I loaded the Mysticism panel.

By the time we got back to Ashford House, it was already dinnertime.

Dinner consisted of several exquisite dishes, probably ordered from an outside restaurant.

After Richard finished eating, he went upstairs and locked the door from the inside.

He first took the two bronze artifacts out of his shoulder bag and placed them on the table.

Richard took a clean parchment and laid it on the table.

Then he pulled out a small piece of etheric condensate from the drawer.

He held the sacred paperweight in his palm.

A wisp of ether flowed slowly down the inside of my right arm to my palm.

He followed the gull's long beak, leading it to "see" the clean, congealed substance.

Record exactly how much of this concretion is contained and what its color is.

Under Richard's spiritual vision, the bronze sacred guillotine trembled very slightly.

It "looked" over, but a heavy layer of resentment blocked its view.

Richard wasn't in a hurry.

He changed the congealed substance and led Saint to "see" it.

Make a note of this, and then make another one.

On the fifth time, a faint warmth seeped from the tip of the sacred quail's beak.

It remembered that it was originally responsible for recording the true accounts of the Nine Gods.

What's written on the account book is what's in the item.

The same applies to balances; after recording the accounts, weigh the items using balances.

Once I remembered my job, my resentment began to subside.

These two strange objects, like the ink bottle, possess mystical properties.

Richard touched the faintly remaining etheric passage inside.

I can sense that once these two wondrous objects are completely purified, they can actually be used to weigh things when combined.

Moreover, it seems to be able to measure more than just tangible things.

No rush, what he brought out wasn't substantial enough.

Let's see if we can get something substantial at this gathering.

We can use it for bookkeeping and weighing later; I reckon the resentment will have mostly subsided by then.

As night deepened, he put the two items in the drawer, locked them, and did one last set of breathable ventilation.

The pool of ether in my chest receded on its own, then overflowed again.

………………

Over the next few days, Richard waited for the party while adjusting to the damp air and fiddling with the two new gadgets.

I'll also take a look at the ancient books section of the museum when I have some free time.

Unfortunately, my knowledge of inscriptions is not good enough, and I can't understand many books.

Before the party even started, Grey's letter arrived first.

The letter was brief, inviting Richard to a coffee shop for a chat.

The location was near the girls' school she attended, in the northern part of the city.

The school was called St. Bridges Girls' College, and it taught French, piano, embroidery, and how to host a proper tea party.

Grey is now officially enrolled in school.

Richard rode in his carriage north of the city.

The area near the women's college is newer than the old residential area in the west of the city.

A newly renovated movie theater on the street corner, with colorful posters pasted on the entrance.

The coffee shop we met at wasn't very big, and most of the people sitting inside were female students who had come out for a break, chatting quietly in small groups.

When Richard entered, Grey was already there.

The girl sat in a seat by the window.

Today she was wearing her St. Bridget school uniform skirt, dark blue with a stand-up collar and plain white trim on the collar and cuffs.

The waist was fitted and the skirt was a neat pleated skirt, with the hem pressing down to the ankles.

The dark fabric made her appear even fairer, and her hair was pulled up, with only two loose strands hanging down behind her ears.

"Richard, you're here." The girl blinked her blue eyes, clearly pleased.

"There's a bit of traffic on the road." Richard sat down opposite her.

Grey poured a cup of tea, and Richard picked up the cup and took a sip.

The tea soup is mild and smooth; it's a good tea.

The waiter came over, and Grey began to order, speaking concisely and succinctly, without uttering a single extra word.

"A refill of black tea, and two more servings of mille-feuille pastry."

"Layer pastry," the waiter noted.

"It's the recipe from the French side," Grey explained to Richard.

"One layer of puff pastry, one layer of cream, and several layers on top of that."

Two servings of mille-feuille pastries were brought out, with three pieces on each plate.

Grey picked up the knife and cut from the side.

The pastry didn't make the crisp sound it should have; it was soft and mushy.

Grey's brows furrowed.

"This place's mille-feuille is no good."

"Oh?"

"Look at this puff pastry." Grey pointed with her fork.

"A good mille-feuille should make a 'crack' sound when you cut into it, with each layer crumbling down."

"This one's already damp; it's probably been made a long time ago and left out until now."

"There was too much sugar in the cream layer inside, which masked the milky flavor."

Richard took a bite.

It was a bit sweet, but he's never been picky about food.

"good."

Grey glanced at him and put the half back on the plate.

In your opinion, everything is probably "okay".

"My sister says the same thing about me."

"...Evelyn is right."

The two female students at the next table kept glancing this way.

One of them recognized Grey and came over with a teacup to greet her.

"Grey, you didn't go to school today?"

