I Loaded the Occult Panel

The Red Elm Restaurant occupied the old stone building at the end of New Street.

A sign hung by the entrance, bearing the image of a red elm leaf. Along its stem curled a line of small text:

”Old Roads, Old Wines”

When the door to the private room opened, Sophia and Clara were murmuring to each other.

Seeing Richard’s family enter, Sophia gave a soft cry of surprise and hurried to the door to greet them.

”You’re here!”

Isabella rose from the head of the table and waved her sister over. ”Sit.”

The seating arrangement fell into place naturally. His aunt and her two students took one side, while his mother and her two children took the other.

Once seated, his mother shifted Evelyn’s chair further inward.

”Sit by me. Stop hiding behind your brother.”Evelyn shrank back a little, letting her mother herd her into the corner.

Isabella spoke first.

”I took a look at the menu and ordered a few things for tonight. Venison pie, roasted spring chicken, braised lamb brisket, cream of mushroom soup, and tossed kale. For dessert, lemon tart and poached pears.”

His mother nodded. ”The venison pie is their specialty. The old chef is sixty this year and still runs the kitchen.”

Sophia tentatively raised her hand from across the table. ”Instructor, I’d like to add an order of fish and chips.”

”Ordering that at a proper restaurant? Are you a child?” Clara chided her.

”But I like it... Instructor, just this once.”

”You say that every time.”

Isabella sighed, but nodded to the approaching waitress. ”Add an order of fish and chips, please.”

”Right away.” The waitress noted it down.

”Make sure to fry the fish a bit longer,” Sophia added. ”The skin needs to be crispy.”

...

When they were nearly finished with their main courses, the waitress began clearing the plates. Isabella reached down for the leather handbag resting against her chair and unfastened the clasp.

She withdrew a package wrapped in oiled paper. Peeling it back carefully, she revealed a bundle of small white flowers—pressed dry, but perfectly intact.

”What’s this?” His mother’s gaze fell on the flowers.

”I bought them at the lantern festival in the Imperial Capital this year.”

”You bought them?”

”The stall is still there.” Isabella pushed the flowers gently toward her sister. ”The old flower seller is over seventy now, but she still recognized me.”

His mother accepted the bundle of daisies. ”Isabella, you were always the one who loved daisies.”

She looked up at her younger sister. ”...You’ve been like this since we were little. Whatever you like, you insist I have to like too.”

”Do you not like daisies, Sister?”

”If you like them, of course I like them,” his mother replied with an exasperated huff, setting the flowers near the edge of the table.

Isabella then drew a small tin box from her leather bag and handed it to her niece.

”For me?”

”Mm.”

Inside the tin lay a set of silver baking tools: a small spatula, a fine-tipped funnel, and metal piping nozzles.

”What are these...?”

”A beginner’s set from the Ludvis Steel Shop,” Isabella explained. ”It’s a two-hundred-year-old shop. This is their introductory kit, made for teenagers just starting to learn baking.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened. She picked up the spatula and turned it under the light. Engraved in fine lettering along the handle was a line of text: E.W. (Evelyn Williams).

”You even had my name engraved on it?”

”A master running her own workshop should have her name on her tools,” Isabella said, offering easy praise.

Evelyn placed the spatula back into the tin box. ”Thank you, Auntie. I love it.”

Sophia could no longer contain herself. ”I brought gifts too!”

She handed her first gift to Evelyn. It was a compact metal cylinder with a small pull-ring at one end.

”A kaleidoscope,” Sophia announced. ”It’s a new model the toy makers just released. The inside uses cut glass facets, producing three times as many patterns as a standard one.”

Evelyn raised the kaleidoscope to her eye and pulled the ring at the end.

”Wow!” Inside the cylinder, the glass rotated, unfolding layers of colorful patterns across the lens.

The gift for Richard was even rarer—a camera.

”This is Colton’s latest portable camera,” Sophia said, passing it over. ”It’s been the most popular gadget among young people in the Imperial Capital these past two years.”

