When he politely bowed his head, the neighbor muttered “Well then” and nodded before withdrawing. Thinking that washing up was also ruined, Chris closed the door and sat down on a dining chair. He thought he should wait until even hours as the man said.
But after about five minutes, some sound began to come from beyond the thin wall.
At first, he thought it was an auditory hallucination. But when he carefully listened, he heard Handel’s “Lascia ch’io pianga” along with water sounds from beyond the wall. It was exactly the voice of the person who had just complained to Chris about hot water usage.
Even setting aside the fact that Chris, an Esper capable of beast transformation, had particularly good hearing, he could feel that this apartment itself didn’t have very good soundproofing.
In the end, unable to endure the vocal music medley starting with “Lascia ch’io pianga” throughout the neighboring man’s shower, Chris kicked open the front door.
He planned to go buy some strong liquor as the neighbor had suggested.
When he turned right at the apartment entrance and walked straight, he saw <Don Jon’s Grocery Store> just as the neighboring man had mentioned.
The store interior was filled with daily necessities. A shotgun that looked like it hadn’t been used in who knows how long also hung on the wall.
The man with a generous impression, presumed to be ‘Don Jon,’ gave Chris change in credits without even looking at the price tag of the liquor bottle he picked up.
Coming outside and checking his terminal, Chris confirmed it was still 5:43. Seventeen minutes remained until even hours. Thinking that if he returned, the neighbor might still be singing his shower medley, Chris decided to walk around the area a bit more. It wouldn’t hurt to get familiar with the neighborhood where he would be staying.
About half the stores on the street were closed, and the other half had owners who looked menacing. Some stores even had shotguns hung behind the counter like decorations.
At the November Continent’s brutality that touched his skin, Chris had a gut feeling that his second mission wouldn’t be easy.
Just as he was about to turn around to head back to the apartment, Chris discovered an unexpected store at the end of the street.
<Antiquarian Bookshop Magnolia>
From afar, he could see books filling the shelves beyond the glass window. At a glance, he could see hardcover books that seemed to have faded packed tightly.
‘A used bookstore?’
Chris was a bit surprised. He hadn’t thought he could encounter a used bookstore of this scale in the November Continent.
In the June Continent, ‘antiques’—that is, objects from the old era—were generally valuable. Even the largest bookstore in the large city of Joon handled few old books. Most people read text on terminals, and bookstores were spaces closer to places where people gathered to read and discuss texts rather than sell books.
For atmosphere, they would project images of paper books onto high walls with projectors. Illusions touched by mental-type Espers seemed like the real thing, but they weren’t real.
However, the paper books on the shelves of Magnolia bookstore before Chris’s eyes were too three-dimensional to be fake and couldn’t be so luxurious to be reality.
Not a single thread of Esper power could be felt from inside this bookstore.
Well, it couldn’t be helped. All official Espers existing in the November Continent were dispatched, and even those changed frequently.
There was no way precious mental-type Espers would come to such an old used bookstore to use their power. They were high-level personnel who devoted their greatest efforts to supporting the inter-continental network and Northern Light’s communication network.
Since it was a winter continent, unregistered Espers would exist, but most of them participated in illegal activities, not coming to use their power at stores like this.
Because you needed money to receive guiding whenever necessary. A lot of money at that.
Guides not secured by the Esper Union could be counted on one hand. Even guides who were siphoned off to become ‘merchandise’ at human auction houses were excessively expensive. Even those would have fallen into Yuri Sobolev’s hands. He would have had to keep the S-rank Esper hunting dog Chris Danil by his side. It was no secret that the November Continent’s mafia was buying up guides indiscriminately for him.
Given these circumstances, as an unregistered Esper, it was impossible to engage in work that only looked plausible and wasn’t profitable, like a bookstore.
So this place, Magnolia, was truly an antiquarian bookshop in the literal sense.
‘Is the owner away?’
Chris opened the bookstore door as if enchanted and entered inside. Hearing a crystalline sound, he unconsciously turned his head to see a bell attached to the door. Though it looked old and rusty, its resonance was so transparent that Chris wanted to open and close the door a few more times just to hear that sound.
