I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 531 Shura Field - Small

The voices of the dead, accumulated over hundreds of years—crying, cursing, and those who misspoke half a prayer before dying—all poured down the threshold into that mouth, and once inside, all the sound ceased.

It kept eating and never stopped.

As usual, the expert from Heituhe counted the shadows again.

One, two, three... as they counted, they realized they were missing one more line.

This guy didn't ask it beforehand, nor did he inform it afterwards!

When he was young, the man from Heituhe was a tomb keeper and hated two kinds of people the most: tomb raiders and those who stole offerings.

Grave robbers at least have to dig and pry, and they also risk being cursed.

Those who steal offerings only need to take them from the offering table when the tomb keeper lowers his head.

The black soil river expert's head was emitting ghost fire.

It made the first move.

Before summoning the other party, it turned all the mirrors inside the pyramid upside down to prevent the mouth from seeing what it was hiding. Now it has all the mirrors facing outwards, pointing them toward the doorway.

It was thanks to a wondrous object that illuminates the names of all things that it has grown from a small mud-brick temple to where it is today.

Hundreds of mirrors lit up simultaneously; the Abyss Master had no face, and his tongue had long since departed.

The mirror can't find facial features to reflect, so it can only look deeper into its interior to see what's inside.

The first mirror shows a burning city with Hittite cuneiform script carved on its walls;

The second mirror shows copper ingots piled up like graves on the shores of Arasia.

The third mirror reflects a clay slab, placed in the still-fired kiln, on which is engraved half a letter:

"My father, look! The enemy ships are coming! My city is burning..."

The letter ends here.

The expert from the Black Soil River suddenly understood: this was the other party's external name... the city-states and kingdoms it had swallowed.

The huge mouth was still sucking downwards, but the image in the mirror was upside down.

The pyramid of the Black Soil River was already upside down; when its reflection flipped, the upside-down became upright, and the downward pull became a backward pull. The suction force crashed into the mirror and then bounced back out of the mirror.

The huge mouth sucked itself in.

The abyss was silent for a moment; the black tide ceased to flow, and the flames of the city in the mirror hung motionless in mid-air.

The mouth at the doorway suddenly twisted to one side, its corners distorted by its own suction, stretching and collapsing as it bit into its own cheek.

As soon as the mirror lit up, all sixty-four shadows of the Black Earth River expert stretched out their arms from the shadow of the pyramid.

Spread it out, then nail it in place.

Once the mouth is opened, it must speak; to speak, one must have a tongue; and with a tongue, one can have a name that can be pronounced.

The expert from the Black Soil River didn't want to kill it, nor could he.

But if you wait long enough, the mirror will eventually show the shape of your tongue.

Once the tongue is exposed, the list of countries that have perished can be read as a single name.

This is the characteristic of the traditional branch of "substitution"—it can find a way to deal with any kind of enemy.

The Abyss Master, however, remained unmoved, opening his mouth to twice its original size. The entire Abyss collapsed, and the pyramid tilted towards the entrance.

Even worse, it was the hands of the Black Soil River expert himself.

As it tugged, it discovered that a shadow, instead of crawling back, was writing words on the lips of that mouth.

Those were scribes who copied scriptures for the temple during Ptolemy's time, and every stroke of their script was written in the oldest hieroglyphic script.

And this hand... wrote the name of the Black Earth River Master, the syllables that the hunter hadn't taken away.

The expert from Heituhe suddenly tightened his grip on the shadow, pulling it back along with the pen and hand.

Before the half-character on the lips could be finished, it was smudged by the suction force of the mirror.

The two sides remained deadlocked for a while, neither able to gain the upper hand.

The large mouth slowly shrank back to its original size.

"If we keep fighting, your pyramid will be sucked into the abyss, and my mouth will be torn apart by your mirror."

"The Hunter Lord's Wild Hunt team is not far away, and the Master of Classics just went out today."

The louder we fight in the Deep Realm, the more easily those of the same rank can hear us. The Black Earth River Master bent down to pick up the mirror and counted the cracks. He found that several sides were cracked and was so distressed that he didn't speak for a long time.

When it opened its mouth again, it put forward new conditions.

"How about this... including the tomb raiders and forgers I've already given you, I'll give you two more."

"Also, I'll give you an extra treat."

The Abyss expert asked, "What's the extra?"

