I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Richard was being watched.

He was being watched by a group of subject teachers led by Mr. Holland.

Holland was the first to make a move.

On the Tuesday after Easter, before the bell rang for the last class in the afternoon, Mr. Holland was already waiting at the classroom door.

He was carrying a stack of books, the top one being Suetonius's "The Twelve Caesars," its spine covered with colorful paper strips.

"Williams." He beckoned to Richard. "East Wing Lecture Hall, let's go."

In previous years, Holland gave Richard individual coaching once a week, a rule established during the preparation for the Cicero Cup.

The rules have changed now.

Holland increased the number of individual tutoring sessions from once a week to three times a week.

On Tuesday, I talked about history, breaking down Suetonius and Tacitus in great detail.

Thursday will cover Ancient Greek grammar and conjugations;

On Friday morning, I worked through past exam papers for the Imperial University preparatory course entrance exam.

"Classical language accounts for the majority of the assessment in the summer training program."

Holland slammed the stack of books onto the podium:

"Your foundation in Latin is solid enough; you even won second place in the Cicero Cup."

Ancient Greek is a weak point; I still need to catch up.

He opened a collection of past exam papers and found a page with a note tucked inside.

"Look at this question, it's from last year. It asks you to translate a passage from Thucydides into Albion and then back into Ancient Greek."

"Thucydides' sentences are long and complex, with clauses nested within clauses, and a single sentence can stretch to almost half a page. This style of writing is the ultimate test of one's mastery of conjugation and case."

Richard leaned closer to look at the question.

Holland's pen was already filled with annotations next to the questions, even marking the extremely obscure and irregular verb conjugations in red ink.

"I have been teaching for so many years."

Holland put down his pen:

"You are the first student who made me feel that preparing lessons was more tiring than teaching them."

Why?

"Because other students are grateful if they understand about 70-80% of what I say after I explain it once."

Holland compiled that collection of past exam questions:

"If you listen to me once, you'll be able to find out the two or three tenths of what I didn't say."

If I don't prepare more, you'll stump me next time.

Richard smiled.

Holland didn't just come by himself.

He seemed to have set a precedent, and other subject teachers followed suit one after another.

Ms. Grant was originally only concerned with rhetoric.

Now she takes two lunch breaks each week to call Richard to her office to read the essays of Athenian writers.

Even Mr. West, who hadn't made a proper appearance in a long time, surprisingly summoned Richard.

He tossed Richard an excerpt from the history of Verelius Patrculus and asked him to translate it orally on the spot.

After Richard finished translating, West snorted through his nose.

"improvise."

After giving his evaluation, he pulled out a handwritten list of difficult words from his drawer and handed it to Richard.

"Take this and memorize it. If you fail the exam because of this, don't say I taught you."

Later on, the teachers even started to compete slightly over Richard's schedule.

Holland took the practice exams on Friday morning, so Ms. Grant booked Wednesday's lunch break in advance.

West thought they were taking up too much space and threatened to take away an hour after school on Fridays starting next week to talk about syntax in historical rhetoric.

Richard was used by several gentlemen throughout the week, and even his meals had to be scheduled by the hour.

Such a display of force naturally did not escape the notice of the students who stayed behind to prepare for the exam.

Percy once muttered in front of everyone that the gentlemen were being biased.

Before he could finish speaking, a girl next to him who was also preparing for an exam retorted.

"Favoritism?" The girl put down her pen. "What was your score on the last Latin test?"

Percy remained silent.

"Williams came in second in the Cicero Cup. All the elite schools in the capital went, and he came in second."

The girl counted on her fingers:

"His essay was featured on the front page of the Northern Literary Review, and even Principal Fletcher said he was the most promising young writer in Greenwood in the last twenty years."

"If the gentlemen don't give him special treatment, who will they give him?"

"You'll get a place? Did you pass the entrance exam for the preparatory course at the University of Tokyo?"

