I Loaded the Mysticism Panel

After [Moon Nail · Reflection] was sold, the first inquiry came from Aries.

One day, a Spirit Realm Messenger landed on the work table in the small third-floor reading room.

After the moth disintegrated, it left behind a thin, folded sheet of paper.

Aries’s letter was blunt, a dozen or so lines written in a single, fluid stroke.

He had used Richard’s [Moon Nail · Reflection] to pierce the still-living section of the circuit in the stump of his severed arm three times.

The first time, the effect was astonishing. The section of the circuit, which had been stiff for days, was refreshed and became active again.

The second time, the effect was also good, but the resulting period of weakness was nearly twice as long as anticipated.

After he performed the third piercing, the stump began to grow hot.

Richard frowned as he read this.

‘Growing hot is not a good sign.’

He flipped his notebook to the page with his experimental records for [Moon Nail · Reflection].

He remembered his own data clearly.

He had experimented on himself (complete circuit, Newcomer Tier) eleven times. Each time he applied a single Nail, the period of weakness remained stable at two to three minutes.

He was even more familiar with Coleman’s data.

After a dozen or so experiments, the period of weakness had shortened from over forty seconds at the beginning to around twenty seconds.

Although his circuit had a breakpoint, the section beyond it was very robust, allowing the energy consumed by the Technique to be quickly replenished.

‘Aries’s data…’

Richard used [Rationality] to mentally construct a table, arranging the three sets of data side by side.

Himself, Coleman, and Aries—three different circuit states: complete, breakpoint, and severed end.

In a complete circuit, refreshing it with the Technique resulted in a “supply exceeding demand.”

In a circuit with a breakpoint, the refreshed “flow had an outlet.”

In a severed end, the refreshed “flow had no outlet.”

‘The last type is the most dangerous.’

Once activated, the Ether spun uselessly in the severed end. After a few cycles without finding an exit, it began to convert into heat.

Richard immediately wrote back, telling him to cease using the Technique for the time being and to find a way to vent the stagnant Ether.

A Spirit Realm Messenger drifted in through a crack in the window, collected the letter, and dissipated without a sound.

The second inquiry was from Nemesis.

Their senior, a Minor Mastery, had a “ruined circuit from a failed Tier breakthrough,” a condition slightly different from that of Richard’s Mother.

This Minor Mastery Hunter had chosen the Hunting Moon tradition, following family custom, during their initial advancement to Minor Mastery.

However, they later discovered it was not a good fit, which led to their failure when attempting to break through to Grand Mastery.

But this failure occurred when they sensed something was wrong at the start of the breakthrough ritual and voluntarily backed out.

Although this caused damage, it wasn’t nearly as severe.

His Mother, Margaret, was a different story.

Judging by the remnants of her circuits, which had shattered and scattered throughout her body, her failure must have occurred at the very last moment, causing a near-total collapse.

Even though the situations weren’t identical, this experimental data was still extremely valuable.

Richard used [Rationality] to weigh his options over and over.

‘I could take this opportunity to offer an untested treatment plan I’ve been preparing for a while, one for which I have no test subjects. If it works, my research would take a huge leap forward. If something goes wrong, Nemesis’s senior will be the one to pay the price.’

But after some thought, Richard decided against it.

‘My conscience wouldn’t be clear, and the hidden risks are too great.’

He wrote his reply, but he was extremely conservative regarding the treatment plan and follow-up examinations.

At the end, he added a note:

“After the procedure, you must provide feedback on all somatic changes within seven days (including but not limited to: breathing rhythm, heart rate, sleep patterns, emotional fluctuations, and temperature sensations in the limbs).”

‘This was the cheapest piece of clinical data I can get for my Mother.’

‘Even a single data point is better than pure speculation.’

He then added another layer of protection:

“Furthermore, I must state upfront that there are currently no successful cases of this Technique being used to treat circuits damaged by a ‘failed Tier breakthrough.’

If you choose to proceed, all risks must be borne by the Caster and the recipient.”

A Spirit Realm Messenger came and went.

Richard leaned against the desk, his gaze drifting and unfocused.

He was finally starting to understand Mr. Hutton’s statement that “Scholars hold a revered position within the system,” but from a completely different angle.

‘An unrecognized Newcomer like me is already remotely advising a Practitioner and a Minor Mastery.’

…

「Mid-March.」

The early spring wind began to carry a biting chill—the year’s first late-spring cold snap.

More than half a month had passed since he’d stumbled upon Lillian’s secret in the abandoned house behind the main building.

Previously, Richard and Lillian had hardly exchanged more than a few words.

A nod in the hallway, a glimpse of each other across the bookshelves on the library’s second floor—at best, they were mere acquaintances.

But now, the two of them shared the same table.

The right half of the table belonged to Richard.

He would spread out his scratch paper, which was mostly filled with passages from Tacitus assigned by Mr. Holland, or a few pages of Ancient Greek conjugation exercises.

As for his real work, the papers hidden underneath, he never touched them at this table.

Lillian had a certain aptitude; the slightest stir of Ether would not escape her sharp eyes.

The left half of the table belonged to Lillian.

On a linen cloth lay her latest small finds, along with tweezers, scalpels, and glass bottles, each item arranged with millimeter precision.

The two of them worked on their own things, neither one speaking.

When the silence stretched on for too long, a topic would inevitably surface on its own.

Over the past half a month, their conversations had been quite eclectic.

They talked about Virgil, Ovid, and her dog-eared copy of *A Field Guide to the Medicinal Plants of the Albion Islands*.

They also discussed history, talking about the ancient naturalists who tried to stuff the entire world into a single book.

On Wednesday afternoon, a newly-collected bullfinch lay soaking in a jar at Lillian’s elbow.