Chapter 3: Melissa

Chapter Three
Melissa

Once he had a plan, Zhou Mingrui finally found something like a backbone. His terror, hesitation, and uncertainty all retreated into a corner.

Only then did he have the mood to examine the memory fragments Klein had left behind.

Out of habit, Zhou Mingrui rose and closed the pipe valve. He watched the wall lamp dim little by little until it went out, then sat down again. One hand unconsciously rubbed the brass cylinder of the revolver while the other pressed against the side of his head. In the darkness dyed crimson, he quietly “reviewed” the memories, like the most attentive spectator in a cinema.

Perhaps because a bullet had passed through them, Klein’s memories were like shattered glass. Not only had they lost their continuity, many parts were obviously missing. Where had the beautifully made revolver come from? Was it suicide, or murder? What exactly did the line in the notebook—Everyone will die, including me—mean? Had he taken part in anything strange during the two days before the incident?

It was not only these specific recollections that had broken into fragments. Even the knowledge Klein had mastered was incomplete. In his current state, Zhou Mingrui believed that if Klein returned to university, he would probably be unable to graduate—even though in reality he had only left campus a few days ago, and had not relaxed his studies in the slightest.

“Two days from now, an interview at Tingen University’s history department…”

“In the Loen Kingdom, universities do not have a tradition of keeping their own graduates directly…”

“His tutor wrote him two letters of recommendation, one for Tingen University and one for Backlund University…”

…

As Zhou Mingrui silently “watched,” the red moon outside the window leaned westward, then gradually sank. At last, faint light rose in the east and the horizon was tinted with gold.

At that time, sounds came from the inner room. Soon footsteps approached the dividing door.

“Melissa is awake… As punctual as ever.”

Zhou Mingrui smiled slightly. Influenced by Klein’s memories, he felt toward Melissa as if she were his own younger sister.

And yet I do not have a younger sister… he immediately mocked himself.

Melissa was different from Benson and Klein. Her first education had not been completed at the Sunday school of the Church of the Evernight Goddess. By the time she reached school age, the Loen Kingdom had already promulgated the Elementary Education Act, established the Committee for Elementary and Secondary Education, and provided dedicated funding to increase investment.

In only three years, after absorbing many church schools, numerous public elementary schools had been established. They maintained strict religious neutrality and avoided becoming entangled in disputes between the churches of the Lord of Storms, the Evernight Goddess, and the God of Steam and Machinery.

Compared with Sunday school, which cost only one copper penny per week, public elementary school seemed rather expensive at three pence a week. Yet the former held classes only on Sundays, while the latter taught six days a week. Taken as a whole, it was cheap almost to the point of being free.

Unlike most girls, Melissa had loved gears, springs, bearings, and such things since childhood. She was determined to become a steam mechanic.

Benson, the eldest brother who had personally suffered from lack of education and understood its importance, supported his sister’s dream just as he had supported Klein’s university studies. After all, Tingen Technical School counted only as secondary education; there was no need for further preparation at a grammar school or public school.

In July of the previous year, fifteen-year-old Melissa passed the entrance examination as she had hoped and became a student in Tingen Technical School’s Department of Steam and Machinery. Her tuition rose as well, to nine pence a week.

At the same time, the import-export company where Benson worked had been affected by the situation on the Southern Continent. Both its profits and its volume of business had shrunk dramatically, forcing it to lay off more than a third of its staff. In order to keep his position and support the family, Benson could only accept heavier work. He often had to work overtime or travel on business to harsh environments, as he had these past few days.

It was not that Klein had never considered helping his elder brother shoulder the burden. But Klein had been born a commoner and had entered university through an ordinary grammar school. Once he arrived, he immediately felt how far behind he was. Ancient Feysac, for example—the source language of all the countries of the Northern Continent—was something children of nobles and the wealthy had studied from an early age. Klein, however, had not encountered it until university.

There were many such gaps. Klein had spent nearly all his strength catching up, often staying up late and rising early, before he could barely keep pace with others and graduate with middling results.

Memories of his brother and sister flickered through Zhou Mingrui’s mind until the handle turned and the inner room’s door creaked open. Only then did he abruptly return to himself and realize that he was still holding a revolver.

This is a semi-controlled item!

It will scare a child half to death!

And besides that, there is my head wound!

Seeing that Melissa was about to come out, Zhou Mingrui pressed a hand to his temple and hurriedly pulled open the desk drawer. He tossed the revolver inside with a heavy thump.

“What happened?” Melissa asked, hearing the noise and looking over in confusion.

She was in the freshest years of youth. Even without good food, with her face thin and a little pale, her skin still held a natural luster and the clean aura of a young girl.

Seeing his younger sister’s brown eyes studying him, Zhou Mingrui forced himself to remain calm. He picked up the object nearest his hand, then shut the drawer with composure, hiding the revolver’s existence. At the same time, the touch of his other hand against his temple told him that the wound had already healed.

What he had taken from the drawer was a silver-white pocket watch engraved with patterns of vines, branches, and leaves. When he pressed the top, the cover sprang open.

