I loaded the Mysticism panel.

On Saturday morning, the sun was shining in Briston, a rare treat.

Light streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, casting a bright stripe on the floor.

Richard woke up later than usual; his brain was overloaded from decoding yesterday, and his body needed to catch up on sleep.

He rolled over, intending to stay in bed a little longer.

The sound of dishes clattering came from downstairs, mixed with my younger sister's voice.

Helpless, he could only get up, get dressed, and go downstairs.

Evelyn was the only one in the kitchen, wearing an apron around her waist, placing bread on the grill.

Where are Mom and Dad?

"Dad went to the post office to mail something. Mom is resting in the bedroom; she coughed for a long time last night."

Evelyn flipped the baked bread over with practiced ease.

She helped her mother with housework from a young age, washing dishes, mopping the floor, and baking bread. She was much more skilled at these tasks than girls her age.

Before, or rather two weeks ago, Richard's role at home was "the one who needed to be taken care of."

He was in poor health and often fell ill, so his mother spent most of her attention on him, and Evelyn naturally took over the rest.

She's a year younger than Richard, but sometimes she speaks like an older sister.

Recently, however, this relationship has been undergoing a subtle change, as Richard has started to take the initiative to help with household chores.

She helped collect the dishes, got up early to clean the ashes from the fireplace, and even tried to sew on a lost button for herself the day before yesterday, although the stitching was crooked and her mother took it back to redo it.

Evelyn's reaction to this was somewhat complicated.

On the one hand, she felt great; her brother was finally no longer a useless, sickly person.

On the other hand, she said she wasn't quite sure, but she vaguely felt that something had been moved in her heart.

Over the past few years, "taking care of her brother" has become an important part of her sense of presence in the family.

The mother takes care of the older brother's health, and she takes care of his daily life; this is a chain that has been running for a long time.

Now, a link in the chain suddenly doesn't need her anymore.

Judging from the other person's performance at school these days, it can be said that the process suddenly started working on its own, and very quickly at that.

"The bread is ready." Evelyn brought the plate over and placed it on the table. "Spread the butter yourself."

"it is good."

"The tea is on the stove, pour it yourself."

"Know."

She watched Richard pour tea, spread butter, and cut bread in half, and suddenly asked:

"Brother, have you been secretly doing something behind our backs lately?"

"Do your homework, haven't I already told you?"

"You're kidding, who would lock their homework in a drawer?"

Richard chewed a couple of bites of bread and then lied without batting an eye: "What's locked is a diary."

"When did you start keeping a diary?"

"recent."

"Write what?"

"I'm writing about my sister's increasing number of questions every day."

Evelyn glared at him, then forcefully broke her bread into small pieces and ate them one by one.

After a moment of silence, she suddenly changed the subject:

"Brother, Mom's birthday is coming soon."

"Yes, the 10th of next month."

"You still remember the date?" the girl asked, somewhat surprised.

Richard used to have virtually no memory for these kinds of dates; birthdays, anniversaries, rent payment dates... he would only respond if someone told him.

"My memory has improved recently."

Evelyn didn't press the matter, but her eyes narrowed.

"I want to buy something for my mom," she mumbled, stuffing the last piece of bread into her mouth.

"A scarf, or a pair of gloves. She had worn those gloves for years; the fingertips were worn through."

"Sure, how much?"

"The cheapest wool gloves cost two shillings and sixpence, and the better ones cost three shillings."

She sounded somewhat frustrated when she said the number; three shillings was no small sum for them.

"Shall we each pay half?" Richard said.

"Where did you get the money?" Evelyn asked bluntly.

This question is a small test.

Where does the confidence of someone who originally didn't even have enough pocket money come from when they suddenly say "we'll each pay half"?

"Warren treats me to lunch every day now, so I'm saving the little money I used to spend on lunch. I'll have enough saved up by next month."

Evelyn's expression relaxed a little; she was naturally aware of this as well.

"Okay, it's a deal then, I'll buy the three-shilling one."

"Okay, then I'll buy three shillings."

The brother and sister clinked their teacups together; the tea inside was cheap black tea mixed with milk.

………………

After finishing breakfast, they went out.

Ostensibly, they were going to find a birthday gift for their mother, but in reality, the two of them also needed to get some fresh air.