Richard took it. In his past life, he had only ever seen such devices in museums or antique shops.

”Does it use film?”

”Yes. A roll of Colton 120 film takes eight shots, and several photo studios right here in Briston can develop them.”

Richard turned the camera over. It weighed less than a pound, small enough to conceal discreetly inside a suit jacket pocket.

His Inspiration detected no Ether fluctuations whatsoever; it was a piece of purely modern craftsmanship.

Yet its practical value was considerable. Times were advancing, and when there wasn’t enough time to transcribe documents by hand, photographing them directly would save an enormous amount of trouble.

”Senior Sister Sophia,” Richard said, the camera suddenly feeling heavy in his hands. ”This gift is a bit too valuable.”

”It’s fine,” Sophia replied candidly. ”I pulled it from the research funds Instructor allocated, so technically it was bought with your aunt’s money.”

”...Using my money to curry favor with my nephew?” Isabella’s eyelids twitched.

Left with no other choice, Richard thanked them both at once.

At this point, Clara pulled out a small cloth bag. ”Evelyn.”

She retrieved a palm-sized glass bottle from the bag. ”For you.”

Evelyn accepted the bottle with both hands. It was a small hexagonal vial adorned with a silver leaf, bearing a label on its front: Violet & Early Pear: Maiden’s Dew.

”Is it perfume?”

”Mm.” Clara nodded. ”Most perfumes sold on the market use synthetic essences—they have a harsh scent that turns pungent after half a day. I made this bottle using violet floral water and the green skins of this year’s early pears, so the fragrance is much softer.”

”The way you apply it is different from adult cologne, too.”

”Unscrew the stopper, and lightly dab it right behind your ear, on that patch of fine hair.”

”For a girl your age, a fragrance should only be noticed when someone holds you in an embrace. That’s enough.”

Evelyn pinched the tiny silver leaf between her fingers, spinning it around. She had never received anything so delicate before.

”...Thank you, Sister Clara.”

”We’re all family here. No need to be so formal.”

Next, Clara took a small ebony box from her cloth bag. ”This one is for you.”

Richard reached out and took it. Opening the lid, he found a dark green velvet lining divided into two compartments. On the left sat six small incense cakes arranged neatly in a row; on the right rested a shallow brass dish.

”Is this incense?”

”Mm.” Clara nodded. ”Scholars sit at their desks for half the day at a time. After a while, the fatigue sets in.”

She tapped the incense cakes on the left with her index finger. ”This incense calms the mind and aids sleep.”

Richard picked up one of the cakes, catching a clean, bitter fragrance mingled with resin.

Clara explained, ”The base is frankincense, blended with benzoin and a touch of medicinal herbs. It’s the same incense burned at the entrances of fire worship temples and ancient churches.”

Richard gently closed the lid. ”Thank you, Senior Sister.”

”You’re welcome.”

Clara’s gaze returned to the cup of black tea in front of her. Of everyone at the table, she was the quietest.

When dessert arrived, his mother patted her daughter’s head. ”Evelyn, after you finish your dessert, come back with me. Your brother and aunt have real business to discuss.”

”What kind of business?”

”...Academic matters. You wouldn’t understand.”

Evelyn pouted slightly, but she knew her mother was right.

...

The hostel corridor was short. Isabella walked ahead, with Richard following half a step behind.

At the end of the hallway stood an oak door with a plaque that read ”3-A.”

Richard had been running through a mental checklist since morning. His aunt needed to inspect the Sphinx Lamp in person; they had to finalize how to handle the Solar Seal and the Sophie Censer; and they needed to discuss the ownership of the Copper Pendant—those were the official matters. But he also wanted to take this opportunity to ask about something even more critical.

”Auntie,” he spoke up.

”Mm?”

”There are a few reference materials I wanted to ask you about.”

”Go ahead. Just list whatever you need, no need to stand on ceremony with me.” Isabella didn’t slow her pace.

