Agnes woke up early and saw the morning light filtering through the light pink curtains and casting patches of light on the carpet.
The curtains in the bedroom seemed a little too thin, Agnes thought.
She got out of bed, walked to the window, and opened the curtains. The sunshine in the winter morning was light and seemed to have a slight chill. Even through the unopened window, Agnes still shivered.
Agnes looked out the window. Outside the window was the garden. The gardener hired by her father had already started working. Most of the flowers in the garden are varieties found by my mother, and they are still green even in the cold winter.
Agnes left the window, walked into the bathroom, and washed herself carefully. The girl in the mirror has no expression, like a doll. She is wearing a loose white nightgown and looks increasingly thinner. Her somewhat messy brown hair has no luster, like withered grass.
"My intuition tells me that after today, everything will get better." Agnes said, staring at herself in the mirror. She adjusted her facial muscles little by little in front of the mirror, making her expression gradually more vivid. Then pick up a comb and comb your hair carefully to make your hair smooth again.
As the disease became more severe, the abnormalities in Agnes became more and more obvious, and she became less and less fond of having maids help her wash and groom herself, not to mention that she didn't like the maids doing anything for her in the first place. As for the reason for not liking it, Agnes can't remember it clearly. It seems to be related to the education she received?
Although her brain was filled with all kinds of useless and dangerous knowledge, Agnes still unearthed many clues from the corners of her memory, which made her certain that the education she received was more than just In these 14 years of life. In addition to these 14 years of life, there is also a period that has a more profound impact on me. Although the memory about this part has been blurred, she vaguely remembered that in this memory, she should call this memory "past life"?
Reason told Agnes that she could not record this name in the diary, nor could this part of the memory be written directly in the diary. She had always followed her original choice of referring to it in dreams. Sometimes she revisits her previous diary and feels that she was not careful enough before. At the same time, she is glad that she left many doubts in the diary so that she can recall them again when she is close to forgetting.
Agnes couldn't remember her mental state at that time, but she felt that these doubts seemed to be deliberately left behind to some extent to facilitate her discovery of problems when she forgot.
There was a knock at the door. Agnes put down her comb and opened the door, and her mother walked in.
"Good morning, Mom."
"Good morning, my Agnes."
Mother ruffled Agnes' hair, kissed Agnes on the forehead, and asked, "Did you dream last night?"
"No, Mom."
"Okay, change your clothes and let's have breakfast together."
…
When Agnes arrived at the restaurant with her mother, her father had already sat down at the dining table and was reading a newspaper.
The father put down the newspaper, smiled and watched Agnes and her mother sit down at the dining table, and said: "Good morning, my dear Mariana and Agnes."
"Good morning, dear Lorenzo."
"Good morning, Dad."
"Did Agnes sleep well last night?"
"Very well, Dad. I wasn't dreaming," Agnes replied.
My father's mood seemed to be a little brighter.
"Olivia and Mr. Conti are coming to visit in the afternoon. This is a formal visit," said the mother.
"Well, I know, I have already reserved time in the afternoon." Father nodded and said with a smile.
Her father, Lorenzo Pagani, holds the title of earl, and in Agnes' opinion, he is considered a new aristocrat in Feneport.
Agnes knew some of the Pagani family stories. Her great-grandfather clung to the glory of his useless surname and refused to change in the industrial revolution that came from Intis. My grandfather believed that if he did not change, he would be turned into a withered skeleton in the tide of the times, so he broke with his great-grandfather and successfully climbed back into the upper class by riding on the east wind of the Industrial Revolution. When it came to his father, even if he was not a representative of the new aristocracy, he was at least a mainstay among them and occupied a seat in the Senate.
Breakfast ended in a relaxed atmosphere, her mother sent her father out, and Agnes went to the piano room to practice piano.
…
At three o'clock in the afternoon, Olivia Jones and musician Edmundo Conti arrived on time. Ms. Jones rarely wore a dark green dress and matching gauze hat, her hair still neatly tied back.
Mr. Conti is a gentleman with gray hair and blue eyes. He looks like he is in his fifties, and his skin has a healthy wheat color. He was wearing a black coat, a black single-breasted vest and a white shirt, a white striped tie, black striped trousers, a half-high hat and white gloves. He was holding a pine cane. He looked very formal, but his hair was a bit... Longer and slightly messy.
