Magic Ball: the Billionaire in Ranch

92 Coffee Stained and The Truth

The following day, Noah was thrilled to read the replies on the thread that he had created. He brought his brewed coffee inside his office and told everyone he would be addressing some crucial concerns and that no one is allowed to knock on his door unless it was something urgent and related to the doom of his Stream Ranch. 

“What about feeding the chickens and cattle?” Thomas called below from the stairway.

“I will do dinner time!” Noah replied as he ran back inside his office room. The coffee in his had splattered on some spaces in his table, but he didn’t mind.

“Let’s see,” Noah wore his computer glasses and began scrolling down the replies. He started reading each one of them.

‘Interesting. But what is that? Some books from Satan?’  

Noah didn’t think the Magic Ball could have something to do with the devil? And he certainly didn’t hope the magic it possesses wasn’t something borrowed from a malevolent being.

‘Wait. If that’s Satan’s book, then does that mean the owner is in an occult?’

The expression on Noah’s face melted into confusion. He didn’t know why the thread he created was being made fun of by various readers. He ignored that user’s comment. Despite their remarks, he continued scrolling. He’s confident he would find something useful in there one way or another.

‘Come on, man! That must have been a fraud or something.’

Noah knew it wasn’t because they didn’t know that the book came from inside a Magic Ball in the first place.

‘The guy who found that must have been to another world. Maybe he transported, then he found magical stuff and brought them over to his place.’

That one comment was actually accurate. Several other people commented on it, calling the user someone who has a wild imagination about magic. Noah was entertained. He kept digging deeper.

‘Archaeologist here!’ Wrote one random user.

Noah thought it was finally time that the user was an expert in the field he was delving into. He needed a professional in this case.

‘It seems the books are legitimately ancient,’ he wrote. Noah kept his eyes on his laptop’s screen. ‘The pages are yellow—and I disagree with what some of the users wrote. That doesn’t look like a coffee stain. That’s purely a page from the past. Although I am not sure how the texts inside survived, the book may have been buried underground. They are clearly readable—in away. But I am not familiar with the alphabet used.’

The sigh went out of Noah’s mouth. Of course, he wouldn’t. Even Noah himself couldn’t figure out a single letter in the alphabet used in the passages.

Noah proceeded to read once more.

‘I don’t know, man. That definitely looks fake to me, one man wrote in his comment. Those pages are coffee stains, I tell you.’

Whoever it was behind this comment, Noah made his blood boil. He kept insisting on the coffee stain! It really wasn’t. Why couldn’t the user see that? Who would have thought that reading through replies in your threat would make you feel flustered and irritated? Noah had to grab the coffee on his side.

His lips felt the stiff brim. Then he began chugging down the contents of the cup. He saved half of the content for later when he starts feeling pissed off again.

‘What’s your basis, brat?’ The archaeologist replied. 

‘It looks like someone is pissed,’ wrote the man who claimed Noah purposefully stained the ancient book he had.

‘You don’t even know how to look at artifacts,’ replied the archaeologist. ‘Before you come for my comment, make sure you have studied well and achieved your master’s degree in archeology or geology.’

Noah felt as if he was reading about a heated argument. He wasn’t expecting it to escalate into a fight.

‘Calm down. Geez! It doesn’t take a professional even to recognize that it’s fake.’

With that, Noah drank the last bit of his coffee. He was pissed. He was tired of reading an argument that did no justice in his original post. He decided to close his laptop and head down to the kitchen.

* * *

“What’s happening to you?” Thomas asked as Noah began plowing the ground with the help of Bean and Night. His mind was elsewhere when Thomas began throwing him questions he didn’t want to answer. But right now, he was too damn tired to ignore him. He might as well begin to tell him what was going on.

“Something that has to do with the books I found,” he said shortly as he urged Bean and Night to walk faster. 

Thomas observed the fertile soil beneath them, “The ones you found in the Stream Ranch?”

Noah had cultivated lies on how he where he found the ancient books.

