I loaded the Mysticism panel.

During dinner, Richard held his bowl, absentmindedly responding to his sister's words.

"Brother, what's wrong with you today?" Evelyn pushed a rabbit professor in front of him. "You seem distracted."

"It's nothing." Richard picked up the rabbit but didn't eat it. "Okay, there is something I need to do."

"Thinking about things in the capital?"

"Hmm," Richard mumbled in response.

Richard's mother, Margaret, walked in from the living room and glanced at him.

"Go to bed early," her mother said, picking vegetables. "You haven't looked well these past few days."

"Um."

That night, Richard slept more soundly than usual.

[Sleeping] After reaching level 2, he falls asleep very quickly and sleeps very deeply.

That night, he had a very long dream.

In my dream, it was the day the results were released.

He couldn't say where he was either.

It resembles Greenwood's auditorium, and also Ashford's large living room.

It was bright and warm all around, and it was hard to tell whether it was sunlight or lamplight.

Someone unfolded a red list in front of him.

He was the first name in the preparatory course of the Department of Classical Studies at Teito University.

Richard Williams.

He was overjoyed.

That joy was real, warming me from my heart all the way to my fingertips.

Then, people came one by one.

Evelyn was the first to rush over, holding up the gingerbread rabbit wearing a top hat.

"Congratulations, brother!" Her eyes crinkled into crescents with laughter. "I knew Professor Rabbit would get in!"

Mother Margaret followed behind, her eyes a little red, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.

For once, his father, Rogers, put down the blueprints and patted him heavily on the shoulder.

"My son is successful, and I'm proud of him."

Next came Mr. Hutton, who held a cup of weak, tasteless tea and nodded at him: "I knew you could do it."

And then there's Mr. Holland, clutching a half-eaten chicken leg, grinning from ear to ear:

"My money for that chicken leg wasn't wasted."

Warren, Hugh, and Mason are all there;

Grey held up the dark blue umbrella and handed out a warm paper package from under it.

Lillian held the glass jar in her arms, looked at him with her gray-blue eyes, and softly said, "Congratulations."

Grandfather, Aunt, Mrs. Dawn and Charlotte, Coleman, Wentworth, Mrs. McNeil...

And then there's Clement, leaning on his brass-tipped cane: "I made the right bet."

One smiling face after another came up to him.

"Congratulations."

"Congratulations."

"Congratulations."

Applause broke out.

At first, there were only a few scattered sounds, but later they became a continuous murmur, growing louder and louder, like rain or the tide.

Everyone was laughing, clapping, and congratulating him.

Richard stood in the middle, enveloped by this warm and comforting sound.

He smiled and nodded at them.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say "thank you".

But at that moment, a corner of his heart felt empty.

The table was laden with dishes, but one bowl was empty.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what was missing.

There were people all around, Evelyn was laughing, her mother was laughing, and Mr. Hutton was laughing.

He recognized every face and heard every "congratulations" clearly.

But I just feel like something's missing.

The smiling faces are still the same smiling faces, and the applause is still the same applause.

It's like there's an empty bowl, and it's always been empty.

Richard joined in the applause.

He nodded to every smiling face and thanked everyone who said "Congratulations".

His smile was as warm and full as everyone else's.

But the emptiness in my heart wasn't filled by this warmth; instead, it gradually filled in more.

At the height of the applause, other voices mingled with the cheers of "Congratulations."

He wanted to turn his head to look.

The light around us suddenly dimmed.

Richard opened his eyes.

It was still dark outside the window, and everything was a bluish-gray.

He lay flat on the bed, not sweating much, and his heart wasn't beating fast.

But there was an inexplicable emptiness, stuck in the very center of my chest, that I couldn't shake off.

Richard sat up and it took him a while to recognize the cracked ceiling above him.

The chorus of "Congratulations" faded, the smiling faces at the table disappeared, and even the empty bowl in the room fell silent.

He glanced at the panel.

The progress bar for [Sleeping] at level 2 is full.

It was that night's sleep that propelled it across the finish line.

Even after such a long dream, the body's repair process during sleep was not neglected at all.

Invest points to upgrade [Sleep] from lv.2 to lv.3.

Richard closed his eyes, feeling the changes within his body.

[Sleeping - Wild Sleep]

Fall asleep quickly and complete high-quality repairs in any environment; light sleep retains the ability to sense danger.

Once his special ability was activated, Richard immediately sensed the difference.

He felt his ability to fall asleep had improved again, and he had truly reached the point where he could fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he slept very deeply and soundly.

And then there's that "light sleep to ensure safety" principle.

Even when asleep, a tension remains within him, waking him up before he even realizes it.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitated for a moment, and then reached into the drawer to take out the tarot cards.

Mrs. McNeill had taught him that divination could sometimes interpret dreams.

Richard placed the copper dish in the center of the table and sprinkled a small amount of stardust.

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

Start shuffling the cards.

"What does this dream mean?"

He poured this question into the cards little by little, following the rhythm of his four breaths.

Shuffle to the seventh time, cut the deck, and draw the first card.

Turn it over.

【Chariot - in its proper position】.

The armored warrior riding a white horse stood on the chariot, pulled back the reins, and charged forward without hesitation.

Richard stared at the card for a while.

The chariot is about willpower and control, turning two opposing horses, one black and one white, into one, and relying on their momentum to gallop towards victory.

But in his dream, he had no energy to "run".

