Backlund,
the capital of the Kingdom of Loen, boasts a population of over five million and is one of the most prosperous cities on the continent.
The wide Tasok River flows into the city from the northwest and out to the southeast, eventually emptying into the sea.
Dividing Backlund in two, the Tasok River also facilitates convenient water transport, making the city's dock area bustling, while the adjacent eastern district is lined with factories.
The night sky is cloudless, and a large expanse of crimson moonlight spills down, reflecting the riverbanks onto the calm surface of the Tasok River;
a gust of wind blows, rippling the water and shattering the reflections into shimmering patterns.
This is the section of the river near the docks in the eastern district.
Rows of houses stretch from the riverbank, extending deeper into the eastern district. They are of varying heights and ages, yet they possess a unique harmony shaped by the passage of time.
The night is now past midnight.
Almost everyone was fast asleep, the few insomniacs merely tossing and turning in bed.
Of course, there were exceptions.
On the second floor of a small building, by a window facing the river, stood a young man.
He wore loose pajamas, his black hair slightly disheveled, and his deep brown eyes, gazing out the window, held a profound sense of bewilderment.
He was pondering a question—"Who am I?"
Before tonight, this question would have been easily answered for him.
His name was Varina Atano, 20 years old, a warehouse manager at the Xilun Textile Factory, his past life quite simple.
The upheaval might have occurred in his sleep tonight, or perhaps it had been foreshadowed and simply erupted tonight—he wasn't entirely sure.
In any case, when he suddenly awoke, he found himself living another life in his dream, with a bizarre memory.
In this other memory, he was called Yu Yue, living in a world completely different from his present one.
A bizarre world, bizarre experiences, bizarre memories…
This experience was so real that he could hardly distinguish between dream and reality, whether he was Varina or Yu Yue.
He almost thought he was going mad, that everything related to Yu Yue was just a crazy fantasy, until he recalled the contents of a novel, *Lord of Mysteries*.
"Rune," "Backlund," "Goddess of the Night"…
Wasn't this the world he inhabited?!
Wait…
"Extraordinary Ones," "The Path of God," "True History"…
Was this really the world he inhabited?!
Two memories, two experiences, two personalities, brought this young man an unparalleled sense of contradiction and division, almost driving him insane.
He could only stand quietly by the window, ignoring the night view outside, trying his best to bridge the rift and reconcile the two.
As the incomplete red moon in the sky gradually sank westward, the young man's attempt began.
He tried to refute Yu Yue's memories through proof by contradiction. He
first assumed Yu Yue's memories were true, then tried to substitute them into the reality known to Varina, explaining everything to see if it could be self-consistent.
If not, then it's undoubtedly just a fantasy!
As the comparison progressed, the young man was surprised to find that he couldn't find any loopholes, because most of them involved extraordinary powers that he couldn't verify at the moment.
However, there were some things that, although still unverifiable, he was quite inclined to believe.
The most prominent of these was Emperor Roselle.
As everyone knows, Emperor Roselle had a peculiar life, extraordinary achievements, and accomplishments in various fields. He was an outstanding inventor, thinker, artist, and politician,
with countless titles and honors attached to him... But if Yu Yue's memories were real, then Roselle was nothing more than a time traveler, whose achievements all came from copying another experience.
Compared to "all-around genius," the term "copycat" was obviously easier to accept—especially after a similar situation had occurred to him.
In addition to the parts that couldn't be verified at the moment, the young man also sorted out many parts that he could verify soon. After all, the content of the novel in Yu Yue's memories involved not only the past but also the future.
Thus, the young man by the window was immersed in the struggle between the two personalities in his inner world, completely forgetting the passage of time.
As dawn broke, he finally breathed a sigh of relief. His two personalities, through his efforts, had begun to resonate—
"No matter what, for now, I can only be Varina Atano on the surface."
After half a night of hard work, the young man had effectively alleviated the inner turmoil he felt.
"The most important thing now is to verify the existence of supernatural power and achieve inner reconciliation."
Varina, who had stood by the window for half the night, stretched and stiffly walked into the adjacent public restroom, a wry smile on his face. "And the first thing to do is—work."
