Miss Hebe Is Charging Through the Lostbelts! [11]

When Hebe returned to her secondhand shop, she found someone already waiting for her.

The visitor stood beneath the streetlamp by the door, holding a beautifully wrapped box in her arms.

“Yo, evening, Hebe.” The blue-haired girl raised the box in her hands. “You just went out to eat? I’ve been waiting out here forever.”

Hebe narrowed her eyes slightly. “Isn’t your watch shop just over there across the street… Miss Mostima?”

“That’s right.” Mostima smiled with narrowed eyes as well. “But it was urgent, and I was asked to handle it, so I came straight over to wait at your door.”

Mostima’s watch shop sat at the second intersection diagonally across from Lilies Secondhand Goods, and its business was just as sparse every day.

So, with too much time on her hands, Mostima had added package pickup and delivery, as well as letter-writing, to her list of services—a little extra source of income for herself.

It just went to show that even in a world without Oripathy or nomadic cities, some people and some stories still found their way onto the stage in a strangely familiar form.

“Waaah—” Mostima let out an exaggerated cry of amazement as she followed Hebe into the secondhand shop with the box in her arms.

Settling back behind the counter, Hebe shook her head helplessly.

This was hardly Mostima’s first visit to the shop, yet every single time she came, she still had to make a fuss like this.

“If you’ve got time to stand there gawking, why not help my business instead? I’ll give you ten percent off.”

Hebe tapped the table to signal that enough was enough.

“Well…” Mostima said with a grin, extending a hand. “Like I’ve told you before—the stuff you keep in the front row, I’ve got no reason to buy. And the stuff you keep in the back rows, I can’t afford any of it!”

“And the second I got this commission, I thought of you, boss. Never mind the fact that you’re not even giving me a tip—you’re actually trying to make money off me… that hurts.”

Hebe started to speak, then stopped herself.

Just as Mostima had said, she had a side job as a courier.

And Hebe, with business at the shop so consistently dead, had also started offering paid antique appraisal.

Hebe gave a light cough. “Then… hurry up and bring it out.”

At that, delight showed faintly on Mostima’s face as she set the box on the counter.

Once Hebe pulled out the item for appraisal with gloved hands, her expression gradually turned grave.

It was a square stone chessboard. Its edges had been deliberately worn smooth and rounded, and most of the red-and-white painted squares on its surface had dried, flaked, and peeled away.

A pile of ivory and bone chess pieces sat to one side. The most eye-catching among them was a queen piece with one hand braced against her cheek and a burning stare, as if someone had just slapped her across the face.

After only two or three minutes of inspection, Hebe put it back.

Then she lifted her eyes and looked straight at Mostima.

“Where did you people dig this chessboard up from?”

“That has nothing to do with me!” Mostima waved both hands quickly. “I only got this job through connections.”

Hebe nodded.

Very little of what Mostima said was true, but at least her attitude made it clear she wanted to keep her distance from the matter.

Since she was saying it seriously, Hebe would listen seriously.

“No need to look any further. It’s the real thing,” Hebe said calmly. “Even a single piece would be extraordinarily valuable, let alone a full set like this. Calling it priceless would still be an understatement.”

Mostima smiled with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

“Because it represents how the upper nobility of an entire age amused themselves. More than that, it demonstrates a route of exchange and trade stretching from the Scandinavian Peninsula to the three isles of Albion.”

Hebe’s gaze lifted slightly. “Albion’s history doesn’t go back all that far. I don’t need to spell out how important an artifact this complete would be.”

“Tell your client to transfer the money into my account. As for the rest, I don’t want to know a thing.” Hebe waved a tired hand. “And if the Special Patrol Bureau comes knocking, I’ll tell them everything immediately, Miss Mostima.”

Even in the face of that blunt dismissal, Mostima kept smiling.

She politely said her goodbyes to Hebe, then left with the box.

Hebe tapped her fingers against the tabletop, one beat after another, and her gaze gradually deepened.

What Mostima had just brought over existed in Hebe’s original world as well: Britain’s national treasure, the Lewis Chessmen. And in her original world, the Lewis Chessmen had never been found as a complete set, much less together with a chessboard.

At first glance, the “chess set” Mostima had brought over looked very likely to be a forgery.

And yet Hebe was absolutely certain it was real.

Because she had made that set herself in the Lostbelt.

To distinguish it from the Lewis Chessmen of real history, Hebe had deliberately carved the queen’s expression to be even more exaggerated, and had also rounded off the edges of the chessboard.

On the road of pilgrimage, the three of them had passed many long, boring nights by entertaining themselves with that set.

Recalling the line in Secret Histories Simulator about the Lostbelt being absorbed into the Fourth History, Hebe’s brows slowly knit.

If history really had changed because of that… then what did the past and future even mean?

That was a question she was never going to answer anytime soon.

For the time being, Hebe gave up on worrying at it and turned to a much more obvious problem.

Mostima… is she one of those so-called ascendants?

