He didn't believe it was that simple. However, given a chance, testing the water wouldn't do much harm. In fact, he might even be surprised. By the time Ulrich finished reading, it was already half past nine.
He sat in silence, slouching back on the wooden chair as his eyes closed toward the ceiling. Finally, after two minutes, he took in a deep breath and sat up.
With all that he knew, he was confident in being able to at least perform the most basic types of divinations. The only problem is that among the basic types of divinations, they all require certain tools as a medium.
For example, dowsing divination required a rod or pendulum, which he does not have on his person. As for numerology, or astrology, they were too complicated for him to even begin. There was also 'dream' divination, but Ulrich wasn't sure if he could even dream.
This has to do with his 'special' dream that ends with 00:42, where time is reverse in the real world and the dream by 12 hours. If he were to sleep before the marked time, 00:42 at night in the real world, then he would not dream.
Anytime after, and he will wake up in the dream at noon. This is one of the many 'rules' he had deduced from years of experimentation.
Without much of a choice, the only option at the moment is: Coin Divination.
Ulrich took out a few coins from his shirt pocket and glanced at their intricate designs. It was a copper coin, engraved with the face of Leonard Rothstyn, Prime Minister of the Union Republic.
Ulrich caught the coin and held it between his thumb and forefinger, studying the worn copper surface. The dim lamplight caught the edges of Prime Minister Rothstyn's engraved profile, making it seem almost alive in the flickering shadows.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed in concentration. The book had been explicit about this—the question needed to be clear, unambiguous, and answerable with a simple yes or no. More importantly, for a first attempt, it should be something he could verify quickly.
His gaze drifted to the window, where the night sky stretched beyond the glass panes.
He drummed his fingers on the armrest, thinking.
Then his eyes fell on the small stack of books piled on the corner of the desk, borrowed from Belham's library sometime ago. He'd been meaning to put them away neatly, and he knew most of their titles by heart. But not all of them.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. He sat up straight, spine rigid, and began the preparation as the text had instructed.
First, he needed to enter the proper state of mind—calm, focused, receptive, a state known as "Resonance". Ulrich took several deep breaths, feeling his heartbeat slow, his thoughts clearing like settling water.
he reminded himself.
When he felt sufficiently resonated, he held the coin flat on his palm and formulated his question with deliberate precision:
He knew the first two books—and —but the third one was grabbed hastily from a street vendor. It was either brown or dark green, he wasn't certain.
Ulrich closed his eyes, channeling his focus into the coin.
He visualized his spirituality, recalling the sensation of when he used his 'spells' from the dreams as a Pseudo-Weaver. The metal seemed to warm slightly in his palm, though he couldn't tell if that was real or imagined.
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He repeated mentally, infusing the question with spirituality.
Then, in one smooth motion, he flicked the coin upward with his thumb.
It spun through the air——a glint of copper catching the lamplight with each rotation. Time seemed to stretch as the coin reached its apex and began its descent.
Ulrich caught it reflexively and slapped it onto the back of his left hand, covering it with his right palm. His heart hammered in his chest now, anticipation mixing with skepticism.
He recalled from the text.
He took one more steadying breath, then slowly lifted his right hand.
The coin showed heads—Prime Minister Rothstyn's stern profile staring up at him.
Ulrich's eyes immediately snapped to the stack of books. He rose from his chair, crossed the room in three strides, and carefully pulled out the third book from the left, tilting it toward the lamplight.
The binding was unmistakably brown leather, worn smooth at the corners.
His hand trembled slightly as he held the book. For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at it.
his rational mind insisted. But another part of him—the part where he encountered the first changed in his dream, the one where the dream is suspected to be a projection of the real world, made him believe otherwise.
He chuckled, then thought,'
The idea froze him as he caught himself tapping his chest thrice," Bless the Mother!"
A wry smile appeared on his face.
Ulrich set the book down carefully and returned to his chair, the copper coin still warm in his palm. He needed to test it again. Although at this point, he was clear that it was no coincidence. However, it wouldn't hurt to be more than a hundred percent certain of the truth.
He settled back into his seat and began to formulate his next question. Ulrich recalled the last time he saw Selena at the library, as well as her absence when he returned the next day.
Madam Francis didn't speak much of it, assuming that this meant Selena met no trouble. However, what if something did happen and Madam Francis wasn't aware of it? In fact, in such trouble time, nothing can be sure.
Not to mention, Ulrich wasn't one to believe in coincidences. Selena was never one to miss a day at the library; she took her responsibility with pride. Yet, after his visit, and by the time he came back to return the book, she was absent.
Ulrich can't help but feel a bit guilty, especially when the last time he saw her, there was also that harpoonist. Just in case, he decided to divinate if she was safe or not.
However, such a question was too broad.
As for asking whether she is in danger, this is still too broad, bearing too many implications. For example, walking down the stairs and slipping is a form of 'danger'. What if she falls ill with a cold or from food poisoning?
Ultimately, he racked his brain and arrived at the question:
This question distinguishes between her choosing to be absent versus being prevented by illness, danger, or external circumstances.
After five minutes had passed, he closed his eyes and entered resonance. This time, he could feel his own spirituality stirred much more greatly.
Inwardly, Ulrich repeated the question in his mind.
Then, in one smooth motion, he flicked the coin upward with his thumb.
It spun through the air——a glint of copper flashing through the lamplight in the room.
Ulrich caught the coin reflexively and slapped it onto the back of his left hand, covering it with his right palm. His breath stilled in his chest, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the lamp's dying wick.
The copper felt warm against his skin, almost uncomfortably so—as if this question alone had drained him of all his spirituality.
He noted mentally, finding his head aching and his body a little weak.
Ulrich reminded himself of the rule, trying to keep his thoughts ordered and calm. But his heart was already racing, a tight knot of anxiety forming in his stomach. The weight of the question pressed down on him now that it had been asked, now that the answer was already determined beneath his palm.
If it was voluntary—if she had simply chosen to take time away, perhaps to visit family or attend to personal matters—then there was nothing to worry about. But if it wasn't...
Ulrich swallowed hard. He realized his hand was trembling slightly where it covered the coin.
he told himself.
He took one steadying breath, then slowly—agonizingly slowly—lifted his right hand. The lamplight fell across the copper surface.
Tails.
Prime Minister Rothstyn's profile was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the reverse side of the coin stared up at him—the engraved seal of the Union Republic, its laurel wreath and crossed anchors unmistakable in the flickering light.
"No. Selena's absence was not voluntary."
