I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 522 Smoke Mirror

While we waited, the water had already boiled.

Mercury personally measured out the tea leaves and began brewing tea for Richard.

As the aroma of tea filled the air, Richard raised an eyebrow.

To be fair, he has connections; no wonder he's a well-known businessman in the Apennine Peninsula.

Mercury put the lid on the jar: "I only have two friends left who run the Eastern routes, and each of them can give me a few pounds a year."

If you like some later, you can take some home; it's free.

During a break from drinking tea, Mercury took out the business card again and looked it over.

He struck this one himself, so he knew exactly who he was giving it to.

Richard put down his teacup, about to say something, when Mercury spoke first.

He smiled warmly:

"Sir, there's no need to worry. I know the rules. Since you're using your true appearance to do business with me this time, we'll naturally interact using our true identities as well."

"But if I pretend not to recognize you, then I would be disrespectful."

He sat back down and placed the bronze seal neatly back in the center of the table, the meaning clear: this thing still belongs to the guest.

"The prices you just quoted are all void."

"Those are for individual customers. For guests like you, we have a different price."

There was a knock on the small door, and Piero quickly came in to clear the coffee from the table and set out some local snacks.

"By the way, Uncle... Boss, there's an old gentleman standing under the eaves of the tobacco shop at the street corner."

Mercury continued drinking his coffee, grunting, "That's normal; everyone needs to find shelter from the rain on rainy days."

"But he's been standing there for half an hour and hasn't turned a single page of the newspaper."

The young man swallowed hard.

"And... the dog at the butcher shop across the street has been barking all morning."

"It ran two steps to the street corner and then lay down on its own, and hasn't dared to get up since." Mercury's eyebrows furrowed, and he put the coffee cup back on the tray.

His hand was a little unsteady when he put it down, making a clattering sound, and he started to think about what to do.

To save time when running your own business, you'll habitually categorize your customers:

Those who are just passing by, those who are regulars, those who deserve a cup of tea/coffee, or those who require you to get up and greet them and treat them to a meal.

The young man in front of me has been placed in a relatively high tier since June.

The fact that an expert from the New World was willing to make a special trip for him was enough to make him pay close attention.

Moreover, after the Roman table was destroyed, the old man from the furrow sent someone to deliver a message:

"If there's a chance, we should find out what's so special about this child."

Mercury sighed inwardly for himself.

Although I was given these instructions, I couldn't possibly do it against my will.

"After arriving in town, will that gentleman settle down first or go see the sea?"

He suddenly said something completely unrelated. "Nine out of ten visitors from the New World, the first thing they do is go to see the sea. The Mediterranean is unlike any other place."

Richard put down his cup and, after a moment's thought, realized that the other person had misunderstood; they probably mistook the "mentor" who had come with him for Matthew.

"Sir, my tutor arrived yesterday afternoon and had pesto noodles for dinner. After dinner, he complained that the tea in the shop tasted like dishwater."

I left home at 9:30 this morning and am still standing under the eaves of the tobacco shop at the street corner reading the newspaper.

"...Eat noodles and read the newspaper."

Richard smiled knowingly: "Yes, he's just a scholar well-versed in classical texts and traditions, not the one you're thinking of."

"..."

Mercury breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed that the person who came with him was not an expert.

His face showed disappointment mixed with a hint of relief.

Richard noted down every subtle change in his expression, and even guessed that someone on the Italian side must have instructed him to keep an eye on this Hermes.

But even a great scholar cannot be negligent, so Mercury called out to his nephew.

"Piero." "Here."

"Take that nice umbrella downstairs, and pour a cup of this tea and take it to the street corner. Remember to carry it with both hands."

Piero left, and Mercury closed the door again and locked it.

"Let's talk about what you want again. We can get the bark paper, but it might take a while."

Veracruz itself was also embroiled in war last year, so goods had to be shipped to Tampico first, and then transported by ships from neutral countries.

"The Andean knot, Your Excellency, must ensure that no one touches it."

"right."

"That would be difficult. The items in the museum are disassembled as soon as you enter, and some collectors even like to disassemble them in front of guests."

Richard nodded: "So, do you have any in stock?"

"Yes, a family moved back from Lima before the New Year. The old lady died on the ship, and all their belongings were sold. No one would touch such relics, but they might be cursed. You'll have to deal with them yourselves."