Hard to say, but probably.

Then is Mostima with the authorities?

She definitely was.

When I brought up the Special Patrol Bureau, she didn’t flinch at all… wasn’t that basically telling me outright that she works for them?

Pale mist began to curl up from the tabletop, winding itself around Hebe’s fingers. A pristine chessboard appeared from thin air just like that. Her fingers hovered in the air, while the red and white pieces began silently slaughtering one another.

One piece after another toppled over, dissolving back into rolling wisps of smoke. A few seconds later, the chessboard, the pieces, and the smoke all vanished together, as though they had never existed.

And not just some ordinary informant, either. Hebe thought. Is Mostima on this street to keep watch over Church Street, or is she tailing someone in particular?

…

“Hehe.”

Not long after returning to her watch shop, Mostima suddenly laughed.

She waved a hand through the air above her head. “I didn’t blow my cover, did I…? The way she was looking at me, I really thought she’d seen straight through me.”

When she thought of that antique shop, the smile that was always hanging on Mostima’s face gradually faded as well.

What Mostima had said was indeed incomplete—the department overseeing the excavation of the Lewis Chessmen was the Royal Archaeological Society of Albion, which truly had nothing to do with the Special Patrol Bureau she worked for.

Though both departments ultimately answered to the Red Dragon King, their styles of operation and their spheres of responsibility were entirely different.

The Archaeological Society was responsible for searching the world over for “Frontiers,” with the goal of exploring secret histories—that is, Lostbelts.

The Special Patrol Bureau’s predecessor had been the Night Watch Bureau, which was tasked with monitoring and suppressing all unsanctioned occult matters. Even after it was reorganized, its functions had not changed much. Only its methods had grown gentler.

When the Archaeological Society discovered a “Frontier,” the Special Patrol Bureau explored it. The two worked in close cooperation.

The reasons for doing so were extremely complicated.

Partly, it was to prove those buried secret histories.

Partly, it was to seek a way to mend the broken Paths of apprentices.

—Because ever since the first atomic bomb detonated, and the Second World War drew to a close, not a single person had been able to climb the road of ascension as far as the third Rank, Dusk.

Mostima lowered her eyes, recalling the first admonition she had received when she first stepped onto the road of ascension.

…

Every apprentice knows that beyond the veil of the present world lies a corner of the true world, and by way of dreams we are able to visit the Wasteland.

Radiance flows from the highest point of the Wasteland. It is whole divinity, pure greatness, the source of all knowledge.

Radiance cannot be understood, cannot be described, cannot be named, cannot be imagined. The more one seeks it, the farther away it becomes.

The Wasteland is forever changing, yet it is like a mirror.

Radiance is refracted seven times within the Wasteland, and thus the Seven Principles flow forth from it.

The first is Lantern, signifying brilliance, Dawn, and ascent. “Mr. Day is the Amber King. He lights our way and drives back the dark.”

The second is Forge, signifying change, reforging, and destruction. “Skyflint is the lord of Great Deeds. Since the age of darkness, He has sown the stars across the night sky.”

The third is Cup, signifying desire, birth, and drowning. “The Holy Grail is the Great Mother. The temptation of the Cup is greater than pain, yet pain is its very essence.”

The fourth is Wing, signifying transformation, shelter, and the world. “The Fisher King has sheltered us from ancient times to the present.”

The fifth is Blade, signifying battle, struggle, and rule. “The Scar-Father’s authority shall one day reach eternity. He will reign upon this earth for ten thousand years.”

The sixth is Winter, signifying remembrance, ending, and silence. “The Duke of Sighs waits forever in silence…”

The seventh is Opening, signifying gates, keys, and opening wide. “The Messiah parted the sea. He suffered for the sake of all mankind.”

The desires of ordinary people are too vast and too mixed, as mutable and uncertain as the primeval sea. That is why they are so difficult to ascend by.

An apprentice visits the Wasteland and receives in return a single glimpse. That is the refraction of desire, and also the foundation of the Path. This is Dawn. The sun has not yet risen; midnight is deep and still, but the light of daybreak is already gathering.

To make desire one’s road, to distill from practice a rule that belongs to oneself, and to hold to it without deviation—this is Daylight. The sun has already set out upon its heavenly course, and the road ahead is bright beyond measure.

To take one’s rule as the standard and desire as the guide, and to create a Great Deed the world will remember, a legend people will pass down in praise—this is Dusk. The sun has reached the edge of the sky; perhaps it falls beneath the earth, or perhaps it rises higher than before.

At last, with Great Deed, desire, and rule, one swears to a truth that belongs to oneself. This is Crimson Star. The sun does finally set, but at that moment one’s own star is already rising.

And who can say a distant star will never become a new sun?

To apprentices, the world remains hidden in the end. Yet we were born to seek the Radiance, just as sparks fly upward.

T/N: @w@

This is a fan translation of 赫柏小姐正在杀出异闻带！ by 青散人 Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!