I Loaded the Occult Panel

For an entire week, Richard had been thinking about Friday.

On Thursday afternoon, after finishing his tutoring session at Mr. Hutton’s, he went home and cleaned his room from top to bottom.

The notebooks, reference books, and rubbings that cluttered his desk year-round were sorted and stacked in his drawers.

Any materials on his bookshelf that might attract unwanted attention were pushed down to the bottom shelf.

He wrapped the Sphinx Lamp in three layers of old flannel and stashed it in the hidden compartment under his bed.

He covered the gargoyle with a tarpaulin and shoved it to the very back of the wardrobe.

Anything not meant for a guest’s eyes had to be hidden.

Evelyn peeked in a couple of times while he worked.

”Richard, why are you cleaning your room so thoroughly today?”

”A new semester means a fresh start.” Richard shoved a stack of books onto the bottom shelf. ”Nobody else is going to clean it for me, so I have to do it myself.””But you were eating at your desk just last week.”

”...Last week was different.”

”How was it different?”

”It was colder.”

Evelyn frowned, but didn’t press the matter.

On Friday morning, Richard performed his routine weather divination and calculated that it might snow that afternoon.

After breakfast, he headed to Greenwood as usual.

During second period, Mr. Hutton discussed a fragmented text on Roman-era sacrifices.

When Richard raised his hand to answer a question, he mispronounced a syllable of the Latin word for ’twilight.’

The old gentleman paused.

”Richard, you seem a bit out of sorts today.”

”Apologies, sir.”

”Were you up late last night?”

”...A little.”

The old man gave him a look but didn’t press the issue.

After class, the old man walked over from the podium.

”Head home early today. You don’t need to stay for extra tutoring.”

”Alright.”

Richard packed his books into his satchel.

When the final bell rang, he followed his classmates out the gates. Grey hurried after him and handed him an oil-paper parcel.

”To hold you over on the way.”

”Thanks.”

”You don’t look so good today.”

”I’m fine.”

”...Okay.”

She didn’t ask anything else.

Richard took the school bus back to Slag Alley.

It was just past five-thirty when he got home.

In his bedroom, he pushed the door to but left it unlatched.

He had to leave the doors and windows exactly as the card instructed.

The window was drawn shut, save for a finger-width gap.

He deliberately opened his notebook to a blank page and set his fountain pen beside it.

The notebook and pen were a deliberate signal for Madam Marie: I’m ready to listen.

If he needed to jot anything down tonight, he couldn’t afford to waste time rummaging through his drawers.

As for the white porcelain cup on the windowsill... Richard was just about to head downstairs to check on it when the bedroom door opened.

”Richard.” Evelyn poked her head through the gap.

She walked in carrying a cup of milk.

”You wanted hot milk?”

”...Yeah.”

His sister clearly wanted to use the delivery as an excuse to check on him, but their mother called from downstairs.

”Evelyn, come chop the onions!”

”Coming!”

She made a face at him, pulled the door shut, and ran back down.

Richard let out a breath and checked the Pocket Watch on his desk. Five fifty-five.

The snow over Slag Alley fell softly.

It struck the tin eaves outside his window in a faint, continuous patter.

At exactly six o’clock, Richard sat at his desk.

Nothing stirred outside.

The streetlamps were lit. A coal carriage rolled through Slag Alley, its wheels creaking over the snow.

At three minutes past six, voices drifted up from downstairs.

”Mom!”

”What is it?”

”I need the butter tonight!”

”There’s half a pound in the cupboard, save it.”

”Okay.”

Richard’s gaze shifted to the windowsill.

The milk had cooled. He debated whether to go reheat it or just keep waiting.

Madam Marie was a dignified Major Adept; surely she wouldn’t stand him up.

He wasn’t entirely certain.

At five past six, Richard finally reached for the cup.

The surface of the milk rippled.

The window was only open a finger’s width, and Richard had already confirmed that no draft could reach the sill.

He froze. The milk rippled again.

This time, a curved indentation appeared at the edge of the cup.

Richard kept his eyes fixed on the cup. He didn’t activate his Spirit Vision.

Mrs. MacNeil had warned him that staring at someone with Spirit Vision was highly offensive.

The size and shape of the indentation looked exactly like the lap of a cat’s tongue.

But the air above the cup was empty.

Goosebumps broke out on the back of his neck.

The leaves of the Tree of Light within his chest fluttered faster than usual.

[Perception] Lv.2 automatically activated, clearly revealing the Ether density within the room.

From floor to ceiling, the ambient Ether density was slightly higher than normal.

The highest concentration hovered directly over the windowsill, contained within a one-foot radius.

”Hello, little Richard.”

The voice sounded directly in his mind.

It was a woman’s voice—gentle, with a slight rasp.

Richard forced the rhythm of the Tree of Light to steady.

