Chapter 3“Her name is Melissa.”

Zhou Mingrui finally had a clear goal, and the fear and anxiety in his heart dissipated by more than half. He let out a long breath and finally had the presence of mind to carefully sort through the remaining memory fragments of Klein.

He habitually stood up to shut off the gas valve, watching the light of the wall lamp gradually dim and then extinguish completely. Sitting back down at the desk, he unconsciously rubbed the brass cylinder of the revolver while pressing his temple with the other hand, quietly “flipping through” those memory fragments in the crimson moonlit darkness—like the most focused viewer in a cinema.

Due to the bullet wound, Klein’s memories were like shattered glass: not only fragmented but with many crucial parts completely missing. For example: where did this well-crafted revolver come from? Was it suicide or murder? What did that line in the notebook—“Everyone will die, including me”—really mean? Had he been involved in some strange activities in the past two days?

It wasn’t just these specific memories that were incomplete—even his knowledge base had gaps. In his current state, Zhou Mingrui was certain that if Klein were to return to university now, he likely wouldn’t even be able to graduate—despite having left school only a few days prior, and always being diligent and studious.

“There’s a history department interview at Tingen University in two days...”“It’s customary in the Loen Kingdom for university graduates not to stay at their alma mater... The professor provided two letters of recommendation, one for Tingen University and one for Backlund University...”

As Zhou Mingrui immersed himself in these memory fragments, the crimson moon outside the window slowly sank westward. The eastern sky brightened with a fish-belly white glow, and the horizon was tinged with gold.

At that moment, sounds came from the inner room, followed soon by approaching footsteps.

“Melissa is awake... She’s always so punctual.” Zhou Mingrui couldn’t help but smile. Influenced by Klein’s memories, he felt a natural closeness to this younger sister.

Even though, in reality, I don’t have a younger sister... he silently added.

Unlike her two older brothers, Melissa hadn’t received her early education in the Night Goddess’ Sunday School. By the time she was of age, the Loen Kingdom had passed the “Elementary Education Act,” established the Board of Basic and Secondary Education, and significantly increased education funding.

Within just three years, a surge of public elementary schools—religiously neutral and independent from the rivalries of the Lord of Storms, the Goddess of the Night, and the God of Steam and Machinery—were established, integrating many church-run schools.

Compared to Sunday School, which charged just one penny per week but only held classes on Sundays, the public schools charged three pence but offered a full six-day curriculum—essentially making it a form of near-free education.

Melissa, unlike most girls, had been fascinated by gears, springs, bearings, and mechanical parts from a young age, and had dreamed of becoming a steam mechanic.

Her eldest brother Benson, who understood the importance of education, supported her dream just as he had supported Klein’s university journey. After all, Tingen Technical School was only a secondary-level institution and didn’t require preparatory grammar or public schooling like universities did.

Last July, at age fifteen, Melissa passed the entrance exam and fulfilled her wish to enroll in the Department of Steam and Machinery at Tingen Technical School. Her tuition rose to nine pence per week.

At the same time, Benson’s job at the import-export company was severely affected by the unstable situation in the Southern Continent. Business and profits plummeted, and more than a third of the staff were laid off. In order to keep his job and support the family, Benson had to take on heavier workloads and frequent trips to harsh environments—just like these past few days.

Klein had wanted to share his brother’s burdens, but his commoner background made him acutely aware of his disadvantages in university. For instance, Old Feysac—the root of the Northern Continent’s common tongue—was a compulsory childhood subject for nobles and the wealthy. Klein hadn’t encountered it until college.

There were countless similar gaps. Klein had practically pushed himself to the limit—burning the midnight oil—to barely keep up, eventually graduating with average grades.

Memories of his elder brother bounced through Zhou Mingrui’s mind until the sound of a doorknob turning in the inner room snapped him back to reality. He suddenly realized he was still holding the revolver in his hand.

This is a restricted, dangerous item!It would scare a kid!And there’s the wound on my temple!

As Melissa stepped out, Zhou Mingrui hastily pressed his temple and scrambled to open the desk drawer, tossing the revolver inside with a muffled thud.

“What was that?” Melissa glanced over with a puzzled look.

In the prime of her youth, she appeared pale and thin due to poor nutrition, but her skin still retained the unique glow of a young girl.

Facing her curious brown eyes, Zhou Mingrui forced a calm demeanor, casually picked up something next to the drawer, and shut it. With his other hand, he checked that the wound on his temple had fully healed.

