Chapter 450: A New Channel for Supernatural Items

Richard walked toward the pillar.

Five steps. Four. Three.

At three steps away, his chest began to burn.

The warmth surged wildly from the Seat of the Sun toward his limbs, only to snap violently back halfway there.

He stopped, suppressing his condensing mirror technique. The moment it dropped below that threshold, information from the entire backyard flooded his senses.

Boosted by his Lv5 Perception, the pillar's ether field revealed its layers within his pool of water.

The outermost layer was a residue sloughed off from incense, prayers, and the breaths of passersby over fifteen hundred years, snagged on the pillar's relief of flames and wings.

This layer was incredibly loose; a strong gust of wind could scatter it.

The next layer inward was steeped in countless rituals. That layer could not be touched; disturbing it would ruin the pillar.

He pulled his focus back to the outermost layer.

This loose residue filled the grooves and would naturally bleed off once it overflowed. It would be a waste not to harvest it.

Richard glanced back to confirm Donner was busy cleaning up the mess on the ground, leaving him no time to pay attention to this side of the yard.

Only then did he reach out, bringing his palm almost flush against the pillar.

[Available Points: 1.17]

[Available Points: 1.31... 1.58...]

The fragment of the poison gas Virtuoso's signature artifact had yielded three points.

Advancing Perception to Lv5 had consumed two points, leaving him with just over one. This was the perfect opportunity for a solid top-up.

[Available Points: 1.94... 2.21...]

Within the grooves of the pillar's relief carving, the original color gradually brightened.

That pitch-black grime was the result of hundreds of years of incense smoke.

Revealed beneath it was the color of the original stone, a yellowish gray.

[Available Points: 2.47... 2.63.]

He stopped his hand there.

Absorbing any more would cause problems. It was best to quit while ahead.

Richard retreated over ten steps and withdrew the Still Water. He stood there recovering for a long while before the warmth in his chest finally sank back down.

[Available Points: 2.63]

Behind him, Donner let out a sound of surprise.

"The top of this pillar... it's clean."

The short man eyed Richard with a hint of suspicion.

"You brat, didn't I tell you not to touch it! This is no joke..."

Richard held up his hands, showing the man they were perfectly clean, without a single speck of dust.

"I didn't touch it!"

"It must be from the flame division. The pillar took some damage, so you really need to maintain it well."

Hearing this, Donner gasped and hurriedly ran off to dig out his magnifying glass and maintenance tools.

With the man successfully distracted, Richard mentally reviewed the night from start to finish.

The second Divinely Crafted Armament, the "Flying Shoes," had been secured. He wondered how Hecate would view the progress of his mask resonance.

He had finally "touched" the Fire Worship Temple Pillar he had coveted for so long, and his points had crossed two point five.

When he ran out of his dorm last night, he genuinely hadn't been thinking of anything in particular.

Tallying it up now, he found the ledger looked quite favorable.

Richard smiled to himself.

He had done quite a few things this year, and looking back, remarkably not a single one had been a pure loss.

"What are you smiling at?" Donner asked, looking back.

"Nothing."

"Mr. Manager," Richard said, turning back to him.

"There is something I want to discuss with you."

Donner placed his newly bandaged hand flat against his knee.

"Speak."

"I'd like to work part-time here."

The courtyard fell silent for three seconds.

The roll of cloth in Mrs. MacNeil's hand slipped, unspooling half a turn as it rolled two feet away.

"What did you say?" Donner narrowed his eyes.

"A part-time job," Richard said.

"Dusting goods, oiling them, stocking shelves, writing cards, and learning how to appraise things from you.

"Your hand won't be able to hold a magnifying glass for three months. Someone still needs to open the shop."

"The grandson of Ashford House," Donner drawled.

"Department of Classics at Imperial Capital University, second place in the summer research program, second place in the Cicero Cup."

"It was in the newspaper."

"You read the newspaper?"

"Who on my street doesn't read the paper?"

