I Loaded the Mysticism Panel

At 6:20, Richard knocked on his sister’s door.

The door opened quickly. The girl was already dressed.

She was wearing the brown sheepskin shoes, and she walked much more freely, no longer shuffling her feet.

"Ready?"

"Ready. Let’s go."

At the other end of the hall, their parents’ door also opened.

The family of four met in the hallway and followed a maid downstairs.

The dining room was even more spacious than the living room.

A long table was covered with a snow-white tablecloth, with silverware laid out in neat rows.

The other members of the Ashford Family had already arrived.

Including Richard’s family, there were about a dozen people seated at the long table.

Gerald was still seated at the head of the table.

The old man had changed into a house jacket, a silver brooch pinned to his collar.

He sat with the exact same posture as in the living room, his back ramrod straight.

The third seat to the left of the head of the table was empty; it was likely reserved for his Mother.

His Mother walked to the back of that chair, and a woman in her early forties next to her was the first to greet her.

"Margaret, it’s been a long time."

"Sister-in-law," his Mother replied.

This was his aunt. Standing behind her was a young man with neatly combed brown hair.

The young man’s expression stiffened slightly when he saw Richard, but it quickly returned to normal.

"Richard, long time no see." He walked over and offered his hand.

"Cousin Vincent." Richard reached out and shook his hand.

’The last time they met, the Copper Pendant he’d given him had nearly killed him.’

’No, it *had* killed him.’

"You look much better than last time," Vincent said.

"I’ve recovered after some rest."

"That’s good." Vincent lowered his voice. "That little trinket from last time... are you still wearing it?"

"No, I put it away."

"Hmm..." Vincent nodded, a flicker in his eyes.

He seemed to want to say more, but after glancing around, he swallowed his words.

A butler pulled out chairs nearby, motioning for everyone to be seated.

Richard was seated next to his Mother, with his father on her other side and Evelyn right beside Richard.

Everyone from the Ashford Family wore a similar mask; no one was overly warm, nor was anyone openly cold.

Evelyn sensed the atmosphere of collective exclusion.

She stirred the cream of mushroom soup in her bowl, the spoon circling three times without her taking a single sip.

Margaret glanced at her daughter.

Evelyn received the signal: ’Endure it. Don’t talk. Eat less.’

The girl pouted, then put a large spoonful of soup into her mouth.

The mushrooms were truffles, the cream was freshly rendered, and the broth had been simmered for who knows how many hours with some unknown bones... In short, it was so delicious that she completely forgot her Mother’s warning.

After the soup came a whole pan-fried sea bass. The skin was golden and crispy, the flesh white and tender, served with a lemon wedge and a small bunch of baby spinach.

Evelyn’s appetite was whetted.

She deftly cut the fish into small pieces with her knife and fork.

After the fish, there were roasted lamb chops, served with mint and grilled vegetables.

Most of the others ate only half a lamb chop before putting down their forks.

Richard, seeing his sister still looked hungry after finishing her entire piece, casually forked his own onto her plate.

Margaret put a hand to her forehead, giving up on her daughter.

Meanwhile, Vincent was seated near the middle of the long table, very close to Richard.

Throughout the dinner, he kept trying to make small talk with Richard:

"How’s school been? I heard you’re participating in the Cicero Cup."

"Mhm."

"Impressive." Vincent’s praise sounded genuine.

"It’s not easy to place in the Cicero Cup. The students here in the Imperial Capital have been training since they were children."

"I’ll just give it a try."

Vincent raised his wine glass and took a small sip.

"Richard, if you need any help in the Imperial Capital... for example, if you want me to show you the competition venue or anything, you can call on me anytime."

His offer was so solicitous that his mother, sitting not far away, glanced at him a couple of times.

His grandfather hadn’t said a word from beginning to end.

He sat at the head of the table, occasionally turning over the food on his plate with a silver fork or taking a sip of red wine.

But the entire table’s center of gravity remained fixed on him.

No one could forget that the man at the head of the table was listening, and watching.

When he saw that everyone was more or less finished eating, the old man folded his napkin and placed it beside his plate—the signal that dinner was over.

