I Loaded the Occult Panel

By the time he left the shooting range, the sky had already grown quite dark.

Winter daylight in Briston was pitifully short. By four o’clock, the sun was already ducking behind the chimneys.

Richard walked along the narrow walled path toward Grafton Street, still digesting the day’s information.

Wealthy families inviting mediums to their homes around exorcism day had become a tradition, indicating a long-term, stable supply and demand.

Professional mediums provided security for rich merchant families; in return, those families offered financial backing and social connections.

According to Old Biggs, Madam Marie’s network of students had rooted itself deeply into the daily lives of the local wealthy class.

Mrs. MacNeil was only one of those students. Just how massive was Madam Marie’s network?

If every student maintained their own batch of wealthy clients, the total clientele covered by the entire network...

Richard reined in his wandering thoughts.

He didn’t need to calculate the exact size of Madam Marie’s business empire or her industry status.He only needed to know one thing: this network existed, and it ran smoothly.

To develop his own career and act as an antiquities middleman and appraiser as planned, he needed a backer with enough weight in the supernatural sphere.

His grandfather, Gerard, might be able to help, but seizing this chance to connect with Madam Marie would naturally be better.

On the other hand, what he had learned about Spirit Vision was his biggest gain today.

Physical overwrites could be deciphered using etymology and cipher tables.

Overwrites on the ether level required Spirit Vision to peel away.

The advancement condition for the Learning skill to reach Lv.3 on his Panel was to ”personally decipher a double-overwritten encrypted text.”

Spirit Vision was very likely the key to unlocking it.

If his Inspiration proved insufficient later, he would have to consider whether to unlock [Perception] first.

In a few days, he could call Clement to ask if any new goods had arrived.

Arriving at the intersection of Grafton Street and Post Office Street, he spotted the public telephone booth on the corner.

Richard stood outside the booth for a moment before deciding to call his grandfather.

He couldn’t just blindly accept every word from someone he had known for less than two weeks.

Proper verification was necessary. Richard pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Ring... ring... ring... The call connected quickly, and the butler’s voice came through the receiver.

”This is the Ashford Residence.”

”Please put me through to my grandfather. This is Richard Williams.”

”Young Master, please wait a moment.”

A few minutes later, his grandfather’s deep voice came through the earpiece.

”What happened now?”

”Grandfather, sorry to interrupt, but there is something I need to confirm.”

”Speak.”

Gerard’s style was the same as always—no pleasantries, no nonsense, just straight to business.

”Have you heard of Madam Marie? The one at 17 Flower Moon Street.”

The line went quiet for two seconds.

Two seconds wasn’t long, but for a man like Gerard, it meant he was pulling up relevant information in his head—and a substantial amount of it.

”How did you come into contact with her people?”

There was no tension in his tone, only a hint of surprise.

”I met someone in Briston who is a student of Madam Marie. He offered to teach me some basics of Spirit Vision and divination.”

”I want to confirm if Madam Marie’s network is reliable.”

”What is his name?” Gerard asked.

”William Bigelow. He works as a coroner in the North District.”

”A coroner... Is he on the official payroll at the Briston Branch Office?”

”Yes.”

”He hasn’t finished his apprenticeship?”

Richard was slightly surprised.

Gerard and Old Biggs shouldn’t know each other at all, yet from the titles of ”coroner” and ”student of Madam Marie” alone, Gerard had deduced that the man hadn’t finished his apprenticeship.

”Sending ungraduated students into the official system is Madam Marie’s standard practice.”

”Her graduation rate is less than ten percent. For the vast majority of the rest, she arranges a way out based on their individual traits and skill levels. Some enter the various branch offices, some become herbalists, and others go on to be investigators.”

”She doesn’t just teach her students a craft; she also finds them a livelihood. She’s famous for this throughout the entire Civilian Guild.”

Gerard calmly recounted what he knew.

”Madam Marie has an excellent reputation in the Imperial Capital, and even throughout the central and northern regions of the Empire.”

His phrasing was cautious, but the information he provided was substantial:

”Her network is enormous. From nobles to merchants, from the middle class to commoners, she has clients and students across every social stratum. Quite a few prominent figures in the Imperial Capital have received her help in one way or another.”

”Some hire her for exorcisms and house blessings, some consult her when they encounter things they can’t explain, and some...”

He trailed off.

”In short, she has been operating in this trade for decades. Her roots are very deep.”

Gerard thought for a moment before adding, ”Our family works within the official system. When we go out into the field, especially in the north, we occasionally need local intelligence and assistance. Madam Marie’s disciples are widely distributed, deeply rooted, and familiar with local dynamics. Our people have received help from her students more than once.”

”What kind of help?”

”Mostly informational. Whether there have been any recent anomalies in a town, whether a certain family’s estate is having problems, the whereabouts of a supernatural item circulating among the public... that sort of everyday intelligence.”

”Occasionally there is operational cooperation. Our Hunters handle the frontal exorcism, while her students take care of flanking blockades and aftermath cleanup. The division of labor is clear, and we coordinate quite well.”

Hearing this, the scales in Richard’s mind had already tipped significantly.

Gerard walked the Hunter path and came from the official system; his criteria for evaluation differed from those of a Scholar or a Secret practitioner.

He cared about whether they were useful, whether they were reliable, and whether they would stab him in the back during cooperation.

And his assessment was ”excellent reputation,” ”deep roots,” and ”coordinate quite well.”

Added together, these three points basically amounted to one conclusion: Madam Marie was legitimate.

”The part about teaching basic knowledge for free should be true,” Gerard concluded.

”She has a habit: she refuses no one and casts a wide net. No matter your origin or background, as long as you knock on her door and ask to learn, she will take you in.”

