I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"Mom, where's Evelyn?" Richard asked.

"She's asleep." The mother said with a hint of helplessness.

"She ate too much for dinner; she's never seen so much meat and vegetables at home before."

She ate most of the cream-baked lobster, especially the plate of lobster.

"She felt sleepy as soon as she got back to her room, so I told her to go to bed early."

Margaret chuckled softly as she said this, but the smile quickly faded as her gaze fell on the gargoyle in her son's hand.

Richard was almost immediately certain that she recognized it.

"Mom, Grandfather told me a lot, do you have any questions...?" he asked tentatively.

Margaret raised her hand to stop him from continuing: "I'm no longer involved in the affairs of that world."

Richard noticed that his mother used the phrase "not involved," not "don't know."

"I left this house after graduating from university and married your father. I cut ties with all of this from that day on."

Richard recalled some things from the past.

My mother was in poor health, which was especially bad in the coal smoke of Bristol.

But she was incredibly accurate with weather changes, even more so than the weather station's forecasts.

She can even tell who's coming before they even enter the room.

Evelyn thought it was because her mother had good hearing, and Richard had thought so before.

Now he knows, it wasn't a hearing aid.

That's inspiration—suppressed, sealed away, or deliberately abandoned... but the foundation is there.

"By the way, your aunt Isabella, you should be able to see her after the Cicero Cup."

The way my mother spoke about her younger sister's name was completely different from how she spoke about her maternal grandfather.

When she talks about her maternal grandfather, her voice becomes tense; when she talks about Isabella, she becomes very relaxed.

"She also pursued an academic career, more than a decade earlier than you, and has some connections in that circle."

"If you ever encounter anything you're unsure about in the future, you can trust Isabella."

"I've got it."

Margaret nodded, said nothing more, and reached out to straighten his askew shirt collar.

Go to bed early.

"Mom, get some rest too. Don't push yourself if you're not feeling well."

The mother paused for a moment, then patted her son's head: "When did you learn to care about others?"

"Just recently."

"Then keep it up."

………………

Richard turned around, pushed open the door to his room, and locked it from the inside.

First, place the gargoyle on the desk, then sit down on the edge of the bed and place the wooden box flat on your lap.

Lifting the lid, you'll find the inside divided into three compartments with velvet lining.

The first compartment contained a stack of folded banknotes and several gold coins.

He flipped through the banknotes one by one—five pounds, five pounds, two notes.

The gold coins are two Sovereigns, of excellent quality, with clear and sharp serrations on the edges.

Including the banknotes, it came to about twelve pounds.

Twelve pounds—this number automatically translated into Bristol's cost of living in my mind:

It would be enough to pay the family's rent for several months, enough to buy medicine for her mother for several years, or enough to ensure Evelyn's shoe cabinet always had a good selection of shoes for every season.

He put the banknotes and gold coins back as they were, then turned his gaze to the second compartment.

The second compartment contained a sealed letter of introduction, with Ashford's family crest printed on the sealing wax.

The envelope had no recipient's name on it, only a line that read: "This letter is addressed to No. 7, Huayue Street."

The image of the newspaper on the train, located on Huayue Street, flashed through my mind.

The medium, Mrs. Mary, the mimeographed portrait, and the two men in felt hats whispering amongst themselves.

Huayue Street appears to be a gray area of ​​the capital, a place where spiritual mediums and shady dealings mingle.

But inside the wall, if there is "inside the wall," then it's probably another world.

He carefully turned the envelope over; the sealing wax was intact, and there were no signs that the seal had been tampered with.

The third compartment was empty, with a small piece of paper underneath on which a few lines of text were written:

"The legal channels for the circulation of rare items in the capital are limited."

No. 7 Flower Moon Street operates an antique appraisal and consignment business. The shopkeeper's surname is Donald, and he has had a long-standing relationship with the Ashford family.

If you need to purchase or consign related items, you can take this letter with you.

Below that is an even smaller line of text: "Act within your means."

Richard moved the wooden box from the bedside table to under his pillow, placing it between the blankets and the mattress.

The gargoyle remained on the table, and he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of it.

He pressed his palm back against the stone surface, and the numbers on the panel slowly crawled upwards.

He turned the gargoyle over to the bottom and carefully examined the first set of inscriptions under the gas lamp.

He had seen the basic framework of the ancient inscription system of the Western Continent in the book "From Temple to Pedal" given to him by Mr. Hutton.

However, that book focuses on the origins and evolution of religious ritual terminology, which overlaps with but is not entirely the same as this method of encryption through inscription.

He could recognize the first few characters, but then he started to recognize rare symbols.

No rush today, let's trace all the inscriptions first and check them slowly later when we have time.

He took out his notebook from his bag, turned to a blank page, and began to trace the inscription on the first side of the base stroke by stroke under the light.

After drawing for about ten minutes, he put down his pen, straightened the gargoyle, and covered it with his palm for a while.

The points are still increasing, slightly faster than before.

It's probably because the palm has a larger contact area and fits more tightly.

As he touched the gargoyle, his brain was working at high speed.

The conversation in the study was so rich in information that it needs to be broken down piece by piece.

First, there's the issue of ornaments.

Gerald himself admitted that he had instructed Vincent to give him the bronze pendant in order to test whether he had any potential loopholes.

Even a rare item, or a testing consumable of ordinary quality, is worth a fortune.

The fact that my grandfather was willing to spend this amount of money shows that, in his eyes, the value of the test results far exceeded that of a rare object.

But this raises a question.

At the last family gathering, he wasn't the only young person present.

Evelyn went too, along with probably other siblings from collateral branches.

Why only test him?

Given Gerrard's personality, it's impossible that he didn't consider other candidates.

The real purpose of that gathering was probably not just to reminisce from the very beginning.

Richard tried hard to recall fragments of that day.

At the gathering, the maternal grandfather sat in the main seat and spoke to each of the younger generation one by one.

At the time, I didn't pay any attention to it and just thought it was a routine concern from an elder.

But looking back now, my grandfather didn't talk to each young person for long; he would only say a word or two before moving on to the next one.

Given his rank, detecting potential circuits in someone's body is probably as intuitive as checking for moles on someone's face.

Most people should be clean, with no potential loops in their bodies, like an iron plate, where not a single drop of ether can penetrate.

Evelyn most likely belongs to this category.

If she had a potential loophole, her grandfather wouldn't have sent her the test pendant only to himself.

And what about yourself?

Richard looked down at his palm.

Mother should have a way back... Although she didn't say it explicitly just now, judging from Grandfather's attitude and various signs, it's almost certain.

A mother's genes can be passed on to her offspring through bloodline.

When my grandfather glanced at me at that gathering, he may have already noticed something was off, but he wasn't entirely sure.

Therefore, the method of verification was a rare object, and the only mistake was that my own health was too poor.

Thinking deeper, even the gargoyle in his hand and the wooden box were calculated.

Just enough for him to keep going for a while, but not enough to make him feel like he can just sit back and live off his savings.

Every word his grandfather said to him tonight, and everything he gave him.

They're all on the scale of "enough to give you a push, but won't walk for you."

This is someone who has the utmost commitment to maximizing resource efficiency ingrained in their very being.

But precisely because of this, the support he provides is relatively reliable.

What are investors most afraid of? They are most afraid of their target stocks going bad.

Therefore, as long as he continues to generate value, Gerrard will continue to invest more.

Richard understood this logic perfectly.