Hearing the old man's words, the corner of Byrne's mouth twitched slightly.
Heh, as expected, it's not that simple.
In fact, Byrne had already guessed the man would say something like this on the way here. After all, as the old saying goes: there is no such thing as a free lunch.
With that in mind, Byrne replied, "Go ahead, sir. As long as it is within my power and does not violate the laws of the Empire."
The old man walked to the wooden table, bent down to lift a loose floorboard beneath it, and retrieved a square copper box about the size of a basketball. The box appeared unremarkable, its surface smooth without any extra engravings, though its corners were heavily worn and stained with a few dark red smudges that looked like dried blood.
If the old man hadn't told him, Byrne would never have associated this copper box with the Lainean family. He held the box in his hands, his eyes reflecting a complex mix of emotions—regret, caution, and a faint, imperceptible trace of awe.
"Contained within this box are the fragmented notes of the last patriarch of the Lainean family, and a metal case that cannot be unlocked. The old head librarian hid them from the Inquisition decades ago. I am old and my days are numbered; I want to entrust the contents of this box to someone reliable."
"Actually, I have been observing you in secret these past few days. I saw that you are a person who can keep your composure and that you are interested in the history of the Lainean family—that is why I brought you here. What I want you to promise is simple: I am giving this box to you. If you can open this metal case in the future and it truly contains the truth behind the extermination... Please, you must clear the Lainean family's name. They are not the heretics defined by the Inquisition."
Byrne did not agree immediately. Instead, he asked, "And what if I can't open the metal case?"
The old man smiled at the question, a smile carrying a sense of relief mixed with a hint of helplessness.
"It doesn't matter if you can't open it. I have guarded this box for decades, constantly worried about the Inquisition discovering it. I am already mentally exhausted. Rather than letting it sit in this dark, sunless storage room, it is better to hand it over to someone willing to seek the truth. Even if nothing is found in the end, it is better than letting it gather dust here."
"Young man, can you accept this request of mine?"
Heh, old man, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you—I am one of the Inquisition.
At the thought of his hidden identity, Byrne felt a sense of absurdity, like he was looking at a dark joke. After hearing the old man out, Byrne didn't answer right away. He turned his gaze to the copper box in the old man's hands and grinned.
"Sir, you've only observed me for a few days, yet you're handing over something you've guarded for decades. Aren't you afraid that after I get it, I'll just turn around and hand this box over to the Inquisition?"
The old man shook his head. There was no trace of doubt in his eyes; instead, they held a clarity that seemed to see through the ways of the world.
"Heh, I am not worried at all. Over these decades, I have seen too many people who fawn over the powerful, and many who fear the authority of the Inquisition and avoid anything related to heresy like the plague. But I can tell, young man, that you are different. There is no greed in your eyes, nor is there fear—only a persistence for the truth. That kind of look cannot be faked."
At this, the old man chuckled. "Furthermore, if you truly wanted to use this box to claim credit, why would you patiently listen to an old codger like me ramble for so long? You could have just snatched it away."
Byrne froze for two seconds before joining in the laugh. He hadn't expected the old man to be so perceptive. That level of trust actually added a bit more guilt to his heart due to his concealed identity.
"Very well, sir. I agree."
"Good, good. With this copper box in your hands, I can rest easy."
Hearing Byrne's acceptance, the old man's tensed shoulders suddenly relaxed, as if a boulder that had pressed on his heart for decades had been lifted. Even his breathing became lighter. He immediately pressed the copper box into Byrne's hands, as if afraid he might regret it.
Byrne took the copper box; it felt heavy the moment it touched his hands. After a brief further exchange with the old man, Byrne left with the box.
The old man stood at the doorway, watching Byrne leave. Once Byrne had vanished from his sight, the old man let out a long sigh. He raised a hand to stroke the library badge on his chest and whispered:
"Old Head Librarian, I have finally found a suitable candidate. I hope this young man can fulfill your wish."
79 Wisteria Street. Byrne returned home and, after confirming that Old Anton was not around, immediately went to his bedroom and placed the copper box on the nightstand.
Perhaps because the copper box was so old, Byrne had some trouble opening it. Fortunately, he eventually succeeded.
The interior of the copper box was lined with a layer of faded velvet, upon which two items rested quietly: a stack of yellowed, brittle papers and an all-black metal case.
Byrne first took out the stack of fragments. They felt similar to parchment in texture. He counted them; there were eight fragments in total. Not only was each page incomplete, but the writing on them was so blurred it was nearly illegible.
After confirming that no useful information could be gleaned from them, Byrne set the fragments aside and turned his gaze to the metal case.
The case looked like an oversized die. However, there were no numbers on its surface, nor were there any visible buttons or mechanisms for opening it. He only saw a Lainean family crest engraved on each of the two ends.
Byrne examined it for a moment. the more he looked, the more he felt that the size of the crest was identical to the one on the ring he had acquired. He immediately reached out and took the ring from his drawer.
After a quick comparison, Byrne confirmed the sizes were perfectly consistent. However, the patterns of the crest engravings were exact opposites; if pressed together, they would nest perfectly.
Could it be that this ring is the key to unlocking the metal case?
Out of caution, he didn't rashly press the ring against the case. Instead, he first channeled his own psychic energy, transforming it into threads that coiled around the metal box. The moment the psychic threads touched the surface, they were repelled directly, unable to penetrate even a fraction of an inch.
Seeing that psychic energy was useless, Byrne picked up the ring and tried pressing it into the crest indentation on the metal case.
The moment the ring made contact with the engraving, there was no violent explosion or eerie eruption of energy. Only an extremely faint golden light spilled from the junction, instantly spreading across the entire metal case.
Following that, the case began to vibrate slightly. The crest engravings on both ends lit up simultaneously, and the inverted patterns began to turn slowly like gears. The previously seamless body of the case seemed to loosen.
Three minutes later, Byrne looked closer.
The good news: the metal box was successfully unlocked. The bad news: it was only halfway done.