Yes, work.
Varina's parents had died long ago, and he had grown up with his uncle. After completing his secondary education at a technical school, his uncle demanded he become independent and introduced him to his current job.
A warehouse manager—for a young man with only a secondary education, this was a good starting point, and he couldn't give it up easily. At least, he didn't want to give up before verifying and mastering supernatural power.
It was still early; he could complete his first attempt before starting work.
After washing up, Varina returned to his room, took four loaves of rye bread from the cupboard, and planned to try a ritual from his memory.
Yes, the "transfer ritual" performed by Mr. Fool, Zhou Mingrui, and Klein Moretti in the original story .
The current time was late September 1348. Although he didn't remember the exact time of Mr. Fool's arrival (June 28, 1349), Varina was certain that he hadn't arrived yet—if he really would.
His basis was the Corn Act.
He remembered clearly that Klein's arrival was very close to the repeal of the Corn Act, and the act hadn't been declared repealed yet.
Of course, the calls for repealing the act were growing louder; Varina had even participated in a small related march.
This meant that Klein's arrival was probably not far off—if he really would.
Although Varina knew he was probably unrelated to the gray fog the ritual was referring to, and the chances of the ritual succeeding were extremely low, he had to try to be sure.
The small room was filled with essential living facilities such as a bed, table and chairs, wardrobe, cupboard, and coal stove, which occupied most of the space.
This was Varina's only private space in the world.
He placed the four loaves of bread near the bed, the table and chairs, the cupboard, and the stove—roughly the four corners of the room—before going to the center to begin his "transfer of fortune" ritual.
"May the Immortal Venerable of Xuanhuang bestow blessings."
"May the Heavenly Lord of Xuanhuang bestow blessings."
"May the Supreme God of Xuanhuang bestow blessings."
"May the Heavenly Venerable of Xuanhuang bestow blessings."
...With a chanted incantation, Varina took four steps counter-clockwise, completing this very simple "transfer ritual."
However, nothing happened.
No anomalies, no babbling, no gray mist…
"Sure enough, I knew it wouldn't be so easy to verify the existence of supernatural power."
Having prepared himself mentally, Varina didn't feel much negative emotion about the failed attempt.
He quickly put the bread away, lit the coal stove, and filled a pot halfway with water from the washroom.
Once the water boiled, he chopped a few potatoes and carrots, added a little salt and lard, and a simple vegetable soup was ready.
Vegetable soup with bread—this was his daily breakfast.
While the water was boiling, Varina quickly changed into his shirt and coat, preparing to leave.
…
After a simple breakfast, Varina put on his cap, left as the nearby clock tower struck seven, and walked to the Weston Textile Factory, three blocks away.
After greeting old Hanniff, the gatekeeper, Varina followed the road to the flat-roofed hut outside the warehouse.
This was where he worked daily.
A large, long table sat in the small room, its surface slightly cluttered with papers, pens, notebooks, and other items.
Here, Wariner and several colleagues worked together to ensure the warehouse operated smoothly.
Most of the time, Wariner handled receiving matters, John handled outbound shipments, Susan handled freight, and there was also an older man, Pat, who directed the workers to move the goods. Of course, this wasn't always the case; when someone was on leave, his work would be distributed among the others.
It was still a little while before eight o'clock, and none of them had arrived yet.
Wariner tidied up the scattered documents briefly, and then John arrived.
"Good morning, Wariner,"
he greeted with a smile as he walked in, went straight to his seat, slung his bag over his shoulder, and said,
"Good morning, John too."
After a few words of conversation, another colleague, Susan, with her brown curly hair, arrived and quickly joined the chat.
"Hey, did you hear? There was another protest in the docklands yesterday, even bigger than the last one."
"A protest demanding the repeal of the Corn Act?" John asked, intrigued. "I really hope that demand is met."
"Yeah, that would lower our cost of living by at least a third, maybe even half!" Susan exclaimed hopefully.
John nodded in agreement.
Varina had previously held the same view, but this time he was thinking more deeply.
He asked, "Have you considered that this might have the opposite effect, making our lives even harder?"
