I loaded the Mysticism panel.

After the sale of [Moon Nail·Reflection], the first inquiry letter was from Ares.

That day, the spirit messenger stopped at the work table in the small reading room on the third floor.

After the moth disintegrated on its own, a folded piece of thin paper remained.

Ares wrote straightforwardly, completing more than ten lines in one go.

He used Richard's [Moon Nail - Reflection] technique to pierce the still-living section of his severed arm three times.

The first attempt was amazing; the loop that had been stagnant for days was refreshed and brought back to life.

The second treatment was also effective, but the period of weakness lasted almost twice as long as expected.

After the third time he inserted the needle, the stump began to feel hot.

Richard frowned as he read this.

Getting hot is not a good thing.

He turned to the page in his notebook where he recorded his experiments on "Moon Nail and Reflection".

He remembers his own data clearly.

He conducted eleven experiments on himself (in both the complete circuit and the newcomer's gear), inserting one needle each time, and the period of weakness consistently lasted two to three minutes.

Coleman was more familiar with the data.

After more than ten experiments, the period of weakness was reduced from more than forty seconds at the beginning to about twenty seconds.

Although there are breaks in the loop, the section outside the breaks is very full, and the damage from the technique can be quickly replenished.

Ares's data...

Richard used his analytical skills to create a table showing the three sets of data side-by-side.

He, Coleman, and Ares represent three different loop states: complete, broken, and residual.

In the complete loop, the supply of spells will exceed demand after the spells are refreshed.

For loops with breaks, after the technique is refreshed, "the blood supply flow has a destination".

The remnant, after the technique is refreshed, "the blood supply has no destination".

The last one is the most dangerous.

After the ether is activated, it spins in the empty space at the end, and after spinning twice without finding an outlet, it begins to convert into heat.

Richard immediately wrote back, instructing him to temporarily suspend the use of the device and find a way to drain the accumulated ether.

A spirit messenger drifted in through the window crack, took the letter, and silently disappeared.

The second letter of inquiry was from Nemesis.

The other party's junior expert was a "failed path to a higher rank," which was slightly different from Richard's mother's situation.

That junior proficient hunter chose to hunt the moon during the traditional selection process for junior proficiency advancement, according to family custom.

However, he later found that it didn't quite suit him, so he failed when he tried to break through to master it.

However, this failure was because he sensed something was wrong as soon as he started preparing for the breakthrough ceremony and turned back on his own.

Although it caused damage, it wasn't that serious.

Mother Margaret was different.

Looking at the remaining circuits inside the body, which were bursting open everywhere, it's possible that at the last moment, a near-collapse of the circuits was caused by a last-minute failure.

Although the circumstances are slightly different, this experimental data is still very valuable.

Richard used [deliberation] to repeatedly weigh the options.

If you can take the opportunity to present an immature solution that you have prepared for a long time but has no test subjects.

If successful, his research could take a giant leap forward.

If anything goes wrong, the Nemesis family elder will bear the consequences.

But after thinking about it, Richard decided against it.

My conscience wouldn't allow it, and the potential risks are too great.

He wrote back, but his description of the treatment plan and follow-up examinations was extremely conservative.

At the end, he added a note:

"After the procedure, you must report any changes in your physical sensations (including but not limited to: breathing rhythm, heart rate, sleep, mood fluctuations, and temperature sensation in your limbs) within seven days."

This was the cheapest set of clinical data he could get for his mother.

Even a single data point is better than making assumptions out of thin air.

He added another layer of armor:

"In addition, I must state in advance that there are currently no successful cases of this technique dealing with loops such as 'failed rank breakthrough'."

If you choose to try it, both the practitioner and the recipient bear the risk themselves.

The messengers from the spirit world came and went.

Richard leaned against the table, his eyes somewhat unfocused.

He understood Mr. Hutton's statement that "scholars hold a high position in the system" from another perspective.

As a newcomer who hasn't even signed his name yet, I'm already able to remotely guide a practitioner and a junior expert.

………………

mid March.

The early spring winds began to carry a chill, marking this year's unexpected cold snap.

More than half a month has passed since I stumbled upon Lillian's secret in that abandoned house behind the main building.

Richard and Lillian used to barely exchange a few words.

A nod in the hallway, a glance across the bookshelves on the second floor of the library—that's at most a matter of "knowing" someone.

But now, the two of them are sharing the same table.

The right half of the table belongs to Richard.