"I came out to meet an old classmate." Grey looked up, her tone polite, but there was an invisible wall between them.

Enjoy your meal.

The girl, feeling rebuffed, glanced at Richard again and went back.

Once everyone left, Grey's shoulders slumped.

"These girls..." she muttered to Richard, "their noses are sharper than dogs'."

The two chatted over the plate of collapsed mille-feuille pastries, and the atmosphere completely relaxed.

"What do you do in your college besides attending classes?" Richard asked.

"Tango." Grey rolled her eyes.

"Tango?"

"A dance that came from France across the sea, and further south."

"Several new 'Tango Tea Houses' opened in the capital recently, and the students in our college went crazy for them."

The dormitory supervisor repeatedly forbade students to go out, but some still climbed over the wall to study.

"You've been there?" Richard imagined the girl in front of him dancing the tango.

"I'm not going," Grey snorted.

"What's so good about two people standing so close together, turning around and around?"

Richard smiled.

"Then what's the point of playing?"

"There are many more fun things to do." Grey's eyebrows twitched, revealing a familiarity she had grown accustomed to hearing about these things at the girls' school.

"The other day, everyone was talking about movies."

"Movie?"

"Two new movie theaters have opened in town." Grey looked at the boy in front of her, seemingly considering something.

"You haven't been there? It's one of those dark rooms with a big white cloth hanging in front. When the projector turns, the people on the white cloth come to life."

"I've heard people mention it, but I haven't been there."

"You should go and see," Grey said, her tone unusually lively.

"At first, they showed short clips, like trains arriving at the station or workers leaving get off work, which only lasted a few minutes."

Things are different now; there are people telling serious stories now.

"Is it pretty?"

"The screen is so shaky, it makes me dizzy," Grey frowned.

"When the performance reached a crucial point, someone would play the piano to accompany it."

"What are they acting out?"

"A girl was tied to the railway tracks, and a train was about to run her over. At the last second, a young man came to her rescue on horseback."

"They're saved?"

"She's been rescued." Grey pouted.

"That girl's acting was exaggerated; her eyes were wide open, and her mouth was so wide you could fit an egg in it."

Richard was amused.

"Oh, and there's also an air show."

Grey's eyes lit up, and she found an even more interesting topic.

"Last month, an aviator came from outside the city and flew a plane around in circles and did somersaults."

"The whole city rushed to see it, crowding the meadow to the point of being impassable."

The tickets were ridiculously expensive; our college organized a trip for us.

"Airplanes..." Richard was indeed interested in this: "Do they fly high?"

"It's not very high." The girl's expression fell. "It made a sputtering sound, was emitting black smoke, and looked like it could fall down at any moment."

"The aviator also dropped leaflets from the sky, and everyone scrambled to pick them up."

She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her handbag.

Richard took it and glanced at it; it had an airplane printed on it and a few lines of the word "GG".

It's likely that the planes in the sky won't be used to drop leaflets for much longer.

"There are only a few places for respectable students to go to for entertainment."

Grey counted on her fingers:

"A new department store has opened in the west of the city. It has a large elevator for people to go up and down, and there is a strong fragrance of perfume as soon as you enter."

Then there's the indoor ice rink, made of artificial ice, where you can skate all year round, and there are also concerts.

"Have you been to all of them?"

"I've ridden the elevator before," Grey smiled.

"The first time I sat in it, my palms were sweaty. The iron cage rose up with a 'bang,' and I thought it was going to fall apart."

"Are you ice skating?"

"I fell twice." A blush crept onto Grey's face. "Don't even mention it."

Richard couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Richard!" Grey glared at him.

"The ice on the rink is hard and slippery, so it's not shameful to fall a couple of times," Richard said, his laughter subsiding and his tone becoming quite serious.

Grey raised her hand and pushed the plate of mille-feuille pastries in front of him, as if to shut him up: "Eat."

"Thank you." Richard picked up the pastry and casually asked, "Speaking of which... is your family's spice business still going strong?"

When the conversation turned to the family business, the girl's liveliness vanished.

"Barely."

"Once the war starts, the sea routes become more difficult, and the area around Hammers Island has now become a war zone."

"Taking a longer route will result in higher freight costs and longer shipping times."

"That……"

"Fortunately, we deal in Eastern spices."

Grey traced a line on the table with her finger, turning south.

"By bypassing the war zone and taking the old route to the south, we can still manage to bring them back."

"Our household income has dropped significantly in the last two months." She shook her head. "My mother sighs every day while looking at the account books."

Richard recalled the unspoken meaning behind her mother's words.

"Your aunt must have some connections that ordinary people can't help with."

Grey glanced at him but didn't reply immediately.

She twirled her teacup and took a cardboard clip from her handbag.

"Let me show you something first."