I loaded the Mysticism panel.

After finishing my homework, I came out and then waited for half an hour under the streetlights at the school gate while reading.

He didn't point it out.

"Isn't your home in the South District? It's not on my way."

"It doesn't matter if we take a slightly longer route, we have a car anyway." Grey turned to the side and opened the car door. "Get in, it's not safe to walk back this late."

A middle-aged man in uniform sat in the driver's seat, his temples completely white, his hands firmly resting on the steering wheel.

"This is McLeod, my family driver," Grey introduced.

The man glanced at Richard in the rearview mirror but said nothing.

He worked as Grey's chauffeur for twenty years, picking her up and dropping her off when she was just a baby in his arms.

The young lady never waits for people at the school gate; this is the first time she has done so.

But some things, if you see them, you should pretend you didn't; this is a basic quality of an old servant.

Richard got into the car.

Once the car door closed, the sound of the wind and the noise from the street were immediately shut out.

The car features genuine leather seats, walnut wood trim, and a brass ashtray embedded in the armrest.

The leather seats were so soft they were almost too soft; your bottom would sink in half an inch when you sat down.

The interior of this car is probably more expensive than all the furniture in his living room combined.

Grey sat next to him, with only an arm's length between them.

The girl closed the book and her gaze fell on Richard.

Richard Williams has been changing these days.

She remembered very clearly what Williams looked like a month ago.

That sickly man's eyes always looked down, as humble as a roadside weed.

But now this person is shining so brightly it's almost blinding.

Grey knew that Richard's mother came from the Ashford family.

Among the members of those old-established families in the capital, very few are ugly. Margaret's facial features are particularly good, and this is clearly reflected in her son.

The lines of the bridge of the nose, the curve of the brow bone, and the slightly narrowing angle of the jaw... the bone structure is good; it wasn't apparent before because of the sickly appearance and thinness.

Now that my health has improved, those underlying issues are starting to surface.

Furthermore, a person's entire demeanor changes when they are confident and composed.

Richard, standing in the crowd, could now be described as a handsome young man.

"What are you looking at in the library?" the girl asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Miscellaneous books, in preparation for the Cicero Cup."

"Until seven o'clock?"

"I was so engrossed that I didn't notice the time."

Grey glanced at him thoughtfully.

"Williams, do you believe in those things?"

She suddenly asked about something unrelated.

"What things?"

"On the day of the séance, you talked to us about the psychokinesis effect and the oxygen content in a confined space... It's all explained scientifically and rationally."

The girl's blue eyes stared directly at him.

"But you held that bag for too long."

Richard remained expressionless, waiting for the other party to say the next thing.

"A person who purely believes in scientific explanations would not hold onto something of unknown origin for so long."

The silhouettes of rows of houses flashed past the car window, their chimneys standing out as black lines in the night.

"I don't know what you're doing."

Grey realized she had been a bit too aggressive and softened her tone:

"But the candle went out after you finished, I remember that very clearly."

After a few seconds of silence, Richard spoke up: "Grey, are you interested in these things?"

"I've been interested in it since I was little." She said it was similar to how she'd loved eating strawberries since childhood.

"There is an entire wall of old books in my family's study, most of which were left by my maternal grandfather."

When I was little, I flipped through those books and thought the illustrations were beautiful. Later, I realized what those illustrations depicted.

She stopped there.

Richard did not press the matter further.

They both sensed a connection with each other, but neither dared to voice it.

After the car turned two streets, Grey asked the driver to stop at an intersection not far from Richard's house.

"arrive."

"Thank you for today, Grey." Richard opened the car door, and a rush of cold air filled the room.

"You're welcome."

The girl hesitated for a moment, then took a paper packet out of her pocket and handed it over.

"These are scones I'm making for my mother. Could you try them and see if you like them?"

Richard took it.

The paper package was still warm, having been tucked into the girl's pocket the whole time.

"It smells delicious, I'll savor it." He didn't refuse.

"Okay, see you tomorrow." Grey visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

The car door closed, and the sedan drove away under the streetlights, its red taillights disappearing around the corner.

Richard stood under the streetlight, carrying his schoolbag, and glanced down at the paper package in his hand.

The sweet aroma of scones seeped out from between the paper.

After sitting in the back seat of the car for ten minutes, he confirmed one thing: the Grey family's financial situation was no less than Warren's.

Warren is rich, but his money has an air of nouveau riche: he orders the most expensive steaks, speaks the loudest, and makes sure everyone sees him spending money.

Grey is different.

That car, that driver, that wool coat with almost no visible needle holes... they were all nice things, but none of them were flaunted.

Old money (former wealthy individuals).

The word popped into his head and fit perfectly with the class structure of the industrial age.

The Warrens made their fortune in coal mining in just three generations; the Greys, on the other hand, have accumulated wealth over at least five generations, demonstrating composure, humility, and a solid foundation.

In that trio, Warren was the face of the group, Mason was just a filler, and Grey was the core.

Richard put away the paper package and walked towards his front door.

When he was still a few steps away from home, he saw the light coming from the living room window.

Before I even reached the steps, the door was opened from the inside.

Evelyn stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

Her gaze went over Richard's shoulder and landed on the road behind him.

Clearly, someone at the window witnessed the whole thing.

"elder brother."

"Um."

"You got out of a car."

"Um."

"A very expensive car."

My classmate brought me back.

Evelyn's eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

"What classmates? Male or female?"

"A woman."

Richard's answer was so decisive that Evelyn's composure crumbled instantly.

"A female classmate...? The kind of female classmate who drives that kind of car?"

"Her family driver brought me back."

"You...you know any girls whose families own that kind of car?"

In the living room, the father's head peeked out from the corner of the newspaper.

The mother peeked out from the kitchen doorway, holding a dishcloth in her hand.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." Richard walked into the house. "I stayed at the library late today, and a classmate gave me a ride home."

"The car that brought you back..." Evelyn kept repeating as she followed behind:

"That's an Alvis, dude! You could count the number of families in all of Bristol who own one on two hands!"

"Do you even recognize the car's brand?"

My classmate's dad works at a car dealership!