Hearing this, Richard listed them off as he walked: ”Do you have any practice materials for text encryption? Or comprehensive cross-reference charts for Gaelic, Church ritual language, and late-period variants of the Alexandrian School?”

Here, he recalled the topic he cared about most. ”Also...” He paused to consider. ”If you have any introductory materials on dual overwriting, I’d like to read those too.”

Isabella turned sideways, twirling a ring of brass keys around her fingers. ”Introductory materials on dual overwriting?”

”Yes.”

”Didn’t your guide mention how troublesome that sort of thing is?”

”He did,” Richard answered truthfully. ”But he also said that learning encryption is a fundamental skill.”

Isabella shifted the keys to her other hand. ”It’s not a bad thing,” she echoed. ”Rare, even.”

She resumed walking toward Room 3-A. ”I’ll make a note of it,” she said as she walked. ”Over the next couple of days, I’ll organize everything and get the materials to you.”

Richard nodded. As they reached the door of 3-A, realization finally caught up with him. Organize? Organize what?

He had caught a few glimpses of his aunt’s leather suitcase on the way here. The bag was small, with limited capacity—a change of clothes, work notebooks, a few fountain pens, some personal items... Certainly not enough space for bundles of books or document folders.

Richard couldn’t help but ask, ”Auntie, you didn’t bring those materials with you on your trip, did you?”

Isabella reached into her pocket for her key. ”Of course not.”

She slotted the key into the lock. ”Fitting everything on the list you just rattled off would take up two large trunks. I came here on a business trip, not to move.”

Richard stood behind her. As the key turned in the lock, the door popped open a crack. ”Then how are you...?”

Isabella pushed the door open and stepped inside. Taking off her coat, she walked over to the desk and sat down. ”Richard, scholarship must keep up with the times.”

”Two years ago, the Royal General Telegraph Bureau set up dedicated lines connecting the Imperial Capital with six major cities.”

She twirled her fountain pen. ”They haven’t been opened to general civilian use yet, but Imperial Capital University and a few other higher institutions have access to the academic lines.”

She pointed toward a corner of the room. An old-style telephone stood there—one Richard hadn’t paid much attention to when he first walked in. Connected behind the telephone was a device he didn’t recognize. The whole apparatus looked like a cross between a telegraph machine and a typewriter, though considerably bulkier than both.

”Even a small place like Briston has one installed?” Richard’s gaze settled on the machine.

”Briston doesn’t, of course.” Isabella walked over to the machine, bending down to check the scale on its cylinder. ”I made a phone call ahead of time and had one temporarily transferred over from Manchester.”

She straightened up. ”In our line of work, cross-regional collaboration involves a massive flow of information. A field report might need to be signed, stamped, and circulated across three cities. Without something like this, just waiting for postal parcels would take until next month.”

Richard walked over and touched the sheet-metal casing. It was warm—the machinery inside was operating. ”The operating principle is...”

”You don’t need to understand the principle,” Isabella interrupted him. ”It’s not as if you’re studying engineering.”

”...”

”All you need to know,” she said, sliding her pen back into her pocket, ”is that I can place a call from this end and tell the students in the archives what materials I need. They lay the documents on the machine at their end, and a few hours later, a facsimile rolls out of the cylinder right here.”

Richard walked around the machine to inspect it. Beside the cylinder sat a roll of thick, specialized paper patterned with fine grids. On a small rack next to it rested a dozen used metal nibs, each wiped spotlessly clean.

He had originally assumed that getting his aunt to compile a systematic set of reference materials from the Imperial Capital would require waiting until she finished her business trip, returned to the capital, and sent a parcel back—a process that would take at least a month from start to finish. Yet all it took was a single phone call, and a facsimile would be delivered into his hands two days later.

Having been born in the internet age in his past life, he had never expected to be reminded to keep up with the times by his aunt, someone living in the electrical age.

Isabella pressed a call bell. A hostel waiter soon arrived with a pot of hot tea and two cups. ”Have something to drink first.”

She lifted the teapot and filled each cup halfway. ”You’ll need a cool head for what we’re looking at next.”