What he had picked up was a silver pocket watch with vine and leaf patterns. He gently pressed the top button, and the cover sprang open.

This was their father’s—once a Royal Army sergeant—the most valuable heirloom he left behind. But as a second-hand item, it had been breaking down frequently in recent years. Even a watchmaker couldn’t fix it completely. Benson, who liked using it as a prop, had repeatedly been embarrassed and eventually left it at home.

To be fair, Melissa had a real knack for mechanics. After learning the theory at technical school, she began repairing the pocket watch using school tools. Recently, she had claimed to have fully restored it!

Zhou Mingrui looked at the open cover—yet the second hand didn’t move. Instinctively, he turned the top knob, trying to wind it.

But after a few turns, there was no tension sound, and the second hand stayed still.

“Seems like it’s broken again,” he said awkwardly to his sister.

Melissa glanced at him expressionlessly, strode over, and snatched the pocket watch from his hand.

She stood there, pulled the top button out, and after a few turns, the familiar tick-tock sounded.

Wait... wasn’t that button supposed to be for setting the time? Zhou Mingrui’s expression froze.

Just then, the distant church bell rang, chiming six times and echoing through the cool morning air.

Melissa listened carefully, then pulled the top button out a bit further and turned it to set the time.

“All done,” she said flatly, handing the pocket watch back to Zhou Mingrui.

He returned a sheepish but polite smile.

Melissa gave him a long, deep look before walking to the cabinet, grabbing her toothbrush and towel, and heading for the shared bathroom.

“That look just now... Was she looking at her idiot brother?”“That helpless gaze of 'caring for the disabled'?”

Zhou Mingrui chuckled softly and clicked the watch cover shut—clack. Then popped it open again—snap.

He repeated this action mechanically, while his thoughts drifted to another issue:

If Klein had committed suicide—just hypothetically—the revolver blast would’ve been loud. With only a wall between them, how had Melissa not noticed anything?

Was she such a deep sleeper? Or was Klein’s “suicide” even more bizarre than he thought?

Snap—watch opens. Clack—watch shuts. When Melissa returned from washing up, she saw her brother mechanically repeating this motion.

She gave him the same helpless look and said in a sweet tone:

“Klein, bring out the rest of the bread. Remember to buy more today, along with lamb and peas. Your interview is coming up—I’ll make lamb stew with peas for you.”

As she spoke, she dragged the stove from the corner, lit it using leftover embers, and boiled a pot of water.

When the water was nearly boiling, she opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet and retrieved a tin of cheap tea leaves like it was treasure, tossing a few into the kettle and pretending it was real tea.

They each poured a large cup and shared two slices of rye bread.

Though there was no sawdust in the mix and not much bran, it was still hard to swallow... Zhou Mingrui, physically weak, forced himself to finish it with the help of tea.

A few minutes later, Melissa finished breakfast, tied up her long black hair, and said:

“Don’t forget to buy new bread. Just eight pounds—it spoils fast in the heat. And get lamb and peas, remember!”

She really doesn’t trust her bookish brother’s memory... Zhou Mingrui smiled and nodded:

“Got it.”

Based on Klein’s memory and his own conversion, Zhou Mingrui knew that one “pound” in the Loen Kingdom was roughly equivalent to half a kilogram in his previous world.

Melissa didn’t say more. She tidied up, packed the last slice of bread in a lunchbox, put on the tattered veil left by their mother, slung on her handmade satchel, and headed for the door.

It wasn’t Sunday, so she had a full day of classes.

The walk to Tingen Technical School took about 50 minutes. Though there were public carriages (one penny per kilometer, up to four within the city, six in the suburbs), Melissa always chose to walk to save money.

Just as she opened the door, she paused, turned slightly, and said:

“Klein, don’t buy too much lamb or peas—Benson might not be back until Sunday. And remember, just eight pounds of bread.”

“Yeah, got it,” Zhou Mingrui replied helplessly.

At the same time, he mentally repeated the word Sunday several times.

On the Northern Continent, the year also had twelve months, with 365 or 366 days, and a seven-day week.

The former made Zhou suspect this world was a parallel one, while the latter was clearly linked to religion—after all, the orthodox Seven Gods of the Northern Continent were: the Eternal Blazing Sun, the Lord of Storms, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, the Goddess of the Night, the Earth Mother, the God of War, and the God of Steam and Machinery.

As he watched his sister close the door and leave, Zhou Mingrui let out a soft sigh and quickly turned his thoughts back to the fortune-reversal ritual.

Sorry, but I really want to go home...

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