Percy blushed for a moment after being rebuked, and finally managed to stammer out a sentence.

"...Fine, they really are smarter than me."

Those who remained were truly troubled, but their magnanimity remained.

It's obvious to everyone that Richard is not in the same league as them.

What others learn in one hour is equivalent to what they learn in three.

While they meticulously studied the grammar table word by word in the same passage of ancient Greek, Richard could piece together the entire sentence structure with just a glance.

With such a disparity before them, while they might feel jealous, no one dared to disagree.

Of Greenwood's graduating class, Richard is the only one who could be considered for a top-tier university.

Mr. Holland was particularly attentive at that time.

One time, Richard was working on a practice exam at noon when his stomach growled.

Holland put down his pen and left without saying a word.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned with two portions of roasted chicken legs from the cafeteria, giving one to Richard and eating the other himself.

"Back when we were preparing for the Cicero Cup, we also ate chicken legs."

A bald, middle-aged man was gnawing on a chicken leg, speaking incoherently:

"Since you got into the preparatory course, the money I spent on that chicken leg was worthwhile."

"I haven't passed the exam yet."

"Almost there." Holland finished gnawing the chicken bone clean. "I've taught my whole life, so I still have a good eye."

"You little rascal, you're the kind of guy who's going to climb out of that Briston well."

………………

One evening in early May, Mr. Hutton sent someone to summon Richard to the third floor.

The old stove in the office wasn't lit, and the spring chill had completely dissipated.

Mr. Hutton sat in the armchair, Richard's sixteen-page summer internship application form spread out on his lap.

Richard stood by the table waiting.

Mr. Hutton turned to the "Social Experience" section, stopped, and read it from beginning to end.

"Well written." He closed the application form: "Nothing is hidden, everything that needs to be written is included."

The old man put the application form back on the table and took a sip of warm water.

"There's something I need to tell you."

"What?"

Mr. Hutton put down his water glass: "Professor Mortimer has agreed to write you a letter of recommendation."

Richard's eyes lit up.

"Would the professor be willing to write it?"

“Ken,” Mr. Hutton looked at him, “I’ve been pestering the old man for days about this.”

"He initially refused," Mr. Hutton said, finding it amusing himself.

"The professor has written only a handful of recommendation letters in his entire life."

"So why did you change your mind later?"

"His business trip will take him to several cities in the north, and he was recently in Manchester."

"During your Easter holiday, I went to his place every day, three times a day, and each time I made him a cup of tea that was so weak it had no flavor."

Mr. Hutton took a sip of water:

"On the fourth day, the old man couldn't take it anymore and said, 'If you bother me again, you'll wear down my old bones,' and then he agreed."

Richard felt a surge of warmth in his heart and stood up to bow to his guide.

"Thank you, sir!"

Professor Mortimer, a scholar of great learning, is a tenured professor at Imperial University.

With a letter of recommendation from such a person on the examiner's desk, his confidence increased even further.

Richard couldn't hide the joy on his face.

Mr. Hutton looked at him, picked up his water glass, and slowly poured away the little bit of joy he had.

"Don't get too cocky."

"Um?"

"You think having a professor's recommendation letter guarantees success?"

Mr. Hutton put down his water glass: "These are all basics."

"Base?"

"Let me give you an example, Montagu, remember?"

Richard thought of the blond boy at the Cicero Cup.

I still vividly remember the phrase, "Forgive the submissive, punish the proud."

"Do you know what kind of family Montagu's family background is?" Mr. Hutton asked.

Richard shook his head.

"He has a master in his family and keeps a close eye on the family's recent situation."

An expert, and an expert at managing things.

Lieutenant Colonel Ode could not have gotten that expert in the Gale Tradition to intervene at the bottom of the pit, and it was because of his official status.

In addition, the expert was born in a nearby village, which made it difficult to persuade him to come.

In the Montagu family, there is such a master who keeps a close eye on things at all times.