"What nonsense are you talking about?" John quickly retorted. "Grain will be cheaper in Fenneport and Rembrandt, and we'll actually benefit!"
Susan didn't speak, but she looked at Varina like John, waiting for his explanation.
"We all know that the core of the Corn Act was to protect domestic agricultural product prices, preventing the import of grains from southern countries like Fenneport, Maschinensis, and Rembrandt until prices reached a certain level."
"Right."
"Exactly, and then what?"
"Have you considered that after the act is repealed, low grain prices will lead to the bankruptcy of domestic farmers, who will then have no choice but to sell their land and work in factories?"
Seeing the two men begin to ponder, Varina offered his final conclusion:
"And a large influx of workers will inevitably lead factory owners to lower worker wages, making our lives even worse."
"I see!"
John quickly accepted Varina's explanation.
"I think you make a lot of sense, but I have another question—how did you come up with this?" "Probably in a dream." Varina's expression was somewhat complicated.
Hearing this answer, John couldn't help but curl his lip, feeling that the explanation was rather perfunctory.
At this moment, Susan also finished her thinking and said, "What you said is wrong, or at least not entirely right."
She smiled and pointed out the flaw: "Most farmers are illiterate, so even if your reasoning is correct, it's hard for us to be affected."
The two men exchanged a glance but didn't reply. Susan's background was better than theirs, so she naturally couldn't understand their feelings.
"Ding, ding, ding..."
The chime of the clock broke the brief silence, signifying the end of their casual conversation.
As the factory began to operate, their small office gradually became busier, with more people coming and going.
In the afternoon, their superior, Mr. York Luca, suddenly arrived, urgently ordering them to find the record from a certain day six months ago before hurriedly leaving, completely unaware of the immense pressure this request placed on the three of them.
"Oh, goddess, finding that damn record alone is simply impossible," Susan's complaints were so fast they could almost catch up with Mr. Luca's departing footsteps.
John sighed, "Complaining won't help. Let's discuss what to do."
"I don't want to go to the 'dark room'!" Susan blurted out, "Besides, I can't manage here by myself."
Susan's retort caused John's brain to freeze, and he could only look to Varina for help.
Varina stood up and said, "How about this, I'll go alone first. John, you stay and help Susan, and come help me after this is over."
John nodded, "Yeah, that's the only way."
...
Outdated records were stored in a closed compartment in the corner of the warehouse, known as the "dark room" due to its lack of lighting.
John arrived at the entrance but didn't see the expected light. Surprised, he tentatively asked, "Varina, are you there?"
"I'm here," Varina's voice came from the darkness. "Come help me, it's harder to find than I expected."
"Why aren't you lighting a lamp? Are you really not slacking off?"
John angrily took down the whale oil lamp hanging at the entrance, lit it, and went inside, only to find Varina indeed searching through documents, showing no sign of laziness.
"You, you can see in this darkness? I almost couldn't see you even with the lamp on!"
This question startled Varina, realizing that the changes within him went beyond the memories of his dream.
To John, Varina only paused for a moment before smiling and replying, "Actually, you can see it once you get used to it. I just didn't bring matches and didn't want to go back."
John nodded with some skepticism, put the oil lamp aside, and joined in the arduous task of searching.
The rustling sound of papers once again filled the entire cubicle.
After searching silently for a while, John couldn't help but speak up, "Varina, I think you're acting strange today."
"Because I didn't turn on the light earlier?"
"No, it's because of what you said this morning." John paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts, "When you spoke, it felt like you became a different person..."
"To be frank, I think with your level of knowledge, it's hard to imagine the far-reaching impact of government decrees."
After saying this, John quickly added, "I didn't mean anything by it, you know that."
"Yes, I know." Varina's tone was somewhat heavy, "Actually, I don't think I have that level of understanding either."
Then he switched to a lighter tone, "But Emperor Roselle once said, 'Even a wise man who comes up with a thousand good ideas will make one mistake; while a foolish man who comes up with a thousand random ideas will eventually have one brilliant one.' Maybe I just happened to stumble upon that one."
"You're too modest." John replied without stopping his work, "I understand, this is progress you've made through persistent self-study."
"Ha, you can think of it that way too."