I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 136 Female Graduate Student (Bonus Chapter 8 for Monthly Tickets)

The next morning, after arriving at school, Richard went to the phone booth.

He copied his aunt's number from her business card onto the inside of the first page of his notebook.

After dialing room 314 of the Petrie Building, the phone rang several times.

The person who answered the phone spoke a woman whose voice was much younger than my aunt's.

"This is room 314 of the Petrie Building. How can I help you?"

Richard tentatively asked, "Is Associate Professor Isabella here?"

"Not here." The voice on the other end was clear and bright, with a hint of amusement.

"My tutor went on a business trip to the Royal Academy and won't be back until this afternoon."

"Who are you?"

"I'm one of her graduate students," the other person said, introducing themselves. "I'm answering the phone on her behalf."

Richard hesitated for half a second.

"I am Richard Williams."

He chose to state his name directly.

There was a noticeable pause on the other end of the phone.

"...Richard Williams?"

"Yes."

"Second place in this year's Cicero Cup?"

"Yes."

"Associate Professor Isabella's..."

"Nephew," Richard added.

The person on the other end of the phone exclaimed "Ah!" and suddenly became lively.

"Oh my god, my advisor was just talking about you a while ago!"

Richard couldn't help but laugh.

"What is she muttering?"

"He said he had a nephew who was good at Latin, won second place in the Cicero Cup, and whose oratory skills were no worse than those of the Montague family who won first place."

"She actually praised me?" Richard was a little surprised.

"You didn't know?" The other person's tone became more lively:

"My advisor used your speech as a case study in class, and all her students know your name."

Richard was somewhat surprised, but he didn't show it on the microphone.

"I haven't asked your name yet..."

"Just call me Sofia," the other person said. "Sophia Hardy."

"Okay, Senior Sophia."

"I also participated in the Cicero Cup." Sofia was clearly pleased with being called a senior student. "Six years ago, that year, time really flies."

"What was your ranking back then?"

There seemed to be the sound of turning over paper on the other end of the phone; Sophia continued talking while flipping through something.

"I can't beat you..." she muttered, "I only came in fourth place."

Fourth place is not bad either.

"Associate professors usually don't share their family matters with students, do they?" Richard asked tentatively.

“My mentor rarely says these things,” Sofia said, “but her eyes always light up when she mentions you.”

As soon as she said that, she realized she might have been too blunt, and quickly added a sentence.

"I mean... she really admires you."

Richard smiled.

The phone bill was ticking away penny by penny, but he wasn't in a hurry to hang up.

"Senior Sophia," he changed the subject, "Are you in the academic track?"

There was a half-second pause on the other end of the phone.

"Why do you ask that?"

Sofia's voice was still as lively as ever, but there was a hint of caution in it.

Richard understood.

When a typical graduate student hears this question, their first reaction is probably, "Of course! Isn't graduate studies all about academic pursuits?"

But she didn't answer that way; she was trying to confirm which "scholar" he was referring to.

"I chatted with my senior for a while," Richard said. "Your reactions to some things reminded me of a certain circle."

Which specific circle?

"You know what I mean."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"...Did your advisor tell you?"

"I've said some things, and my mentor has said a lot to me," Richard said vaguely.

"Alright then," Sophia's tone softened. "I am."

"Rank?"

"I only became a professional last year after starting my postgraduate studies," Sofia said candidly. "Your aunt was my mentor."

Richard's heart skipped a beat.

"I'll have another talk with you later," Richard said. "This call wasn't for that."

"What did you call to ask?"

"I have a diagram of the 'etheric massage technique'."

Richard said, "I'd like to ask the associate professor if this type of method would be helpful for my mother's condition."

"Your mother..." Sofia asked cautiously, "has she always been in poor health?"

"Um."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"Is your filial piety acting up, junior?" Sophia's tone relaxed again.

"Of course, my sister and I divide our filial duties," Richard joked. "She's in charge of eating and drinking, and I'm in charge of everything else."

Sofia chuckled at his question: "What's your sister's name?"

Evelyn.

How big?

"One year younger than me."

"What a lovely name," Sophia said. "I'd like to go with my mentor when he goes back to Bristol next time."

"Does the senior student want to come too?"

"My mentor has been planning the route recently," Sofia said.

"Anyway..." she steered the conversation back on track, "I told my instructor about the massage technique you mentioned when she came back this afternoon."

"Logically, the supervisor should return to the office around 5 p.m.

I should call you back as soon as I receive your message.

"it is good."

"Your phone bill's almost used up, isn't it?" Sofia reminded him. "I heard the notification tone."

"Um."

"Then hang it up."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Richard hung up the phone.