He spread out his draft paper, which was mostly filled with Tacitus excerpts assigned by Mr. Holland, or a few pages of conjugation exercises in ancient Greek.

He never touched the things that were truly buried underneath this table.

Lillian had a solid foundation; even the slightest movement of Ether couldn't escape her keen eyes.

The left half of the table belongs to Lillian.

On the linen were the little things she had just picked up: tweezers, scalpels, and glass bottles, all arranged with millimeter-level spacing.

The two of them did their own thing, neither of them saying a word.

After a long period of silence, topics will naturally emerge.

Over the past two weeks, they've talked about all sorts of things.

Talk about Virgil, talk about Ovid, talk about her well-worn "Illustrated Guide to the Medicinal Plants of the Albion Islands";

We also talked about history, about those ancient naturalists who wanted to cram the whole world into a single book.

On Wednesday afternoon, Lillian had a newly found red-bellied finches soaking in a bottle.

While waiting, she sketched a section of holly branches in her sketchbook.

The tweezers were set aside, and the only sound in the room was the scratching of the pencil tip on the paper.

Richard pulled a bookmark from his book.

It was the one Lillian gave him last year, made of thick watercolor paper, with a laurel branch smudged on it.

"This," he placed the bookmark in the center of the table, "is the one you gave me last time."

Lillian was caught off guard and was clearly a little embarrassed.

"Why did you suddenly... I just did this on a whim."

"I've always wanted to ask, why laurel?" Richard asked.

The girl lowered her head, twirling the pencil halfway between her fingers.

"Because it's easy to draw, the leaves are regularly shaped, and the veins are clear."

Richard smiled, turned to a page in the book, and began to talk about a story related to the origin of laurel.

The river god's daughter couldn't outrun the god who was pursuing her, and unwilling to be caught, she asked her father for help.

Her feet took root in the soil, her fingers grew into branches, and her hair became leaves.

The god who was chasing her could no longer reach her.

God broke off a branch and from then on regarded the laurel as a sacred tree, woven it into a crown, and placed it on the heads of victors and poets.

"...She turned into a tree." Lillian repeated the sentence softly.

"Um."

"So, does that mean she escaped?"

Richard thought about it.

"Even so, it doesn't count."

"That god could no longer touch her; from that point on, she escaped."

"But she is no longer herself."

Lillian said the second half of his sentence for him.

The room was quiet for a while.

The sunlight was just right, falling on the painted laurel branch.

Lillian stared at the laurel branch for a while, then suddenly said:

"I think it's fine this way."

"Um?"

"Think about it," she said softly, "if she doesn't turn into a tree, and the god catches up with her, the story will end."

"She turned into a tree, and stayed there forever."

"For thousands of years, people have been painting her, writing about her, and even weaving her leaves into crowns to wear on their heads."

She looked up, her grey-blue eyes reflecting the sliver of sunlight filtering in.

"It's better to stay than to disappear."

Richard recalled something his mother had once said.

The most terrible price to pay behind the curtain is that you yourself are changing, and you don't even realize you are changing.

Lillian liked the exact opposite.

To freeze something in time, to make it unchanging, to keep it forever frozen in its most beautiful moment.

As Lillian finished speaking, she seemed to suddenly remember something.

She took a small brass key out of her shirt pocket and placed it in the center of the table.

It's exactly the same as her own.

"Here you go," she said.

Richard glanced at the key.

"I did it," the girl explained quickly, afraid he might overthink it.

"That way you can come in even when I'm not here."

Richard held the small key in his hand.

The copper surface had been freshly filed, and the edges were still a bit sharp.

This is a place that Lillian has kept hidden for years, a place no one has been allowed to enter.

From today onwards, he can enter freely.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome." Lillian picked up the tweezers again.

"...It's not a nice place inside, so just don't bring anyone else here."

"certainly."

The girl inserted the tip of her tweezers into the bottle, moving a little faster than before, probably to cover something up.

………………

The hacking box cannot be done at home, nor can it be done on the third floor of the library.

That small reading room was separated from the second-floor study area by only a thin layer of floor tiles, so you could hear any noise from it.

Since Lillian had given him the key to the secret base, he might as well just do his own thing here.

On Friday morning, Lillian was going to the woods to the west to gather something.

It wasn't surprising to hear him say he was going to do some research alone in the room.

Richard and Lillian had given prior notice and brought everything they needed.

The dental needle is useless today; the things in this box won't prick or hurt.

