Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Chapter Five: Angry's Invitation

Lyle changed into the plague doctor's uniform, which was noticeably a size too big, with the hem dragging on the ground, which was a minor flaw.

The leather mask pressed against my face, its cool touch and faint herbal scent not exactly pleasant, but not too bad either. The black coat had soft leather lining, clearly indicating its previous owner was well-off.

Lyle was very pleased with all of this; he thought he would look like a little raven, and if he were to add a black top hat, which signified his official rank, he would be even more delighted.

Doctors with beaks were not full-time professionals in official organizations. Historically, many doctors with beaks were itinerant doctors who craved fame and fortune. At that time, plagues were rampant and there was a shortage of manpower. The government improved the welfare and treatment of plague doctors. People with medical knowledge braved the threat of death, put on the uniform of doctors with beaks, walked alongside death, competed with death for patients, and gained status and wealth.

Lyle deeply sympathized. Conducting medical research under the threat of divine authority, pursuing wealth while avoiding being burned at the stake—perhaps this was his fate.

After letting his mind wander, Lyle prepared the medical equipment, checked the fit of the gloves, and began his work with the attitude of someone learning for the first time.

The pupils were dilated, the body was stiff, and the torso showed signs of rigor mortis, but there were no other abnormalities on the skin surface. The limbs were intact and there were no puncture wounds.

The time of death was within six hours, and there was no obvious distortion of the facial features. Was it caused by poisoning? There were no obvious needle marks on the body, so was it caused by ingestion through the digestive tract?

Let's look at the esophagus first.

Lyle dissects the throat.

No abnormalities found.

Could it be a special injection technique using a finer tip?

Lyle began dissecting the limbs that were frequently used for injections.

No abnormalities found.

If it wasn't an intravenous injection, could it have been a powerful person who injected it directly into the body? Murder cannot be ruled out.

No abnormalities found.

Heart and lungs, no abnormalities found.

Intestinal tract, no abnormalities.

Liver, kidneys, skull, spine...

Lyle was confused.

Looking at the dissected body before him, which resembled a blooming flower, not a single part was overlooked, not a single detail was missed. Such an anatomy could be used as a textbook in academy, and might even earn Lyle a scholarship.

However, no cause of death was found. In Lyle's view, it was just a dead body, not even possibly dead from old age.

Lyle began to feel anxious. He didn't want his work to end in failure. Was there some clue I hadn't noticed?

By the way, I still don't know who the deceased was.

Looking at the small pile of clothes on the corner of the table—a linen shirt and trousers—Lyle deduced that he was probably a poor commoner like himself.

It seems I don't need to worry about the aftermath of excessive autopsy, but what was his cause of death? Should I fabricate one?

Just as Lyle began to struggle with this, an envelope fell out from the deceased's clothes.

The dark blue wax seal features a capital A emblem, surrounded by engravings of night-blooming jasmine, also known as the death knell.

Why would an ordinary person come into contact with such a formal letter? Lyle had only ever received one such letter in his entire life, and that was the admission letter from Eiffel Academy.

Lyle became curious about the letter and its contents.

It was written on the back of the letter.

To gentlemen/ladies who yearn for truth.

Lyle took out the letter and was surprised again.

Because it's paper.

The paper commonly used today is papyrus, which was introduced from Egypt. More important documents are made of parchment, which has a longer shelf life.

But this one is different.

This is Oriental Paper.

For Cassandale’s young people, this paper was nothing short of legendary—thinner and stronger, supposedly introduced by the Arabs.

Lyle, having traveled through time, naturally knew his birthplace. Seeing these things reminded him of his past, which seemed like a good start.

The following is the content of the letter.

Dear Mr. Lyle Bouler:

You have probably already received our invitation. Please don't be surprised. We have always been looking for compatriots like you who, even when oppressed by reality, do not forget to pursue knowledge and truth.

Your unwavering character has deeply inspired all those who seek truth in this dark age. Now, I solemnly invite you to join the Angry Academy. Our academy's purpose is to spread and perpetuate forbidden knowledge; we are the guardians of this era's secrets.

Due to external pressure, once you have made up your mind, please report to 13 7th Street, Cassandra before 10 p.m.

Also, for your personal privacy and safety, our college does not allow anyone to show their true face. Please wear your disguise and keep a low profile.

By the way, the use of Holy Light is prohibited within the academy! Prohibited!

Admissions Office, Andre College.

