Chapter 404

Epilogue: Another World Line [3]

At dusk, Jerome left the library clutching his manuscript.

Only when he stepped outside did he realize his actions might have been inappropriate—he shouldn’t have taken manuscripts containing unpublished material out.

Who knew what absurd ethical drama might be dug up from its contents? If any descendants of the parties involved were still alive, it could become a massive scandal, potentially spiraling into violent conflict.

But thinking of how utterly ignored he’d been all day, he quickly relaxed, carrying the materials to the dining hall with a clear conscience.

If the organizers didn’t care, the content must not be sensitive.

He arrived just in time for dinner; the academic heavyweights were still locked in heated debate in the main hall, their arguments audible even from the other side of the courtyard.

He could faintly make out that the final speaker’s content had sparked disagreement—two factions were interpreting the new discovery from their own perspectives, hunting for flaws in each other’s theories, with signs of devolving into personal attacks.

He had already recognized several names from the speaking list, and more kept appearing.

Unlike the bustling atmosphere in the hall, the dining room was eerily quiet, with only a few young scholars like himself wandering among lavish dishes, snatching drumsticks from roasted chickens and picking out the reddest berries from fruit platters.

Seeing a newcomer join, they made room for him, then hurriedly stuffed their trays faster.

Jerome joined reluctantly, taking portions for dinner, late-night snack, and tomorrow’s breakfast, then carried his wobbling tray out the back door.

The corridors at night were brightly lit; white marble floors and matching painted walls enhanced the brightness, leaving not a single dark corner.

Occasional patrolling monks would kindly approach to ask if he needed help and guide outsiders, making it nearly impossible to get lost in this white palace, even on a first visit.

He even entertained a thought: perhaps the Lord’s kingdom was no more than this—believers bathed in eternal light and purity.

At every window facing the mountain peak, he could see the white tower’s light, spiraling upward along its surface like a chain of stars connecting heaven to earth.

Having witnessed the overwhelming grandeur of churches built through intricate ornamentation, he thought he’d never again feel such awe toward architecture—but here, his understanding was shattered.

The massive white geometric structure stood silent in the night, incongruous against its backdrop, as if the embodiment of some minimalist divine decree, absorbing all within its vast, precise order.

Sudden dread seized his mind; he lost interest in the night view, quickened his pace back to his room, and met a monk who seemed to have been waiting a long time at the door.

His sharp features and short beard made him appear much older than the other monks.

Though he wore only a plain white robe with a silver badge, the signet ring on his pinky still stained with sealing wax revealed his status—he was clearly a manager with some authority.

Seeing the room’s occupant return, he smiled warmly—not out of politeness, but with a baffling sense of… relief?

“Hello, brother from Dunling, you’ve had a long journey.” The man made a half-sign of the holy emblem over his chest, then stepped closer as if to embrace, making Jerome feel unexpectedly at ease.

Goodness knows how long it had been since he’d encountered anyone greeting him with church rituals since his departure.

“Just call me Raymond. You arrived last night, right? Sorry I couldn’t greet you sooner. There’s just too much paperwork here—I simply couldn’t spare the time.”

As Raymond drew nearer, Jerome saw the silver badge on his chest: a circle with wings, centered by an image of the Virgin holding the infant Christ—only those who had earned a theology degree from Dunling carried such a badge.

“This isn’t convenient. Let’s go inside.”

Noticing the guest’s hands were full, Raymond abandoned the embrace, took the tray, and helped him fumble for his key. Then, as if he’d known Jerome for years, he followed him into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Didn’t expect you were from Dunling too. Was it hard getting promoted to the upper tier?”

“Oh, not really. I took over the role of Warden shortly after arriving.”

“Warden?”

Jerome glanced at the overflowing tray and felt a pang of guilt. In Dunling, doing this would have meant his lunch—and possibly dinner—reduced to plain water the next day.

Fortunately, Raymond didn’t mention food waste, and continued chatting.

“First time at the White Tower? Are you adjusting well?”

Too well—the accommodation was excellent, meals and tea breaks delicious, scholarly resources comprehensive, workload self-managed—he hoped to return next year.

“It’s fine,” he replied honestly. The joy of meeting a fellow countryman faded, replaced by quiet suspicion.

A Warden was typically the second-in-command of a monastery—why was he here, visiting him?

“Good to hear. I was afraid I might have failed to provide adequate hospitality.” Raymond ended the pleasantries; perhaps he didn’t even notice his smile gradually fading.

“Was the academic exchange going well? Did you lack any supporting materials?” Like a kind, proper senior scholar, Raymond straightened his robe, the badge on his chest gleaming.

“Though the White Tower may not rival our peers in deep study of doctrine and scripture, we do hold many rare collections not found elsewhere. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you sincerely for your generosity—I don’t currently have any special needs.”

Jerome had wanted to ask whether anyone had previously studied noble lineages within the diocese for reference—but scholarly caution halted the question on his tongue.

Did this man not know why he’d been invited?

Dunling had seen too many recent cases of academic misconduct—frequent scandals of mutual accusations of plagiarism in research directions—making even those in marginal fields hypersensitive to prying into others’ work.

Even if his own material was logically useless to a Warden, what if?

And how could a Warden not know the reason each invitee had been summoned?

Perhaps the man truly had nothing to do with this and simply came to chat with a fellow countryman—but Jerome decided to err on the side of caution: if he said nothing, any trouble couldn’t touch him.

“That’s fine. If you do need anything, I know the monk who handles cleaning and organizing the library this week—go to him, say Raymond sent you.”

“Thank you, I’m truly grateful.” Jerome felt slightly reassured; since the Warden wasn’t pressing further, he must genuinely mean well. “Where can I find him?”

“Oh, he’s usually on the first floor of the library. Even if he leaves for urgent matters, he won’t be gone long—just wait a bit.”

【All of them?】

Jerome didn’t recall seeing anyone in the library today.

Clearly, the Warden’s duties were heavy; after only a few minutes of conversation, Raymond pushed himself up from his knees, preparing to leave.

“That’s all then. Young man, get more exercise—don’t eat too much at night.” He glanced at the tray, offering a knowing smile, then his gaze shifted from the table to Jerome’s armpit, where the manuscript was clutched.

“Oh? This is your presentation material. May I read it?”

?? Thank you to friend hebby for the Almsmaster reward! I can never repay your kindness (sob)

?＼(ToT)／＼(ToT)／

?（A melody begins: If You Come in Winter～）