They brought two steel pipes, along with weighed multi-eyed black moss and fog bells.

The branch office provided two standard steel pipes, and it took him a week of repeated attempts to clean the anti-oxidation coating on the inner wall.

There's also his usual set of divination tools: a copper plate, talisman stones, and a small bottle of star-shaped sand.

After the last class, he went around to the old garden behind the main building.

Holly and boxwood huddled together in a blurry shadow, and the gravel path was covered by half-melted snow, without a single footprint.

Richard walked to the door of the small house and opened it with the brass key that Lillian had given him.

Once inside, he casually locked the door from the inside.

Before taking action, he wanted to test the waters first.

Don't read the box, read yourself.

In Mrs. Mary's manuscript, there is this annotation:

You can't see the bottom of the well, but you can see the hand you're reaching down into.

If you can't find the answer by asking others, then keep asking yourself.

Richard suddenly understood.

He couldn't ask, "Is that box dangerous?", but he could ask, "What will happen if I touch it?"

The subject is changed from the untouchable thing to "myself".

As for one's own affairs, divination provides the most comprehensive and accurate feedback.

This is a roundabout way of fortune-telling, a circuitous method of divination.

He placed the copper dish in the center of the table, pinched a small amount of stardust, and sprinkled it around the edge of the dish.

He first thought through the first question thoroughly in his mind.

"Will touching this box bring me good fortune or misfortune?"

The subject is "I".

The divination method used this time is a talisman that I have already mastered.

He grabbed a handful and scattered it into the copper dish.

The pebble rolled around in the dish a few times before settling down.

Richard bent down to read.

The hammer lands on the edge of the saucer; action is key.

Next to the hammer are ears of wheat; action brings harvest.

Arriving here is auspicious.

But around the center of the disc, there was an S-shaped object and a spiral.

circuitous, repetitive.

Harvests aren't something you can grab all at once; you have to take it step by step, over and over again. You can't rush it.

The water droplet rolled to the edge of the plate, indicating something was left undone, but it fell far away, so it didn't matter.

Another pebble rolled off the copper dish and landed on the table.

Something is no longer part of this game.

Richard stared at the rolling pebble for a while, and slowly realized what was happening.

Professor Mortimer suppressed the danger while breaking the seal.

The thing that could kill him had already been removed from the table.

Richard gathered the pebbles, washed them again, and asked the second question.

"For me, when and under what circumstances is it safest to take action?"

I'll keep asking myself.

Scatter stones.

This time, the crescent moon landed closest to the center of the saucer.

The new moon symbolizes change and growth, as well as "refilling".

On the edge of the crescent moon, there lies a double circle—relationship.

Richard pondered for a moment.

The new moon is full.

The double circles represent the relationship between the room and the key, and between him and this safe corner.

The so-called "safest time" is never some deliberately chosen auspicious day.

As long as you have a clear mind and are undisturbed, this is the best time.

He didn't rely on any divine intervention; he simply prepared himself to be in the right state.

Richard let out a long breath.

Let's get down to business.

He placed the ebony box in the center of the table.

I lit a candle and placed it far away on the corner of the table, where the candle flame stood steadily.

The entire silencing technique has been practiced several times since the materials arrived.

He raised the steel pipe above the box, and ether flowed out with the exhalation of the third cycle.

The layer of straw inside the steel pipe was ignited with a hiss, instantly creating a vacuum zone around it.

Because the technique is not yet proficient and alternative materials are used, this gap is quite small, but it is enough for now.

The candle flame was lowered by half.

Richard quickly adjusted the angle of the steel pipe, and the vacuum zone that was ejected was covered by the box.

His breathing was also suppressed to the point of being almost inaudible.

The vacuum zone also enveloped his microcirculation.

Inspiration loses most of its spirituality in this vacuum, with only the most basic senses of sight and touch returning.

The silent vacuum is equal for all activities on the etheric plane.

It suppressed the thing in the box while also suppressing the caster himself.

Richard waited for about ten seconds to confirm that the vacuum had stabilized.

Only then did he free one hand, while the other hand remained steadily holding the steel pipe.

He found the first scribbled turning point on the temporary Aresgar seal outside the box seal.

The first application of pressure was extremely light, barely touching the turning point.

The box did not respond.

The second application of pressure was slightly stronger.

According to Professor Mortimer's description, the thing inside the box was supposed to make a sound when the ether was flowing.

But in a vacuum, it has no idea that someone is dismantling it from the outside.