He put the pen cap back on.

"And cochineal, you don't need to buy that from me, sir." Richard waited for him to continue.

"Goods from the Canary Islands will go directly into your empire's ports without needing to be resold."

On the contrary, the goods here come from Iberia, and they're sold for more money than yours.

Mercury spoke sincerely, explaining that after figuring out the guest's identity, he planned to use this deal as a favor.

"Moreover, the Germans urgently needed those chemical dyes this year, and they devoured all the goods in our neutral ports, leaving virtually no residue."

"Finally, it's Darjeeling..."

Mercury glanced down and looked at Richard with a puzzled expression.

"Tea from Calcutta originally passed through the capital, yet you come all the way here to buy it. Isn't that going to all this trouble?"

Richard smiled faintly and took the list back.

"Sorry... we might have made a mistake on our end."

The professor deliberately wrote these two things down. If the other party is honest in doing business, they will point it out directly. If it's the other way around... then it means the other party doesn't want to do business properly.

We then negotiated prices for about half an hour. The bark paper would take three months to ship to Lukang, and the price would be discussed later. The knotted rope would only cost eight pounds and nine shillings, with the shipping cost to be paid by the other party.

Richard showed him a few things he wasn't quite sure about, and Mercury just kept observing silently.

The task casually assigned by that furrowing expert must at least be something you can accomplish:

This Mr. Hermes's ability to appraise antiquities far exceeds his rank and age.

He tentatively presented several highly skilled replicas, so exquisite that many industry professionals would have difficulty distinguishing them from the real thing, but this young man could tell the difference with just a glance.

It's unclear whether this ability comes from the Hermes mask or something else.

After finishing their business, Mercury took out a thin booklet from the bottom of the writing desk.

He hesitated before taking it out, as it was like reopening his wounds in front of an outsider.

"Sir, these are our account books and records for three days in mid-August."

For those three days, not a single customer came upstairs from my street.

Here it comes! Richard took the ledger, feigning just the right amount of curiosity and surprise:

"Not a single one in three days?" "Actually, a total of twelve people walked to the door. I stood by the window and counted them one by one."

Each of the twelve people glanced up at the second floor and left. On the afternoon of the third day, one person had already stepped onto the stairs, but then pulled his foot back down.

Richard lowered his head and sipped his tea: "How much was lost?"

"The loss isn't much; it's only seventeen pounds and four shillings in your account."

"In addition to a deposit and a favor." Mercury's face darkened.

"There are some loose goods in Liwo, and I originally placed a three-pound deposit in advance to reserve a spot."

As a result, this whole thing made me feel guilty, and I didn't dare to make any more moves, so I just returned it.

He then took out the original copy of the business card and handed it over as well.

"Since you have such a keen eye, could you take a look at this for me?"

Richard didn't shy away from the fact that he used Venus's silver mirror as a magnifying glass to amplify his Mirror Condensation Technique.

Mercury looked at the familiar silver mirror, his lips twitching slightly, secretly glad that he had escaped early that night.

Richard ignored him and studied the master copy carefully. This thing was even easier to read than the business card itself; the business card was printed, but the master copy was the source.

Those three transactions—transfer, guarantee, and solicitation—are still pending.

The third trace of healing was still there, and the joint was particularly familiar, after all, it was his own hand that had struck.

Richard put away the mirror and pondered for a moment:

"...It seems that someone used your business card as a medium to cast a spell, which caused a blow to your luck."

Mercury immediately lifted his back from the chair: "Has my luck been ruined?"

This is what businessmen value most; they've never heard of an unlucky person managing to make a profit.

"This kind of technique... seems to be what the Moon Hunting tradition excels at."

He took the master copy back and casually looked at the young man in front of him again.

I mentally reviewed the list of suspects once again.

The insurance company across the street, the old lady lending money on the third floor, his uncle's relatives... He didn't think these colleagues and relatives who depended on him for a living would make a move against him; they simply didn't have the ability to do so.

The list went down, until finally only those who had voluntarily given out their business cards remained. One of the suspects was sitting right across from them.

The young man had brown hair and gray eyes, and he had drunk a third of the Darjeeling in front of him.

Mercury smiled inwardly.

This young man is just a professional; he might even have to queue up to report to his own country's branch office.

For a practitioner to target the business seal that their family has cultivated over generations... is like trying to pry open a ship's anchor with a needle.

Then there's the question of whether anyone will do it for him... especially since this kid has a master from the New World standing behind him.

But if a master wants to take down Mercury, why would he need to go through all this trouble?

That kind of existence is so powerful that if someone sneezes, they won't wake up the next day.

Even if we assume that person wanted to establish authority over the child and make an example of him on the Apennine Peninsula, they wouldn't have gone so far as to have "no guests coming upstairs for three days."

In three days, he lost seventeen pounds and four shillings.

A piece by a connoisseur, worth only seventeen pounds and four shillings?

Mercury almost burst out laughing. Even his own nineteen-year-old nephew wouldn't dare play such a petty prank.

If the person who cut off the business card really is Richard, then Richard coming to the door today is like the arsonist returning to the victim's door with a bucket of water, knocking on the door and saying he wants to conduct a fire safety inspection.

Besides, the inspiration of a seasoned expert is not something to be taken lightly.

Richard put the silver mirror back into his canvas bag and waited for Mercury's reaction.

Logically, Richard should have felt a little uncomfortable after targeting Mercury once, even through three layers of cover, but he didn't have any reaction at all.

What Richard didn't know was that the day before yesterday afternoon on the fourth floor of the library, before the librarian handed Richard the copy of the Mahabharata, he casually wiped away all the marks that Richard had gotten on him from various places without even realizing it, which is why Mercury's inspiration was not triggered at all.

Richard offered his advice earnestly: "Sir, I don't think the person who cut off your business card is necessarily an enemy."

Mercury looked up: "What did you just say?"

"Anyone who really wants to ruin your business will keep cutting it, one slice after another, until the cuts don't even have time to heal, and everyone on the street completely forgets about your shop."

Richard placed his hand on the edge of the table.

"The person who cut your business card only cut it once, and with the shallowest cut at that. They left right after. I suspect someone has developed a new technique and is using your business card as a test subject."

The room quieted down, the rain outside lessened, and a woman called to her child from the alleyway, "Come home for dinner." Mercury exhaled a breath he'd held for over two months, leaned back in his chair, and murmured:

"They're not enemies."

"It's even more difficult if they're not enemies. When business people fight, they always end up sitting at the same table, having a meal and drinks, asking a few mediators to apologize, and the price is negotiable."

Richard saw the color draining from Mercury's face little by little.

"If someone treats me as an enemy, I can still pay to settle. But if someone uses me as a sample, I don't even know who to settle with."

Richard didn't respond to Mercury's words; Richard knew he should wait for Mercury to say the next thing.

Mercury lowered his voice: "Last time, the person who wanted to harm me cut off my ability to 'attract' customers. Next time, if someone really wants to attack me, the knife won't be used on 'attracting' customers, but on something far more deadly."

Richard touched the bronze mask in his arms, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

"Sir, I have an idea."

Richard held up his business card in the light streaming in from the window and continued:

"Your business card is a reflection of yourself elsewhere. When you carry your business card in your pocket and hand it out one by one to Marseille, Livorno, and Alexandria, it's like sending an invitation to everyone who receives it. Those who want to harm you can use this invitation to their advantage and take advantage of your vulnerability."

Mercury blurted out, "Can I take all the business cards back?" But before he could finish the question, he shook his head. "I can't take them back. I've been in business my whole life, and I've given away so many business cards that I can't even count them all."

Richard stood up and walked to the window. Outside the harbor on San Lorenzo Street stood a magnificent palace. The walls of the palace's facade were covered with murals depicting knights and shields, and a dragon coiled in the corner.

Richard said, "St. George's Palace is particularly famous in tourist brochures on the Imperial side."

Mercury remained seated in his chair. He had lived in Genoa his entire life and knew exactly what the view outside the window looked like without even looking.

Richard, with his back to Mercury, continued:

"Machiavelli wrote about Genoa in his 'History of Florence,' saying that the Genoese did not care how many governors came and went, and that no one was allowed to touch the ledgers of the Bank of San Giorgio, which was like another republic hidden within the Republic of Genoa."

Mercury smiled and directly dismantled Richard's:

"In 1805, Napoleon closed the St. George Bank. On the day the bank closed, my great-grandfather went to the dock and cried. The old man had never deposited a single copper coin into the St. George Bank in his entire life."

"The banks are closed, but the Palace of San Giorgio still stands by the port, and the people of Genoa still consider the Palace of San Giorgio to be an important place."

Mercury nodded: "In 1903, the Harbour Federation moved into St. George's Palace."

Richard turned around and told Mercury his solution: "Sir, you should learn from St. George's Bank and first put your name on various institutions in Genoa."

"You can join the General Chamber of Commerce's board of directors if you want, but if you can't, you can just join a committee—wartime shipping, insurance, coal, any committee will do. All you need to do is have someone call out Mr. Mercury's name during the monthly roll call. Then, you'll have to go to Rome." Mercury raised an eyebrow at the mention of "Rome."

"The Roman Treasury is preparing for the next tranche of war bonds. You can subscribe to one in your own shop's name, and the amount should be large enough to get on the list of subscribers."

The Red Cross hospital ship is short of blankets and gauze. If you donate some money, you can have a line of text published in the Official Gazette.

If the Army needs an advisor who understands flight paths, you can be that advisor; you won't need a single penny in salary.

"Get another medal?" Mercury finished Richard's sentence.

"Yes, I want a Crown Medal, a knighthood will suffice."

Mercury laughed when he heard "knight":

"Young man, there are knights everywhere on the streets of San Lorenzo. The owner of the olive oil shop across the street has a knight's medal, which he hangs out at the entrance of his shop every day to attract customers."

"Knighthoods are everywhere, so nobody will give yours a second glance."

Mercury's smile slowly faded. He picked up the bronze seal from the table, twirled it between his fingers, and stared out the window at St. George's Palace, adorned with knights. After a long while, he asked Richard:

"Once my name is plastered all over Genoa and Rome, if anyone tries to tamper with me again..."

"Those who want to harm you will first run into the General Chamber of Commerce's list, then the entire port of Genoa, and finally the Roman national debt subscription book." Mercury immediately understood Richard's meaning: "To cut a country's national debt while at war, the person who makes the move has to ask the entire Apennines for permission first."

Mercury put down the bronze seal: "You young people just think fast."

"From August until now, I have had four different people come to see me for my ailments."

Richard didn't interrupt, waiting for Mercury to continue.

"One of the four people was a woman from Naples who I heard had told the fortunes of three duchesses. She lit candles in my room all afternoon and finally told me that the house number was unlucky and that I should change it to number thirteen."

Richard asked Mercury if he had made any changes.

Mercury spread his hands: "Number 13 on San Lorenzo Street is a coffin shop. If I really changed it to number 13, the customers would think I'd switched to selling coffins."

A muffled thud came from the side of the small door; Piero, who was eavesdropping, probably bumped his head on the doorframe.

"The second one was from Marseille. He told me to burn all the business cards I had given out and never print them again."

"And your business..."

He said business is something external.

Mercury remained expressionless. "You took four pounds from me, and those four pounds are no longer a burden."

"And the third one?"

The third one didn't come. The reply said the problem was the orientation of my family's ancestral grave.

My family's ancestral graves are in the Starreno Cemetery; the orientation was determined by the municipal planning bureau.

"The fourth one?"

Mercury remained silent for a moment.

"The fourth one is a gentleman from north of the Alps."

I paid the largest deposit I'd made in ten years. He sat in this room for three days, looking at the master copy over and over, and finally said he had two options.

"Either melt down the master mold, recast it with my blood, and use three years' worth of my profits as payment."

"And the second one?"

Mercury extended a finger and drew a horizontal line in the air.

"I'll voluntarily cut out this customer acquisition fee myself." "He said that once he cuts it off, no one can do it a second time, and from now on I'll only do business with regular customers."

Richard looked at him.

"I almost threw a bowl of soup in his face."

Mercury snorted angrily, "I even suspect that guy is the one targeting me."

He sighed, picked up the bronze seal again, and sized up the young man across the table.

"You seem to be quite familiar with my situation."

"I know a professor in Beijing who participates in the lunar hunting tradition."

Richard answered casually.

Mercury grunted and put the bronze seal back.

Richard lowered his head and picked up the glass of tea that had gone cold.

Of course he was familiar with it; he could draw that stroke even with his eyes closed. He was the one who personally prepared the poison for himself.

The Hermes mask burned his hand, nearly causing him to spill tea on his trousers. The two golden snakes, out of his sight, coiled tightly around him.

You stab someone in the back, then sell them medicine, and the person still has to thank you.

