Zephyr

Of all the languages he could have written in, why did it have to be in Mandarin Chinese!? Why not pick a more widely spoken language like English?!

Out of the many languages I learned in my time as the Syndicate leader, Wolf, I did not learn Mandarin… Obviously, it was an important language, so I faintly remembered it being on my list of things to do, but I never got to it. For it to come now, of all times, to bite me in the ass, hurt my brain.

This fellow transmigrator seemed to be an important figure, so there were only three major explanations.

First: was that he was a huge Chinese supremacist of some kind, and wanted to help only people from his own country.

Second: was that he simply didn't know any other language.

Third: was that this was simply his personal diary that was later discovered, and he had no plans to reveal it to anyone.

Of all these explanations, I leaned more towards the first and third.

"Hello, sir! I see you've taken an interest in Lord Mao's journal!"

Suddenly, a voice—

I turned, there, a young library assistant approached—early twenties, brown hair tied back, wearing the simple grey robes of junior staff. Eager eyes, the kind that lit up when talking about books.

"Lord Mao?" I asked.

"Yes!" She beamed.

"He was the 10th ruler of the Island of the Magician, may the 22 rest his soul. Thanks to him, we have many of our foods and technologies today. Before him, we were advancing slowly, but upon his arrival, everything exploded. His mind was brilliant. He worked together with the greatest intellects of the time to create many of the steam machines we use today, even the telegraph was his invention!"

So it was him… He accelerated the knowledge of this world… He most likely the reason things unique to Earth, like the food, like chess, were introduced. It was never a coincidence, and he might not have been the only one. But, to be able to remember and apply so many concepts from earth, this lord Mao must have been a generational genius. Or perhaps he used help from the Arcane to remember things, I'm not yet sure.

But the question still lingered, why did he not introduce further technology into this world? Like phones and cars? Did something stop him? Perhaps a limitation in the world's materials and natural resources? Or was he taken out before his ideas could flourish further?

In milliseconds, so many ideas flowed into my head like an uninterrupted flood.

"How much for the journal?" I suddenly asked the girl next to me.

I must collect these at any cost. I may not know Chinese now, but perhaps I could run into another transmigrator that does know Chinese…

Or I could find a way to learn Mandarin Chinese if methods exist.

I would not only get this journal, but I would also block anyone else who would want it, transmigrator, Madarine speaker, or otherwise.

I looked at the woman, patiently waiting for an answer.

"Ummmm… Apologies sir… But it's not for sale…" The woman bowed, apologetic

I thought this would happen. I sighed.

"Could I not just copy the contents on a separate paper for my own use?" I pushed on "I've been really interested in—"

"Not a chance, you outsider peasant."

The voice cut through the air like a blade. An old man approached, leaning heavily on a walking cane—ancient, rail-thin, with liver-spotted hands and yellowed eyes. I'd glimpsed him briefly when first entering the library, sitting at a desk behind the restricted sections like a territorial spider.

The female assistant quietly retreated, nervous, slipping to the side.

"Those few pages are my prized possessions," the old man continued, voice crackling like dry leaves. "After countless years of hunting them down, studying them, searching for enlightenment. I'm certain Lord Mao left secret messages in his writing, but—"

"But of course, you've yet to find anything," I continued his words.

"Arrogant little brat… I'm not letting a little peasant outsider like you even touch such pages. I saw you in the basic grammar section of the library just a few minutes ago… You don't even know how to read swine, and you think you could decipher the encrypted wisdom of one of the greatest minds ever to grace sanctum? Forget it, or I'm kicking you out you albino ape—"

I wasn't deterred; in fact, I smiled, ready to retort.

But before I could, I heard a voice from behind me.

_____

"No one calls Zephyr an Ape, but me… You have quite the mouth on you, fossil," Rayah spoke.

"Who are you?" The old man asked, but Rayah kep talking as if she didn't hear him.

"The only reason Zephyr is illiterate is not because he can't, but simply because he never learned. Give him a week or so, maybe even less and he'd have learned Sepherian better than you," Rayah sneered.

"I was unaware that the circus on the island of The High Priestess was in town," The old man coughed.

"Circus? It's you who is the biggest clown, has your brain rotted as much as your skin?" Rayah laughed quietly.

