The Monastery was not a single building, but rather a complex comprised of multiple facilities, each serving different functions.
For example, the Library that Roland was heading to now was divided into the Collection Area and the Copying Area. The former was accessible only to nobles and monks, while the latter was reserved for scribes and related personnel.
When Roland arrived at the building, holding Miya’s hand, a Knight behind them stepped forward to open the door.
Upon entering, they saw a young Nun hunched over a desk, absorbed in her writing.
Hearing the sound, the Nun looked up and immediately recognized Roland as a noble. She stood up and respectfully said, “Miss, how can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a book,” Roland replied.
The Nun pointed to a door. “The Collection Area is inside, but the books cannot be taken out.”
“I know.”
“And, also…” Her gaze fell on Miya, and though her tone was hesitant, she summoned her courage to continue, “Only you may enter.”
“Dean Maen has given permission; she won’t mind.”
Since the Dean had agreed, the Nun naturally had no objections. Besides, with her understanding of Miya, she was certain the girl wouldn’t do anything like steal.
So Roland left Greym at the entrance and took Miya into the Collection Area herself.
The Collection Area was not as large as Roland had expected. In fact, it looked rather small, about the size of the Reception Hall in the Estate’s Castle. There weren’t as many books as she had imagined either. All the books were sorted by category and placed neatly on the shelves, creating a cozy atmosphere.
Perhaps because few people visited, many spots in the room were covered in dust, like the old tables and chairs on one side of the room. However, the shelves and books were kept in excellent condition.
Based on the labels on the shelves, Roland started searching for the books she wanted, mainly focusing on history.
But staring at the shelves towering above her head—so high she couldn’t even touch the edges with her outstretched hand—she felt, just for a moment, that the Designer must have been malicious.
Would anyone really put books deliberately that high up?
With a sigh, she fetched a wooden ladder and finally pulled down the book from the top shelf.
Just as she was about to start reading, she suddenly remembered that she had left Miya on her own after entering.
Turning around, she saw Miya standing awkwardly by the door, clutching her hands together and fidgeting.
Well, reading would have to wait again.
For now, Roland was still quite curious what rewards the System would grant her. Maybe she could rely on those rewards to solve her current predicament. If not, then she’d just banish the System to the Cold Palace.
She walked to the door, patted Miya’s head, and asked, “Can you speak?”
The girl shook her head.
“Not even a single word?”
Miya nodded.
“I see.”
Roland had thought that Mary’s mention of frostbite meant Miya’s voice would just be hoarse, but it turned out she couldn’t speak at all.
That would make communication a real headache in the future.
She couldn’t just read minds, could she?
She wasn’t some White Little Demon with Telepathy. She had to find a way to solve this problem.
For the sake of efficiency, Sign Language would do, but Roland herself didn’t know any Sign Language.
After considering it for a while, she finally decided to go with the most traditional method—writing.
“Can you write?”
As expected, not only could Miya not speak, she didn’t even recognize any words.
Although she wasn’t Roland’s biological child, if Roland had to resolve all these issues, she might as well be her real Mother.
“All right, let’s start with learning words,” she said helplessly.
Currently, Roland only knew two languages and their scripts: Chinese from her Past Life, and the Common Tongue that came with the memories she inherited after crossing over to this Continent.
The Monastery was already responsible for Book Copying and Teaching, so there were related books available, and she could request Quills and Old Paper from the Nuns outside.
After getting what she needed, Roland led Miya to two high-backed wooden chairs by a table, and gently said, “Since we’ll be living together from now on, and you’ll need to communicate with others, I’ll start teaching you some words. When we return to the territory, you’ll be able to tell the Housekeeper what you think.”
Miya stared blankly at Roland, her expression confused, as if she didn’t understand the meaning at all.
“Don’t look at me like that…” Roland turned her head away. Being stared at like this filled her with a strange sense of guilt.
Hearing this, Miya obediently lowered her head.
Roland could tell that Miya was a very obedient child—she never cried or caused a fuss. Though her behavior was a bit stiff, overall she was quite adorable.
But the more innocent Miya was, the more wicked Roland’s own motives seemed.
If Miya could have had a better life, or been adopted by a kind noble, what would it mean if her own appearance had ruined that possibility?
Should she really change Miya’s fate by force just to obtain rewards from the System and achieve her own goals?
Roland prided herself on her principles and limits. As long as her status or life wasn’t threatened, she would never cross the line.
Miya clearly had no power and posed no threat to her.
But having already brought her here, to send her back now would just be indecisive. She might as well treat Miya well.
Having made up her mind, Roland opened the book for learning the Common Tongue, pointed to the basic syllables, and began reading aloud.
Perhaps because she had inherited the original body’s memories, the language of this world felt neither unfamiliar nor difficult to pronounce. In fact, it rolled off her tongue quite smoothly.
Sunlight poured through the arched windows above, illuminating her finger, and making the floating wood dust and specks in the air sparkle, like a spotlight on a stage in the night. And the leading roles on this stage—were two girls, less than six years apart in age.
Miya looked at the words, finding them all strange symbols she couldn’t understand—worse looking than the stick figures she used to draw with pebbles in the orchard dirt.
Roland also knew Miya couldn’t follow along with her reading. Teaching syllables was mainly to create memory points; once she recognized the basic syllables, she could teach herself to read later.
After all, Roland wasn’t a nanny—she couldn’t accompany Miya all day. And with a Duke looming overhead, if she did nothing, she’d end up busking on the streets in a band after three months.
After running through the syllables, Roland used a Quill to write a few words on Old Paper. She pointed to the first word. “Miya, this is your name.”
Then she pointed to the second word. “Roland, this is my name. If you understand, try writing the syllables on the paper.”
Taking the pen, Miya fell into distress.
She tried to recall the syllables Roland had just recited, checked the strokes in the book, and only after five minutes finally finished writing.
Roland took the paper and looked.
Hmm~ The writing was all crooked, and as expected, every single one was wrong.
She didn’t rush to judge, but wrote two more words on the paper—“Mother” and “Home”—and even drew a triangle house, enclosing all four words inside.
“I’ll read these two out loud as well. See if you can write them.”
Perhaps realizing she hadn’t done well, Miya’s spirits were low, but she still obediently wrote down the syllables for the new words.
The result was, simply put, a complete mess.
“Looks like we’ll have to start with strokes. If the writing’s too messy, no one will know what it is.”
Seeing Miya’s disappointed little face, Roland patted her head again and comforted her, “It’s okay. Failing is normal. As long as you work hard, it’ll be fine.”
Unfortunately, Miya didn’t seem to think so.