It was the most valuable thing left behind by the three siblings’ father, that Royal Army sergeant. But secondhand goods were secondhand goods. In recent years, it had developed problems now and then, and even after a clockmaker repaired it, the trouble remained. Benson, who liked carrying it to improve his air of respectability, had been embarrassed by it more than once and had eventually left it at home.

One had to admit that Melissa might truly have a talent for machinery. After learning the theory, she had begun tinkering with the watch using the tools at the technical school. Recently, she had even declared that she had fixed it.

Zhou Mingrui looked at the open cover and saw that the second hand was not moving. Instinctively, he turned the crown, intending to wind it.

However, after several turns, there was still no sound of a tightening mainspring. The second hand remained perfectly still.

“It seems to be broken again,” he said, glancing at his sister for lack of anything better to say.

Expressionless, Melissa cast him a look, walked briskly over, and took the pocket watch from him.

Standing there, she first pulled the button at the top of the watch upward, then turned it only a few times. At once the second hand began ticking.

Normally, pulling it up is supposed to adjust the time, is it not…?

Zhou Mingrui’s expression went blank.

Just then, the bells of the distant cathedral rang. Six strokes, far-reaching and ethereal.

Melissa listened until they ended, then pulled the button at the top of the watch a little higher. She turned it several times and set the time correctly.

“There.” Her voice was brief and without emotion. She pressed the button back down and handed the pocket watch to Zhou Mingrui.

Zhou Mingrui responded with a smile that was both polite and awkward.

Melissa looked deeply at her brother again, then turned toward the cabinet, took her toothbrush and towel, opened the door, and headed to the shared washroom.

“Why did her expression just now feel both disdainful and resigned?”

“The gaze one gives an intellectually disabled elder brother?”

Zhou Mingrui shook his head and laughed under his breath. Click—the watch cover closed. Snap—it opened again.

As he repeated the motion, his thoughts wandered to another problem.

Without a silencer, Klein’s suicide—well, let us call it suicide for now—would absolutely have made a loud noise. Melissa had been separated from him by only one wall. How had she failed to notice anything at all?

Had she slept too deeply? Or was Klein’s supposed suicide itself full of strangeness?

Snap, open. Click, closed.

When Melissa returned from washing up, this was what she saw: her elder brother unconsciously opening and closing the cover of the pocket watch over and over.

Her eyes filled once again with helplessness. In her sweet voice she said, “Klein, take out the remaining bread. Remember to buy more today. And meat and peas. You are about to attend your interview; I will make you lamb stewed with peas.”

As she spoke, she carried the stove out from the corner, used the remaining charcoal to start a fire, and boiled a kettle of water.

Before the water came to a boil, she opened the lowest drawer of the cabinet and carefully took out a tin of inferior tea leaves as if it were a treasure. She scattered a dozen or so leaves into the kettle, pretending it was proper tea.

She poured two large cups. Then Melissa and Zhou Mingrui shared two loaves of rye bread with the tea.

It is not mixed with sawdust, and it does not have too much bran, but it still tastes terrible…

Zhou Mingrui’s body was weak and his stomach empty. Relying on the tea, he grumbled inwardly while forcing the bread down.

A few minutes later, Melissa finished eating. She gathered the black hair that had fallen to her back, looked at Zhou Mingrui, and said, “Remember to buy new bread. Only eight pounds. It is hot, and too much will spoil. Also lamb and peas. Remember!”

So she really is taking care of her bookworm brother. She even has to repeat the instructions…

Zhou Mingrui smiled and nodded.

“All right.”

From Klein’s bodily memory and comparison with his own habits, Zhou Mingrui judged that one Loen pound was close to the jin he was familiar with, about half a kilogram.

Melissa said no more. She rose, tidied up, packed the last piece of bread for lunch, put on the old gauze hat left by their mother, picked up the bag she had sewn herself for books and stationery, and prepared to leave.

It was not Sunday. She had a full day of classes.

Walking from this apartment to Tingen Technical School took about fifty minutes. There were public carriages—one penny per kilometer, capped at four pence within the city and six pence in the suburbs—but in order to save money, Melissa always left early and walked.

Just as she opened the door, she paused. Turning halfway back, she said, “Klein, do not buy too much lamb and peas. Benson may not be back until Sunday. Mm. Remember, only eight pounds of bread.”

“All right. All right,” Zhou Mingrui answered helplessly.

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

On the Northern Continent, a year was likewise divided into twelve months, each year containing either 365 or 366 days. A week also had seven days.

The former was the result of astronomy, which led Zhou Mingrui to suspect this might be a parallel world. The latter, however, came from religion, because the orthodox gods of the Northern Continent numbered seven: the Eternal Blazing Sun, the Lord of Storms, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, the Evernight Goddess, the Earth Mother, the God of Combat, and the God of Steam and Machinery.

Watching his sister close the door and leave, Zhou Mingrui suddenly sighed.

Soon enough, his thoughts shifted back to the luck-changing ritual.

I am sorry.

I really do want to go home.