Lyle folded the letter paper.

The shock in my heart could not be calmed for a long time, followed by ecstasy. In this ignorant age, I was not alone in seeking knowledge. A sense of joy at finding an organization arose spontaneously.

A few minutes later, the excitement began to subside.

So how did they know the letter was delivered to me? Did I have someone from this academy with me? Kevin, Ralph, or the sheriff's superior?

Moreover, why would they lure me in this way? How were they so sure I would thoroughly search the deceased's clothes? How did they find such a special deceased person? Or rather, Lyle had a bad feeling: how did they create such a deceased person?

Kill one person for the sake of another?

Lyle knew nothing about this Andre Academy, but its mystery and eeriness had already taken hold in his mind, even leading him to a negative perspective.

“Give it back to me…”

A fleshy hand grabbed Lyle's arm, and a second voice came from the basement where he thought he was alone.

Fear crept up Lyle's spine.

He looked back.

The tool that delivered the message to him and dissected him so thoroughly was now straightening up, its so-called face facing Lyle. The flat spheres in its eye sockets were spinning erratically, and Lyle had no desire for those moving pupils to be facing him.

The arm, with its bone exposed, gripped Lyle's glove, and bloodstains spread across the glove from the point of grip.

Lyle lost all interest in his conspiracy theories; he knew this was definitely not a simple physical stress response.

"It's come back to life!!!"

Lyle felt a surge of power and charged toward the basement entrance like a bull.

A snapping sound came from the arm; it had been torn off. The five fingers were still firmly attached to the leather glove, while the rest remained on the long table, swinging wildly as Lyle ran hysterically.

Lyle practically shoved open the iron gate behind the tarpaulin and ran all the way to the front hall, panting heavily under Wilt's astonished gaze.

"That body moved." As if afraid they wouldn't believe him, he pointed to the severed limb hanging from his arm to show them.

Their eyes were filled with horror, but to be honest, they were much calmer than expected.

Without doubt or argument, they seemed to quickly accept Lyle's explanation.

“I understand, so this seems to be the cause of death. Jordan, you guard the scene and look after Mr. Bouler. I'll go ask my superiors.” Wilt adjusted his top hat and walked towards the door.

The short Mr. Jordan walked over with a baton. "Buller, do you need my help?" He pointed to the arm hanging on Lyle and then to his baton.

Lyle understood what he meant. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Jordan.”

Jordan inserted the baton through the gap between the finger bones, and with a forceful pry, the broken bone fragments fell off.

"All right."

"Mr. Jordan, don't you doubt what I'm saying?"

"What do you suspect?"

"I was talking about the fact that the corpse could move."

"Ah, that's true. It might be a bit too exciting for a newcomer."

"Ok?"

"I'm not good with words, and it's hard for me to explain to you. You'll get used to it once you stay here a while."

Lyle realized once again that the world was not scientific.

After Jordan saw that Lyle was alright, he coaxed Lyle away.

Lyle, seeing that things had come to an end, bid farewell and left, taking with him the invitation letter from his Plague Doctor uniform.

Chapter Six: Blank Paper

Lyle regained consciousness in the early hours of the next day, as the first rays of dawn began to paint the clouds.

Hunger triggered his instinct to find food, so Lyle had to muster his strength and start washing up.

Lyle didn't get much sleep, so he disinfected his medical uniform and then carefully checked the letters.

Once people become complacent, their minds start to wander.

The presence of an active corpse is clearly a supernatural phenomenon. Does this mean that magic is also part of the curriculum at Angry Academy?

The hostile behavior of the corpse yesterday also dispelled Lyle's image of Angry Academy as an evil organization.

If the corpse is an creation of the academy, then no intelligent person would allow any behavior that shows hostility towards their inviter; leaving a good first impression is almost a human instinct.

Therefore, besides startling Lyle, the corpse also cleared Angry Academy's name.

Perhaps the person in the academy is an outstanding sage, adept at using all the factors he knows, good or bad, to achieve his goals, while leaving as little trace as possible. Given the repeated emphasis on secrecy in the letter, it is not difficult to judge that the academy has a conservative attitude towards the outside world.

Ultimately, it all comes down to Lyle's personal perception. If he thinks it's bad, he's a schemer hiding behind the scenes; if he thinks it's good, he's a refined and detached hermit.

After mocking his own double standards, Lyle started a fire and began preparing to cook.

Knock knock.

There was a knock on the door.