"Who are you? I could just kick you out of the library if I wanted, and ban you from ever coming. Don't test me," His eyes narrowed, tapping his cane.

"You're stuck in some delusional fantasy. I was having fun with it, but I suppose I'll tell you if you wanna be like this about it," She sighed, looking around making sure no one was in the vicinity. "I am Rayah Vandymion…"

The old man's eyes bulged at her words.

"No you're not!" He nearly shouted in his own library, but he managed to keep his tone, "Rayah Vandymion is dead! And even if she weren't, she wouldn't be in my old library on the island of The Emperor of all places! I'm calling the guards to kick you out! How dare you disreprespect the—"

But before he could finish, Rayah brought her hands out, and out of thin air materialized an ice crystal, like a floating bird, so finely detailed. The unique insignia known only to the direct descendants of the Vandymion household. It was unmistakable. The librarian had lived for decades; there was no way he couldn't recognize that insignia.

He dropped on his ass.

"I would have liked to get this resolved without revealing my identity, but you forced my hand. I expect you to keep it secret," Rayah spoke.

The ice bird dissolved into mist as she lowered her fingers.

The librarian steadied his breath and stood. "You… You're Lord Byko's youngest daughter…" He gulped.

Rayah's eyes widened, like blue twin moons, "You know my father? Of course, you know him! But you talk like you've met him before…"

"Of course! In my younger years, I was in charge of the Vandymion household's personal library…"

"I… I see…" Rayah, nodded, as though pondering. "What would your name be then?"

"Onran Luo, mistress," Onran instantly knelt, his old knees cracking, "I didn't mean any of what I said! apologize for any disrespect, I—"

"Raise your damn head, you old bag of loose skin," Rayah ordered, and Onran did as told, knees cracking again. "Don't lie, you meant every word. You only say this because you discovered who I was. I'm not stupid,"

Ornan gulped.

"But your name does sound familiar indeed," Rayah continued.

"Yes… I left the island of the High Priestess around when you were first born…" He answered.

"I see…" She nodded. "So why did you insult mine and Zephyr's heritage?"

"The Island of The High Priestess has always been unkind to me, who originated from the Island of the Emperor, but my time with the Vandymions was an exception,"

"We are always the exception," Rayah smiled. "And I assume you are not allowed to tell me the reason you left the manor, correct,"

"Correct, young mistress," He paused slightly, then whispered. "I— I'm just… I—"

"Speak," She calmly ordered.

"You're alive! Does lord Vandymion know about this?"

"Yes," She nodded.

"Is he coming to get you? Here? May—"

"Stop overstepping your boundaries, peasant."

"Yes, understood," Ornan lowered his head.

"Back to our original topic, I'll be getting those papers of Lord Mao—"

"But—" Ornan interjected, but Rayah's eyes grew icy.

"How many decades has it been since you first decided to decipher these?"

He didn't answer, but from his face it seemed like a lot.

"And how much of it have you managed to figure out? Perhaps only numbers, but not a single word? Correct?"

"Correct…" He gulped.

"Thinking you could just stare at a bunch of papers of hours, looking for some sort of invisible pattern or awaiting some sort of divine enlightenment, is the peak of delusion! Imagine trying to learn Sepherian in the same way!" She laughed, she looked into Ornan's features, and continued as if she read his mind. "These are no special or divine characters; they are a language you don't understand, and should be treated as such. Enough of your delusional hope. It's enough… Also, I would like compensation for the disrespect, correct?"

"Correct…" He nodded. "Yes… The pages are yours…"

"Thank you for your generosity!" Rayah's face brightened.

"My pleasure…" Ornan wore a smile, but it was fake, more obvious than counterfeit luxury clothing.

"What I said about Zephyr, also isn't a lie. He could learn the entire language in a week or less. The only he reason he can't read or write, was simply because he was never taught. I won't make any promises, but perhaps these journals could be read too in our hands. But in your hands? Useless. without a chance."

Onran's expression shifted.

Then suddenly, Joseph interjects. "If we ever do discover any clues, we'll let you know. Sounds like a fair exchange, yes?"

Light seemed to shine in that previously fake gratitude of Ornan's.

"I look forward to it then… May the 22 be with you…"

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