The president of Miskatonic University looked at the new Professor Wilson in front of him through thick crystal lenses.
The professor in front of him did not look very old, he was not yet forty. Perhaps the newly shaved beard made him look younger, making him look like he had just turned thirty.
The gold-rimmed glasses on his face add a lot of elegance to him.
At this time, he was turning his gaze as if he was looking around, with an indescribable and strange wonder in his honey-colored eyes. There seemed to be an alienated temperament lingering around him, a feeling of being out of place.
"I remember you were still enjoying your Christmas vacation at this time, weren't you?"
Listening to an authentic and fluent English with a slight accent ringing in his ears, Professor Wilson seemed to have just reacted and slowly set his sights on the principal.
He paused for a moment, as if he was organizing his words or trying to remember something:
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Principal."
The tone he just spoke was still a bit stuck, with a certain ancient charm, but soon this feeling seemed to permeate the air.
Professor Wilson had a wry smile on his face, "My tutor Professor Jones must have mentioned my recent experience to you. I am now so embarrassed that I can no longer afford my rent in New York. I have to come to your school to report in advance.
.”
Recalling the letter of recommendation, the principal understood clearly, with some concern in his tone: "Professor Wilson, your tutor, Professor Jones, is a very reliable expert in the study of ancient history. Professor Jones tried his best to tell me in the letter
I recommend your talent and I am willing to believe in your ability."
"You are overly complimentary."
Wilson pursed his lips, looking slightly unnatural.
The principal smiled, raised his hand to sign his name on the document in front of him, stood up and handed it to the professor in front of him.
"Welcome to join us, Miskatonic University is open to you."
The principal was a bit older and had gray hair, but he winked playfully at Professor Wilson, "She is a mysterious lady."
Professor Wilson showed a polite smile. This kind of smile is usually shown when people understand a joke but don't find it funny, so as to avoid mutual embarrassment.
He didn't quite understand the principal's humor.
It's the beginning of the twentieth century.
The principal may have noticed that Professor Wilson was a little unnatural, so he didn't say anything more.
Wilson took his employment application document from the principal's hand and glanced at the principal's cursive signature at the end.
The handwritten English letters are stuck together and circled several times, which makes it completely difficult for people who are not familiar with cursive letters to distinguish these letters. There is still a big difference between printed letters and handwritten letters, especially this kind of unique and personal style.
Messy pose in style.
Wilson's eyes glazed over for a moment, then he raised his head nonchalantly and smiled at the principal to cover up his subtle embarrassment.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Principal."
The principal carefully looked at the black-haired professor in front of him again. The thick crystal glasses hid the principal's deep gaze well, and Wilson did not notice it.
Then, he showed a kind smile and rang the paging bell at hand.
"If you have anything to do next, please contact Mr. Ball. He will arrange the next apartment and office space." The principal said with a smile, "He will also take you to visit our school."
Mr. Ball then opened the door to the principal's office. It was a weather-beaten middle-aged man who bowed slightly towards Wilson.
…………
"Oh, thank you very much for sending my luggage over."
Ball took Professor Wilson to his residence.
Because it is still the Christmas holiday, there are not many students on campus, and most of the staff have left the school. Mr. Ball is one of the few staff members who remains in the school.
He took Wilson to the faculty apartment located in the corner of Miskatonic University.
This is a beautiful three-story building with red bricks and white tiles, located quietly next to the woods.
The lawn downstairs seems to have been neglected for a long time, with weeds growing wantonly and a few wildflowers blooming in the corners.
Wilson was also surprised to find his wooden suitcase placed in front of the door.
Mr. Ball also took the initiative to help carry it to the second floor.
"I'm sorry."
Wilson quickly expressed his thanks.
Mr. Ball took out the key and opened the door to the second-floor apartment.
A gray smell hit my face. It was obvious that no one had lived here for a long time.
There are only some old furniture inside, which are said to have been left behind after the previous professor left. There is also an old printer that looks badly worn.
Apart from these debris, there is only a thick layer of dust.
This was Wilson's next residence. He was not very dissatisfied.
…At least it’s better than being kicked out by the landlord in New York.
When he thought of the landlady who pointed at his nose and yelled curses, especially the string of rapid-fire words, she sounded like someone was listening to a book from heaven. She had an authentic New York accent.
Wilson couldn't help but feel sad.
For a person whose listening ability is only about 100 points for Level 4 and Level 6, this is simply torture.
Fortunately, he roughly guessed what the landlady meant based on the fragmentary physical memory and the landlord's expression. He packed up his little luggage in a dejected manner and ran to Miskatonic University without stopping.
.
Otherwise, he would have to sleep on the street now.
Hmm...yes, I ran away from New York to Massachusetts.
Who told him that he had no money to take a bus?
…………
Mr. Ball handed him the keys and left.
Wilson originally planned to clean this dusty room, but he couldn't find a broom at all. There was no one on the other floors of the apartment, and it was still very late.
This made Wilson extremely devastated. The smell of dust filled his nose, and the sky was filled with dust every step he took.
After a while, his only decent black formal suit and leather shoes turned gray.
It turns out that things are always getting worse.
When Wilson saw the wooden bed covered with dust and even had a big hole in it, his expression became numb.
He took off his glasses, rubbed his temples, and whispered:
"Hikali No. 1!"
In front of his eyes, a screen of light flashed with dazzling light quickly appeared, and what came to mind was a cold electronic sound:
"Hikali No. 1 is at your service, dear Mr. Nanke."
Howard Wilson, no, his real name is Nanke.
He was originally a happy young man, born in the 21st century. He lived under the red flag on the other side of the ocean since childhood. After graduation, he happily lived in 996 until he was bound to a system that called itself "Hikari 1".
Being thrown into the completely unfamiliar American country of the early 20th century, traveling thousands of miles to sleep on a hole-in-the-wall bed was nothing.
Nanke's magnificent and unlucky journey has just begun.