Silently, Mirna read the twisted letters written atop the notebook.
She had once taken a course on ancient dead languages at Ark, the Church’s educational facility, so she should be able to decipher the writing.
“What does it say?”
I asked again, and she answered.
“Teo.”
“Teo?”
“That’s what it says. Pronounced exactly like that.”
Teo. That was my na. To think a notebook left behind in this abandoned fortress overrun by monsters would have my na on it—startling, to say the least.
Could it be that Isaiah Gospel, who once possessed this notebook, had known I would co to this place? Just as the thought crossed my mind, Mirna shook her head.
“But I don’t think it’s referring to your na, Sir Teo. In the ancient dead language, the word ‘Teo’ has only one aning.”
“And that is?”
“God. This notebook is titled God in the old tongue. I don’t know what kind of content it holds, but it could contain sothing quite significant.”
Shhk.
With a subtle look of anticipation, Mirna opened the leather cover of the notebook.
But almost imdiately, a hint of bewildernt clouded her face. Nare, peering at the notebook alongside her, spoke.
“All the writing’s sared! You can’t read a single word like this.”
Just as she said, it seed the text had once been written in ink or black dye, but now it was horribly sared—like it had been soaked in rain and washed away.
Considering how long the notebook must have been sitting here in this monster-infested fortress, it wasn’t surprising the writing hadn’t held up. Now that I noticed it, the area where the notebook had been was terribly damp and reeked of mold.
Nare said,
“This thing was abandoned in a dump like this. It probably didn’t contain anything important to begin with. What were you even expecting?”
What had I been expecting? I let my imagination wander for a mont.
Maybe... this leather-bound notebook was Isaiah Gospel’s personal journal.
What had he been thinking when he ca to this far-off land?
Why had he hidden himself in a place like Fortress Gargarta, surrounded by monsters?
Why did he leave the imp behind, and where had he gone afterward?
Perhaps the notebook contained answers to all that. Maybe even sothing about the nymph Beatrice he t... or the child they supposedly had together.
But with the pages this badly soaked, there was no reading it unless it could sohow be restored.
Flash.
A sudden thought struck like lightning.
I reached out and took the notebook from Mirna’s hands and quickly set off. I knew exactly who I needed to bring this to in order to decipher it.
She had once restored and read a book I’d burned to ashes. So sothing as simple as sared ink should be far easier than charred pages.
She could definitely do it.
I stood once again in front of Ayra’s door. It was now just past 1 p.m. Surely she had woken by now.
Brushing the dust off my clothes to properly receive an audience with the queen, I cleared my throat.
“Ahem.”
Then, with two fingers, I knocked gently on the door.
“Ayra-nim, are you awake?”
Rustle.
This ti, there was movent inside the room.
━Co in.
Having received permission, I gently turned the knob. Creak, the door opened.
Inside, Ayra was still lying in bed in her underwear. It seed her mind was awake, but her body wasn’t quite ready to get up yet.
I approached her quietly.
She gestured with her hand toward a nearby water bottle. Understanding what she ant, I poured so water into the cup beside it and brought it to her.
Shhk.
“......”
The queen silently accepted the cup. Her pale, cherry blossom–colored lips touched the rim and she drank.
The way she drank water made it look like a comrcial for a luxury water brand. For a mont, I couldn’t help but stare in awe. After placing the cup down, Ayra spoke.
“So, what brings you to ?”
“Well, that is...”
I briefly explained the situation: the imp I had found, her master, and the notebook # Nоvеlight # he had left behind.
***
“That’s how it happened.”
It was a simple enough story—hardly needed a long explanation.
But whether she didn’t understand, or sothing about it displeased her, Ayra furrowed her brow slightly.
“I see. Here I thought you’d co back to pick up where you left off earlier.”
“Earlier?”
I asked, and Ayra lifted her hand into the air, then slowly clenched it like she was grabbing sothing.
Seeing that gesture—like she was cupping a woman’s breast—I understood exactly what she ant. She thought I’d co to fondle her chest again.
My expectations suddenly shot up.
“So... can I?”
“Anyway, let see this book you ntioned.”
Ayra brushed off my question without hesitation. Was that a no? All the rising excitent imdiately plumted back down to my feet. She really knew how to toy with a man’s heart.
