Even after presenting clear evidence that Grandfather’s handwriting and the notebook owner’s were different, Kishiar still considered the possibility that they might be the same person. The answer to Yuder’s unspoken question came concisely.

"Would you mind flipping through the notebook like I did earlier?"

Yuder picked up the notebook and began turning the pages one by one, just as Kishiar had done. As the aged sheets rustled past his thumb, a musty odor rose, and some of the words written inside caught his eye.

Collection. Survey. Mana. Contact...

Without Kishiar’s extraordinary speed-reading ability, Yuder couldn’t fully grasp the contents, but most of it seemed similar to the work-related content found in the reconstructed papers earlier.

What is he getting at—ah.

Yuder suddenly paused and took another look at Grandfather’s handwriting in the ledger. While the writing styles between the notebook and the ledger were clearly different, now that he looked again, there was one thing they had in common.

"...Both were written with the left hand."

"Exactly."

A small smile appeared at the corner of Kishiar’s lips.

"As you know, when we write in the Imperial language, we use the standard Imperial script established around 800 years ago. One major flaw of the continental script is how difficult it is to write left-handed. That’s because of the bias early linguists had against left-handed people. While a lot has been revised since then, the script still isn’t universally comfortable."

Yuder was ambidextrous, but he wrote with his right hand. Kishiar did the same. Simply because it was easier that way.

"The handwriting styles are different, yes. But both the ledger and the notebook were clearly written by a left-handed person. You can tell from the way the left parts of certain characters taper off in the same direction. And if you look here..."

In a flash, Kishiar opened both the notebook and the ledger to specific pages. On each sheet, faint smudges could be seen.

"These °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° stains come from dragging the side of the palm across wet ink while writing left-handed. It’s a common trait among left-handed writers using Imperial script—hard to avoid."

"Ah..."

Now the meaning of the smudges was clear.

A faint memory surfaced in Yuder’s mind: his grandfather sitting at the table, writing in the ledger.

That’s right. Even though he used his right hand for most things, he wrote with his left...

Thinking back, during his time in the Cavalry and later as a noble, Yuder had rarely seen anyone write left-handed. Now he understood why Kishiar had been hesitant to fully assert that the notebook’s author and his grandfather were different people.

"You're right... those palm smudges do match. Even the size of the marks seems pretty similar."

"Yes. Of course, that alone doesn’t confirm they’re the same person. But it also makes it hard to say definitively that they’re not."

The handwriting was different. But curiously enough, both were written left-handed.

"Understood. Then for now, let’s set aside certainty and leave room for all possibilities."

Saying that, Yuder continued flipping through the notebook.

Then suddenly, he felt something shift oddly past his thumb, a sudden looseness as a section of pages flipped forward all at once.

What was that?

He thought perhaps some pages were stuck together, but when he looked again, the opposite was true.

Some pages were torn out.

Roughly torn, at that—the ripped section left a gap in the spine, and every page after that was blank.

"So the author wrote up to about halfway, tore out several pages, and left the rest blank."

"Exactly. I noticed that earlier when flipping through it. The written contents weren’t particularly remarkable. Other than the author being a mage, we couldn’t learn anything about them personally. It’s a shame."

As expected, Kishiar had already grasped the notebook’s contents in that short time.

So the only thing we’re getting from this is handwriting... nothing else?

Yuder absently ran his finger along the torn section.

...Wait. Hold on.

His fingers, brushing over the blank pages, suddenly paused.

"...I think we might be able to tell what was written on the torn-out pages."

"Hm?"

"Touch this page right after the torn section. You can feel the indentations."

It hadn’t been noticeable while flipping quickly, but now that he placed his hand flat, Yuder could sense faint, subtle grooves. The unmistakable marks of someone who’d written forcefully on the page before.

"You’re right."

Kishiar, pressing his hand to the page, nodded in admiration.

"I was so focused on comparing handwriting, I didn’t think to check that. Impressive."

"Let’s skip the flattery and try reading it by touch."

"No need. There’s a better way."

Kishiar retrieved a charcoal pen he used for writing letters and separated the charcoal tip. Gently rubbing it across the page, a faint white outline began to emerge from the darkened surface.

It was a series of numbers and letters.

The numbers... must be dates. And the words...

As Yuder looked at the awkward, beginner-like scrawl, a jolt ran through his mind. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Grandfather’s handwriting...?

Staring hard at the letters, Yuder asked to confirm.

"It’s not just me—this looks like Grandfather’s handwriting, doesn’t it?"

"Don’t worry. It looks that way to me too."

Kishiar replied with certainty. The words written in Grandfather’s hand were:

Aireik, Current 38th Emperor, Mage, Melah Cantinto

Aireik and 38th Emperor, along with the date format, appeared to have been written multiple times. But the word that caught Yuder’s eye was the last.

Melah. That was undeniably Grandfather’s name.

People used to call him Mr. Mel. And the last part—Cantinto... is that a surname?

Yuder had never heard of his grandfather having a surname. But if he had been a mage, then surely he would’ve had one.

He stared at that familiar yet unfamiliar name for a long moment before speaking.

"Melah is my grandfather’s name. But I can’t figure out why he would write the rest of this down and then tear it out."

"Well. I can’t say for certain either, not being him..."

Kishiar looked at the words, thoughtful.

"Summarizing the meaning of each term, they appear to represent date, current location, and the writer’s name. It feels like something a person would write to orient themselves—like they didn’t know where they were or what time it was."

The old woman at the grocery store had said that Yuder’s grandfather arrived in their village after wandering for several days following the nearby accident. If he’d been injured and disoriented from a traumatic event, it would’ve been natural to jot down the time and place, just to regain his bearings...

But would a court mage seriously forget what era he was living in—who the Emperor is?

The rough script, the scribbled date and Emperor’s name.

And the fact that he tore the page out afterward—it all lingered uncomfortably in Yuder’s mind.

The two men sat in silence for a long while, staring at the notebook and the ledger. Finally, Kishiar broke the silence.

"Maybe we should visit the shopkeeper again. Ask her a few more things. What do you think?"

"Yes."

"And after that, on our way down the mountain, let’s stop by Dyuloeti."

"Dyuloeti... that’s the village at the base of the mountain, right? Why go there...?"

"According to the ledger, your grandfather used to visit Dyuloeti regularly—once every few months. Sometimes to buy ingredients for your drinks, and sometimes to buy books."

Yuder recalled the bizarre magical research books his grandfather owned.

"I see. If we visit the shop where he bought his books, we might find someone who remembers him."

It had been a long time since Grandfather passed away, so there was no guarantee the shop was still there. But it was better than not going at all.

"The road back to the capital won’t be boring."

In the end, they didn’t have to go looking for the old shopkeeper. She came to Yuder’s house first.

At the sound of knocking, Yuder stepped outside to find the old woman standing with her cane. Smiling, she held out a small box without a word.