The Black Earth River Master raised his hand, and seven slender shadows appeared on the pyramid's stone wall, each wearing a mask bearing the name of the Black Earth River God.

"You've probably heard of the seven people at the Black Earth River God Tablet."

"The seven people at this table are borrowing the names of the gods from my hometown, and their shadows have always been hanging on my internet."

It introduced the seven shadows one by one according to their seating order.

分别是阿波菲斯1、荷鲁斯2、赛特3、奈芙蒂斯4、塞赫麦特5、贝斯特6、阿努比斯7。

Of the seven, four are men and three are women. Best and Anubis are newcomers and are just practitioners.

After introducing the seven shadows, the Black Earth River expert said, "But I can't give them to you now. Once the shadows leave the body, the seven people will die on the spot."

The Black Earth River God Tablet will also fall apart, and after the winter solstice night, I will still need Apophis to keep an eye on the Hunter for me.

I can give you the seven shadows as collateral. If I fail to pay you the promised shadows after the winter solstice, or violate any of the terms we agreed on today, the seven shadows will belong to you.

You can go collect it whenever you want.

A long swallowing sound came from the large mouth.

"Seven living shadows wearing masks bearing divine names, and a great master of the same tradition as me—this is far more appealing than seventy dead shadows."

"Old priest, you're incredibly generous, actually giving me all seven of them as collateral. Do they even know that?"

The expert from Heituhe snorted coldly: "They don't need to know."

………………

Richard had been back in the capital for two days, and that afternoon he arrived at Phillips' house by carriage.

A young male servant opened the door and took his coat from him.

"The young master is waiting for you in the living room." His return was triggered by a phone call Phillips made to Ashford House the day he came back.

"When you go abroad, everyone wants to hear you talk about what's happening outside."

"Take this opportunity to come to my house for a get-together."

The living room is on the second floor, and above the fireplace hangs a portrait of old Phillips.

The person in the painting is wearing an inspector's uniform, with sharp eyes, as if ready to interrogate someone outside the painting at any moment.

Phillips himself had a black armband wrapped around his left arm, and Constance stood beside him in a dark gray casual suit.

She nodded to Richard:

"Welcome back, Mr. Williams. You've lost a little weight in the photos."

"photo?"

"He cut out the newspaper clippings." Constance tilted her head toward her fiancé.

"The group photo from the Genoa Exposition was published on page 6 of the Beijing Morning Post. You were standing in the last row with half of your body showing."

Richard remembered that because so few people attended the exhibition during the war, Mercury had simply registered him as one of the attendees and taken a group photo together. As they chatted, the other guests gradually arrived.

Hugh arrived first, and as soon as he entered the living room, he stood in front of the portrait, tilting his head to study.

Edith arrived by public carriage, her skirt splattered with mud. Upon entering, she handed her small cloth bag to the servant, saying it contained oat cakes she had baked herself.

Children from poor families often care more about etiquette and always bring something when visiting other people's homes.

Fisher walked in with sheet music tucked under his arm and immediately spotted the grand piano in the corner of the living room.

When Montagu entered, he took off his coat, revealing the well-tailored dark suit underneath.

He greeted everyone and finally stood next to Richard.

"I heard you crossed the Alps."

"Who told you that?" Richard raised an eyebrow. How come everyone's information network is so good?

"Associate Professor Ashford said it in the department."

Montagu picked up the tea offered by the servant.

"Your aunt's exact words were: 'That senile old man took my nephew to climb the snow mountain. If he breaks his leg, I'll move all his books to the boiler room.'" Clara was still inseparable from Sophia.

My senior wore a new dress today, with a small silver tuning fork brooch pinned to her neckline.

The aloofness I had developed after being promoted to junior expert had faded considerably without me even realizing it. I tripped over the threshold as I entered and laughed to myself.

Sofia rushed to the tea table as soon as she entered.

Over here, Richard is talking to someone about manhole covers in Genoa.

He heard a familiar laugh coming from the foyer, followed by the clatter of two pairs of little boots coming upstairs.

Turning his head, he saw his sister walking in, arm in arm with Grey.

The two people were wearing the same wool scarf, one on each end.

Grey was holding a tin box in her arms, while Evelyn was carrying a basket of mixed fruit pies.

Their noses were red from the cold, and they huddled together, chattering away about something.

Richard, holding his teacup, choked on the words that were about to come out.