"Good afternoon, Count Pagani. Hello, Mrs. Pagani. I am Edmundo Conti." Mr. Conti saluted with his hand on his chest.
His voice had a gentle sense of vicissitudes unique to the elderly, which reminded Agnes of the red maple trees in autumn, and also had a strange accent. Based on Mr. Conti’s experience, Agnes speculated This was influenced by Dutan language. Unfortunately, this language was not taught in public schools. She could only guess based on what she had learned by piecing together information. After all, for nobles, the language of the Southern Continent is vulgar.
Mr. Conti's expression was very serious, and he had a strange sense of unfamiliarity when he saluted.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Conti. Lorenzo Pagani, this is my wife Mariana and daughter Agnes." The father introduced Mr. Conti with a smile, and then invited Mr. Conti to the reception room.
Agnes walked behind and looked at Mr. Conti. She saw that when Mr. Conti took out his left foot, he also raised his left hand, and then raised his hat again.
Mr. Conti saw Agnes looking at him, and he forced a smile to Agnes. The smile seemed a little stiff and a little embarrassed.
Agnes felt like she should say something. She thought for a moment, looked up into Mr. Conti's eyes and said softly out of habit:
"Mr. Conti, I listened to the New Year's Concert and your music was great."
Mr. Conti smiled, bent down, and lowered his voice and said to Agnes: "I'm glad little Agnes likes it." Then he smiled and winked at Agnes with his left eye. , got up and followed Ms. Jones and her father and mother.
Several people sat down in the reception room, and the maid served drinks. The father picked it up and took a sip, then said:
"Mr. Conti, you are an outstanding musician. Agnes also likes your music very much. We hope that you will become Agnes's music teacher."
Mr. Conti rubbed the wall of the cup with his index finger and nodded, "I am also very happy to be Miss Agnes's teacher. I believe we will get along well."
Agnes listened to the conversation between her father and Mr. Conti, and her thoughts gradually drifted away. Mr. Conti was not the first music teacher Agnes' parents had for her since she left Arnold School. Prior to this, Agnes's music teacher was Mr. Miller. Mr. Miller, a native of Roon, had lived in Feneport for several years, resigned and left two months ago, and returned to Roon.
"The Southern Continent was indeed full of wars. There were several times when I thought I was going to die there, but I survived in the end. But the hard work paid off, and the inspiration for several of my music chapters came from there." Conti said Mr.
"Mr. Conti is really passionate about music." Agnes heard her father admire.
After the father and mother chatted with Mr. Conti and Ms. Jones, Mr. Conti left. The etiquette manual emphasizes that visits should be brief, formal, and light-hearted, with 15 minutes being enough.
Ms. Jones stayed and asked to speak alone with Agnes.
"Mr. Conti is the eighth prisoner in the prison sequence. He found us a year ago and voluntarily accepted our protection and surveillance. After a year of observation, we believe that he can be trusted to a certain extent." Ms. Jones smiled said.
"To a certain extent?" Agnes asked with a frown.
"Yes, I remember I told you that the prisoner sequence is easy to get out of control, and Mr. Conti is a sequence eight madman with a curse that can easily get out of control. Even if it is now certain that Mr. Conti is a respectable gentleman, we are not sure Whether he will lose control due to the curse at any time, so our monitoring of him can never be completely revoked." Ms. Jones sighed.
"Forget it, I just want to ask you, are you willing to let Mr. Conti be your teacher?" Ms. Jones asked.
"Isn't Mr. Conti already my teacher?" Agnes tilted her head.
Ms. Jones sighed helplessly, "Don't play dumb. You know very well that's not what I'm talking about. What I mean is, are you willing to let him be your occult teacher?"
"Although Mr. Conti has handed over the potion formulas of Sequence Nine and Sequence Eight of the Prisoner Sequence to the church, the Church lacks relevant experience in the Prisoner Sequence. Being able to have a teacher of the same sequence to guide you will undoubtedly increase the probability of you losing control. Lower it."
"At the same time, it will be more convenient to monitor me and Mr. Conti?" Agnes said thoughtfully.
Ms. Jones was silent and finally nodded.
"Okay, I agreed." Agnes said with a smile.
"Then come to St. Diana's Church tomorrow morning to find me and Mr. Conti. Mariana has used her previous achievements to help you exchange for prisoner materials, but you still have to take the potion in the church." Ms. Jones seemed relieved. Take a breath.
