The candle on the candlestick flickered gently. Samuel stood up, adjusted the collar of the black trench coat he had created through Illusion Magic and made real, so it wouldn't keep poking his face.
"Today's conversation with you was quite pleasant. I think I'll probably come here to hang out quite often," he said, looking into Priest Ethen's eyes.
He actually liked this place quite a bit. The environment was nice, and the air was always suffused with the faint fragrance of burning candles and the distinctive smell of old wood.
He wasn't sure if it was an illusion, but he felt particularly comfortable staying in this church. The longer he stayed, the more comfortable he felt. After a while, it began to feel like lying on cotton, all his joints turning soft and pliant.
"You are always welcome," Priest Ethen nodded, his hands still naturally folded in front of him, the wide white cuffs hanging down, covering half of his palms. "The courtyard of the Harvest will forever be open to all travelers seeking understanding and peace."
His words echoed in the empty prayer hall, carrying a peculiar resonance. It felt as if not just the air was transmitting the sound, but even the vines clinging to the edges of the stained-glass windows trembled slightly in response.
The corner of Samuel's mouth curved into an even deeper arc. He liked this kind of "special" response.
"You really are good at chatting with Law Seekers of [Absurdity]. Do you have acquaintances in this area?" Samuel's fingertip traced across the cover of the *Harvest Scripture* he held in his arms, over the entwined vines and wheat sheaf emblem on it. Then, smiling, he raised his left hand and opened his palm.
There was no dazzling light, no spatial ripples, no special effects of any kind. The book *The Lunatic's World Travel Guide* reappeared in his hand.
At Samuel's request, the book had been changed to Chinese, including the cover.
Therefore, Priest Ethen couldn't understand what was written on the book's cover.
Not that he would care anyway.
"I have indeed been in contact with several Law Seekers of [Absurdity]," Ethen replied.
"Mhm, I guessed right again. Nice."
Samuel held the travel guide in one hand, casually stacking the Harvest Church's scripture on top of it.
His gaze passed over the priest's shoulder, landing on the brass wall clock hanging on the distant wall.
The hour hand on the wall was between 11 and 12, the minute hand was just past the 30-minute mark, having just crossed the threshold of 30 and pointing to the 31 or 32 position.
The time division in this world was consistent with that of Samuel's previous life: also 24 hours a day, 60 minutes per hour.
The similarity between the two worlds was simply too high. Sometimes, it always made Samuel feel like they might have been stamped out from the same assembly line.
"Oh, 11:30. It's almost lunchtime," Samuel said.
"Really nice," he sighed softly, his gaze returning to Ethen. "Pleasant times always pass so quickly."
"This is my first day in this city, and I haven't even had breakfast. Next will be the first meal I eat in this city. I feel it's quite commemorative."
"Hmm... Father, do you know of any famous restaurants around here?"
Ethen thought for a moment, his voice still calm as he suggested, "If you prioritize food quality, the first choice is the West District. 'The Golden Ibis' and 'The Moonlight Oyster' are both quite famous restaurants. But prices there are usually quite high, and reservations might be needed. The price for a single person is probably around 9 to 12 yur."
"The food in the South District is slightly cheaper, but the quality is much worse."
"I remember, on Andrew Street, where the West and South Districts intersect, there's a restaurant called Flora. The price isn't too expensive, the chef's skill is good, and the ingredients are fresh enough."
In Liastan, "lunch" as a formal dining concept had only gradually become widespread in the last hundred years, following changes in social rhythm and the rise of the new middle class. Most ordinary citizens were more accustomed to two meals a day: a simple breakfast to sustain a whole morning's labor, and a not-so-sumptuous dinner after returning home as comfort for the day's toil.
Of course, nobles had it much better, even having afternoon tea.
As for lunch, people here weren't particularly concerned about it; many times they chose to skip it entirely. Even if they really ate lunch, it was usually just a simple, casual affair hurriedly dealt with—a cold meat pie, a simple plate of vegetable salad, or a cup of strong, invigorating coffee—all to avoid interrupting the work rhythm.
However, Samuel said this was the first meal he was having in this city, and he hadn't even had breakfast before this. So Ethen guessed Samuel probably didn't just want to eat a simple pie to fill his stomach and wait for the proper dinner in the evening.
He could actually understand it; many Law Seekers of [Absurdity] placed quite a bit of importance on a sense of ceremony.
It was just hard to say exactly which things they felt needed to have a sense of ceremony.
That was difficult to judge.
Therefore, his recommendations were based on the standard of a proper dinner banquet.
"Flora... I see. Thank you," Samuel nodded in thanks.
Immediately after, he extended his empty right hand. His five fingers seemingly randomly outlined and pinched in the air, using Illusion Magic to create an exquisitely crafted, classically styled golden pocket watch. He wound it up by turning the crown, adjusted the time against the wall clock, then made it real and placed it into the inner pocket of his black trench coat.
"Speaking of which, Father," Samuel suddenly said, "do you think we can be considered friends now?"
The priest looked at him with a calm expression, remaining silent for several seconds.
"If you wish it, we can be."
The corner of Samuel's mouth lifted. Suddenly struck by a whim, he pinched his fingers in the air, and a golden envelope appeared in his hand.
"I hope to invite you to watch a theatrical performance on some day in the future."
"The specific time... I haven't decided. The specific location... I haven't decided either. The specific content... I still haven't decided."
"You know, we're always prone to having some inexplicable whims."
Priest Ethen looked at the envelope Samuel handed to him, raised his hand, and took it.
"If I do have time that day," he nodded, "I will go to watch it."
"I have an intuition, I believe it won't disappoint you," Samuel said with a laugh, straightening his posture. "Even though I haven't thought of anything yet."
"Well then, goodbye. I wish you a pleasant day." Samuel waved a farewell, then turned and left, walking towards the church's main door.
"May you also find the 'flavor' you seek in this city, Mr. Celt. May your path be surrounded by bountiful blessings," Ethen responded gently, his gaze like sunlight filtering through gaps in the forest, falling upon Samuel.
Samuel didn't say anything more. He turned and strode away, passing through the long, spacious corridor of the prayer hall. When passing by the Fifth Prince, Allenay Odius, Samuel's footsteps didn't pause. He merely lightly lifted the brim of his hat as a greeting.
And Allenay's gentle face still wore a smile, nodding slightly at Samuel with extreme naturalness as a response. His amber eyes, with their long eyelashes, lowered and then lifted again, their gaze still gentle.
He didn't think Samuel's attitude towards him, a prince, was in any way disrespectful; he didn't care about such things. It was just that the index finger of his right hand unconsciously stroked the edge of the sketchpad, over that unfinished, vaguely outlined "human figure."
Maintaining a steady pace, Samuel walked straight through the church's two wide-open, heavy oak doors carved with vines and harvest motifs, and stepped out onto the street outside.