Evelyn handed the basket to the servant, grabbed his sleeve, and dragged him to the window. "Brother, what's with that look on your face? It's like you've seen a cat and a dog sleeping in the same bed."

"When did you...?"

"After you left," Evelyn whispered in his ear.

"Wasn't Grey's boat returned to her family?"

Her father then took her to Ashford's house to express their gratitude, bringing two cases of Eastern Continent spices and a can of Ceylon tea. Her grandfather took one sip and said it was good.

"My aunt was there that day too. My grandfather invited them to stay for dinner, and my aunt and my sister Grey talked about spices and ancient trade routes all night long."

Evelyn paused here to let him process what she was saying.

"And then?"

"Later, my sister Grey would come to me every Saturday to make desserts."

His younger sister winked at him and covered her mouth while laughing.

"My grandfather said it wasn't safe for a girl to go home alone after dark, so he asked the housekeeper to clean up the south-facing guest room on the third floor, which has now become a regular guest room."

Richard was speechless for a while, feeling that everything had changed in just two months. Evelyn looked at his face with satisfaction:

"My grandfather even asked me if the two of you had a fight."

Otherwise, how come she didn't receive a single letter during your two months abroad?

"...I wrote it."

"How many letters did you write?"

Richard remained silent.

Evelyn looked at him with an "I knew it" look, patted his arm, and walked back to Grey's side.

Everyone sat down around the fireplace.

Phillips waved for his servant to stoke the fire, then sank into his armchair.

"Alright, tell me, everyone else is locked up in the city, but you went out for a stroll."

Richard tried to talk about only what he could, but he definitely couldn't talk about the Master, the Wild Hunt, or Professor Mortimer's advancement plan... and Lillian's affairs were also off-limits.

Speaking of the Apennines, Edith jotted down the price of Genoese flour in her notebook; and when she arrived in Switzerland, Hugh opened his sketchbook again, the pencil scratching across the paper as he drew a skull and the Grim Reaper pressing down on the scholar's pages.

Phillips urged him, "Skip all that and get straight to the Alps."

Richard took a sip of tea.

"The train stops at Le Chatral because the railway ahead is closed in winter due to deep snow."

The professor stood on the platform, glanced at the mountain, and said, "Then let's walk over there."

"He's over 120 years old!" Sofia exclaimed, dropping a crumb of cake from her mouth.

"One hundred and twenty-three," Clara corrected her.

"That's what I said back then," Richard sighed.

"So the professor wanted me to carry him on my back."

Everyone laughed.

"And then?" Grey asked.

She sat next to Evelyn, clutching the pastry box in both hands. "But when we got halfway up the mountain, he ended up carrying my bag and making me chase after him."

The laughter grew even louder.

Richard said that the foehn wind that morning blew up from the valley floor and was unusually warm;

In the afternoon, the weather suddenly changed. A white gust of wind swept across the pass, and nothing could be seen more than three steps away.

They could only move forward with difficulty by feeling their way along the wooden poles in the blizzard; these were the poles that the locals used to mark the way for the postmen in the winter.

That night, they spent the night in a customs hut guarded by two Franz soldiers.

The four of them sat around the iron stove and took out all the food they had to make up a dinner.

"What did you eat?" Evelyn asked most urgently.

"Laklett," Richard tried to describe.

"It's half a cheese wheel placed on the side of the oven to bake. Once a layer has melted, you scrape it off with a knife and pour it over boiled potatoes, and also dried beef."

Evelyn swallowed hard.

Richard thought to himself that he had checked his stats after returning. Both the [Walking] and [Eating] skills had progressed to 80% during this winter's snow mountain march.

The [Sleep] skill wasn't idle in those drafty little huts either, constantly climbing the progress bar.

He never expected that crossing the snow-capped mountains would be such a special experience; it was a lucky accident.

Once these last three skills reach level 5, the long-awaited seed of "Quantity, Boundary, and Gift" can be planted.

"There's one more thing, but don't laugh when you hear it."

"We promise we won't laugh." Sofia placed her hand on her heart, a smile already playing on her lips.

"The next night, we rested in an abandoned hay shed."

In the middle of the night, I heard something breathing heavily behind the haystack. I struck a match and went to investigate…

He stopped and took a sip of tea.

"What do you see?" Gray's fingers tightened around the tin box.

"A large lizard," Richard gestured.

"Its body is this thick, thicker than my legs, and its tail drags in the hay. It has two short legs in the front and no legs in the back."