Everyone instinctively rose from their seats. The butler directed the servants to clear the silverware, the clatter of plates and bowls filling the air.

Gerald set his napkin down, his gaze landing on Richard.

"Richard, I have some interesting things in my study. You might want to see them."

The table fell silent at once, and Richard felt several pairs of eyes fall on him simultaneously.

His aunt’s wine glass hung suspended in mid-air, her lips parting slightly before quickly closing again.

Her expression was a foundation of surprise, with an overlay of envy.

The two emotions swirled together before being flattened by her upbringing, leaving only a thin veneer of a smile.

Evelyn’s hand was already grabbing Richard’s sleeve. "What do you need to talk about alone?"

"He probably wants to quiz me on my studies."

The girl’s brow twisted in worry, and she opened her mouth twice but couldn’t bring herself to object.

In her grandfather’s house, she didn’t dare raise her voice.

Richard patted his sister’s hand, which was still clutching his sleeve. "Go back to your room and wait for me. I won’t be long."

Evelyn released her fingers, watching him follow their grandfather out of the dining room.

She turned to her Mother, whose gaze also followed her son’s back until the door closed behind him.

Richard followed his grandfather down the hall and up a short flight of stairs.

Gerald pushed open the study door, and the gas lamps lit up automatically—by some mechanism or the power of Ether, Richard couldn’t tell.

Bookshelves lined three of the room’s walls, stretching from floor to ceiling. The walnut shelves were packed with books of all sizes.

As Richard followed him into the study, his peripheral vision was already scanning the objects on the shelves:

A fist-sized bronze sculpture of a vulture with wings spread;

A sealed, amber-colored glass jar, containing a desiccated lizard specimen;

On the mantelpiece rested two silver candlesticks, their arms cast with intertwining serpents.

In the corner of the writing desk was a Crystal Ball on a brass stand.

’He couldn’t waste this chance to be in his grandfather’s private study.’

’After so many generations of Ashford heritage, even if the study only held scraps and leftovers, it was still worth a try for him.’

Gerald walked to the fireplace and bent down, poking the coals with a pair of iron tongs.

While the old man’s back was turned, Richard reached out and touched the wing of the bronze vulture.

The bronze was cold and solid to the touch. The panel didn’t react at all.

He took another two steps and placed his hand on the mouth of the amber glass jar. Still no reaction.

The silver candlesticks, the Crystal Ball, the copper Balance Scale on the desk, and the old-looking pocket watch on the mantelpiece...

He approached them one by one, but the panel remained as still as stagnant water.

’Clean. Everything was clean.’

’These objects were clearly old and well-crafted, but not a single one had been touched by Ether.’

’It made sense. Truly valuable items wouldn’t be displayed in a study accessible to outside guests.’

’They were probably locked away behind a wall or underground, together with the Ashford Clan’s true treasures.’

Slightly disappointed, Richard pulled his hand back from the brass arm of an old sextant.

Gerald straightened up from the fireplace. He hadn’t stopped him from touching everything.

’Earlier, in the living room and at dinner, the boy’s words and actions had been far too restrained.’

’His responses to Vincent’s probing were watertight, and his expression didn’t change under the elders’ scrutiny.’

’For a sixteen-year-old boy to be so composed, he was either an excellent actor or had gone through something that forced him to mature early.’

’Either way, it was unsettling.’

’But now, watching him fiddle with the sextant’s dial and press the pocket watch to his ear to listen... this was more like it.’

"That sextant belonged to your great-grandfather."

Gerald sat down in the chair by the fireplace. "He was a sailor in his youth."

Richard returned the sextant to its original position and sat in the guest chair opposite the desk.

The heat from the fireplace slowly crept over, warming one side of his face.

The old man folded his hands on his lap. "Richard, do you know what the Ashford Family does?"

"They’re in business."

"That’s the version for outsiders."

Gerald took out a thin booklet. In the center of the cover was a famous symbol from Mysticism: a serpent devouring its own tail.

"The Ashford Family has operated in the Imperial Capital for some three hundred years."

The old man’s palm covered the Ouroboros symbol. "Not by doing business, but by being Gatekeepers."

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