………………

Richard arrived home a few minutes early at 5:20 p.m.

He was doing his homework in the living room, Evelyn was helping her mother chop onions in the kitchen, and her father, who wasn't working overtime today, was reading the newspaper in his study.

The phone rang precisely at 5:35.

The mother came out of the kitchen immediately.

"I'll answer it." Richard stepped to the phone first. "It might be your aunt."

"Is it Isabella again?" the mother asked, somewhat puzzled.

Richard picked up the microphone.

"Feed?"

Richard.

Isabella sounded a little anxious, clearly having just returned to her office when she called him.

"This morning, Sofia called me and told me about you."

"Um."

"Where did you get that massage technique from?"

Richard had prepared his response in advance.

"A practitioner outside the academy received a set of surgical manuals from me in exchange for this."

"What are his traditions?"

"It wasn't explicitly stated," Richard said frankly. "I didn't ask, as is customary in our interactions."

Isabella paused briefly.

"Can you obtain technique data from practitioners outside of academia?"

"Auntie..." Richard sighed, "Are you asking me where that information came from, or are you asking me if I did anything I shouldn't have done?"

A very soft laugh came from the other end of the phone.

"You know exactly what I'm thinking."

"I didn't do anything I shouldn't have," Richard said.

"It was all a fair and square transaction; I exchanged it for the spell I had deciphered."

"Hmm," Isabella continued, "Could you describe a few key steps in the massage technique diagrams?"

Richard read out the three steps according to the contents of the copy.

Step 1: The practitioner gathers ether in the palm of their hand to form a moderately warm ether membrane, which is then placed on the back of the recipient at the position corresponding to the Sun constellation.

Step 2: Using a four-beat breathing rhythm as the cycle, slowly push and press along the main meridian with your palm.

Step 3: After each round of pressing, the ether flows back into the practitioner without lingering.

Isabella did not immediately respond after hearing this.

For a while, all I could hear on the other end of the phone was the sound of turning pages.

"This method is worth trying; I did something similar myself back then."

"Does it really work?"

"At most, it makes the person being massaged 'comfortable'." Isabella's wording is almost identical to Prometheus's.

"It's a far cry from 'healing'."

"But if you persist with it, it can slow down circulatory degeneration and reduce daily discomfort."

"You've made these for my mom too?" Richard asked.

"I have." Isabella's voice held a hint of emotion.

"In the first few years after your mother returned to Briston, I went to her once a month and made it for her each time."

"And then?"

"Then you were born, and I went to pursue a doctorate," Isabella said.

"Your mom gets busy, and so do I; the two sisters live apart."

"I never massaged her again."

Richard sensed a hint of regret in her words.

"Then I'll start massaging her next week," Richard said.

"……good."

Isabella reminded her.

"You need to practice the technique yourself first. Just looking at the diagrams isn't enough. The direction of the push and press in the second step is the easiest to get wrong."

"I'll tell you when I've practiced enough."

"Um."

"I'll be coming to Briston in the spring to bring you and Evelyn gifts."

"What gift?"

"you guess?"

"..."

"Looking forward to it."

There was a lightness in her tone that Richard had never heard before.

"We look forward to your arrival in Briston."

"it is good."

The phone hangs up.

Richard put the microphone back on the fork, and as he turned around, he found his mother standing in the living room doorway.

She was still holding a corner of her apron in her hand.

"What did you and Isabella talk about that lasted so long?"

"A massage technique."

"Massage techniques?"

"Yes," Richard said. "I made this for you."

The mother paused for a moment.

Evelyn poked her head out of the kitchen, her hands covered in chopped onions: "Giving Mom a massage? I want one too!"

"You haven't studied it," Richard said.

Evelyn puffed out her cheeks: "I haven't learned this before, can you teach me?"

The mother looked at her son, then at her daughter, and said nothing.

She lowered her head and turned back to the kitchen.

Evelyn hadn't finished chopping all the onions when her mother coughed twice more in the kitchen.

Richard walked to the kitchen door.

"Mom, do you need my help?"

"No need," his mother said, her voice muffled, her back to him. "Sit down and wait to eat."

"it is good."

Richard sat back down at the table and flipped through the massage diagrams again.

The rain outside had lessened a bit, and the evening breeze lifted a corner of the curtains.

He glanced out the window.

The gas lamp at the end of the slag alley is already lit.

The lights spread out in a small circle on the wet stone pavement.

"Time to eat!"

Evelyn called out from the kitchen doorway.

"They're here."

Richard stood up.

The aroma wafted from the kitchen.

Mashed potatoes, onions, fried fish, and freshly baked bread.