Dakwell lay there, momentarily forgetting to get up, his mind seemingly blank.
Ever since he'd matured, he'd basically never encountered this kind of tripping over himself again, especially after consuming his potion and gaining enhancements to every aspect of his body. Yet today, he'd inexplicably fallen—it was simply incomprehensible.
Had he stepped on something? Dakwell snapped back to reality, braced himself with his palms, flipped up to his feet, and pretended the person who'd just fallen wasn't him.
He looked left and right but found nothing strange on the ground. Filled with confusion, he took a few difficult steps forward and picked up the milky-white die.
Just then, a patrolling officer seemed to notice the disturbance and came jogging over with a baton in one hand, the other resting on his revolver.
Seeing this, the portly apothecary Dakwell suddenly grew worried, wondering if he'd stumbled into a trap.
"They caught the old man but never came for me—they've actually been watching me in the shadows, waiting for me to find a clue?"
"Now that I've gotten this strange die, they've come rushing out?"
"Are the official Beyonders here to arrest me?"
Dakwell's instinct was to turn and run, but the fall had been hard and his knee ached, leaving him shuffling along in small steps.
Watching the patrolling officer draw closer while he couldn't run even if he wanted to, Dakwell's mind suddenly conjured images of the underground prison—the perpetual candlelight, and the Beyonder locked in the next cell, gasping violently in the darkness like some kind of monster…
"What happened?" the patrolling officer asked cautiously, keeping his hand on his pistol and maintaining a safe distance.
A sudden, overwhelming fear surged through Dakwell's heart. His wrist trembled, and the milky-white die he'd just picked up slipped from his fingers, tumbling to the ground and rolling several times.
This time, the red six was facing up.
Facing the officer's scrutiny, Dakwell answered with a trembling voice: "Stepped on a damn banana peel and took a spill."
The words had barely left his mouth when his heart skipped a beat—there was no banana peel on the ground at all.
Damn it, he was so nervous he could have just said he tripped over his own feet… Dakwell thought in frustration.
He decided to summon the owl perched on the opposite rooftop, preparing for a last-ditch effort.
The patrolling officer glanced over and chuckled lightly: "Don't forget to watch your step. I thought someone was mugging you for a moment."
He released his grip on the revolver, gathered up his baton, and walked back.
"…" Dakwell stared blankly at the officer's retreating figure, unable to understand how the man had so easily believed his completely nonsensical explanation.
He withdrew his gaze and looked at the milky-white die lying quietly on the ground, his brow gradually furrowing.
I'm not even a native Loen—the officer had no reason to believe me just to curry favor… Could it be working? Both my strange fall and the eerie way I convinced the officer—was it all doing this? Is this the thing the teacher was guarding, that important sealed artefact? Dakwell quickly made the connection, cautiously approached, and picked up the die once more, stuffing it back into the tiny ring box exactly as before—in there, the die had no room to turn at all.
He gave his owl a meaningful look, then picked up the copy of the "News Report" he'd bought earlier, flagged down a hired carriage, and limped aboard, heading for the "Red Theatre."
As the carriage traveled steadily through the night, with gas lamps on either side too far apart to cast more than a sliver of light inside, he didn't rush to examine the ring box and its contents, patiently waiting until he arrived home.
He entered the herbal shop and went up to the second-floor living quarters. He lit the gas wall lamp, shooed the stupid bird out of the room, then sat down at his desk and began examining the ring box and the milky-white die over and over.
At last, he pulled out a piece of paper from the hidden compartment in the bottom of the ring box, folded down to the size of half a knuckle.
Dakwell drew a silent breath and quickly unfolded the paper, discovering three passages written in the Ancient Fosac language: "If I haven't appeared three days after the agreed time, it means I've been betrayed and captured. Therefore, do not rashly seek help from other members of the School, because I cannot confirm who did this, and it would put you in great danger.
"There is only one thing you need to do: take the die to Orawi Island and deliver it to Kano, the bell-ringer in the port city. My teacher, Councillor Reed, is hiding there, and he will handle everything after that.
"Do not worry about me leaking this secret. Once I finish writing this letter, all related memories will disappear completely—I won't even remember you as my apprentice until I am rescued. Remember, try not to use the die. It has a certain living quality: the more you use it, the more likely it is to awaken, turning on its own when you're not paying attention, even without room to move. Once it lands on '1,' believe me, you will suffer more than death itself, because nearly everything you do will fail—including your favorite activity in bed."
So the die really is dangerous… Dakwell murmured involuntarily, then immediately realized he'd done something foolish out of good intentions.
In order to rescue his teacher
But according to the letter's contents, this meant he'd very likely been targeted by whoever had betrayed Roy King!
"Why didn't you say so earlier? No—why didn't I think of buying this die sooner!" Dakwell raised both hands and grabbed fistfuls of hair on either side of his head.