Arriving at the door of Professor Clark's office, which seemed simple but whose internal space had been expanded through multiple foldings, Jeming knocked gently.
"Come in."
A flat voice responded.
Jeming pushed the door open and entered.
The interior looked almost unchanged from his memory.
Piles of ancient Scrolls coexisted harmoniously with flickering data screens, and the air was filled with the faint scent of beast-skin parchment mixed with energy ink.
Professor Clark sat behind the broad desk, still looking like the slightly tired scholar with a worrying hairline, dressed in a gray robe so plain it was almost worn out.
He was staring intently at an extremely complex light screen in front of him, which displayed symbols and formulas flowing beyond Jeming's comprehension.
Hearing Jeming's footsteps, he only slightly raised his eyes and nodded.
"You're here."
The tone was flat, as if greeting a student he saw every day.