Jazz music was flowing inside. Following the sound with his gaze, he saw a gramophone, which he’d only seen in reference images, placed in one corner. In the space where slow saxophone performance felt even dense, there was the smell of paper, and the scent of years and dust layered upon it.
It was surprisingly cozy and also had an old-fashioned atmosphere. It looked like a scene cut from a black-and-white film and breathed into life.
“Welcome.”
Just then, a black silhouette appeared at the counter that had seemed empty. When he turned his head, what entered Chris’s eyes was a man with black hair and violet eyes. The pale white skin characteristic of winter continent people looked smooth.
Like a porcelain doll.
It was a face with such perfect features that even Chris, who was insensitive to others’ beauty or ugliness, was momentarily surprised. That elegant appearance was also like the nobles said to have existed in the old era.
“Hello. Are you the owner of this place?”
“Yes. Is there a book you’re looking for?”
The person who appeared from the bookshelf behind the counter answered while setting down several books he was holding. It was a voice so low that it surprised Chris, yet with a subtle sensuality.
“Ah, I’m Chris. Rather than looking for a book… Actually, I just moved here and was looking around the neighborhood, but I didn’t know there would be such a wonderful store.”
Realizing he’d spilled too much information, he felt a bit awkward, but it was after he’d already given his name.
“Do you like books?”
When violet eyes like pansies looked at him, Chris tensed a bit. He felt like he was being tested somehow.
It was unfamiliar since he’d never stiffened like this even before Yont, who had become his new superior.
“No. I’m not sure.”
At the sincerity that unconsciously flowed out, he saw the man’s lips curl up slightly. The impression that had seemed cold as frost flowers despite being beautiful softened in an instant, which was surprising.
Even his paleness felt strangely transparent.
“Better than idiots who prattle on without knowing a book’s value.”
It was a cynical tone. But that low voice strangely made his spine tingle.
“I’m Yuri.”
The resonance of the name uttered one beat later than Chris was strange. Seeing that this place was written as Magnolia Antiquarian Bookshop, his surname seemed to be Yuri Magnolia.
Magnolia—a flower that suited that black yet white man well.
“Yuri Magnolia?”
“I expected you to ask if it was Yuri Sobolev, so this is unexpected.”
At those words, Chris newly realized that the name of the mafia ruling the November Continent’s night was Yuri. Not because he’d forgotten the mission’s importance, but because the man before his eyes had caught his attention that much.
He’d never been this spellbound. Not even toward guides, before whom Espers supposedly couldn’t help but crumble.
“I don’t ask such rude questions at first meeting.”
When he deliberately moved his lips to regain composure, he saw Yuri’s smile deepen a bit. Why? he thought, and saw the hand lifting up the book set down beside him.
“You’d be surprised if you knew how many people ask that rude question at first meeting.”
His attention caught by the face, Chris belatedly noticed the gloves nimbly wrapping around Yuri’s fingers. They seemed to be made of similar material to what curators at the old era museum in Joon used. Perhaps he was being careful since he handled expensive books? he thought.
But the black shirt was also buttoned meticulously up to the collar, and skin that could contact others was covered to what seemed an obsessive degree, so even when turning pages, his wrists weren’t revealed at all.
It was an impression that felt germophobic.
“How long are you going to stand there?”
Perhaps because of his gaze that had unconsciously become persistent, Yuri asked in a prickly tone.
“Ah.”
“Ah,” really.
Chris regretted it the moment he uttered that. He kept showing an utterly foolish appearance.
“I’ve interrupted your work.”
“…Shall I recommend some books?”
When he answered obediently, Yuri’s question, seemingly mixed with a sigh, returned, and Chris nodded.
Yuri, who strode out from behind the counter, selected several books while weaving between bookshelves.
“Five books.”
Names were written on the hardcovers in that order.
<Ilias>, <Demian>, <Ivanhoe>, <On Liberty>, <Tess of the D’Urbervilles> Among them, two or three were books Chris had read before. He knew that Iliad and Demian were masterpieces recognized even in the old era. This was thanks to efforts by those who tried to preserve humanity’s history, knowledge, and culture even after the great upheaval. The others—Ivanhoe, On Liberty, and Tess—were ones he was seeing for the first time. He held out his terminal and said:
