I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The day before Christmas, at King's Cross Station in the capital.

Richard arrived at the platform an hour early.

The train whistle sounded twice long and once short on the platform. The doors opened, and several middle-aged people carrying suitcases got off first.

A familiar little head quickly peeked out from the car door.

"elder brother!!!"

Evelyn jumped off the platform.

A passerby glanced back at the reckless girl and muttered something, but she didn't even get a peek.

"You've lost weight again!"

These were her first words after she got out of the car.

Evelyn released him and took a step back, looking him up and down twice.

"The face is alright, but the wrists are a bit lacking," she concluded initially.

"Are you inspecting livestock or looking at people?" Richard took her bag.

The younger sister's backpack was bulging, and Richard estimated its weight to be at least seven or eight pounds.

"What did you put in here?"

"My notebook," Evelyn patted her backpack.

"Two new molds, a packet of almond flour, half a jar of honey..."

"Honey? You carried half a jar of honey all the way over there, taking a train for several hours?"

"Honey in Beijing is ridiculously expensive!"

Evelyn's tone was indignant.

"The honey from that old beekeeper in Briston is more than half the price of honey in Beijing, so Mom said she'd take it with her."

Margaret stood in front of Richard and reached out to smooth the collar of her son's coat.

Have you eaten?

"have eaten."

"What did you eat?"

"A sandwich taken away from the university cafeteria."

"That won't keep you full." Margaret frowned slightly. "Let's eat something hot once we get to the manor."

Father Rogers was the last to step off the step.

"Was the journey smooth?" Richard took the suitcase from him.

"The train stopped for more than an hour in Manchester to let the military train pass first."

How long is the military train?

"Countless, their tails are invisible after dark."

After saying that, the father stopped talking and turned his gaze toward the platform exit.

The Ashford family's carriage was waiting outside the station. When the coachman saw the family of four come out, he nimbly jumped down and opened the car door.

Evelyn's mouth dropped open when she saw the black carriage.

"Does Grandpa's car have a heater?"

"have."

"Great, my toes were almost frozen off."

She ducked into the carriage and found the most comfortable spot by the heater.

He kicked off his deerskin boots and put his bare feet up to the stove to warm them.

Margaret followed her daughter into the car and saw her bare feet.

"Put them on."

"It's too hot."

"Put them on!"

Evelyn managed to slip the shoes back on, but only halfway, with her heel on the ground.

The carriage traveled west along King's Cross, and through the window, one could see the Christmas decorations on the streets of the capital, which looked much more shabby than in previous years.

A new poster has been put up at the post office. It shows a mother sending a package to the front lines, with the words "Christmas without forgetting the front lines" written below.

Evelyn's face was pressed against the car window, and a puff of white mist came out of her mouth on the glass.

She drew a rabbit on the white mist with her finger.

The rabbit ears were finished, and most of the fog had dissipated.

She took another breath and continued, finishing the task of repairing the rabbit's two legs.

"Brother, how come the capital city has become poor too?"

Richard glanced at her.

"They're at war."

Evelyn pulled her face away from the window; the rabbit she had drawn in the mist was now blurred, with only its two ears remaining.

"I know it's war now."

"But I thought only Briston was poor; Beijing must be different."

Richard did not answer.

The Christmas Eve dinner was held in the main dining room of Ashford House.

Richard has been to this restaurant several times, and the number of people there is different each time.

Gerrard sat in the main seat.

Richard glanced at it with his spiritual vision.

My maternal grandfather's etheric field is better than last time, not by much, but it's moving in a stabilizing direction.

Richard felt relieved.

The effect of lunar nail reflection has provided another case of clinical data for reference.

Vincent sat to Gerrard's right, his left arm having recovered.

He deliberately used his left hand when cutting the turkey, and his knife work was clean and efficient.

"See that!" Vincent arranged the sliced ​​turkey meat on a plate and pushed it towards his younger siblings.

"Even when I slice a chicken, it looks the best."

"You call this good-looking?" Baldwin scoffed from across the room.

"Your grandfather could slice deer legs as thin as paper back in the day; what you're doing is rough work."

"Then why don't you cut it for me to see?"

"I can't cut it." Baldwin stuck his fork into the plate.

"My hand is like an axe, used for cutting meat with great precision."

Isabella sat next to her sister.

The two sisters hadn't seen each other for several months, and Margaret stroked her sister's hair repeatedly.

"You must have been staying up late again; you have dark circles under your eyes."

"I didn't stay up late."

"Who are you kidding? I've always been like this since I was little. My eyes always droop to the left when I lie."

Isabella's gaze was drifting to the left when her sister pulled her back.

"Look at me and say, 'You didn't stay up late?'"

"...We were grading those final exam papers until 2:30 yesterday."

Margaret sighed.

Sofia was also on the table.

She sat on the other side of Isabella; this was the third consecutive year she had spent Christmas with her mentor.

I've spent Christmas Eve with my advisor for several years in a row, so there's probably nothing left to go back to my hometown.

Vincent finished cutting up the turkey, and the butler brought out plates for everyone.

Evelyn took the box containing gingerbread rabbits out of her backpack.

This year's new version is called "Christmas Soldier Bunny," and each bunny wears a small brass helmet made of icing.

Evelyn pushed the tin box to the middle of the table.

"I did it."

Gerald glanced at the row of rabbits wearing helmets.

"Your hat is crooked."

"That's because... military caps are worn at an angle." Evelyn's voice lacked confidence.

"I think your hand was shaking when you were piping the icing."

Vincent picked up a rabbit from the box and examined it from all angles.

"I'm doing this really seriously, and you're all laughing at me!"

A small brass box sits on the mantel, its lid pressing against the embossed silhouette of a princess.

The Ashford family received a Christmas gift box from Princess Mary this year.

Many soldiers on the Imperial front received a box like this for Christmas, containing tobacco, chocolates, and a greeting card personally signed by the princess.

The Ashford family wasn't part of the frontline troops, but Baldwin held the rank of major in the army, and the box arrived through the supply lines.

Before Christmas, Baldwin had already distributed the tobacco and chocolates inside to the soldiers who were actually in the trenches.

I brought the empty box back as a keepsake.

Halfway through dinner, Mother suddenly walked to the old piano in the corner of the living room.

She played the first half of Greensleeves.

When she reached the seventeenth measure, her left pinky finger couldn't reach the B-flat, so she stopped.

"I'm out of practice." She stood up with some regret and returned to the table.

Isabella watched her sister's retreating figure and blinked hard.

My sister was a very good pianist when she was young; she even performed in university performance halls.

They continued eating and chatting at the table, the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Evelyn handed a gingerbread rabbit to her mother.

"Mom, try this one, the helmet isn't crooked."

………………

After dinner, Vincent and Baldwin went to the back porch to smoke.

Sofia slumped onto the living room sofa for less than five minutes before collapsing onto the cushions.

Isabella glanced at her, then took a blanket from the side and draped it over her.

"Are those red berries on the holly branch edible?"

Evelyn leaned against the kitchen window and asked her mother.

"cannot."

"Really? It looks pretty good."

"What looks good may not be edible. I've said it so many times."

"Then I can use it to decorate a cake?"

"Poisonous things should not be served on the dinner table."

The mother and daughter's voices carried from the kitchen to the hallway, where they diffused into a hazy warmth.

On the other side, Gerald pushed open the door to the study.

"Have you heard about Whitby on the 16th?"

"I read the newspaper," Richard replied, sitting down opposite his grandfather.

Gerald took out the documents.

"Newspapers won't publish anything about the mystical side."