The Scream of A Thousand Libraries Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Noah's Investigations (I).

Read chapter 28 of The Scream of A Thousand Libraries by Susangja on NovelPedia.

POV: NOAH WILLIAMS. I woke up on that noisy routine morning. The hotel room I was staying in was simple, it had the basics for a stay, a double bed, with nightstands on both sides, accompanied by a dark wooden dresser, quite luxurious actually… It also had access to a small balcony that offered a view of the surroundings. After a quick check of things, I quickly went down to the ground floor, grabbed a simple coffee from the hotel’s cafeteria, took the opportunity to get some simple cookies, and a regional delicacy, something called Cueca-virada… ‘Peculiar name… but very good’ I went up to my room, walked to the balcony, and sat on the chair there, with the coffee on the table beside me. The view from there showed the busy side intersection, which gave direct access to the busier neighboring city, the popular Brusque. I was in a place nestled among gentle hills in the heart of a valley near the coastal region and, as a bonus, close to the capital. The Trilegal Hotel, where I had been staying since I arrived, was right at the exit, in the direction leading to the capital, but, curiously, even being so close to an urban center. The environment still carried the atmospheric feeling of the countryside or a peaceful place, the kind that brought a good calm. The kind of peace that almost made me forget why I was there. In recent days, I have been immersed in reports, scans, data cross-referencing, and discreet observations. The SFR needed information, and I was collecting it, one by one. It was time to get some results. The QP signatures had finally been detected, and the hope was that the documents I would receive today would give me clearer clues about the whereabouts of H and his accomplices. I went back inside, still lost in thought, added a little sugar to my coffee, and drank it in a few hurried gulps. Brazilian coffee was absurdly strong for my palate, and I never managed to adapt completely. So, as always, I added a touch of good old maple syrup, a sweet and familiar detail from my homeland that helped soften the intense bitterness. It was a small ritual, but it brought a certain sense of comfort. The communicator vibrated discreetly on the counter, emitting a silent notification. I picked it up quickly and read the message: the document delivery would arrive at the bus station in forty minutes. I sighed, drinking the rest of my coffee in two hurried gulps. It was time to leave. I picked up my jacket, put on the clothes I had set aside to serve as a light disguise, nothing too elaborate, just pieces that aligned with the local style, with neutral tones and common fabrics. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! The region was dominated by shoe and clothing stores, so many people dressed well, but mostly, they were just shoemakers. Maintaining a simple style would help, as I wanted to blend in, to seem like one among many. Before leaving, I stopped at the hotel reception to say I'd be out for a few hours. The usual receptionist was there, firm and attentive behind the counter. A young man in his twenties, average height, short black hair, and an upright posture. His face displayed features that suggested some European ancestry, perhaps German or Italian, something common in that region. He was polite, spoke respectfully and clearly, even after several hours on shift in that position. “Good morning, Mr. Williams,” he said, with a slight nod. “Good morning. I’ll be out for a while, I’ll be back before the end of the afternoon,” I informed, adjusting my jacket collar. “No problem. Have a good day,” he replied with a brief smile, quickly returning to the book he had in his hands. I discreetly looked at the book’s cover, and was momentarily surprised by the title; after all, it was a classic work by Dostoevsky. That scene always sparked a peculiar kind of reflection in me. It was curious how that receptionist fit into an almost comical, yet deeply revealing portrait of Brazil