Chapter 144: Christmas Eve

Christmas at the Williams household was usually a simple affair.

Father's factory only gave him three days off for Christmas. Mother ran the household, stretching every penny.

In past years, the Christmas dinner table held only a small chicken, vegetable soup, mashed potatoes, and Mother's homemade Christmas pudding.

A small fir tree, standing less than a meter tall, would be set up in the corner of the living room, decorated with a few tin bells and some paper stars.

The siblings would each receive a single small gift.

Usually it was a pair of new socks or a picture book. It was never anything expensive.

This year was different.

Mother, Margaret, had made a decision.

"This year, we're celebrating Christmas properly."

Father paused, his hand stilling over his newspaper.

"Properly?"

"A turkey, all the side dishes, new clothes, and a real present for everyone."

Mother closed her ledger.

"This year, we can afford it."

Evelyn was peeling potatoes at the dining table. The potato slipped from her hand and hit the sink with a clatter.

"Mom, are you serious?"

"Of course I am."

Mother tucked the ledger into a drawer.

"You two have worked hard this year. Richard hasn't rested for a single day since he got back from the Cicero Cup.

Evelyn will be preparing for her entrance exams after the holidays."

"This Christmas, we're doing things right."

And so, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Evelyn rushed through the courtyard gate with a fir tree in her arms.

Father had traded for the tree with a colleague from the factory.

It was as tall as a man, with thick branches and full needles.

"Richard, come help!"

She hugged the trunk, half her body buried in the greenery.

Richard stepped out of his study and went into the yard to take it from her.

It was heavier than it looked, but his physical conditioning was far beyond what it used to be. He grabbed the trunk with both hands and carried it into the living room, his steps brisk and effortless.

Father moved the living room furniture, clearing a corner against the wall.

Mother brought the old box of Christmas decorations down from the attic.

Inside were the usual tin bells, paper stars, and a few faded ribbons.

There was also a glass globe from a distant relative, encasing a tiny golden angel.

On Christmas Eve, the turkey came out of the oven.

The whole bird lay sprawled on a long platter, its skin roasted to a deep caramel brown.

The juices pooling from the cuts carried the rich aroma of mushrooms and basil, filling the living room.

The four of them gathered around the dining table. Shallow measures of red wine had been poured into crystal glasses.

The parents had full glasses, while the two children were given just a finger's width for the toast.

"To this past year,"

Father raised his glass.

"To Richard," Mother added.

"To Evelyn," Father added.

"To Mom and Dad," the siblings chimed in together.

After dinner came the presents.

Evelyn had been eyeing the red-ribboned paper boxes in the corner all evening.

Mother pulled the first present from under the tree and handed it over.

"This is from your father."

Evelyn tore off the wrapping.

Inside was a tin baking mold. It was heart-shaped and finely crafted, with smoothly forged edges.

"...A pastry mold?"

"You're interested in baking, aren't you?" Father took a sip of tea.

Evelyn beamed. She knew this was his way of partially approving her plans for the future.

She clutched the mold to her chest. "Thanks, Dad! I can make a heart-shaped loaf of bread!"

Mother smiled. "A heart-shaped pudding works, too."

She brought out her own gift: a new woolen dress, deep red with a white lace collar.

"Try it on."

Evelyn ran up to her room to change, coming back down the stairs a few minutes later and twirling.

The red dress made her skin look even fairer, and its contrast brought out a lively sparkle in her gray eyes.

For Richard, Mother had a finely tailored suit jacket.

"Your grandfather had it custom-made. You can't buy this in a store."

Richard slipped the jacket on.

It fit well, with just enough room left for him to grow.

Father gave him a leather notebook with a clasp on the cover.

"The pages of the notebook in your bag are curling at the edges. Here's a new one."

"Thanks, Dad."

Finally, the siblings exchanged gifts.

Richard gave Evelyn a copy of The Complete Book of Eastern Continent Desserts.

Evelyn had mentioned a while back that she wanted to learn a few Eastern-style sweets.

"Knowing how to make Eastern-style desserts is rare in a bakery,"

Richard handed her the book.

"When you open your shop, you can stand out from the rest."

Evelyn's eyes lit up immediately.

"Richard, how did you know I was thinking about this?"

She handed Richard her present, which was in a small cloth bag.

"It's not worth much," she said. "I made it myself."

Inside the bag was a pair of hand-knitted wool socks.

The stitching was much more even than Grey's scarf; his sister had been learning needlework from their mother since she was little.

"They're warmer than the store-bought ones," Evelyn added proudly.

...

The twenty-seventh was the start of his winter internship.

Mr. Hutton had already provided the location and reimbursed the train ticket.

On the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth, Richard enjoyed the Christmas holiday while packing everything he needed in his bedroom.

He pulled his suitcase out from under the bed and laid it open on the floor.

The suitcase was an old piece his father had used for business trips years ago. It looked battered on the outside, but the inner lining was clean enough.

He packed his supernatural items at the very bottom.

He wrapped the Sphinx Lamp in three layers of old flannel and nestled it into the deepest corner of the suitcase.

The lamp wasn't very heavy, but its daily nurturing couldn't be interrupted.

Mr. Hutton had said that from the day he committed to it until his official Signature, daily nurturing was a mandatory course.

Based on the older man's instructions, this internship would last at least a week.

Skipping the nurturing for a week would wipe out a large chunk of the compatibility he had built up. It wasn't worth the loss.