The strangest thing was its face—a round, flat nose, two vertical pupils…it was a cat's face.

The living room fell silent.

Edith's pencil froze in mid-air, while Montagu's hand, holding the teacup, remained motionless.

Clara glanced at Sofia, who had forgotten to swallow the piece of cake in her mouth.

Constance slowly straightened her back.

"Brother!" Evelyn spoke first, "You've made a fire in the shed, haven't you?"

"It's a little bit born."

"A fire is lit in the thatched hut, but the smoke can't escape."

Evelyn concluded, "You're hallucinating from the smoke."

"The professor saw it too."

"So you two were both hallucinating from the fumes," Gray asked in a very soft voice. "...Did it bite you?"

"No, the professor tapped its nose with his cane, and it breathed on it and ran off into the snow."

"Breathing?"

"Just like a cat, ha!" Richard gestured with his bared teeth.

Even Evelyn couldn't hold back this time.

Sofia kept her voice very low amidst the laughter, so low that only Clara beside her could hear it:

"It's a Tazel Worm, at least a mid-tier evil creature."

Clara also lowered her voice: "...Was the professor using a spell to tap with his cane?"

"It seems so."

The two most senior female students present exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything further.

Across from her, Constance also loosened her fist, which she had been clenching for some time.

After the laughter subsided, a servant came to announce that the full afternoon tea had been prepared in the adjacent greenhouse. Everyone rose and headed there, with Montagu lagging half a step behind, standing shoulder to shoulder with Richard.

"I'll be in an undergraduate program next semester too."

Richard glanced at him.

"Closing down early, the papers were signed yesterday."

Montagu said helplessly, "My family says they need someone who can start working early this year."

"Do you think about it yourself?" Richard suddenly asked.

"I'd really like to stay in preparatory school for another year," Montagu said with a smile.

The greenhouse was brighter than the living room, and there was a three-tiered dessert stand on the table, along with fresh cucumbers and tomatoes picked from the greenhouse, which looked incredibly appetizing.

Richard had just sat down in the center of the long side table.

Evelyn pulled open the chair on his left and plopped down on it, leaving the chair on his right empty.

Grey carried the tin box across the table, while Clara handed her coat to a servant and walked across from the other side.

Their hands landed on the back of the chairs almost simultaneously. "Miss Fafield," Grey said first, with a sweet smile.

"I brought him a lemon tart. The crust has to be eaten while it's crispy, otherwise it will get soft. I sat closer to make it easier to hand it to him."

"Miss Grey," Clara said with a polite smile.

"The snacks are placed in the middle of the table, so everyone can reach them."

I'm sitting here because I haven't finished reading the manuscripts he brought back yet.

If he needs to change a sentence, I can see it more easily if he's sitting on my right.

The two of them chatted back and forth, their voices low, smiles on their faces, but neither of them took their hands off the back of their chairs.

Richard, sitting in the middle, subconsciously reached out to touch his chest, only to bump into the pencil in his inner pocket.

He quickly pulled his hand out and placed it on the tablecloth, then reached for the teacup as if to cover up his actions.

Under the table, his sister gently kicked him.

He looked up and met Grey's eyes, which were filled with longing.

He turned around again, and Clara was looking at him too, her clear, large eyes surprisingly calm. Both of them were waiting for him, and he cleared his throat.

"...Actually, the lighting on the right side isn't very good."

The two of them turned to look at the window at the same time; the window was to his right.

Evelyn kicked him again under the table, this time much harder than before.

Richard had no choice but to look ahead, where Sophia was located.

The clever Sofia quickly picked up on his signal.

She exclaimed and put down the cake in her hand, then quickly stepped forward and took Clara's arm.

"Lecturer Fafield! Come quick! Fisher's going to turn that song about the code into a fugue! That's your specialty!"

Fisher stood at the end of the table, looking bewildered. "I didn't..."

"You do!" Sophia glared at him.

Clara was dragged to the end of the table. After taking two steps, she looked back at the chair, her lips moved, but she didn't say anything in the end, letting Sophia pull her over.

Evelyn stood up too. "Grey, my sister!" she said, grabbing Grey's hand.

"Come with me to the kitchen right away. I just passed by and their scones smelled weird. I suspect the cook added potato starch to them. Your palate is better than mine, so taste them for me."

"Mixed with potato starch?" Grey's attention was immediately drawn away.

