I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"Have you had any direct contact with Lady Mary herself?"

Casalis asked again.

Richard didn't give a direct answer, but instead made a statement.

"Lady Mary had an excellent reputation in the civil guild system."

"Before Coroner Bigelow died in the line of duty, he made connections between me and Mrs. Mary's staff, though we didn't have much direct contact."

He wasn't lying.

"Not many" is the truth; I've only met him face-to-face once.

Whether the visits by the cat incarnation count as "direct contact" depends on how it is defined.

Casalis put down the pen and gently rubbed the pen barrel with two fingers.

"Mr. Williams, wartime investigations are not targeted at anyone."

"I personally have great respect for Lady Mary."

He added that even if the powerful figures behind him weren't afraid, he himself was afraid of offending such a well-connected and knowledgeable person.

"But we have an obligation to verify whether the backgrounds of the registered practitioners and students associated with her are clearly verifiable."

Richard rolled his eyes inwardly.

"I understand. I can cooperate with anything you need to confirm."

Casalis's gaze lingered on his face for two seconds.

"When Bigelow taught you the basics of clairvoyance, did he use any teaching aids or tools that you felt were of dubious origin?"

"No," Richard answered quickly.

"The training copper plates, talismans, and wax sticks are all standard teaching aids registered with the branch office."

"Did Bigelow mention any of his teacher's other disciples to you?"

"I mentioned it." Richard thought for a moment.

"His senior sister, Mrs. McNeil, was an expert in covert operations and had also been active in the northern part of the Empire for many years."

"You've also been in contact with Mrs. McNeil."

This is not a question.

"She was the team leader during the Whitcomb Mill sealing mission, and she was also present during the Briston Black Gutter operation later."

Richard knew that all of this was written in the files; there was no room for lying, nor was there any need to lie.

Richard could only make out a few scattered words when looking at the other side: "confirmed," "lineage," and "no abnormal signs."

"One last question."

Casalis twirled the pen between his fingers halfway.

"You are wearing a silver ring on your chest."

Richard's heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm.

"Um."

"What's your background?"

"A strange accessory." Richard's pace remained unchanged: "My mentor, Mr. Hutton, picked it out for me."

That's not entirely untrue; Mr. Hutton did indeed participate in the selection process for the Signature Wonder.

As for the mark left on the silver ring by Lady Mary's cat avatar, only the spiritual vision of Viktoria's disciples could discern that layer.

Casalis stared at him for a while, then nodded.

"Basic information confirmed."

He signed his name and dated the document on the last page, then screwed the pen cap back on.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Williams."

Just as he was about to reach out and shake hands with Richard, the door to room 103 was pushed open from the outside.

"Little Richard."

A dry, hoarse voice came from the corridor.

Professor Mortimer appeared at the doorway.

He was wearing that perpetually drab old overcoat, his hat askew, and holding a teacup with a chipped rim.

A red-haired girl followed behind the old professor.

Catherine held a stack of documents in her arms, her expression unchanged from usual.

Casalis's hand froze.

"Professor Mortimer, what brings you here?" The man put on a perfectly respectful expression.

"Casalis, right?" Mortimer peeked inside, holding his teacup.

"I remember you came to the department two years ago and did a thorough investigation. That time, you were investigating a case of smuggling alchemical materials."

Casalis was clearly flattered.

"The professor has a really good memory; he actually remembers someone as insignificant as me."

Mortimer took a sip of tea.

"I was just passing by and asked, 'Have you finished talking to this kid? He still has homework to hand in.'"

Casalis glanced at Richard, then at the professor.

"...It's over."

"That's good." Professor Mortimer slowly walked away again.

After the professor left, Catherine turned around and followed him.

Only Richard and Casalis remained in Room 103.

Casalis quickly added a line to the last page of the folder.

"Mr. Williams, your name is on the list of wartime investigators."

He put the folder into his briefcase.

"We hope you will continue to assist us in our work in the future."

Richard shook hands with him.

Casalis's palms were slightly sweaty, which had appeared after the old professor had come.

When he walked out of room 103, Catherine was waiting for him at the end of the corridor.

She opened her notebook, wrote a line, and held it up.

"I feel like you'd be fine even if I didn't let the professor come."

Richard stared at the line of text for two seconds.

How did you know I was summoned for questioning?

Catherine turned the page.

"The list of people to be summoned by the Ministry of the Interior today is posted on the notice board. Your name is at the top. I just happened to be passing by and saw it."

"And then you went to see Professor Mortimer?"

Catherine turned another page.

"The professor wanted to come himself, otherwise I couldn't do anything about it."

Her pen paused on the paper for a moment, then added half a line.

"He asked me who was on the list, and when I said your name, he stood up."

Richard nodded slightly to Catherine.

"Thank you too."

Catherine closed the notebook and waved her hand.

That roughly means "It's not worth thanking" or "Don't thank me, thank the professor."

The two walked out of the corridor one after the other. The wind outside the Petrie Building was cold, making their clothes flutter.

Back in his dormitory, Richard pulled out a piece of paper and reported the situation to Mrs. McNeil.

"I was summoned by the Ministry of the Interior today, supposedly for wartime investigations, but the real questioning was about Mrs. Mary."

