I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"Gone?" Richard asked.

Catherine wrote a line in the notebook and turned it over.

"I'm not leaving, I'll sit for a while."

She took out a few more coins and pushed them in front of Phillips.

Catherine wrote, "You picked out the wine for me; this is a thank you gift."

"It was nothing, no need for that." Phillips pushed the coin back. "I just said it."

Catherine frowned even more.

She pushed the coin back, pressing down hard with the pen tip.

I owe you, and I have to pay you back.

Richard, who was watching the back and forth, came to Phillips' rescue.

"If you really have to pay him back, then buy him a drink. That way, he won't lose anything, and you'll have paid back the money."

Catherine thought about it and decided that the method was feasible. She took the coin back and turned to the boss to order another drink.

Phillips, as if he had struck gold, waved the glass of wine at Richard and said, "You know how to handle people, kid."

He took a sip, then suddenly remembered something, took the old teapot out of his bag, and slammed it on the table.

"Oh, right, I have something interesting to tell you."

"It's starting to transform?" Richard hadn't expected it to happen so quickly.

Phillips patted the kettle triumphantly:

"I took it to my alchemy mentor, and he said that this pot recognizes the 'desired flavor' itself."

I've had some free time lately, so I've been taking care of it a few more times, and now it's not picky about food anymore.

As he spoke, he casually asked for an empty glass from the bar.

I poured half a cup of cooled boiled water into it, and then gently tilted the spout towards the rim of the cup.

The water's color changed slightly, taking on an amber hue.

"Try it." He pushed the cup toward Richard.

Richard picked it up and took a sip.

The first taste is a familiar aroma of malt and caramel, which is seven or eight parts similar to the sample bottle from Islay.

"It can now produce more than just tea drinks," Phillips said.

"As long as I think of that flavor, it can make it exactly like that."

Catherine's gaze lingered on the pot for a moment, then she picked up her pen and wrote: "What kind of strange object is this?"

"I can't say for sure either," Phillips shrugged.

"My mentor said it was similar to a 'taste replication' technique, but he didn't really understand the specific principles behind it. As long as it works, that's fine."

Richard listened without asking any further questions.

Ever since he gained the ability to ferry shadows from the Sphinx lamp, he has researched a lot of information.

It is said that every uniquely named artifact with a high compatibility level will possess abilities that reflect the characteristics of its owner.

Constance looked up from the book and glanced at the pot.

"No matter how potent this pot is, if you drink too much, I'll still have to carry you back."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing today."

These words, spoken not long before, became utterly empty rhetoric.

Phillips rolled his eyes a few times.

"Richard." He pushed the two glasses of whiskey toward the center of the table.

How's your alcohol tolerance?

"I haven't tried it."

"Perfect, let's give it a try." Phillips pushed one of the glasses in front of him.

Richard picked it up and took a sip.

It's hot when you put it in your mouth, and it burns all the way from the back of your tongue to your stomach.

And then... nothing happened.

The heat dissipated in my stomach, and the cold returned after drinking a cup of hot water.

The [Eating] skill level 3 trait [Filtering] is working silently.

Alcohol is identified as a "harmful substance" by the body and is blocked in the digestive tract.

Richard put down his cup without reacting.

Phillips stared at his expressionless face, his mouth agape.

"Are you kidding me?"

"What's wrong?"

"You didn't even cough once when you drank double rye whiskey for the first time?"

"It tastes alright." Richard took another sip.

Phillips' competitive spirit kicked in.

He considered himself to be quite capable of drinking, even if he couldn't compare to a hunter.

The reason I accepted the invitation so readily today is because I have a less-than-honorable purpose.

Richard is usually so perfect he's almost unreal.

He wanted to see if his good buddy would lose control if he got drunk.

"Boss," Phillips called out to the bar, "two more, triple strength."

"Are you serious?" Richard looked at him.

"You drink yours, I'll drink mine," Phillips said, rolling up his sleeves. "Let's compete fairly."

Constance looked up from her book and glanced at her fiancé.

That look conveyed the message, "I know you're courting death, but I'm too lazy to stop you."

For the next half hour, Phillips drank with Richard at a slow, suicidal pace.

In the first round of triple rye whiskey, Phillips blushed, but Richard remained unchanged.

In the second round, they switched to Highland Single Malt. Phillips was sweating, but Richard remained unchanged.

In the third round, Phillips, refusing to believe it, had the shopkeeper bring out the bottle of naked barley bourbon from under the counter.