Evelyn rarely goes out except for going to school and helping with chores at home.

There were many more people on the street than on a weekday.

Housewives wrapped in scarves went to buy groceries with baskets in their arms, vendors pushing carts hawked roasted chestnuts on street corners, and the shouts of newsboys and the sound of horses' hooves mingled together in a noisy cacophony.

"Let's go check on the gloves first." Evelyn walked ahead, her pace faster than Richard's.

The sleeves of her coat were a little short, revealing a section of her pale wrist.

As she walked, her braids swung back and forth behind her head, creating lively arcs in the hazy street scene.

There's a department store branch on Grafton Street that has sales on Saturdays.

How did you know?

"My classmate said so."

The two turned onto Grafton Street.

The department store branch has a small storefront, with a few women's hats and a row of gloves displayed in the glass window.

Evelyn peered out the window for a long time, then pointed to a pair of dark brown wool gloves in the second row.

"That one, three shillings."

The gloves have fine stitches, a thin layer of fleece on the inside, and durable leather patches on the fingertips and palms.

Practical, unpretentious, and perfect for mothers.

"We'll come and buy it when we've saved up enough allowance next month." Evelyn reluctantly moved away from the shop window.

As the two walked back along Grafton Street, they passed through a side alley.

A faded wooden sign hangs at the entrance of the alley: "Clement Antiques".

The handwriting was very fancy, and there was even a small copper kettle pattern drawn on it.

Below is a description of our services: "Rare collectibles, heritage valuation, and door-to-door purchase."

Richard was too weak to walk.

"Evelyn, are you interested in antiques?"

"No." The answer was crisp and decisive.

"Why don't you take a look around? I'll go in and look for two minutes."

"Brother, you're not interested in antiques either, are you?"

"I've recently become interested in seeing the actual old objects that Mr. Hutton talked about in class."

Evelyn looked him up and down, said "Whatever," and turned to walk across the alley.

Richard pushed open the door to the Clement Antiques, and the copper bell jingled once.

The shop is not big, about twice the size of his living room.

The four walls were covered with shelves, which were filled with all sorts of items:

Bronze ware, porcelain, old clocks, picture frames, candlesticks, oil paintings, small statues with missing legs, and silver tableware rusted beyond recognition.

A gas lamp hung from the ceiling, its shade made of frosted glass, filtering the light into a dim, warm glow.

An old man sat behind the counter, his sparse white hair combed back, and a pair of brass-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

He was looking at something with a magnifying glass.

Hearing the bell, the old man looked up, glanced at Richard's clothes, and said with little interest, "Good morning."

"Good morning." Richard glanced at the counter.

The old man was looking at an old coin, copper-green in color, with worn edges.

"Young man, what are you looking for?"

"Just browsing."

The old man grunted in response, turning his attention back to his old coins.

Richard slowly walked around the store.

He tried the items from the stalls in the flea market, but the control panels didn't respond at all.

This shop is several levels up in style from the open-air stalls; the items are older, more refined, and have a wider variety.

He focused half his attention on the available points on the panel, starting from the doorway and scanning along the left wall.

The bronze candlestick did not respond.

The old pocket watch is not working.

A row of ceramic teaware, but no response.

A small bronze statue missing half an arm—this one looked the most mysterious, but it still didn't react.

On the shelf against the window, there are even older items.

A copper oil lamp caught his attention.

The lamp body is about the size of a normal person's head, and its shape is that of a crouching Sphinx.

Its wings were folded and pressed against its back, its head was slightly raised, and its open mouth resembled a lamp wick.

The Sphinx has a shallow, dish-shaped groove on its back, used to hold oil.

The entire artifact is covered with a thick layer of bronze rust, but the rust color is uneven.

The rust on the abdomen and base is a normal copper-green, while the rust on the Sphinx's wings is darker, with a layer of dark red, like bloodstains that have dried for a long time.

Its style is typical of ancient artifacts from the Black Soil River Basin.

Mr. Hutton mentioned in class that the priestly class in the Black Earth River Valley used a large number of Sphinx-shaped artifacts.

In their mythology, the Sphinx is the guardian of the "gate" and the watchman of the world of light and shadow.

The panel flickered as Richard approached the oil lamp.

Available points: 0.01

He stopped immediately.