Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 110 Aren’t legends completely fictional?

The original owner of the room didn't seem to like coffee or black tea, so Mr. Mills poured them a glass of "Dullinde Wine", which is a traditional local drink. It is called wine, but it is actually a fermented fruit juice with a bitter taste and a slightly stimulating taste. Although it doesn't taste very good, it can refresh the mind, so it is quite popular among midnight poets or drama actors.

In the spirit of equality, Mills did not ignore Saint Shallia's lamb and poured it a glass of Durinde wine. The dark brown liquid in the cup had the luster of bitter tree roots. The lamb only took a sip, and human disgust and fear appeared on its face. It shook its head repeatedly, as if it had encountered the most terrible enemy in the world.

Saint Charity did not seem to like the taste either, and only tasted it briefly. Only Lingge drank half a glass of Durinde wine without changing his expression, and said to Mr. Mills who looked expectant, "It has a unique taste, which is unforgettable."

"Then you have grasped its charm."

Mr. Mills said happily: "However, we all agree that if you want to experience its true essence, you have to drink a glass of Durinde wine in the dead of night when you are alone to release your inspiration. The stimulation of brain cells at that moment must be an unforgettable experience for a lifetime."

Lingge thought about the scene and felt that it was indeed the case. As for the extent to which it was "unforgettable", it depended on your mood. In addition, his statement "we all agreed" was probably still open to question.

After tasting the unique charm of Durinde wine, the conversation between the two sides got down to business.

"You just said that you want to know more about 'March Search Diary', right, Mr. Ling?" Mills looked at the young man sitting opposite him and asked him after he nodded slightly. "Although I don't know where you got the information from, to be honest, there is indeed an unknown story behind this drama."

A look of reminiscence emerged in his eyes. "That is related to the personal experience of my ancestor, Sir Roman, the creator of the play. I heard about it from my father. When he handed the Central Theater to me, he told me that no matter how the theater's business is, whether it is prosperous or declining, as long as it has not closed down, then "March Search Diary" must appear in the theater's performance list. This has nothing to do with other factors, but is the last wish left by ancestor Roman."

"If you feel embarrassed, you can refuse to answer." Mills made his promise, and then asked the first question: "First of all, why do you want to know the story behind it? Although I don't want to belittle the painstaking work of my ancestors, after all, it is just a play from a hundred years ago. I'm afraid it's not worth your trouble, right?"

Just the first question made Lingge feel embarrassed.

How should I answer? Do you want to find the answer to your destiny from this drama?
Even if the man in front of him was a creator with a rich imagination, faced with such a ridiculous answer, he would probably just think it was the nonsense of a madman, right?
So he remained silent, trying to figure out the right words to say, but this silence was misunderstood by Mr. Mills, who shook his head helplessly: "It seems that I am not very good at socializing. Is it the first question that makes you feel so embarrassed? In this case, let's skip it. I hope it won't affect your good mood, Mr. Ling."

After that, he turned his gaze to the blue-haired girl sitting next to Ling Ge: "As for the second question, I would like to ask Miss Saint Xia Liya."

Lingge had no right to decide for Saint Shallia, so he remained silent, and the girl nodded slightly to indicate that it was okay.

This is the story that Lingge and the others want to know.

Linger said: "Please ask, but the premise is that I can answer your question."

"When I asked my father why our ancestors left such a last wish, he told me a story—"

However, Mills stopped talking here and did not continue. He gently twisted the beard on his lips, and his eyes, which always flashed with curiosity and thinking, fixed on Ling'er's calm face: "I can tell you this story, but before that, I need you to answer a few questions for me."

"Then, what I want to know is," the writer's eyes showed a strange look, as if he was suppressing his impulse, but he was so excited that he couldn't control himself, so that even his voice trembled slightly: "Is there some kind of power in this world... beyond human imagination, which can achieve all kinds of incredible miracles? I mean, is it as magical as the magic described in stories and novels?"

He actually asked this question.

Ling Ge subconsciously thought: He should indeed ask this question. After all, not everyone can maintain the necessary rationality towards the mysterious and extraordinary world, not to mention that the other party is a creator whose emotions are dominated by emotions. Among those wild imaginations, if one tenth is true, it is enough to attract him.

Saint Shalia didn't seem to think that magic was something that needed to be kept secret from ordinary people, so she answered in a clear voice, "Yes."

Although he was mentally prepared, Mills still felt a sense of absurdity and joy when he heard this answer. He pulled his beard so hard that he almost broke it. He felt a pain on his upper lip and quickly loosened his fingers. He asked, "So, you and Mr. Ling are the magicians often mentioned in the rumors in the countryside?"

"No."

Saint Shalia simply denied his guess: "I'm not a magician."

The girl glanced at the young man next to her and said, "Neither is Lingge."

Since what she said was true, Ling Ge did not refute it.

"Is it……"

The writer could not hide the disappointment in his eyes, but he quickly cheered up: "Then, the last question - I have lived in this city for thirty-three years, and I am very sure that there is no hotel called Fairy's Deep Sleep in this land, so when Mr. Ling asked me for directions yesterday, I could give such a conclusive answer. But now, I want to revise my opinion and ask you: Does the Fairy's Deep Sleep Hotel really exist? It just exists in a corner that ordinary people like us can't see, just like - a fairy's hotel?"

He stared at Lingge and Saint Xia Liya with his eyes, eager to get an answer to confirm his guess. Saint Xia Liya didn't think about it and was about to answer, but Lingge spoke first: "I'm sorry."

The young man said seriously: "We can't answer this question."

A hint of doubt appeared in the girl's beautiful eyes, but she sat quietly in the chair without saying a word.

Mills' face flashed with disappointment, and it was obvious that he was not satisfied with the answer, but he did not pester her. He let out a long breath and accepted the result. At least, the question he was most concerned about had been answered.

"Those are the questions I want to ask."

After calming down, he said, "Since you two have shown your sincerity, it would be inappropriate for me to be reserved. Then, I will tell you the story behind "March Search Diary", which is also the personal experience of my ancestor Sir Roman."

"Many people believe that the demon beast Noctus that devoured the sun and the brave hero Rosh who saved the sun are both fictional. In fact, this statement is half true and half false."

"The correct point is that the hero Rosh is indeed a fictional character, created for the needs of the plot development of the script. It is the image of a hero in our minds. There is no such person in real history, and naturally there is no such story."

"The mistake is that the hero Rochu is fictional, but the sun-devouring monster Noctus is not."

"Because my ancestor, Sir Roman, witnessed its existence with his own eyes."

　Give me some meow
　　
　
(End of this chapter)