And then, after an awkward breakfast due to Arthur's unusual outburst, Arthur himself could be seen crossing the corridors of the ancient palace, where the walls decorated with gold and marble had plunged him into memories he could not escape. With every step he took, memories he had not deliberately summoned came flooding back: the echo of childish laughter reverberating in the empty corridors, distant whispers fading away, and the familiar footsteps of people who had long since passed away. Of course, the palace itself was not haunted by ghosts or anything of the sort. Still, instead it was Arthur's mind, which had not yet come to terms with the fact that he had somehow returned to the past, and that everything supernatural was most likely very real, projecting memories of the past onto the present, coloring reality with shades of memory that had been blocked for many years due to a very tragic experience that had weighed heavily on him for years.
Arthur suddenly stopped in front of a vast oil painting decorating the wall of the hall, which was a family portrait with details that were too vivid, much more so than they should be, if Arthur thought about it. It was then that it happened, when his eyes met his father's gaze painted there; a steady, penetrating, piercing gaze, as if it were a message of defiance directed at him alone among all who might pass by it.
Only then did an old memory stir within him, a vague conversation between his mother and father that had begun to echo in his mind before their mysterious disappearance, when they thought he was asleep. It was a conversation about the "mysterious power" that ran through the veins of the Leonharth family, the mysterious legacy that belonged only to those who were prepared to face it, and something he must be prepared to encounter when he grew up... or something like that.
This ultimately led Arthur to head for the real jewel of the palace, the ancient library of the Leonharth family. There, in its sprawling wings, thousands of wooden shelves rose from the floor to the high ceiling of the library, forming a forest of knowledge that contained tens of thousands of books, ranging from science and literature to medicine, novels, legends, and stories written in various languages. This was not just a library, but a living legacy passed down through generations of the Leonharth lineage over centuries, filled with rare treasures of science and knowledge that were priceless.
Arthur, with his terrifying intuition that bordered on being a supernatural power in and of itself, found himself drawn to the library, believing, for reasons he did not fully understand, that what he was looking for was waiting for him among its towering shelves. With every step he took into its depths, it was as if the mystery grew heavier within him, as if the place held secrets that should not be discovered. However, his destination was not the books alone, but a specific room in the heart of this grand Building, the study of his father, Alistair Leonharth.
That great man and writer, who had achieved his own glory by crafting some of the finest detective novels, remained an enduring figure in Arthur's memory—a towering mountain to which he constantly compared himself. Although Arthur had been labeled a genius, even a prodigy, he always felt that surpassing his father's level was his greatest ambition. He wanted to prove to himself that he would not merely be a nobody living in the shadow of a great man, but rather a mind capable of rising to the same summit where his father stood alone. Only then would he be able to stand proudly beside his father.
Of course, the process of searching for clues to what Arthur had faced in his "previous life" before his death and his return to the present time in 2009 was not easy at all. It was not only linked to ordinary memories, but also to supernatural phenomena, whether it was "that" terrifying demonic creature, or the mystical power, or the magic used by members of the Cult after they captured him and the other investigators during their attempt to arrest and destroy the Cult once and for all. In a tragic irony, the truth lies in how the magic turned on the magician. Instead of arresting the members of the Cult, they were the ones who were detained and eliminated by the Cultic organization itself, as it seems that their prey at that time was the real predator.
It was not an easy task, of course, as the search for such evidence would not be easy or smooth at all, but would require a long time, enormous effort, and patience, along with an unyielding will to complete it.
Especially if the only clue available to him, the one that could lead him to uncover the secrets of his current situation and the nature of the madness he had witnessed before traveling back in time, was perhaps hidden among tens of thousands of books, arranged on thousands of tall wooden shelves that stretched up to the high ceiling of the library, surrounded by a heavy silence that weighed down the atmosphere and added to the awe of the place.
"All right then! Now, officially, the process of finding evidence for all the madness I am currently facing has begun," Arthur thought jokingly as he looked at the towering wooden shelves in his family's ancient Leonharth library, which had been his refuge and sanctuary during his childhood, when he would come here to read and study for hours every day before William or one of the other servants came to force him outside to get some fresh air, "as children his age should do," as they always said, or something like that.