”An introduction to Spirit Vision, basic divination, seal identification... she really does teach these shallowest of techniques for free. She doesn’t charge tuition, nor does she make you sign any contracts.”

A buzzing static hummed through the line. It was hard to tell if the connection was poor or if someone far away was interfering.

”However!”

Gerard lowered his voice.

”Precisely because she refuses no one and casts a wide net, the quality of her students varies wildly. There are the exceptionally gifted, the exceedingly mediocre, the diligent, and those who just fish in troubled waters.”

”This Bigelow you mentioned admitted himself that his Spirit Vision isn’t up to par, his divination doesn’t meet the standard, and he can only identify seals but not set them. The only reason he got into the official system was because Madam Marie pulled strings for him.”

”Such students aren’t isolated cases under Madam Marie; they make up the vast majority.”

His tone shifted.

”In other words... the title of ’Madam Marie’s student’ carries no real weight at all.”

He spoke very bluntly.

”If you go around saying you’re Madam Marie’s student, people will just nod politely. They won’t think any higher of you because of it, because they know anyone can walk through that door at 17 Flower Moon Street. Nine out of ten apprentices inside are just muddling along.”

”Richard.”

”Yes.”

”I can tell what you’re thinking.”

The old man’s voice over the phone was unhurried.

”You’re wondering if you can use an apprenticeship to connect with Madam Marie. Her network is massive, her clientele is vast, and she holds significant weight in the Civilian Guild. If you could lean on that deeply rooted tree, your path in the supernatural world would indeed be much easier.”

Richard didn’t deny it, nor was he surprised that his grandfather had seen right through him.

”It’s not that this path is impossible, but you need to think one thing through clearly.”

”A figure of Madam Marie’s caliber has students all over the empire. One more of you won’t make a difference, and one less won’t matter. In her eyes, you’d just be one sapling among thousands. She has no reason to treat you differently.”

Gerard’s words were merciless, but every one of them was the truth.

”You are walking the Scholar path. A Scholar’s roots are in the academic system, not the Civilian Guild. The Civilian Guild can give you practical skills and an intelligence network, but academic prestige, formal status, and the pathway for Rank advancement... these things can only be provided by the academic system.”

”The Cicero Cup is a stepping stone; the summer seminar is the first door. Only when you enter the Department of Classics’ prep class at Imperial Capital University will you have truly stepped through the doors of the academic system.”

”Once you establish a foothold there and your name carries weight in the circle, Madam Marie will naturally look at you differently. You won’t need to deliberately cozy up to her; it will all fall into place.”

The old man’s advice echoed down the line:

”As for Spirit Vision and divination, just learn them from Bigelow. Getting the basics down is enough.”

”But do not lose sight of what is truly important.”

”It’s certainly nice to have these unorthodox side-skills, but not having them won’t affect the bigger picture. Spend your energy where it counts.”

Gerard added one last thing:

”Listen to your guide’s arrangements and prepare for the summer seminar’s entrance exam. That is the most important thing right now.”

”I understand.”

”Alright, I’m hanging up if there’s nothing else. The telephone bill isn’t cheap.”

”Okay. Thank you, Grandfather.”

”Mhm.”

With a click, the line disconnected.

Richard hung up the receiver and stood in the phone booth for a moment.

Gerard’s advice perfectly matched Mr. Hutton’s previous hints: pursuing formal education was the true path forward.

Spirit Vision and divination were merely supplementary tools, icing on the cake. They were far from being the foundation of his livelihood.

He pushed the booth door open and stepped out.

The cold wind blasted him in the face, instantly sweeping away the heat he had accumulated from the shooting range and the phone booth.

The gas lamps along the street were already lit.

An old man selling roasted chestnuts pushed a handcart past the street corner. The chestnuts crackled in his iron wok, and the heat from the charcoal wrapped him in a cloud of white steam.

Richard shrank his neck down and popped his coat collar up.

Although his grandfather was right that Spirit Vision and divination were merely supplementary tools and learning the basics was enough, Richard knew in his heart that his need for Spirit Vision went far beyond the ”basics.”

He had to follow the proper academic path, but he also had to learn Spirit Vision.

With limited time, he just needed to distinguish between his primary and secondary priorities.

The main priority was the summer seminar and steady advancement along the Scholar path.

The secondary priority was his introduction to Spirit Vision and the fundamentals of divination.

The two paths could run in parallel without interfering with each other. At certain points, the secondary path could even feed back into the main one.

For example, cracking the double overwrite required both linguistic mastery and Spirit Vision.

Having thought this through, Richard quickened his pace.

Passing the old man roasting chestnuts, he started fishing for his wallet.

”How much for a bag?”

”One penny.”

He fished out a copper coin and handed it over. The old man rolled up a small packet of hot chestnuts in newspaper and shoved it into his hands.

The chestnuts were boiling hot; he could feel the intense heat even through the newspaper.

He peeled chestnuts as he walked the rest of the way home.

They were soft and starchy, carrying the smoky scent of charcoal.

When he walked through Slag Alley, the two kids playing football were back, their leather ball bouncing noisily against the stone path.

”Brother...”

His younger sister popped her head out from the top of the stairs.

”What’s that in your hand?”

”Chestnuts.”

He held up the paper bag.

The girl bounded down the stairs, her gray eyes glued to the bag.

”Give me two... no, I want three.”

”I’ll give you half.”

”Really?” She looked slightly surprised.

”Take them before they get cold.”

Evelyn took the half-bag of chestnuts, trying to look reserved but failing to hide her smile.

”You’re in a pretty good mood today, brother.”

”Mhm.”

”Did everything you went out to do go smoothly?”

”It went alright.”

”That’s good.” Cupping the chestnuts against her chest, she pattered back up the stairs.