”Hello, Madam Marie.”

He kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry downstairs or through the walls.

”Are you not afraid?”

”I’m a little afraid,” Richard answered honestly.

”That is good.” The voice held a hint of amusement.

”Those who feel no fear don’t last long in this line of work.”

Something began to materialize in the air above the windowsill.

First came a slender curve—a spine.

Then four paws formed into a seated posture, followed by pricked ears with slightly bent tips.

A black cat sat perched on the sill.

It was a size larger than the shorthairs usually seen around Slag Alley, but not quite as massive as a Maine Coon.

A red ribbon was tied around its neck, bearing a tiny silver bell.

The bell made no sound.

”The milk in Briston is sweeter than in the Imperial Capital.”

The black cat lowered its head and took another lap of milk.

”My sister might have added sugar,” he explained reflexively.

”It’s fine. I don’t mind.” The cat continued lapping.

”My physical body is at 17 Flower Moon Street in the Imperial Capital. It is inconvenient for me to leave right now.”

”Besides, I noticed you the last time you stood below the steps of 17 Flower Moon Street.”

”That attention requires a proper conclusion.”

Richard steadied his breathing.

”Why was I the only one you noticed?”

Was it because his staring had been offensive?

”You felt as though you had ’just been ignited.’”

The cat explained, ”The flame was small, but very pure.”

”I have seen countless ’ignited’ youth. A minority burn into ordinary torches, and a very small few burn into something else entirely.”

”I am interested in that small few.”

”I only glanced at you from a distance.”

”Vincent was right to stop you from lingering.”

”But I remembered what that single look revealed.”

The cat lapped at the milk again, seemingly satisfied with its sweetness.

Richard studied his ’guest.’

Vincent had fed him bits and pieces of Flower Moon Street’s history.

The triangular district south of the Imperial Capital had been a gathering place for sacrifices since the pre-Roman era.

Even after the Roman Legion swept through, the area was never fully absorbed by the official authorities.

The Church had tried to extend its reach there several times, only to be deterred by the ’long-term residents’ each time.

In modern times, Flower Moon Street had sat at the center of that triangular district for over a century.

”Let’s get down to business.”

The black cat’s voice sounded again.

”MacNeil has already spoken to you about the Scribe position.”

”She did.”

Richard answered softly.

”But I can’t do it yet.”

”Correct. A Newcomer cannot do it.”

The black cat leapt from the windowsill onto the desk.

Richard watched its tail sweep over his notebook without disturbing the air.

The cat was semi-corporeal.

Or rather, Madam Marie, as a Major Adept, had projected a wisp of her own spirit into it through some method he couldn’t yet comprehend.

”I am not here about the Scribe position.”

”After you reach Signature, MacNeil will accompany you on your first commission.”

”That will be the start of our official collaboration.”

”But before then...”

The black cat settled gracefully upon the notebook, pressing its front paws together.

”You need a little protection.”

”I read in MacNeil’s report that during the Whitcom incident, the ’Mother Who Eats Shadows’ remembered you.”

Richard immediately flashed back to that night.

In that circular stone chamber in Whitcom, the ’Mother’ had been surrounded by seven spirits and slowly dissolved by Mr. Hutton’s pronouncements.

At the very end, as the sleep-return chant finished and the door sealed, a terribly faint shadow had swept across the edge of his vision.

He had assumed it was a hallucination caused by his Spirit Vision overloading.

”That kind of ’remembering’ is a death sentence for an ordinary Newcomer.”

The cat’s voice remained perfectly flat.

”She is sealed right now, so she cannot come for you directly.”

”But sooner or later she will escape, or reach out through a Spirit Realm channel.”

”When that time comes, she will home in on your ’signal’ like a beacon.”

”The stronger you become, the brighter the beacon shines.”

”The faster you progress, the sooner she will find you.”

A chill ran down Richard’s spine.

”Therefore, I am going to leave something with you.”

The black cat gently flicked its tail.

Richard frowned.

The cat must have sensed his apprehension.

”At my age, I know my boundaries.”

”You can find a supernatural item to serve as a medium. Anything will do.”

Richard’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

”Leaving a mark on a supernatural item is actually more stable than leaving it on your person.”

”Furthermore...”

The cat narrowed its golden eyes in amusement.

”You can take it off at any time.”

”As long as you hold the item, you hold the initiative.”

Richard let out a slow breath.

He dug through the small drawer beneath his desk.

The Sphinx Lamp had already received his Signature; it couldn’t be used.

The gargoyle was a gift from his maternal grandfather, Ashford. It was tied to the Ashford Family, making it inappropriate to carry another faction’s ’mark.’

The Copper Pendant, Sophie Censer, and Solar Seal had already been reclaimed by his aunt.

The Ritual Dagger and the Bronze Fragment weren’t suitable either.