Richard's breathing slowed down.

Mr. Hutton continued:

"He was a master of his trade, just like any other guest who came to visit."

"Have tea and chat with the old count, have a meal, and then leave."

"Think about it, what kind of family they were."

Richard stood by the table without saying a word.

Mr. Hutton looked at him.

"Your maternal grandfather was a master hunter, your aunt is a junior associate professor, and I've also managed to get you a letter of recommendation from a professor."

"These are the best you can see in Bristol."

"But if you put these things in front of someone like Montagu..."

The slight joy on Richard's face vanished completely.

The office was quiet for a while.

As darkness slowly fell outside the window, black smoke billowed from the factory chimneys in the distance, turning the evening sky yellowish.

Mr. Hutton looked at Richard's calmed face and showed some satisfaction.

"It's a good thing to be able to suppress your pride."

Those who become complacent and arrogant will not go far.

"Now I'll get down to business."

Richard stood up straight.

"Your aunt sent word," Mr. Hutton said, "that you need to go to the capital by the end of May."

"The end of May?" Richard did the math. "Isn't the summer program starting in June?"

"It's June," Mr. Hutton replied. "But your aunt said that if we go earlier, she can find time to give you some extra lessons."

"The first three weeks of intensive instruction and assessment resulted in a pass rate of 20%."

The old man emphasized the number: "Out of a hundred people, only twenty will remain in the end."

"Your aunt wants you to be able to stand firm among those twenty."

Richard calculated his recent activities.

I'm heading to Beijing at the end of May.

Mr. Holland gave him extra lessons three times a week, Mr. West copied down a list of difficult words for him, and Ms. Grant wrote Athens prose during her afternoon nap;

My maternal grandfather's letter of recommendation, my aunt's materials and tutoring, and a professor's recommendation letter that I finally managed to get after four days of hard work;

At home, his father was so busy that he didn't even go home to sleep, working overtime every day to save up for his tuition.

Evelyn baked that "Professor Rabbit" wearing a little top hat...

So many people, so many concerns, are all pinned on him.

No one said it outright, but everyone's eyes held the same message.

...You have to pass the exam.

This is a weighty expectation.

Unsuccessful, they become benevolent.

Mr. Hutton looked at him and picked up the glass of warm water again.

"Go home early."

Richard pushed open the door and went downstairs.

………………

By the time I got home, it was completely dark.

Evelyn, wearing her checkered apron, was facing the oven and muttering to herself.

"Brother! You're finally back." Without turning her head, she said, "Come and be a taste tester, 'Professor Rabbit' has given us some questions."

"Gingerbread can be used as exam questions?"

"Of course."

Evelyn brought out a baking tray with a row of gingerbread rabbits wearing little top hats:

"Professor Rabbit is going to enter the Imperial University, so he'll have to take an exam, right?"

"You have to take the test."

What subjects does it test?

Richard looked at the plate of rabbits with crooked eyes and thought about it seriously.

"Classical languages, like Latin and Ancient Greek."

"Will it be able to pass the exam?"

"Suspenseful." Richard picked up the one with the top hat in the middle.

"With its appearance, the examiner would probably suspect that its brain is filled with icing sugar after just one look."

"You're the one whose brain is full of icing!"

Evelyn slapped his hand: "This is 'Professor Rabbit,' the smartest one!"

Mother Margaret walked in from the living room.

"Did Mr. Hutton tell you about the trip to Beijing at the end of May?"

"I did," Richard replied. "My aunt told me to go there early for extra lessons."

Margaret was picking at the leftovers from lunch.

"I'll take care of your luggage; you just focus on your books."

"Um."

"besides."

The mother stopped picking vegetables:

"When you get to the capital, whether you stay at your maternal grandfather's house or a hostel, remember to write or call home every week."

"Okay, Mom."

The mother took the selected vegetables to the stove.

"Dinner is oatmeal porridge."

"Oatmeal again?"