In my dream, I stood still, feeling warm and cozy, but that one spot felt utterly empty.

The tank and that dream have absolutely nothing to do with each other.

Richard frowned, put the cards aside, shuffled them again, and asked the second question.

Where did that emptiness in my heart come from?

Shuffle the cards seven times, then draw them.

Turn it over.

[Empress - Rightful Throne]

The voluptuous empress sat on a cushion, with fields of ripe wheat behind her and the bounty of ripe melons in her arms.

Richard was even more confused.

The Queen speaks of nourishment, being surrounded by love, lacking nothing, and being full of everything.

He asked about "emptiness," but the answer he got was "fullness."

He asked, "What's missing?" but the answer was, "Nothing is missing."

This was completely irrelevant, and Richard's brows furrowed even more.

Undeterred, he shuffled the deck a third time, asking the most direct questions.

Was that dream a premonition?

Turn it over.

The Fool (Upright)

A traveler with light luggage stands on the edge of a cliff, looking up.

He was about to take a step out, his whole body and face brimming with the fervent desire of someone who had never experienced anything before.

Richard stared at the document, becoming more and more confused.

The Fool speaks of a new beginning, naivety, leaping into an uncertain journey.

This one seems to be talking about himself.

A person who is about to leave home and head to a completely new world.

But what does this have to do with whether it's an omen or not?

Chariot, Queen, Fool.

Each of the three cards was perfectly clear and perfectly aligned.

But no matter how many times they are placed together, I can't read a single line.

Richard bent down and used his analytical skills to break down and dissect the three cards, forcibly trying to connect the logical chains within them.

He gave up after the third time.

Between these three cards and that dream, there was a chasm he could never cross.

The ring of star-shaped sand inside the bronze dish remained quietly lying on the edge of the dish from beginning to end.

It didn't feel cold like when it encountered danger, nor did it gather towards the center of the dish like it did when it seized the ebony box.

It lay there flat, as if to say: there's nothing to warn you about, nothing to point out.

Richard put the cards away, shuffled them again, and asked the question from a different angle.

This time, the cards revealed are: The Sun (upright), Justice (upright), and The Hermit (upright).

It was still three perfectly straight cards.

Richard placed his hand on the edge of the table, staring at the spread-out cards for a long time.

He changed his approach, focusing on reading each card individually in the present moment.

Chariot.

Isn't he currently putting all his effort into heading to the capital?

Everyone was hoping, and several forces combined to push him forward.

This is the war chariot.

The Empress.

Isn't he surrounded, protected, and pampered by people right now?

In my dream, the room was filled with "Congratulations," and everything was complete and plentiful.

This is the Empress.

Fool.

He was carrying a light bag on his back, about to leap into the new and exciting world of the capital.

That is the fool.

The same applies to the next three.

The sun—he is currently walking the brightest stretch of his life;

Justice—the seeds sown in that essay he wrote are being repaid, one by one;

The Hermit—he guards a bellyful of unspeakable secrets, groping alone at the edge of the curtain.

Richard let out a long sigh of relief.

The cards didn't fool him; he played honestly from beginning to end.

He himself took a prophetic question and asked it to a detective's tool.

The cards are always read only as "what has happened" and "what is happening".

It cannot read the future.

………………

On the other hand, old Big did something he usually disliked doing the most.

I'm doing a divination for myself.

People always have their own selfish motives; they want to hear good things and are afraid to hear bad things.

If your hand shakes, you can't read the stone accurately.

Mrs. Mary said that stones don't lie; it's you, who are eager to hear good news, who lie.

Old Big rarely claimed credit for himself in his life.

He wants to claim it today.

Those black dogs that stayed with the dog all night almost never survived the month.

The black dog didn't stay with him all night, but it squatted by the small river at the east end of the slag alley and watched him for a long time.

Once the web of the Echoes was disrupted, no one was closer to it than a coroner who performed autopsies every day.

He flipped through the registers and compared them to the canal map, piecing together the deaths that had occurred over the past ten years one by one.

He's about to get online.

Old Big took the copper dish out of the cabinet and placed it in the center of the worktable.

He then took out a handful of talismans.

He held a dozen or so pebbles tightly in his hand.

He closed his eyes and, following the method taught by his teacher, thoroughly thought through the problem in his mind.

Don't ask others, just ask yourself.

"What will become of me from now on?"

Old Big opened his eyes and scattered the handful of pebbles into the copper dish.

The pebble rolled around in the dish a few times.

He bent down and read it once, then again.

The wheat ears rolled off the plate; the harvest no longer belonged to him.

The double circle rolled out of the disc; the relationship no longer belonged to him.

The crescent moon rolled out of the dish just like before.

Change, growth, and the days to come all rolled off the plate and landed on the cold, hard table.

The hammer also rolled out of the dish.

Actions... he had nothing left to take.

All four most important stones escaped from the bronze dish.

There are only two left in the dish.

A single drop of water, an unfinished business;

A spiral, repeating endlessly.

Two pebbles lay steadily in the center of the dish, very close together, neither of them moving away.

Old Big sat at his workbench, staring at the two pebbles in the center of the dish for a long time.

A fortune teller is a detective, not a prophet.

He remembered his teacher's words for the rest of his life.

The prophet asked what would happen, the detective asked what had already happened.

Divination only reads what has already happened and what is happening now.

It cannot read the future.

This means that what you divined will soon become a fait accompli.

His line has come to an end.

Old Big stood up and burst into laughter.

"OK."