I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 172 The Forbidden Song Under the Well

"Richard?"

Charlotte stood in the aisle between two rows of bookshelves, holding several books in her arms.

She looked at the boy who suddenly popped out from behind the bookshelf, somewhat surprised.

"Miss Charlotte."

"You're back in Bristol? I thought you were still interning up north."

"I just got back yesterday."

Charlotte looked him up and down but didn't ask any further questions.

"Oh, right, since we've run into each other, about submitting to *Northern Literature Review*, which I mentioned to you before..."

Richard's polite smile froze.

"How's it going?"

His gaze drifted somewhat.

"that……"

"Hasn't it started yet?" Charlotte said for him.

"Yeah." Richard honestly admitted, "I've been so busy with my internship lately, I haven't had a moment to breathe."

I haven't had a chance to look at those reference publications you gave me yet.

Charlotte, seeing his somewhat embarrassed expression, had already anticipated his reaction.

"I guessed so." She smiled, her tone softening. "Don't take it too seriously."

"The editor-in-chief's deadline is February 15th, but that's not exactly a dead end."

"Give it a try if you have time, otherwise forget it."

"..."

Richard felt even more embarrassed after she said that.

If Charlotte pressured him with a stern face, he might be able to comfortably postpone the matter.

"Since Miss Charlotte is willing to introduce me to this opportunity to submit my work, I will certainly write it."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, you can show it to me when you come to our house for tutoring after school starts."

After she finished speaking, her gaze fell on the two books that Richard was tucking under his arm.

"Gaelic?" she read the words on the spine, then glanced at him. "Are you planning to borrow it back?"

"Yes, I'd like to borrow it and read it slowly."

"Then you'll be wasting your time." Charlotte frowned.

"Language and religious books can only be viewed inside the museum and cannot be borrowed."

Even if a resident of this city has a library card, they can only borrow ordinary books.

Richard was taken aback for a moment.

"Not for lending out?"

"You need the administrator's permission to take the reference books out."

Charlotte tucked the book she was holding under her arm.

Richard considered it in his mind.

The twelve sets of inscriptions on the boundary stone, just by comparing them word by word with the Gaelic alphabet, plus the subsequent annotations and translations, is definitely not something that can be done sitting in the museum in a day or two.

It's not realistic to come here every day.

He looked somewhat embarrassed.

Charlotte glanced at him, then at the book under his arm, and suddenly turned and walked downstairs.

"Come with me, I know the administrator."

The female librarian behind the lending desk became noticeably more enthusiastic when she saw Charlotte.

"Miss Dawn."

Mrs. Harriet.

Charlotte returned the two books she was holding to the table and casually said, "My friend here wants to get a library card and borrow language books."

Mrs. Harriet glanced at Richard.

"Reference books are not available for lending, Miss Dawn, you know that."

"I know, but he's not an ordinary person."

She stepped aside, making way for Richard.

"This person won second place in the Cicero Cup Latin speech competition last fall."

"He's currently tutoring Latin in my home; I vouch for his character."

If he lends out the book and it gets lost or damaged, it's my fault.

Mrs. Harriet grunted and adjusted her glasses.

It's rare for a place like Briston to produce a teenager who can achieve a ranking in the capital's competitions.

Moreover, Charlotte Dawn was a regular customer; she was not only wealthy but also someone she trusted.

Mrs. Harriet pulled a registration card from the drawer:

"You can borrow a maximum of three reference books for a period of two weeks. A penalty of one penny will be imposed for each day overdue."

For language and religious books, I'll register them as "privileged for external lending."

Richard turned to look at Charlotte.

"Thank you very much, Miss Charlotte."

"It was nothing," Charlotte waved her hand.

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.

"I have something to do, I'll be going now."

She wrapped the scarf around her neck once, and looked back at Richard one last time before leaving.

"Don't rush to submit your work, but you really need to write something, something of your own."

"My own stuff?"

"Hmm." Charlotte pushed open the door, and a blast of cold air rushed in.

"Don't write what you think the judges want to see; write what you really want to say."

The door closed behind her.

With Mrs. Harriet's registered card, the rest was just a matter of slowly flipping through the pages.

Richard spent another half hour finding all the books he needed.

He went to the religious section on the east side of the first floor, which dealt with church ritual terminology.

This section was even quieter than the language section, with a thin layer of dust on the bookshelves.

Most of them are collections of sermons, biographies of saints, and diocesan yearbooks.

But Richard patiently flipped through the books one by one, and finally pulled out a book called "A Compilation of Terms for the State Religion's Worship Ritual" from the very bottom.

This is a reference book for diocesan deacons and seminary students.

It lists the Latin terms used in various ceremonies such as worship, baptism, funerals, and communion, and also includes Albionian translations.

Richard opened the catalog and glanced at it.

"Sacred Protection", "Sanctification", "Sacraments", "Revelation of Sacred Relics"...

The entire vocabulary Edmund taught at Whitcomb, which was translated as liturgical extensions, is largely found in this book.

With this book, he had the key to deciphering the ritual Latin annotations left by medieval monks on the boundary stones.

Three books, just enough to reach the borrowing limit.

He carried the books to the lending desk, where Mrs. Harriet registered them one by one, writing down the title, the date of borrowing, and the date of return on the cards.

She writes slowly, but very neatly.

"Two weeks," Mrs. Harriet pushed the registration card back. "One penny a day overdue."

"Okay, thank you."

