The Strange Adventures of Hearn the Believer

The Bizarre Adventure of the Believer Hearn, by Hina Momoko

A love letter from the past, a classic game, lead to a bizarre and fantastical cyber world;

The sea of ​​electronics, the mirror planet, a cloud of doubt lurks behind the illusion of prosperity;

In the Dark Ages, hidden for a thousand years, evil spirits roamed beneath the veil of paradise;

Foolishness and blindness, billions of glories, for whom do the old songs quietly play?

A double PhD from the Department of Geophysics at ETH Zurich / a vagrant;

A rising star/mistress in the European piano world, residing in Vienna;

A gray ghost/hacker suffering from hypoglycemia, wandering and roaming the cyber city;

A misanthropic and aloof young lady from a prestigious family who skips school and exiles herself / Grade 11;

The curtain is about to rise on the era of madness. The devout woman, Hearn, tidies her appearance, raises her black umbrella, and steps into the rain-soaked world of the times…

The first part, "Blood of Blasphemy," is now open for a bang.

Chapter 1 Investigator Intelligence: Believer Hearn

Name: Believer Hearn

Race: Human (?)

Sex: Male

Age: 22.5 (?)

Talents and Skills:

???

Comment:

An ordinary person with an unremarkable appearance.

Chapter 2 Investigator Intelligence: Charlotte von Lersenba

Name: Charlotte von Lersenba

Race: Human (?)

Gender: Female

Age: 21 (?)

Comment:

Little Red Riding Hood/Cinderella can be seen everywhere on the street.

Random Talk Section: Quack! Things have come to a close, time to resume updates!

RT, typing away.

(To reach the word count)

Chapter 3 LambsDay (1st)

With a soft tinkling of wind chimes, the retro-style shop door opened, revealing a figure standing in front of it, damp with sweat and slightly out of breath.

In March, a light drizzle fell on Zurich. The warm Mediterranean climate meant that the seasons in this region were not too harsh. Today would have been a nice day. A hundred years ago, young men and women would have filled the streets and alleys of the commercial district, but now it was deserted and desolate.

Probably not expecting customers to come on such a rainy day, the proprietress, who had been sitting lazily behind the counter, suddenly sat up straight and tried to act like an adult running a small flower shop, with a business-like smile on her face. This demeanor was really incongruous with her youthful appearance.

The visitor was a regular customer. The proprietress recalled her first visit during the winter, around mid-December of last year.

She was a rather tall blonde girl, at least tall for the florist. She had bright, slightly wavy blonde hair and eyes that were probably colored contact lenses. Her skin was a healthy tan, and she had typical outdoor characteristics. She wore a pure black baseball cap and a black and white rainproof tracksuit. As she entered the shop, she quickly unzipped her top, revealing a pure white tank top and prominent abs. Steam rose up, carrying with it moisture.

The proprietress remembered her for three reasons, two of which are already listed above, and the remaining one was the girl's impressive accent—the girl claimed to have been born in California, USA, but moved to the Far East with her parents when she was young. Because she was a natural person and no one had deliberately corrected her accent since childhood, she has been able to travel the world with her broken English.

Good morning, Miss Marisa.

A greeting came from inside, a soft, rustling voice—the voice of a young girl going through puberty.

The athletic girl, called Marisa, looked in the direction of the voice, her gaze passing through a cluster of lush flowers and plants. Finally, with some difficulty, she spotted the small flower shop owner behind the counter amidst a pile of flowers, whose head was also covered in verdant greenery.

"Good morning, Ms. Kazami. Are you personally overseeing things today?" From the moment she entered, Ms. Marisa, who was quite familiar with the place, completely unbuttoned her coat and tied it around her waist with both sleeves. She walked across the store's floor tiles, which had built-in ultrasonic cleaning function, and stepped into the store with clean soles.

“Of course, it’s Saturday, so there are no classes at school,” Ms. Kazami replied cheerfully.

"Miss Kazami, you don't participate in any clubs? Even though it's only in junior high, it's still a good plus." Miss Marisa gestured with the tennis racket bag in her hand.

"Rather than joining a spiritual club active in the electronic world, I'd rather manage my own little shop in the real world." Ms. Kazami's gaze lingered on Ms. Marisa's healthy waistline, seemingly with a hint of envy. She cleared her throat and replied rather maturely, "There are very few real-world outdoor enthusiasts like Ms. Marisa these days. Anyway, let's not talk about that. Today is a special day. Is Ms. Marisa planning to secretly buy some roses as a gift?"

"Uh... actually... well, of course, although today is supposed to be the day the girls receive return gifts, it just feels like something's missing if there aren't any flowers, right?"

