I loaded the Mysticism panel.

At 6:20, Richard knocked on his sister's door.

The door opened quickly, and the girl had already changed her clothes.

She was wearing those brown sheepskin shoes, which made her walk much more comfortable, and she no longer dawdled with every step.

"Ready?"

"Alright, let's go."

At the other end of the corridor, the parents' bedroom door opened.

The family of four met in the corridor and followed the maid who came to guide them downstairs.

The dining room is even more spacious than the living room.

A long table was covered with a snow-white tablecloth, and silver cutlery was laid out in a row.

The rest of the Ashford family has arrived.

Including Richard's family, there were about a dozen people sitting at the long table.

Gerrard was still sitting in the main seat.

The old man changed into a house jacket and pinned a silver brooch to his collar.

He sat there in the exact same posture as in the living room, with his back ramrod straight.

The third seat on the left of the main seat is empty; that's probably reserved for the mother.

The mother walked behind the chair, and a woman in her early forties greeted her first.

"Margaret, it's been a long time."

"Sister-in-law," the mother called out.

This is my aunt, and behind her stands a young man with neatly combed brown hair.

The young man's expression stiffened slightly when he saw Richard, but he quickly recovered.

"Richard, it's been a long time." He walked over and extended his hand.

"Cousin Vincent." Richard reached out and shook his hand.

The last time we met, the copper pendant they gave me almost cost me my life.

No, it should be said that it's already been ordered.

"You look better than last time," Vincent said.

"I recovered after resting for a while."

"That's good." Vincent's voice was very low: "That little gadget from last time... are you still wearing it?"

"No, I put it away."

"Hmm..." Vincent nodded, his eyes flickering.

He seemed to want to say something more, but after glancing around, he swallowed his words.

The butler pulled out chairs and gestured for everyone to sit down.

Richard was seated next to his mother, his father on the other side, and Evelyn right next to Richard.

The Ashford family members all wore similar masks; no one was overly enthusiastic, nor was anyone openly indifferent.

Evelyn sensed the atmosphere of being collectively rejected.

She stirred the creamy mushroom soup in her bowl, circling the spoon three times without scooping it up to drink.

Margaret gently touched the back of her daughter's hand.

Evelyn received the signal: Bear it, don't talk, eat less.

The girl pursed her lips and put a large spoonful of thick soup into her mouth.

The mushrooms were truffle mushrooms, the cream was made from fresh milk, and the soup base was simmered for who knows how many hours with some kind of bone... In short, it was so delicious that she completely forgot her mother's warnings.

After the soup came a whole pan-fried sea bass, its skin golden and crispy, its flesh white and tender, accompanied by lemon and a small bunch of tender spinach.

Evelyn's appetite was whetted.

She used a knife and fork to cut the fish into small pieces with great dexterity.

After the fish, there are grilled lamb chops, served with mint and roasted vegetables.

Most of the others only ate half a lamb chop before putting their forks down.

Richard, seeing his sister's unsatisfied expression after finishing the whole piece, casually handed her his fork.

Margaret held her forehead and ignored her daughter.

On the other side, Vincent sat in the middle of the long table, very close to Richard.

Throughout the entire dinner, he kept trying to strike up conversations with Richard, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

"How have you been at school lately? I heard you're going to participate in the Cicero Cup."

"Um."

"Impressive." Vincent's praise sounded genuine.

"Winning a place in the Cicero Cup is no easy feat; students in the capital have been training for it since they were young."

"I'll give it a try first."

Vincent picked up his glass and took a small sip:

"Richard, if you need any help in the capital... like showing you around the competition venue or something, feel free to contact me anytime."

The eagerness with which he spoke made Vincent's aunt, who was not far away, glance at him a couple more times.

My maternal grandfather didn't say a word from beginning to end.

He sat at the head of the table, occasionally stirring the food on his plate with his silver fork and taking a sip of red wine.

But the weight of the entire dining table always rested on him.

No one will forget that the person at the head of the table was listening and watching.

Seeing that everyone had almost finished eating, the old man folded the napkin and placed it next to the plate, signaling the end of the dinner.