"Some people did this during wartime, but adding too much dough made the dough sticky..."

"Right!" Evelyn was already dragging her toward the door.

"Quick, quick, before the cook eats the evidence."

Grey was being dragged out of the greenhouse, still holding the tin box in her arms.

The door swayed twice behind the two of them before closing.

Richard let out a long sigh of relief, then saw a hand reach out from the side and pull out the chair.

Phillips sat down, carrying his teacup and the old teapot.

"Thank goodness, this chair finally has an owner."

As he thought this, he saw the familiar grapefruit tea flowing from the other person's old pot. The aroma of freshly peeled lemon peel wafted to his nose, and Richard picked it up and took a sip.

He looked at the teapot. The color that had been patched on the spout was not quite right before, and now even the patterns had grown in, making it indistinguishable from the original porcelain.

"...This pot can even remember my taste."

Phillips leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, don't stare at it, it'll get shy if you look at it for too long."

He took a newspaper clipping out of his coat pocket and spread it on the tablecloth.

"Getting down to business, the recent installments of 'The Prudent Gentlemen' have been very well received."

Richard glanced at it; it was a full-page reader's letter column in the Century Review.

Phillips pointed to the bottom half of the clipping with his finger.

"The manager of a theater on Riverside Street wrote to the editorial department, asking if it could be changed into a dance drama."

He even had the actors planned out: a fat minister, a thin vice-minister, and a frail secretary.

"Barker Pictures also wrote a letter," Constance interjected from across the room. "They want to make it a live-action animated film, so they don't even need to write new subtitle cards; they can just use the original language."

Phillips shrugged at Richard:

"Several officials would like to invite you, Mr. L, to sit in their salons."

The editorial department gave a unified reply that the author could not appear in person. Then an assistant vice minister said that Mr. L had worked in Whitehall for at least ten years, otherwise he could not have written such an article.

Now everyone in the department is guessing who's secretly writing things outside.

Richard said "Oh," he had anticipated that this article might become popular, but he didn't expect it to become popular so quickly.

"Not to mention more popular works like 'Olympus Star,'" Phillips continued.

"My cook's youngest son was playing 'stealing cows' with a group of kids in the back alley the day before yesterday."

One man dressed as Hermes was walking backwards, and a group dressed as cows and Apollo chased after him for two blocks before being dragged back by the ears by a patrolman.

"The patrol officer told me that their station staff on night shift were also watching."

Xiu, who had somehow moved to this side of the table, heard this and his eyes lit up, feeling proud.

Richard looked at him: "Hugh, there's something I forgot to tell you." "What?"

"Four more new manuscripts are waiting for you."

Upon hearing this, Xiu's hand trembled, and he spilled some tea on the tablecloth.

"Four copies?" He gaped. "You were gone for over a month and you only wrote four copies?"

"Two of them only have the beginning," Richard corrected, a little worried that the administrator would come and urge him to finish the manuscript again.

Phillips, standing nearby, clicked his tongue in amazement, while Constance also opened her mouth slightly, wondering where this person got so many ideas from.

Xiu put down his teacup and rubbed his hands together sheepishly.

"I definitely can't finish drawing it all by myself. 'The Prudent Gentlemen' is published once a month, and 'Star Legend' is published twice a month."

Even so, I still draw until the wee hours every night. My roommates say that the light next to my bed is brighter than a lighthouse.

Last week I was drawing Hera, and I fell asleep while I was drawing. When I woke up, there was a drool mark on her face.

"My suggestion is that you could set up a studio," Richard said.

Hugh hissed and fell into thought. Richard continued:

"There must be quite a few people like this in your art academy: they draw well, are fast, but are short of money, and don't have any good ideas of their own."

"...Everyone is actually short of money." Xiu thought for a moment.

"But every art student wants to paint oil paintings, to paint the Virgin Mary and mythology, to paint masterpieces that can be displayed in royal art exhibitions."

Drawing comic strips and depictions of boys would be laughed at in academia.

"Tell them to pay by the grid." Richard stated his price directly, his face expressionless.

"One background panel costs six pence, line art is extra, and those who wish to be credited will have their names listed after you."

Art or food? Reality forces people to make choices, especially during wartime.

Xiu opened his mouth, his expression complex.

"Then...where should we draw it?"

"We can't all be crammed into my dorm room, or the dorm supervisor will throw me out with my bed."