Was this what they ant by push-and-pull?
I was beginning to understand why so many n would’ve soared to the heavens and crashed into the dirt at the rcy of a beauty’s whims.
Ayra’s composed face practically radiated the sentint: I hold all the cards in this relationship. You’re beneath .
She saw as soone a step below her.
The thought made feel a sudden resolve—soday, I would see her face twisted in embarrassnt, gasping for breath.
But for now...
I handed her the book. Ayra took it, inspecting the dusty leather cover front and back.
Rustle.
At last, Ayra flipped open the cover and began turning through the pages. Ink sared across the old paper filtered through her fingers as she turned the pages. She muttered quietly.
“It’s an old book.”
“Can you read it? You said once that writing carries intent and aning. If you could read that book I burned, maybe you could decipher this water-damaged one too?”
“Who do you think I am? This kind of text is no challenge. But if I do read it for you, Teo—what will you give in return?”
“?”
The sudden question made it feel like a lump of foam was stuck in my throat. Ayra was asking for compensation. Even for her, this was a rare demand.
She explained,
“In a partnership, what matters is exchange. Giving and receiving. That’s how healthy, stable relationships are built.”
“I see...”
It did seem reasonable. Gratitude grows when sothing is earned, not just given.
Was Ayra taking our marriage seriously in her own way? Or was this just another form of push-and-pull?
I asked,
“What would you like to do for you?”
“Nothing. I’m a queen. The queen of Angmar. I possess all the treasures, wealth, beauty, and honor of the world. I lack nothing. So no repaynt is needed.”
She said it with such pride that her face almost glowed.
...So what am I supposed to do then?
She asked for sothing in return, then said she didn’t need anything.
Even after all these years together, I still couldn’t figure Ayra out. She was a mystery.
Rustle rustle rustle—
She began flipping through the pages rapidly. And then, sothing truly remarkable happened. Across the creased, sared paper, the text began to restore itself—letters becoming sharp and legible again.
Her personality was strange, but Ayra’s magical ability was undeniably astonishing.
Fwap.
At last, Ayra had fully restored all the text.
After receiving the book back from her, I opened it to see writing I could actually read—neatly written in a familiar hand. I felt the presence of the paper-spider Bael stirring within .
━Hioooong...!
I know. The handwriting is identical to Solomon’s journal that you once showed . Isaiah and Solomon really are so similar they could be the sa person.
“So, what does it say?”
At Ayra’s question, I began to read from the first page.
***
Nothing much.
That was my first impression.
As I read through the restored text, I realized this notebook was basically a scratchpad.
It contained notes on the behavior of nearby monsters, the local geography, what he’d done that day, and what he planned to do—like a planner. At tis, it doubled as a diary.
Was there anything more interesting?
As I flipped further, I noticed sothing strange about the later pages.
“The sentences stop making sense toward the end. Are you sure it was restored properly?”
Ayra nodded lightly.
“Yes. That’s how it was written to begin with.”
So it was originally like this. Sentences with no connection between them. Words missing here and there. It felt intentional.
Was it coded?
No—it reminded of sothing else. The further I read, the more it resembled the disorganized writing of soone with schizophrenia.
Ayra said,
“My guess is that the author wasn’t in a normal state. You could call it paranoia or delusion. The curse running through Angmar’s blood.”
A curse...
I beca curious.
“Why is it that people from House Angmar suddenly go mad?”
Ayra narrowed her eyes and looked at .
“Shouldn’t you know best? You are Teo Gospel of Angmar.”
“?”
“They see what others can’t. Hear what others don’t. They witness what must never be seen, hear what must never be heard. Teo, isn’t that your case as well?”
“I’m not sure...”
“Angmar’s blood calls it revelation. It’s what made them kings—and what turned them into madn. The endless whispers in their minds. That’s their god.”
God.
I rembered now. The notebook’s title ant god.
Was this the written record of a madman’s revelations?
It gave chills. Could the Church of Fla know anything about this?
House Angmar and the Church of Fla were born from the sa fateful origin. If I wanted to ask soone, who would it be? A theologian? A high priest?
While I pondered that, Ayra stood up.
“Well then. It’s ti to receive my compensation.”
“Didn’t you say earlier that you didn’t need one?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
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