Miss Marisa opened her mouth as if to say that she hadn't actually come to buy flowers today. Of course, she wouldn't mind taking them for free if she could, but when she saw the petite proprietress behind the counter with her forced smile, she felt that if she said it, things might not end well. So she changed her mind and said something else.

"Please give me a standard rose set. Please let Ms. Kazami choose the specific one for me. You know I'm a complete novice, just an observer."

"of course."

Ms. Kazami, beaming with satisfaction at the arrival of business, clapped her hands and then operated the terminal at the front desk for a moment.

"Alright, please wait a moment. Please sit on the sofa over there. Also, would you like me to make you a cup of black tea?"

"No need, no need." Miss Marisa looked flattered, but whether she was flattered or not is another matter; she was probably genuinely startled. "Actually, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Do you have a boyfriend waiting for you? It's so nice to be young," Kazami sighed.

"Hahahaha..." Although she didn't know why a second-year junior high school girl would be so presumptuous and sentimental in front of a first-year university student like her, Miss Marisa could only laugh awkwardly and nod in agreement, given her past experiences and lessons that were somewhat unpleasant to recall.

She was indeed somewhat anxious, as evidenced by the way she kept craning her neck to look at the tightly closed door inside the shop.

After waiting for about ten minutes, the door opened inward, and a young woman who looked like a florist walked out of the backyard carrying a bouquet of wrapped, pure red roses.

"Senior! It's me, your puppy! I'm in trouble, please help me!"

Almost at the same time the door opened, the sporty girl, who had just been looking like she was living a carefree life with a bright future, suddenly turned into a crying girl and ran over as if turning the pages of a book.

“Miss Marisa, if you damage my flowers again, it won’t be as simple as just paying for them at cost price.”

Kazami-san's annoyed voice came from behind the counter.

"Please come in."

"Uh, um, sorry to bother you!"

Marisa hesitated for a moment in front of the black metal gate, then, as if she had made up her mind, took her first step into the courtyard.

On the north shore of Lake Zurich, there are many such retro Gothic courtyards. The wealthy older gentlemen seem to be far less enthusiastic about the electronic world than the younger generation. Some of them retain the lifestyle habits from the early 20th century or even the last century. The owner of this house is obviously one of them. Electronic devices such as smart AI are almost extinct, and only some of the most basic applications are retained.

For example, that pitch-black door that opened automatically inwards just now.

Although Marisa didn't see any related control devices on the door at all.

The convenience brought by advancements in nanotechnology is truly wonderful; so many bulky and unsightly things have been miniaturized.

Yes, so those few swipes when the senior was standing at the door were definitely operating the virtual panel for opening the door, no doubt about it.

"He's not here today, so you don't need to be so scared."

The figure beside her had entered the courtyard a step earlier, and behind her came the metallic sound of the gate closing. The former's words dispelled the girl's last concerns, while the latter's echo urged her not to stand there foolishly any longer. Thus, the girl who had caused trouble lost her last excuse to dawdle. She patted her chest with some lingering fear and then stepped forward to follow.

……

"Unbelievable... I actually came here all by myself."

While waiting, Marisa, sitting alone at the tea table in the second-floor open-air garden, couldn't help but look around curiously. It was a space that truly made her feel relaxed. The courtyard was full of blue and purple flowers. The chill of early spring had not yet faded, and Marisa hadn't dared to come in during the winter, only gazing at it from afar across the street. She knew that even in the harsh winter just after Christmas, the newly planted violets in this courtyard would bloom as stubbornly as they did today.

Her connection with this place began one day after Christmas. Having recently arrived in Zurich, she unexpectedly met this senior student who lived in the house because of a trivial matter.

The reason I dare not come here is because the owner of this house has a truly infamous reputation, at least in the university community in the pan-European region. The legendary senior who stood up hundreds of girls is described in the information as a heartless emotional conman, a human pile driver who accepts all comers, starts relationships and then abandons them without a second thought, and a number one scumbag whose views on relationships are so bad they're practically nanometers.

This post, which has been consistently featured on the community's front page, was written and uploaded by one or more Gentlemen who wish to remain anonymous. Notably, the comments section is filled with verified "Ladies" defending the person involved, claiming that everything in the post is fabricated, that the author has ulterior motives, and that the poster is a complete idiot.

There's a saying in the Far East that "it takes two to tango," and based on the principle that "mosquitoes don't bite eggs without cracks," Miss Marisa takes a "three parts belief and seven parts doubt" attitude towards the vast number of rumors.

It's no wonder that more than two months ago, after the dust settled on the "accident" caused by that trivial matter, when she learned that this kind-hearted senior actually lived in the mansion at the center of the storm, she was so frightened that she only glanced at it from across the street for a moment before fleeing, deciding that running away was the best option.