The other party asked about Bigelow's lineage, about you, Mrs. McNeil, and also noticed the ring on my chest.

The meeting has concluded; Professor Mortimer intervened, and no further discussions were scheduled.

He folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and sent it out using McNeil's personal spirit messenger.

The reply arrived the next morning.

Mrs. McNeill's handwriting was not very good, and the letter relayed her teacher's words.

"That's what the teacher meant."

"Those people have investigated at least ten times from before the war to after the war, and each time the conclusion is the same: nothing is ever resolved."

She said that Viktoria's surname was passed down from her grandmother.

She was born in the empire, grew up in the empire, and everything she has accumulated over the decades is rooted in this land.

Let them investigate if they want; teachers can't change their surnames or hide anything.

"There's one more thing, specifically for you."

Richard's gaze fell on the last line of text.

"If they want to see, then let them see."

The more open and honest you are, the less they will have to say.

………………

Two days after the investigation, Richard was dismissed from his post.

I was planning to go straight back to my dorm to wash my face and continue practicing my breathing techniques, but I was stopped on the first floor.

"Williams, you have a phone call!"

His heart tightened, he tucked the textbook under his arm and strode into the phone booth.

"Feed".

"Richard, it's me."

It's Grey's voice.

Unlike usual, the girl's voice trembled slightly, almost as if she were about to cry.

"What's wrong?"

"The ship is back."

Richard's eyes widened suddenly.

"The 'Auckland', the one that was requisitioned."

Grey continued talking on the other end of the phone.

"Someone from the dock office delivered the notice yesterday morning, and it was stamped with an official seal."

"Dad thought he had misread it, so he flipped the notice over and over again to confirm that the seal was indeed genuine."

"Isn't that... a good thing?"

At the other girls' school, Grey squatted in the phone booth and wiped her cheek.

"My dad went through a whole process, tracing back from the approval process of the requisition order."

The Port Commissioner explained that "in view of the need for wartime civilian shipping coordination, some non-military requisitions have been optimized and adjusted."

"But they requisitioned hundreds of boats, so why was my boat the only one they released?"

Richard leaned against the partition wall, remaining silent.

He knew what Grey was going to say.

"He used another connection; someone told him that the approval for adjusting the requisition list came from the General Administration of Customs, and a surname was listed in a related note on the roster."

Ashford.

Richard closed his eyes.

He never took the initiative to greet them, nor did he mention the Grey family's boat to his grandfather.

But on the day he was summoned by the Ministry of the Interior, he revealed his entire background.

As Casalis closed the folder, he quickly added a line of text on the last page.

Sending the ship back was an act of goodwill by the Ministry of the Interior.

It was made for Richard... or more accurately, for the string of names behind Richard.

He did nothing himself, but the result did it for him.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Then she said something that caught Richard off guard.

"Richard, I know you didn't do it."

Someone walked by in the corridor outside the cubicle, their leather shoes clicking on the stone floor a few times before fading into the distance.

Richard waited for her to continue.

"After my dad came back from the Navy Department, he talked to my mom for half an hour at the dinner table."

"He even asked me when I would be free, saying he wanted to take me to visit Ashford Manor and pick out a few items from that shipment from the Eastern Continent to give to you as a gift."

Grey paused for a moment.

"I can understand what he means by those words."

The girl's voice was filled with genuine grievance.

"...He thinks I asked you for help."

"You don't, I know," Richard said immediately.

"Of course I didn't." Grey sniffed.

"The house was in a complete mess during that time, and I couldn't talk to Cunningham and the others about it."

I just wanted to talk to someone, and then I'd feel better.

"I never thought I needed your help with anything... never."

She emphasized the word "never".

Richard held the microphone, his other hand unconsciously gripping the cuff of his coat.

Grey spoke again.

Do you know what that feels like?

"You made some desserts for someone, and you were so happy while you were making them that you didn't think about anything else."

I just thought he would like it, so I did it.

"Then one day you find that people think you have ulterior motives for sending snacks."

"The dessert hasn't changed, but it tastes different to other people."

Richard loosened his grip on his sleeve.

He remembered Evelyn's gingerbread rabbit.

My sister never thinks about things like, "My brother will be able to protect me if he becomes successful in Beijing."

She just wanted something sweet in her mouth, so she did it.

When Grey gave her those tin boxes and scones, her palms were facing up, and she didn't hide anything inside.

"I understand," he said.

"Mmm." Gray's voice relaxed.

"I had prepared a lot to say, but I was afraid you wouldn't understand."

You underestimate me.

"I underestimated you." Grey's emotions gradually returned to normal.

"Should we still eat the sandwich?" she asked.

"Eat it anyway."

"You'll sit on park benches too?"

"We'll talk about it when it gets warmer. Last time my ears were so cold they went numb."

"Who told you not to wear a hat?"

"By the way, I planted that bean on the balcony."

"Is it alive?"

Grey thought for a moment.

"It hasn't sprouted yet, and the soil in the pot has been cold."

"The soil in the other flower pots on the balcony will get hot after being exposed to the sun at noon."

Li realized that Demeter's ability to survive was already an unconventional operation.

The probability of it taking root in ordinary soil is probably not high.

"Don't rush," he said. "Let's wait and see in spring."