Thus, Arthur's journey through the towering shelves of the ancient library in search of any clues that might offer him even a modicum of semi-logical explanations that would allow him to understand what was going on or happening in this crazy world around him without his knowledge, which would enable him to begin to understand the kind of enemy he was really facing, which might help him when the time came for him to make his own plans for the future, when the time came to face that mysterious Cult again, it had begun.
And so, the hours passed and turned into days, flowing by like a river in the blink of an eye, and Arthur was still immersed in searching through thousands of old books, each of which contained secrets that might hold some clue, but he found nothing that had anything to do with what he was looking for. He said bitterly to himself, "Damn! It's been three whole days since I returned to the present, and so far I haven't found any clues. All these old books, despite their many pages, contain only incomprehensible gibberish and no clues related to what I'm looking for."
"Young master, it is late. Whatever you are looking for in the library can wait until later. But now it is time to sleep." The stern but not unkind voice interrupted Arthur's concentration as he was immersed in the pages of one of the old books. The voice belonged to none other than William, who had come, as usual, to remind him that it was late and that he should get ready for bed. Arthur raised his head slightly and replied calmly, "Eh... but it's not too late yet, and I still want to do some more research here in the library. At least wait until I finish the current book."
"No, mean no, young man. It's late, and whatever you're doing, it can't be more important than getting some sleep to stay healthy." William replied in his usual stern voice, the voice he used every time Arthur tried to get out of doing something, or whenever the boy caused chaos and trouble.
"Oh, come on, William! I'm not a child anymore, and besides, what I'm doing now is much more important than my sleep... Or even my well-being and health!" Arthur replied stubbornly, his eyes flashing with a defiance that was unfamiliar in his past. After all, the Arthur of today was no longer the little boy who could be easily intimidated by William's imposing presence or easily submit to his orders. The Arthur of today was the boy who carried the memories and experiences of the great detective. He had become more resilient, instinctively pushing himself to resist any attempt to tear him away from his research, even if it meant "fighting" to delay his sleep until the last possible moment.
"Oh, if so, tell me, what could be more important to you right now than getting some sleep and adequate rest?" William asked, raising his eyebrows, as he was, in fact, a little curious about the reason for the sudden change in Arthur's behavior, which had begun three days ago. Although he might have had a general idea about it to some extent, he still wanted to test the water out to see if Arthur would tell him the truth or not, to confirm whether his guess was correct or not.
Arthur hesitated for a moment before replying calmly, "This... I'm sorry, William, but this time I don't think I can tell you what's going on. Besides, even if I did tell you, I'm not sure you'd believe me, since even I can't believe it myself, even though I'm experiencing it firsthand." He then slowly backed away toward his desk, determined to finish the book he was reading and then continue his research among the library shelves.
Of course, the keyword is "tried," because William caught Arthur, who was trying to return to his reading, and began walking toward the boy's room to force him to sleep. "That's all well and good, young master, but even so, but I'm sorry, if you won't take care of your health, even if what you refuse to tell me is more important than your well-being, I will still do my duty and take care of your health, whether you like it or not."
Arthur shouted, trying to resist: "No, come on, William, can you let it go this time? I really need to finish what I'm working on!" He tried to escape William's grip, but failed, and then continued to try to reason with him with all his might.
William had replied in his usual stern voice, "I have already told you, young master, even if you do not care about your well-being and health, and even if what you refuse to tell me about is truly more important than your health, I will continue to do my duty and take care of you, whether you like it or not. And whatever you are trying to do or research, whether it is a scientific discovery that will change human lives for the better, or mysterious, mystical arts that may affect the very nature of this world, it makes no difference. You are still obliged to go to bed and sleep."
And naturally, as usual, William paid no attention to Arthur's objections and attempts to escape, or pleas for a chance to finish whatever he was doing in the library.
Unaware of how his random words had begun to set the wheels turning in Arthur's head, Arthur began to think, "Mystical arts... the nature of the world's construction... terms like that... I've heard them before, yes." Gradually, memories from his early childhood began to surface, from the fact that he had once heard his father talk about such things shortly before he and his mother disappeared. Of course, being only a small child of four or five at the time, he hadn't paid any real attention to these words.
Thus, Arthur was determined to go to his father's locked study in the library, as his parents must have been involved in some way with the supernatural side of this world. The chance that he might find any clues there that would lead him on the right path to uncovering the mysterious and mystical side of this world might be there.