Two months later, she still came, just because she couldn't resist touching something.

Hands are cheap...

Oh, why have I never been able to control my hands since I was a child!

Marisa slapped her left hand hard with her right hand as if reflecting on her actions, making a crisp sound. A moment later, she blew on the back of her reddened left hand.

However, I never imagined that the courtyard would be like this when I was outside. The blue flowers spread their fragrance through the damp and cold air, and the comforting atmosphere enveloped me, as if time had stood still in the courtyard.

Staying here indefinitely doesn't seem so bad.

The door leading to the garden on the second floor opened, and the senior student walked over with a tray, the aroma of tea filling the air.

The rain stopped on the way here, but the sky still showed no signs of clearing up.

The senior student placed the tray on a small table on one side of the tea table and began to arrange the three-tiered pastries, celadon tea set, and tea knife with butter on it with smooth and skillful movements. She finished with a small bowl of steaming violets before taking her seat.

“Miss Marisa, please enjoy. The pastries were baked before I left this morning, so please don’t be shy.”

"Ugh ugh ugh hmm..."

……

"Phew... I'm feeling better."

Marisa leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh.

"Thank you, senior. I haven't had a chance to eat breakfast since my morning exercise."

"I'm glad these suit your taste."

"Miss Kazami, when you get angry, you really become ruthless..."

"That's right. Ms. Kazami has always disliked people discussing unrelated business in her shop. She believes that a flower shop should be a place to focus on tending to flowers and plants, and should not be mixed with other things."

"But I think the combination of a flower shop and a business is really cool! Imagine, a flower shop sitting in an alley with no customers is actually a jack-of-all-trades shop that can solve any problem, big or small, and the seemingly ordinary shop owner and staff who take care of the flowers and plants all year round are actually famous neutral big bosses in the other world that no one dares to mess with. It's so cool~."

"First of all, Ms. Kazami is just a junior high school girl with relatively rich fighting experience. Secondly, I have only worked at that flower shop for less than two months, and it is uncertain whether I will continue to work there in the future, since it is essentially just a private favor. Therefore, those settings that Ms. Marisa thinks are super cool can be put into practice by yourself."

“Then forget it.” Marisa shook her head fiercely. “It’s too dangerous. If possible, I just want to achieve financial freedom as soon as possible and then live a peaceful life that has no meaning to society, just waiting to die.”

“A very real and pure wish, Miss Marisa.”

"Senior, although many people have criticized my broken English accent, I really think your occasional reversed word choice is also... well, your pronunciation is enviable."

Marisa was quite certain that her senior, like herself, was one of the few truly natural people of this era. Marisa herself had been teased by her neighbors and friends since childhood for being a wasting beautiful voice, a wasting oriole's voice. The wasiole, who spoke broken English, would turn into a myna bird whenever she opened her mouth. Therefore, Marisa naturally became a silent beauty.

"Hey, I wish I hadn't been led astray as my senior when I was young."

"Shut up, beauty Marisa said with a hint of regret."

"This is the result of practice, whether you believe it or not, Miss Marisa."

"My senior can be really strict sometimes..."

"As you say, the strict senior is just an ordinary part-time worker and soon-to-be sophomore in a flower shop. She's neither Lupin III, who can fly and teleport, nor Doraemon, who can do anything. So, Miss Marisa, who is about to become a freshman, what brings you here this time? This is the second time. According to normal procedures, you should go to the owner of this mansion, not me. After all, he is the businessman who sells dreams."

"No, no, no, Lupin III, though incredibly intelligent and versatile, is also a complete lecher. And if Marisa, who hasn't yet achieved financial freedom, were to go to the owner of this house—that senior—even if she survived this ordeal, she would be burdened with enormous debt and end up in the miserable state of prostitution. Marisa is fully aware of this, so..."

"Looks like you're in big trouble."

"Senior, whatever you say goes. In short, I'm counting on you for everything. If you can help me get through this, from now on you will be Marisa's greatest benefactor. I'll do anything for you, even if it means I have to use this weird grammar to speak and become a completely shut-up woman!"

"..."

"..."

"Is this really that strange? This kind of grammar?" The senior student frowned slightly and pondered for a moment before tentatively asking.

"No, absolutely not, look at my sincere eyes." Realizing she had said the wrong thing, Marisa shook her head vigorously.

"cough."

The senior student cleared her throat, glossing over the slightly awkward interlude. She muttered something under her breath, which Marisa consciously and subconsciously ignored.

"Anyway, let's talk about what happened first. I'm not like him; I'm not confident that I can solve everything."