-student relationship, this would of course be nothing unusual, but her relationship with the folklorist clearly exceeded that of a typical ntor and disciple—Brown Scott could entrust his ho keys to this student, who had then lived here for six years, and after the teacher “ca ho,” she unhesitatingly assud the responsibility of care. With such a close and mutually trusting relationship, it was impossible that Brown would not have inford Garland of his itinerary before leaving.
Garland t the visitors’ eyes squarely, her expression calm and serene.
As if everything happening around her were perfectly natural.
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