After completing the borrowing process, Richard didn't leave.

He recalled the thought from last night.

Could the municipal library also contain steganographic text?

He walked back to the bookshelves.

Following Mr. Hutton's approach, books that truly hold valuable content will not be displayed in prominent places, and their titles will be so uninteresting that one would not want to glance at them a second time.

He focused on several areas—local history, local chronicles, and natural history.

At the far end of the second-floor mezzanine, there is an inconspicuous little bookshelf with a label that reads "Bristol and surrounding local information".

This shelf of books is probably not touched by many people normally.

Richard pulled out the books one by one and flipped through them.

Most of the materials are genuine local information, including the history of the local parish, the development of the textile industry, and the genealogies of several old families.

But when he flipped to the third row, his hand stopped.

It was a thin booklet with a cardboard cover.

The book is titled "A Collection of Folk Songs from the Mines West of Briston," and is attributed to a local primary school principal. It was published in 1871.

A collection of folk songs, a title that's so boring you wouldn't want to flip through it.

Richard pulled it out and opened it.

The first half of the book is indeed just ordinary mining area folk songs.

The miners' chants, nursery rhymes, and folk songs sung at weddings and funerals are all in the local dialect, and the compiler has also added phonetic annotations and explanations to the side.

But when you turn to the last third, there's a group of songs categorized as "forbidden songs for underground activities," and that just doesn't feel right.

The lyrics of this set of folk songs, on the surface, are about "things that can't be done underground in a mine".

No whistling, no mentioning certain animal names, no going down the mine at certain times, and staying put when the miner's lamp goes out...

The compiler included them as "miner superstitions" and even specifically stated in the preface that this set of beliefs was "purely folklore and had no practical significance."

But after Richard started to break it down word by word, he discovered a lot of interesting things.

There's something else hidden in the lyrics of this set of folk songs.

Certain recurring phrases, such as "when the lights go out," "the thing behind the wall," and "do not answer its voice,"...

They are embedded so naturally in the lyrics that they sound like filler words used to rhyme.

But if you extract these interjections from each verse and read them in order...

Richard closed the booklet without delving deeper into its contents.

He glanced at the three books in his arms.

I need to have all the Gaelic languages, the comparative dictionary, and the church ritual terminology.

Richard could only find a table by the window to sit down and copy down the entire set of "Forbidden Songs of the Well," including the compiler's phonetic transcription and explanation.

I'll do the decoding later when I get home.

After he finished copying, he put away the pencil stub and neatly stacked the pile of manuscripts.

It's almost noon, time to go home for lunch.

………………

After leaving the library, Richard walked around to the pastry shop in the middle of Central Avenue.

Pushing open the door, the shop was warm and cozy, filled with the aroma of butter and caramel.

"What would you like to order?" the waiter behind the counter asked.

Richard's gaze swept across the shop window, and he remembered very clearly the few items his sister loved most.

"Two caramel walnut tarts, and... those almond cookies, four of them."

He thought for a moment, then added, "And another packet of mints and a small bag of caramelized peanuts."

The waiter quickly wrapped the items in oil paper.

"A total of sixpence."

Richard paid and carried the small bag of desserts in his hand.

The oil paper package was still warm.

When they arrived at the door, Evelyn was the first to greet them, as usual.

She spotted the oil paper package in her brother's hand immediately.

Those grey eyes swept over the oil paper package, then looked up at Richard's face.

"...For me?"

"Here, this is the sincerity you requested." Richard handed over the oil paper package.

Evelyn took it, squeezed it, and guessed pretty much what it was based on its shape and weight.

She unwrapped the oil paper.

Caramel walnut tarts, almond cookies, caramel peanuts, and mints.

It was all her favorite food.

The girl's lips curled up uncontrollably.

But she still tried her best to keep it in mind, pretending to be reluctant.

"snort!"

"You forgive me?" Richard teased her again.

Evelyn picked up a piece of almond shortbread and took a bite.

"Well," she deliberately dragged out her words, "since you've shown some sincerity..."

"uh-huh?"

"I'll think about it some more."

Richard smiled and didn't expose her.

Evelyn munched on an almond shortbread as she stepped aside to let him in.

"Oh, right." She suddenly remembered something: "Brother, did you manage to borrow any books from the library today?"

"I borrowed it."

"Well..." Evelyn blinked, "Does the library have any books about desserts?"

"There are several books about traditional pastries."

"Really?" The little girl's eyes lit up immediately. "Then next time you go, could you borrow one for me too...?"

"Go and get your own library card."

"Why should I handle this myself?"

"Because my three spots are already filled." Richard took off his scarf.

"Besides, Miss Charlotte vouched for me to get my library card, so you'll have to figure out your own way."

"...Miss Charlotte?" Evelyn's ears twitched. "The older sister from the Dawn family?"

"Um."

Why did she vouch for you?

"Because I tutored her younger brother, and my character is good."

Evelyn said "Oh," and with an almond cookie in her mouth, glanced thoughtfully at her brother.

Richard knew her little brain was starting to work again, so he ignored her and went straight upstairs.

"elder brother!"

"What's wrong now?"

"That Miss Charlotte..."

She is twenty-two years old and unmarried.

Without turning his head, Richard quickly rattled off a series of information: "He's an editorial assistant at the Northern Literature Review, and a graduate of the Imperial College of Political Economy."

"I didn't ask that many questions!"

"You'll ask sooner or later!"