Those were strong liquors imported from the colonies, with an alcohol concentration much higher than the previous two.

Richard drank half a glass, and the spiciness on his tongue was completely filtered out, leaving not even a trace of warmth in his stomach.

He felt as if he were drinking a dark-colored, complex-tasting hot water.

Phillips drank half a glass, and his hands were already trembling.

"You..." He looked at Richard's face, which hadn't changed color at all from beginning to end.

"What are you made of?"

"I'm probably as durable as Briston's coal ash," Richard said, putting down his cup.

Catherine sat beside her drinking soda water, without saying a word the whole time.

She has gone from "watching the excitement" to "watching a monster."

"...Something's not right." Constance closed her book as well.

Phillips has started talking nonsense.

He had one arm draped over the table, his head drooping downwards.

"Did you sign some kind of contract... with the God of Wine... a contract to never get drunk...?"

You're overthinking it.

"You're overthinking it?" Phillips struggled to open his eyes.

"I've been drinking for ten years... and this is the first time I've met a scholar who can drink even more than me... A scholar! Not a hunter!"

He finally couldn't hold on any longer and collapsed onto the table.

The glass was swept aside by his elbow, and a few drops of wine spilled out.

Constance stuffed the book into her bag and stood up to move the person.

The weight of an adult man was pressing down on her shoulders, making her steps only slightly heavier.

"Mr. Williams." Constance nodded to Richard.

"Next time he invites you for drinks, please let me know in advance."

Phillips leaned on his fiancée's shoulder, mumbling incoherently.

"...That teapot can make honey pomelo...it can make whiskey...it can also make hangover soup..."

"Shut up." Constance carried him toward the door.

Phillips's voice faded into the distance.

"Richard... next time... next time I'll definitely beat you..."

The door closed, leaving only Richard and Catherine at the table.

The red-haired girl, having drunk most of her soda, fixed her gaze on Richard.

She wrote a line in her notebook.

"You really don't feel anything at all?"

Richard looked at the line of text and thought for a moment.

"It does have flavor."

Catherine gave a thumbs up and finished her soda.

She stood up, flipped through her notebook, and wrote down the last sentence.

"Thanks, everything's taken care of tonight."

Richard smiled and said, "Give my regards to Professor McFee."

The owner was wiping glasses behind the bar, watching the young people leave one after another.

He's been in this line of work for so long, he's seen all sorts of drunkards.

He had never seen someone who wore the badge of the Imperial Capital University, had a refined and gentle face, and whose face didn't even have a blush after drinking three rounds of strong liquor.

The shopkeeper put the cup back on the shelf and shook his head.

People who graduate from Imperial University are all incredibly eccentric.

………………

At 10:30 p.m., Xinghai disappeared.

Seven stone chairs surround a round table.

Hercules' weapon was empty.

Hecate sat in the main seat, the torch and key more full than ever before, and she spoke first.

"Hercules is on fieldwork and has taken the day off tonight."

After the words were spoken, no one responded, and the whole table tacitly let the matter drop.

Richard's gaze swept around, carefully comparing the changes in each person.

Nemesis sat in his seat, the scales still tilted to one side, but the way they tilted was different from last time.

The scales seem to be supported by someone; they're still tilted, but the tilt is quite even.

He let his inspiration wander in that direction and noticed that there was an extremely thin barrier around her.

The radiation that the balance "insisted on" balancing was contained inside, and could not be detected from the outside.

What she did after withdrawing from the debate week appears to have been successful.

Dionysus is more relaxed tonight than ever before.

Holding the double-eared cup in his hand, he seemed to be enveloped in an indescribable intoxication.

Richard wanted to move to a spot further away from him.

Prometheus's fire darkened in color and burned more steadily.

He sat there motionless, his palms lightly resting on the edge of the table, without saying a word.

Demeter's ears of wheat swelled even more.

The sickle above his head was horizontal below, with the blade facing inward.

She planted things more diligently, and the full ears of wheat showed signs of careful tending.

Richard finished looking around and mentally calculated everything.

Because of the unique environment here, everyone's changes are on full display.

Nemesis learned to deflect, Dionysus learned to spread intoxication, Prometheus's fire became more stable, and Demeter's seeds grew ever denser.

As for his own changes, he couldn't see them...

Hecate spoke: "Prometheus."

The man beneath the crimson mask looked up.

"Did the person behind you remove your mask?"