The Eagle Badge and the seventeenth-century Silver Ring, both selected from Clement’s ’private stash,’ were relatively clean.

He took the Silver Ring and the Eagle Badge from their velvet box and placed them in the center of the desk.

”How about these two?”

The cat lowered its head and examined them.

”This Silver Ring isn’t bad.”

”A Celtic sun symbol, pure silver base, suitably old, and evenly crafted.”

”Most importantly, its nature perfectly opposes my own.”

”Combining opposing forces perfectly conceals whatever lies within.”

Richard nodded.

”You mean a supernatural item with opposing attributes provides better camouflage for your ’mark’?”

”You catch on fast.”

The cat licked its paw.

”The sun opposing the moon is a layman’s understanding of polarity.”

”In truth, the actual opposition lies between ’being seen’ and ’seeing’.”

”The Celtic sun symbol is carved in silver. The symbol itself demands to be seen, yet the metal belongs to the night.”

”The very anchor structure of this ring was designed for ’camouflage’.”

Richard’s gaze returned to the Silver Ring.

Since acquiring it, he had only scanned it with his Spirit Vision once without studying it deeply. He never expected it to hold such utility.

”Place it on the windowsill.”

The cat leapt back to the windowsill.

Richard walked over and set the Silver Ring in the middle of the sill.

The ring sat beside the white porcelain cup.

A third of the milk had been lapped up, leaving the rest at the bottom.

The cat lowered its head.

It extended its tongue, the tip a moist, gleaming red in the lamplight.

The tip of its tongue touched the face of the ring.

In that instant, Richard saw a flash of silver light sweep across the metal.

It seeped outward from the silver, traced the etched cross and circle, and settled perfectly at the center before fading.

The ring looked entirely unchanged.

”Done.”

The black cat sat up and retracted its tongue.

Richard fixed his Spirit Vision on the ring.

Its innate Etheric structure had not changed.

However, the ambient ’Etheric reverberation’ wrapping the metal had been suppressed by half.

”If you wear this ring, it will cast a layer of ’camouflage’ over you.”

The cat continued.

”Low- and mid-rank practitioners will sense your circuits, but they will not be able to gauge your actual Rank.”

”When high-ranks sweep their senses past you, they will simply overlook you.”

”It is not absolute.”

She added, ”If a high-rank actively locks onto you, the camouflage will shatter.”

”But it works against a casual sweep.”

”It will also blind the sort of gaze the ’Mother Who Eats Shadows’ might extend through a channel.”

”This should buy you several years, at the very least.”

Richard swallowed.

”Protection of this magnitude...”

He paused, organizing his words.

”What price must I pay in return?”

”Right now? None.” The cat licked its paw.

”This is an investment. I am interested in that small few.”

”In my life, I have seen perhaps a dozen within that small fraction, and only two actually burned into something else.”

”Whether you can become the third, I do not know.”

”But since I have decided to invest in you, I might as well offer a little extra while you are at your weakest.”

”When you eventually claim a high seat, we will settle the bill.”

”That is how I do business.”

Richard’s fingers hovered over the edge of his desk.

He recalled what Old Biggs had said about Madam Marie ’casting a wide net.’

She turned no one away, plotting a path for every student based on their traits and skill level.

Old Biggs had been speaking purely about her teaching methods.

But what Richard heard just now was a ’wide net’ on an entirely different scale.

Madam Marie was placing bets all across the Empire, sprinkling small investments across swarms of ’newly ignited’ youths.

Most would snuff out within a few years, and those investments would be written off as losses.

A minority would grow into ordinary torches, repaying her favor according to guild rules.

A fraction would burn into something else entirely. When they did, Madam Marie’s tiny initial investment would be paid back exactly the way she desired.

His grandfather had mentioned that the graduation rate among Madam Marie’s disciples was less than ten percent.

Richard now suspected that those ’graduates’ were merely the most visible seeds she had scattered.

Among the remaining seeds, far deeper designs were likely hidden.

Richard stood.

He offered a slight bow to the cat at the far end of the desk.

”Thank you, Madam.”

”You’re welcome.”

The black cat went back to its milk.

”Hutton will likely sense that there is something on this Silver Ring.”

”He will probably guess it is my handiwork.”

”If he asks, just tell him the truth.”

Richard nodded.

”Also...”

The cat looked back, its golden eyes glinting meaningfully.

”Once you reach Signature, even though MacNeil will guide you, I will personally arrange your first commission.”

The black cat leapt from the frame, squeezing smoothly out through the finger-width gap.

Richard walked to the window and looked down.

Outside in Slag Alley, the snow was still falling.

There was no one under the streetlights, and no fresh footprints disturbed the snow.

Only the white porcelain cup remained on the sill, the milk inside quietly licked clean.