As the rhythmic sound of hooves echoed against the stone road, Fullen's thoughts drifted to the simple yet elegant envelope resting in his hand.
He covered his right hand with spirituality. A faint blue glow emerged—not dazzling within the enclosed carriage, but carrying an unmistakable sense of mystery. Fullen reached into his coat and retrieved the dagger hidden close to his body.
"Open the Door" could not act upon obstacles that were not doors.However, Fullen pressed the paper bearing the Door drawing tightly against his skin, directly above the clothing where the dagger rested.
This was the most effective way he could think of to combine his two Mystical Items. As for using the paper openly in combat, Fullen believed it was wiser to wait until the moment truly demanded it.
Holding the dagger, he effortlessly broke the wax seal on the letter. The blade's sharpness was astonishing—far more efficient than his previous, clumsy attempts. Fullen nodded in quiet approval.
After returning the dagger to its place using his ability, he removed the letter and casually placed the empty envelope on the seat beside him. Only then did he begin to read.
Just as he had expected, the contents were not as critical as the Abraham Family's letter—but they were still important.
"...First, I must apologize for my impulsiveness. After such a long separation, I truly miss my friends from the time we studied under Mr. Roman.
You, Fullen Freeman, were the most worthy companion I met there. Though always quiet, anyone who truly conversed with you knew how knowledgeable you were. So many years have passed, and I am delighted to encounter you again.
I sincerely hope to reunite with you in the temple of knowledge. This time, we are no longer ignorant youths, but Scholars devoted to understanding the world. Though I do not know all that befell you, I understand that you suffered an unbearable tragedy.
Now, as a friend, I wish to guide you back to the final lesson we left unfinished under Mr. Roman—the paradise of scholarly exchange: the Salon.
With the strong advocacy of our esteemed Governor Rosell, Salons have expanded beyond manor halls into cafés. As an admirer of His Excellency, the Steam Child, I find such a setting most delightful.
By coincidence, Mr. Erich and I—along with several acquaintances—will attend a philosophy Salon at the Scarlet Gold Café on Trenk Street in Xingye District.
I sincerely hope to meet you there at 3:00 PM on July 15th, and personally invite you to participate..."
After finishing the letter, Fullen gently tapped his forehead.
There was nothing unclear about its contents. His only concern was a rather simple one—he had no real understanding of philosophy in this world.
That said, he would certainly attend.
For Fullen, who wished to personally explore the mysterious world rather than merely follow his father's footsteps, this Salon represented an excellent opportunity.
He couldn't help but marvel at how thoughtfully Kvedo had arranged everything—helping a friend he hadn't seen in years with such precision. As for philosophy, it was clear that Fullen would have to temporarily adjust his study plan and read up on foundational theories in the coming days.
If he were questioned at the Salon and knew nothing, the embarrassment would be unbearable. Worse still, it would damage his chances of building a new social network—something he urgently needed.
With a quiet sigh, Fullen folded the letter, slid it back into the envelope, and tucked it into his coat pocket. With nothing else to occupy his hands, he turned to gaze out the window.
It was a bright day in Trier.
Golden decorations adorned every building—ornaments that gleamed even at night, now reflecting sunlight in a warm, almost gentle brilliance. The glow was dazzling, yet never harsh. The effect felt strangely mystical to Fullen, and he found himself developing a sincere admiration for Intis's mastery of gold-based craftsmanship.
Intis truly lived up to its reputation as the nation that understood gold best.
As the carriage moved forward, artworks and façades flashed past the window. Unaware of the passage of time, Fullen realized he had already passed the Trier National Library—the place he had visited only yesterday.
At last, the carriage stopped.
They had arrived at the Flame-Axe Tavern.
After paying the coachman, Fullen stepped down and began observing the place that had once served as his father's gateway into the mysterious world.
The moment he exited the carriage, a sharp scent of urine reached his nose—a smell that had become a grim symbol of poverty in this era. Even those who had escaped starvation often lacked access to proper sanitation. Drainage systems and public facilities required astronomical investments—expenses no nation dared to undertake lightly.
Commoners had no surplus to improve their lives. Even those who could eat today could not guarantee they wouldn't fall back into poverty tomorrow. A minor illness or accident was often enough to ruin a person for life.
As for the ruling class, there was little to say.
Among royal families who possessed Beyonder power, how many would truly care about the poor—people entirely unrelated to them?
Returning to the present, the Flame-Axe Tavern itself was unremarkable.
It wasn't luxurious in the slightest. Compared to its surroundings, it even looked dirtier—bearing the unmistakable appearance of a commoner district tavern. In fact, aside from being made of stone rather than wood, it was scarcely different from nearby residences and shops.
That alone was notable.Some buildings in the district were still wooden—a reality hard to imagine for Fullen, who had not visited commoner districts since his transmigration. After all, this was Trier, the capital of Intis.
The tavern's sign hung slightly crooked above the door. The words "Flame-Axe" were written in bold strokes, exuding an unrestrained, almost aggressive style.
The door itself was simple—a wooden swinging door like something out of an old adventure manga. It neither blocked the view inside nor made a loud noise when opened.
After carefully considering what he should say upon entering, curiosity flickering in his eyes, Fullen pushed the door open.
He stepped into the tavern.
To an ordinary modern person like him, this place carried an aura that was both mysterious and cruel—the unmistakable threshold of the Beyonder world.