"I know how!" a voice came from the end of the table, and Fisher leaned halfway out. "My aunt has a photography studio, on the street behind Russell Place."

Fisher spoke very quickly.

"The photo studio has been closed for more than half a year, and my aunt has been running it all by herself. If she knew someone would be willing to rent it out..."

"How much is the rent?" Edith asked from the side.

"I'll go ask!" Fisher slammed his hand on the table.

"My aunt likes me the most, and I've played the piano for her several times..."

Richard looked at the messy table, and his anxiety about the journey to the Spirit Realm eased slightly.

The greenhouse door opened again.

Evelyn and Grey returned from the kitchen, each carrying a plate of freshly baked scones.

"No potato starch was added," Evelyn announced.

"The cook added some rye to the noodles; that strange taste comes from the rye."

The two placed the scones on the table, and Evelyn returned to her seat to Richard's left. Grey stood by the table for a moment; the chair to her right had already been taken by Phillips.

Without saying a word, she walked around to the other side and sat down directly opposite Richard, pushing the tin box in front of him.

"Lemon tart"

Richard opened the box and found it was still hot, meaning it had probably been heated in the kitchen oven again.

The tart crust was baked to a golden brown, with the edges neatly pinched together by the girl's skillful hands, and the lemon curd filling was glistening.

He picked it up and took a bite; it was so sour that he squinted.

Grey looked at him from across the room, squinting, and a smile played on her lips.

Clara glanced at this side across half the table for a while, then looked away and started reading the manuscript again from the beginning.

At this moment, Phillips put down the teapot and stood up.

As soon as the master stood up, the voices in the greenhouse gradually subsided.

"Today is mainly because Richard is back, so we all got together after a long time to catch up and chat, and also..."

"I also have something to say," Constance said, setting down her knife and fork beside him.

"My wedding with Constance is on December 20th, next Monday, at St. George's Church in Hanover Square."

As soon as she finished speaking, Sofia was the first to stand up and clap her hands, and everyone else followed suit.

Phillips raised his hand and pressed it down.

"We are still in mourning at home, so we are not inviting outsiders, only relatives and friends."

"My father wrote very clearly in his will that he didn't like waiting and wouldn't allow me to use him as an excuse to delay for another year."

He looked down at the teacup in his hand and laughed.

"Even after he dies, he still cares about me. He's really meddling in everything."

No one responded.

Phillips let out his pent-up frustration and turned to Richard.

"Then, Mr. Williams, I'll ask you formally one more time."

He unusually straightened his back, enunciating each word clearly: "Would you like to be my best man at my wedding?"

Richard quickly calculated the days in his mind.

The 20th is a Monday, and the winter solstice is on the 22nd, a Wednesday.

"I'll be there." He stood up.

Phillips patted him on the shoulder: "Okay."

"Where's the bridesmaid?" Sofia asked. "Who's the bridesmaid?"

Upon hearing this, everyone present quietly pricked up their ears.

Constance put down her teacup.

"She's a girl from my family, my distant cousin."

"She's nineteen this year, and everyone in the family says she's the most outstanding person in our generation."

Her gaze fell on Richard's face: "My cousin is far more outstanding than me."

Phillips coughed loudly, but Constance seemed not to hear him: "According to the procedure, the best man should walk with the bridesmaid during the ceremony."

"At the dinner afterwards, the two of you will be seated together."

Across from her, Grey's hand, holding a teacup, stopped.

At the end of the table, Clara turned a page of the manuscript, her voice louder than before.

Richard frowned and asked, "...Has your family always been this patient?"

"It always has been," Constance said.

Phillips covered his face: "The Earl seems to be serious."

"My father is serious, of course," Constance said, looking at her fiancé.

"I'm serious about you too."

Phillips wanted to say something, but in the end he just grabbed the teapot and poured another round of tea for everyone.

Halfway through adding tea, footsteps sounded outside the door.

Before the servant could even announce his arrival as he pushed open the greenhouse door, someone walked in beside him. Isabella was wearing a mink coat, her shoulders damp with dew.

She stood at the doorway, glanced at the people at the table, her gaze lingered on Grey's face, then nodded to Clara, before finally settling on her nephew.

"Stop eating, grab your coat and come with me."

"Auntie?"

"I've come to pick you up." Isabella took off her gloves and patted the water droplets off her coat.

"Professor McFee is back and says he needs to speak with you."

She added, "We have to meet today."