If this isn't the God of Deception, then what is?

Richard put down his teacup.

But the medicine he provided was genuine. The Chamber of Commerce, the port, the national debt, the hospital ship... all these social reputations, accumulated over time, will become a shield if anyone tries to harm Mercury in the future.

Mercury had taken out a checkbook with a lion lying on a shield printed on the cover.

He unscrewed the pen cap: "Consultation fee, please name the amount."

"Need not."

Mercury wasn't pleased; instead, he seemed unsure of the other's meaning: "You think it's too little?"

"I don't accept money."

Mercury put down his pen and squinted at the young man.

"You don't want money, you want something else. Tell me, I'm listening."

"It's so much easier talking to smart people," Richard chuckled.

"I need a single line from you."

What he wanted was for Mercury to endorse him from then on, so that he could have credibility in Genoa.

Upon hearing this, Mercury turned to the latest page of the ledger and wrote a line in the local language:

"Any item appraised by Mr. Williams is considered to have been personally verified by our shop."

After writing, he took out a stamp from the drawer and stamped it.

"Thank you, sir."

"Also, if you have anything you're unsure about in the future, you can send it to me for me to take a look."

"Where should I send it? To Imperial Capital University?"

"No. 7 Huayue Street, Don Na Antiques and Miscellaneous Items, for Mr. L."

Mercury's hand, which was about to close the ledger, stopped. "Donald? That short Persian?"

"You recognize him?"

"My grandfather knew his grandfather."

Mercury's expression was subtle.

"In the 1970s, two men argued all night in a Marseille hotel over a batch of bronzes that had been shipped from Smyrna."

They had breakfast together the day after their argument, then went their separate ways.

"And then?"

"Later, it turned out that the bronzes were fake, and neither of them bought them, each thinking they had good taste."

Richard thought to himself, "This world is really small, or rather, the mystical world is small."

Mercury put the ledger back on top of the cabinet and boiled another pot of water.

Richard glanced at the clock on the wall; there was still quite a bit of time left before two hours were up.

"Since I'm here, I'd like to buy something to take back with me." "What would you like, sir? I have everything here, from what's on the dock to what's in the warehouse."

"Old things from this side of the Mediterranean."

Richard thought for a moment and said, "Also, if you have any troublesome cursed objects stored here, I'd like to take a look."

"I've been working on this street for so long, and I've never heard of a customer asking for a cursed item."

"Now we have it." Richard simply smiled.

"Piero, bring over the basket that's waiting to be tested."

The wicker basket was moved to the table, and Mercury lifted the oilcloth covering it.

Inside was a red coral, about the length of a finger, with three branches, each tip drilled with a hole.

"This was made in a town near Naples that specializes in harvesting coral, and it was worn around a child's neck to ward off evil eyes (mentioned earlier)."

This has been worn by three generations in total. The fourth generation went out to make their way in the world and thought it was too old-fashioned, so they left it at home.

The coral had been worn close to the skin for decades, its ether even and clean. Richard held the piece in his hand, and the label on it flickered slightly.

"This doesn't count as a cursed object; I keep all cursed objects locked in a cabinet."

Mercury turned to Piero: "Go open the cabinet."

The iron cabinet in the corner had three locks, and Piero's hands trembled as he opened the last one.

He took a flat wooden box out of the cabinet, placed it on the table, and took two large steps back.

The wooden box was lined with linen, and on the linen lay a roll of lead sheets.

A nail pierced right through the center of the lead roll; the nail head was rusted.

"This comes from Carthage. The Romans built a racecourse there, and someone fished this out of a well next to the racecourse."

"This must be a cursed lead plate."

"You recognize him?"

Richard didn't reach out, he just looked: "I've seen it in a book. It says that horse racers would have someone write this, specifically to curse their opponents."

Mercury continued, "The lead plate has never been opened. I had someone read the contents through the lead plate using spiritual vision: Make the horse fall, make the eyes blind, make the hands unable to hold the reins."

"What happened to that driver afterward?"

"No one knows what happened 1,700 years ago."

Mercury's expression wasn't good:

"All I know is that the person who retrieved it fell off the carriage and broke his leg the following year. The person who sold it to me didn't fall, but he always preferred to take a detour whenever he passed by the racecourse."

The third item is a black pottery teapot, which is a size larger than the teapot at home and requires two hands to hold.