Everyone stood up from their seats on their own initiative, and the butler directed the servants to tidy up the silverware, with the dishes and bowls clattering.

Gerald placed the napkin down and fixed his gaze on Richard.

"Richard, I have some good things in my study that you might like to see."

The dining table fell silent at once, and Richard felt several gazes fall upon him simultaneously.

The wine glass in her aunt's hand hovered in mid-air, her lips slightly parted and then quickly closed.

Surprise forms the base, envy covers it.

The two emotions mingled together, but were then suppressed by their respective upbringing, leaving only a thin layer of smiles.

Evelyn's hand was already gripping Richard's sleeve: "What do you want to talk about? We need to talk alone."

"Maybe it's a test of my studies."

The girl frowned deeply, opening her mouth twice but unable to utter a word of objection.

At her maternal grandfather's house, she dared not make a sound.

Richard patted his sister's hand, which was gripping his sleeve: "Go back to your room and wait for me. It won't be long."

Evelyn loosened her grip and watched him follow his grandfather out of the restaurant.

She turned to look at her mother, and Margaret's gaze followed her son's retreating figure until the door closed behind her.

Richard followed his grandfather through the corridor and up half a flight of stairs.

Gerald pushed open the study door, and the gaslight turned on automatically, whether by a mechanism or the effect of the ether, he didn't know.

The room has bookshelves on three walls, stretching from floor to ceiling, and the walnut shelves are crammed with books of all sizes.

Richard followed him into the study, his eyes already scanning the items on the shelves:

A bronze sculpture the size of a fist, shaped like a vulture with outstretched wings;

A sealed amber glass bottle containing a dried lizard specimen;

Two silver candlesticks sat on the mantel, their arms adorned with coiled snake patterns.

There is a crystal ball in the corner of the writing desk, placed on a brass base.

I can't let this opportunity to enter my grandfather's private study go to waste.

With so many generations of Ashford heritage, even if the study only contains scraps, it's worth a try for him.

Gerald walked to the fireplace, bent down, and poked at the embers with tongs.

While the old man had his back to him, Richard reached out and touched the wings of the bronze eagle sculpture.

The copper surface is cool to the touch and feels solid; the panel remains completely still.

He took two more steps and placed his hand on the mouth of the amber glass bottle, but there was still no response.

Silver candlesticks, a crystal ball, brass scales on the writing desk, and a pocket watch that looks quite old on the mantel...

He approached each panel one by one, but the panels remained stagnant.

Clean, completely clean.

These items are clearly old and well-made, but none of them have anything to do with ether.

That makes sense; truly valuable things wouldn't be displayed in a study accessible to outsiders.

They are probably locked behind walls or underground, together with the Ashford family's real assets.

Richard was somewhat disappointed and withdrew his hand from the bronze arm of the old-fashioned sextant.

Gerald straightened up from the fireplace and didn't stop him from touching everything.

Previously, the child's words and actions were too restrained in the living room and at the dinner party.

He responded flawlessly to Vincent's probing questions and remained composed even when scrutinized by his elders.

For a sixteen-year-old boy to achieve this level of skill, he must either have exceptional acting ability or have experienced something that forced him to mature prematurely.

Neither of them makes me feel comfortable.

Now, seeing him fiddling with the sextant dial and holding his pocket watch to his ear, that's more like it.

"The sextant belonged to your great-grandfather."

Gerald sat down in a chair by the fireplace: "He used to run boats when he was young."

Richard restored the sextant to its original state and sat down on the guest chair opposite the desk.

The heat from the fireplace slowly crept up, warming half of my face.

The old man clasped his hands on his knees: "Richard, do you know what the Ashford family does?"

"A businessman."

"That's the version that outsiders know."

Gerald pulled out a thin booklet with a famous occult symbol printed in the center of the cover: a snake biting its own tail.

"The Ashford family has been operating in the capital for over three hundred years."

The old man covered the ouroboros symbol with his palm: "I don't rely on doing business, I rely on being a gatekeeper."