With the help of the Tower's sentient spirit, the mages who arrived first opened the tightly shut main door, and the scene within was laid bare before Samantha and Rachel's eyes.
It was a pristine, immaculate study. Every book was arranged in perfect order without the slightest disarray. Papers on the desk were neatly sorted into several stacks, even the draft sheets folded with meticulous precision. Every other detail, every corner of the room, spoke volumes about the owner Harwin's obsessively strict, pathologically perfectionistic character.
In the chair behind the desk, Harwin sat motionless, a layer of translucent ice crystals encrusted over his body. Even in the searing July heat, they had barely melted—instead, they had transformed the surrounding air into wisps of white frost.
Harwin sat ramrod straight within the ice, dressed in the standard Tower mage attire of a gray pointed hat and flowing robes. The Archanist and other badges pinned to his chest made him look almost ceremonial, as though he were about to attend the "Evans Archanist Prize" or "Arcane Scepter Award" ceremony.
His face was deathly pale, his rigid expression tinged with faint bewilderment, despair, and a strange sense of liberation. He held a glass of red wine, as if he might rise at any moment to welcome his guests—yet his eyes were utterly hollow, devoid of the faintest spark of life.
"This really is a way of dying that Harwin would choose—clean, neat, and full of elegant dignity…" Rachel whispered to Samantha.
They both knew Harwin. After all, they had once been fellow Archanists in the Tower with hopes of advancing to the sixth ring. They had competed with and encouraged one another, maintaining a reasonably cordial relationship, so they understood his character well. But now, the two of them had become high-rank Archanists and mages, while Harwin had ended his life with ice magic. It was, in a way, a snapshot of the era's two diverging paths.
Samantha thought of her own recent period of wavering, confusion, and dejection, and spoke with a sense of heartfelt reflection: "Actually, given another ten years, Harwin could have advanced to the high rank too… No matter how desperate things seem, one shouldn't give up so easily. If it were me, I would keep living—live well, and see what this Arcane world ultimately becomes, see whether our losses were worth it…"
"Harwin already suffered from severe obsessive-compulsive tendencies and depression. I've been trying to develop corresponding hormonal magic to help him, but unfortunately…" Rachel trailed off, describing certain concepts that she, her teacher, and Lucian Evans had each proposed in the past.
In earlier times, while there was magic that could address psychological problems, its effects were only short-term—spells like Mechanized Mind, for instance. Unless a mage was willing to abandon normal emotions entirely and maintain such spells permanently, there was no real "thorough solution," which was why an unusually large number of ancient mages had extreme or unhinged personalities.
Thanks to their close friendship, Samantha was quite familiar with the Arcane development in the field of psychology. She nodded slightly: "Beyond magical assistance, daily guidance and counseling are also needed. But the field of psychological therapy still lacks a foundational theory—there's no way to consolidate the scattered findings into a complete systematic framework."
As they spoke, the two women stepped into Harwin's room. As his friends and as high-ranking mages, the other Archanists had tacitly granted them the authority to handle the matter.
Thanks to Harwin's "good habits," Rachel and Samantha didn't have to search long. They easily found an unsealed letter right where it should have been on the desk.
The letter paper, with its faint floral pattern and subtle fragrance of old books, had been folded into a perfect rectangle.
Rachel wasn't careless. After carefully checking it, she opened the envelope and read the contents aloud in a soft voice:
"…The debates of recent weeks have exhausted me beyond measure. I cannot accept that the entire foundation of celestial theory might be overturned—no, that the determinism of the material world itself could be lost… I argued endlessly with people, debated endlessly, yet events stubbornly developed in the exact opposite direction…"
"…Looking back at the explosive growth of Arcana these past years, I feel deeply bewildered. The very things we now fear, dread, and fight desperately against are the products of theories that once filled us with joy and satisfaction. How absurd is that…"
"…My mind churns ceaselessly through problems that are unsolvable or even self-contradictory. Not a single second of peace. But my thinking cannot resolve any of it. I am so tired, so exhausted. I want this to end…"
"…I have made a cowardly decision. I don't think I can keep up with the development of Arcana, nor can I accept it. I hope that in my 'dreams,' I can return to the golden age of determinism…"
After reading this letter—so saturated with exhaustion, despair, and bewilderment—Rachel suddenly felt a pang of empathy. Aside from the select few, nearly every Archanist probably shared similar feelings, differing only in degree.
"Harwin… ah…" She wanted to say something, but in the end, it all dissolved into a sigh.
All the mages who had come fell into silence, as though mourning for Harwin and feeling sorrow for themselves.
Samantha turned her gaze away from Harwin's frozen body and looked out the window. The midday July sunlight was brilliant and resplendent, yet so blindingly bright it hurt the eyes.
Time ticked by, second by second. Rachel cleared her throat and was about to arrange the next steps when a Tower mage came up the lift, brandishing a thick volume: "Nature has published a special issue—Mathematical Foundations!"
His voice brimmed with obvious elation. Even a brief flip through the pages had apparently revealed to him a rigorously structured temple of mathematics.
"Mathematical Foundations?" Samantha echoed involuntarily.
The Tower mage answered with unconcealed delight: "Yes! It's Lord Evans's solutions to a multitude of current mathematical problems. Through these solutions, he has constructed a vast mathematical system with lush branches and an unshakable foundation!"
That was all he could say, since he hadn't had time to read it carefully yet. Suddenly, he noticed the state of the room: "Wh-what happened to Harwin?"
Another mage gave him a brief account of what had transpired and Harwin's final words. He responded with regret and remorse: "I should have come up sooner. If Harwin had seen Mathematical Foundations, it would surely have rekindled his passion for mathematical research. Over the past while, I've been wrestling with similar confusion and frustration—but now, those feelings can't extinguish my enthusiasm for mathematics at all. It turns out there are still so many things worth doing!"
Samantha and Rachel found his words slightly overwrought, but they couldn't help taking the copies he had purchased for others out of his storage pouch, opening them right there in Harwin's study, and beginning to read.