Bringing the lamp meant he could spend ten minutes nurturing it before bed every night, ensuring his progress wouldn't stall while he was away.

The Gargoyle, however, stayed on his desk.

Over the past two months, he had repeatedly practiced the trigger for Stone Armor until he could cast it independently without the Gargoyle.

The Gargoyle was just a crutch. It was necessary for a beginner, but he could discard it once proficient.

Carrying it around now would just be a burden.

He put miscellaneous items in the middle layer.

He packed the Copper Dish Old Biggs had given him, along with a bag of Runestones and wax strips, wrapping them in an old handkerchief and placing them on top.

He still needed to practice wax and stone reading daily; he couldn't let his practice lapse.

The Silver Needles were packed separately in a long kraft paper box.

The old needles had come in a set of twelve. He had ruined three of them practicing Moon Nail.

Two had broken tips and one had bent, leaving him with nine in decent condition.

Honestly, with Enchanted Bullets as his primary weapon for the internship, he might not even need the Silver Needles.

But the needles barely took up space and added no real weight.

Bringing a box of them was better than finding himself short on options.

If he ran into a low-level evil creature where an Enchanted Bullet wasn't needed but he had to act, a Moon Nail was a far cheaper choice.

Firing a needle only consumed a tiny bit of his ether, and he could reuse it once retrieved.

Firing an Enchanted Bullet was burning real money. He only had six rounds, and using one meant having one less.

Richard pulled his notebook from the shelf and flipped to his Moon Nail practice records.

Over the past week, his forming time had stabilized at two seconds, and his throwing range was nearly five meters.

That wasn't bad for a Newcomer. It was enough for actual combat.

He hesitated over the vial of Deep Ether Condensate Prometheus had given him, but decided to pack it.

The vial was only the size of his thumb; slipped into a pocket, he wouldn't even feel it.

Aside from saving a life at a critical moment, the Condensate's main use was as a catalyst for a Spell Formula.

Stone Armor was a passive defense. Its effect was stable and required no catalyst.

Shadow Armor was actively applied. Its effect was directly related to the amount of ether consumed.

At the Newcomer stage, the total ether he could push into a single cast was limited.

If he injected an entire vial of Deep Ether Condensate as a catalyst during the cast... the intensity would jump significantly.

A normal Shadow Armor would only make the target feel heavy; catalyzed with the Condensate, it might actually crush them into the dirt.

Pinning a target down at a critical moment would give a Hunter or a Secret enough time to do a lot with those few seconds.

That was the most valuable use for the Condensate vial.

Carrying it meant holding an opportunity to flip the situation for the team.

The topmost layer was for his daily items.

He tucked his probationary inspector's warrant into the inner compartment of his wallet, keeping it close to his body.

That warrant was his only legal proof for carrying a firearm. Losing it would mean big trouble.

He wrapped his Webley Military Mark III in two layers of oilcloth and placed it at the top of the suitcase for easy access.

Next to the gun was an Iron Box for ammunition.

The box was divided into two compartments: one held thirty standard rounds, and the other held six single-ring Enchanted Bullets.

"Six rounds. Just enough to empty the cylinder once."

Old Biggs had told him that.

"Enchanted Bullets are for saving your life at a critical moment. Try to use standard rounds normally."

"When you actually need Enchanted Bullets, six rounds will be enough."

Richard understood the subtext: if he fired all six rounds and hadn't solved the problem, more bullets wouldn't help anyway.

He put five pounds of cash in his wallet and kept his loose change in a separate cloth pouch for buying tickets, newspapers, and snacks.

With his packing complete, he picked up the suitcase to test the weight.

Without the heavy Gargoyle, the overall weight was much lighter than he had expected.

His month of training at the fighting club hadn't been wasted. Carrying this suitcase for a few miles wouldn't be strenuous.

...

Richard woke at six o'clock on the morning of his departure.

The sleep management from [sleep] allowed him to control his wake-up time.

He had closed his eyes in bed and thought of his departure time, and his consciousness actively woke his body.

It was still dark outside.

At six in the morning in winter, the sun was still a good two hours below the horizon.

Richard quietly got out of bed, dressed, and moved his packed suitcase from the bed to the door.

When he went downstairs, he found people were already in the living room.

Mother sat at the dining table with a plate of freshly baked bread and a pot of hot milk.

"Mom, you're up this early?"

"I've been up since half past five."

Mother poured the milk into a glass.

"Eat quickly, or you'll get hungry on the train."

Besides the bread and milk, there was a greaseproof paper-wrapped sandwich stuffed with cucumber and leftover sliced turkey.

"I don't know if they have a place to eat on the train." Mother slid the sandwich over.

"Put this in your pocket first."

"Alright."

Father came down the stairs, already wearing his coat.

"It's a half-hour walk to the station." Father's tone was calm.

"I'll take you there."

"You're going too, Dad?"

"I won't feel at ease if I don't."

Evelyn ran down the stairs in her cotton slippers, her hair messy.

"Richard, wait! Wait for me!"

She ducked into her room to change and came out holding a small tin box.

"Here!"

She shoved the tin box into his hands.

"What's this?"

"Christmas gingerbread. Eat it on the way."

Richard popped the lid for a look.

Several pieces of gingerbread were neatly stacked inside, each cut into a different shape: a star, a moon, a little angel, and a rather clumsy dog.