“Yes,” he answered, out of breath.

The horses reached the end of the line, and Noah each gave them carrots as treats, “Good job,” he patted their heads and nuzzled on their necks.

Bean stomped his feet on the ground in acknowledgment, while Night nuzzled on his shoulder.

“Where is it now?” Thomas said, an ear of wheat on his mouth, “were you looking for someone who can translate the words written inside?”

“I was,” Noah responded as he fixed his newsboy hat, “but all I saw are on-line bickering and heated arguments whether the books I found are fake and stained with coffee.”

Thomas c****d his head, “You mean to stay they are accusing you of committing fraud?” he knelt and had felt the soil, “this should do us good for the next season. It will do well with the weeds.”

“Will that be enough to produce high-quality hays?” Noah questioned. The sun’s rays made him squint his eyes nowadays.

“Sure,” Thomas replied.

The two of them headed to the chicken’s pen. Several chicks gathered on the center, possibly waiting for the food that Noah and Thomas would throw at them.

Noah placed down the bucket of peeled corn and chicken food he purchased from a nearby farm. He wiped the sweat lining on his forehead on his sleeve.

On the other hand, Thomas made sure the door was locked. They didn’t want to lose any livestock to the dogs. Noah noticed Ginger, Mik, and Cole had been taking turns in taunting the chickens nowadays. This could be their source of stress as the female had been laying fewer eggs.

“Should we make the fence higher? The spaces thinner?” Thomas suggested as he looked at the barricade between the chickens and the three smart dogs.

“In the meantime,” Noah scooped on the bucket and spread it all over the floor, “let’s make it that way.”

Thomas went ahead inside the coop. He scooped several cups and placed them in a metal feeder. When the fowls heard the sound of food, they immediately flocked to where it was.

“I will have it done tomorrow,” Thomas responded after making sure every coop has its own set of food ready.

“Good,” Noah had wrapped the towel on his shoulder. “Guess I will be heading back first.”

* * *

That night, Noah regained hope. He hadn’t taken down the thread he created in the specific site, and he’s expecting a reply that would save him from scrolling down through several comments that either ridicules him and the books.

He logged in with his username and password. Scrolling through several entries of the heated argument earlier, Noah’s glad that they have come to a solution in accepting that the books featured in Noah’s thread are not fake and stained with coffee.

‘So, does anyone here have any idea what this book is about?’ One user commented.

The thread had garnered almost thirteen thousand views and three-hundred replies. The number of people who had seen it is overwhelming. Anxiety crawled on his back as he realized that he was getting closer to the truth about the Magic Ball. He just wished that it wasn’t really any devil’s magic he had unaware of selling his soul.

“Come on,” Noah muttered as he read reply after reply.

‘I have just come across this thread,’ one user wrote. It made Noah stop scrolling. ‘I may have some information about those books.’

Noah felt his hands go clammy. He inhaled sharply. Was the man telling the truth? Noah kept his eyes on the screen as he continued reading what the unknown user wrote on the thread.

‘I am an avid collector of books, and I may know about the contents of the book you have presented here. Maybe we can compare it to some of the ancient books that I have procured? If you are interested, don’t hesitate to contact me.’

Oh, Noah should probably reply to him. He couldn’t stop himself—the excitement runs free through his veins as his fingers pressed at the keys on his laptop.

‘Dear sir, I am the author of the said thread. Might I know your details so that we can further discuss this?’

Noah pressed enter. He glanced at the clock and waited for his reply. His heart was beating loudly that it reached his ears. Suddenly, a bell sound came from his laptop. Noah knew it was an indication of a reply.

‘I would be happy to. Please do contact me here—’

The man wrote an e-mail address and a phone number in his personal message box.

Noah breathed in. He exhaled whatever air was left inside his lungs. The door toward the truth of the Magic Ball was the only passageway he had found. For years, Noah gave-up knowing about the truth. But now, he was presented with the very key he had been looking for all his life; the key to the truth about Magic Ball’s magic.