It's called one can, but it's actually two cans stuck together side by side, connected by a short tube at the bottom.

The one on the left is smooth with an opening on the top of its round belly; the one on the right is shaped like a crouching bird with a small hole at the back of its head.

"This comes from the northern coast of Peru."

He pointed to the round jar on the left with his finger.

"Pour water in from here, hold it with both hands and shake it back and forth."

Water flows into the bird's belly, squeezing out the air through this small hole, and it sounds just like a real bird chirping. The locals call this a whistle jar. "It chirps by itself at night," Piero interjected from two steps away.

Richard glanced at him.

Mercury rubbed his temples.

"After I locked it in the metal cabinet, it barked inside."

He gestured with his chin towards the window.

"The dog at the butcher shop across the street barked at us for a whole month."

Richard bent down and put his ear close to the small hole behind the bird's head.

There was a whooshing sound inside, stopping and starting, as if someone was blowing air into the bottle with their mouth to the outside.

Finally, Mercury took out an obsidian mirror from the cabinet himself.

"This came from the New World this spring."

Mercury straightened the mirror: "The locals call this kind of mirror a smoke mirror."

"They have an ancient god over there, and that's his name." "The previous owner was a collector from Marseille who would shave in front of it every morning."

Mercury lowered his voice slightly.

"On the fortieth day of shaving, he told his wife that the person in the mirror put down the razor before him."

The room quieted down; the rain outside had stopped, but water was still dripping from the eaves.

Richard Jing Shui circled the mirror only once, just along its edge, and when he reached the front, a layer of smoke rose from the water's surface.

Halfway through rolling it up, the silver ring on my chest felt a chill.

He quickly covered the mirror with burlap and turned it over so that the back was facing up.

The panel section jumped up, and it jumped up much faster than the previous two.

As expected of a smoke mirror, Richard was most interested in this one.

"How much is this side?" he began to haggle.

"Six pounds. I paid five pounds for it when I received it. With shipping costs, you should at least let me break even."

"If you want to take this bird's whistle jar, I won't charge you." I see, Mercury is looking for an opportunity to clear out his inventory.

"I'll pay for the shipping myself," Piero added.

Mercury turned and glared at him, and he shrank back.

"What about the lead plates and coral?"

Three pounds.

Richard took out the money, and his purse shrank considerably.

………………

The two discussed the price for a while longer, and only after they had completely agreed on a price did Richard go to the lobby on the first floor to prepare to leave.

Piero, who had been arranged by Mercury to wait for him in advance, was dozing off behind a narrow table, his head nodding off.

The register was still open, turned to the page from the morning.

Richard took a silver needle from the box and aimed it at the register.

The needle tip touched it, then traced a diagonal line down the edge. "Clang."

It was as light as if I had just scratched it with my fingernail.

He put away the still water and looked down at the notebook.

The name and date are still there, but the reason for the visit in the third line has been erased.

Piero suddenly woke up and wiped his face.

"...Sir, are you leaving?"

"I'm gone."

It's still raining outside.

"fine."

Richard pulled the umbrella out of the umbrella holder and shook off the water.

Pushing open the door, Mortimer was still standing under the eaves of the tobacco shop at the street corner, holding a piece of paper high to cover his face.

He reached out from behind the newspaper and gestured vaguely in their direction. "One hour and twenty-six minutes."

After leaving San Lorenzo Street, Mortimer put his pocket watch away and walked out of the alley with Richard.

Richard gave a brief account of the materials he purchased, then added, "Professor, I couldn't find Darjeeling, but the tea shop owner gave me some."

The old professor grunted, "At least we won't have to drink tea that tastes like dishwater anymore."

After walking a dozen steps, Richard took out the list and money bag and handed them back to the professor. Mortimer held the money bag and weighed it in his hand: "It's so much lighter now, what did you buy?"

"I bought several cursed items that are unavailable in the Empire; two are from the Mediterranean and two are from the New World."

The old professor frowned: "Why did you buy a bunch of disgusting stuff?"

"I have a research project that requires the use of cursed objects."

Mortimer stared at Richard for two seconds, then his serious expression returned to its lazy demeanor: "Fine, it's not my money anyway."

As Richard reached the alley entrance, he suddenly stopped, and the tip of the antlers with the reins wrapped around them in his inner breast pocket began to tremble again.