Donner leaned forward.

"Such an outstanding student, coming to my run-down shop to polish candlesticks."

"Why?"

Richard already had his answer ready.

"My connection with Mr. Clement has been cut."

"Clement from Briston?"

"I bought quite a few things from his shop. He's getting on in years, and he handed the business over to his nephew last autumn."

"I don't have a single antiquities channel of my own in the Imperial Capital."

Donner stayed silent.

Richard continued, "I do appraisals, but every item that reaches my hands has already been picked over. The good pieces stay elsewhere, and I only get the leftovers."

"I want to see things that haven't been picked through."

"Sourcing, unboxing, getting a first feel. I want to examine them from the very first step."

In reality, given the special location of Flower Moon Street, a shop here processed countless items every year. From century-old curios to millennium-old artifacts, every piece would pass right through his palms.

He wouldn't need to buy or take away a single one.

Just one wipe, one oiling, one index card written.

No one would ever notice that tiny bit of seeping ether, nor would it affect the selling price of any item.

Donner stared at him for a long time.

"And your wages?" he finally asked.

"None."

"None?"

"None."

Donner's eyebrows shot up.

"Little brother, a clerk who doesn't want wages is the most expensive kind."

"If I hire a proper clerk for this shop, it costs one shilling a week.

"I know he's worth a shilling, and he knows he's worth a shilling. It's clean and clear for both of us."

"Since you don't want wages, what do you want?"

"I want three things." Richard held up his fingers.

"I want to be present during sourcing and unboxing, and I want you to teach me how to appraise things hands-on.

"Lastly, for anything in the shop that hasn't sold or that you can't quite figure out yourself, let me take it back to draft an appraisal report. The report goes to you, and we share the conclusions."

Donner mulled over these three conditions.

"You're dreaming with that third one."

"Then let's change the third one: you take a thirty percent cut."

"Fifty percent."

"Thirty-five."

"Forty."

"Deal."

Donner slapped his knee, wincing in pain a second later.

"...Your whole family."

He muttered, lifting his bandaged hand to his mouth to blow on it.

"Not a single one of you in that family is easy to deal with."

Nearby, Mrs. MacNeil retrieved her roll of cloth, stifling a smile.

"Donner, you've just picked up a future great Scholar for free."

"Free my foot," Donner grumbled.

"He definitely won't show up often."

"I'll come on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons," Richard said.

"Then you won't even be around as much as a stray cat."

Richard walked out the shop door, and the Bronze Bell chimed ding behind him.

"Hey..."

Donner leaned halfway out the door of Number Seven.

"Three o'clock on Wednesday afternoon. Don't be late."

"Got it."

"Wipe down the shelves first thing when you come in. And you're not allowed to touch that row of stone bowls on the second tier. You break one, and you'll be paying for it until you graduate."

Richard raised a hand in acknowledgment.

He walked to the intersection at the outer street. Clara was just reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

After failing twice, she gave up, completely untying her ribbon and catching it between her teeth.

She raised both hands to gather her hair anew. The wind lifted her brown locks, revealing the pale, clean nape of her neck.

With her chin slightly raised and her eyes half-closed, the girl poured all her focus into her hands, completely unaware of how she looked in that moment.

Richard stopped two steps away, waiting for her to finish tying her hair.

"Senior Sister, you haven't gone back yet?"

With her ribbon secured, Clara ignored his question and shot back one of her own.

"What exactly did my uncle say to you earlier?"

"He talked about the fire," Richard blinked.

"Williams!"

For his senior sister to call him by his surname like this—that had seemingly never happened before.

Richard had no choice but to relay the man's exact words. "He said he doesn't approve of what's going on between us."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Clara's face flushed crimson.

She brought the back of her hand up to her cheek, only to find it was even hotter. She hurriedly put her hand down.

"I should have guessed."

She lowered her head, the toe of her shoe grinding some broken glass against the flagstones.

"I'm sorry."

"Senior Sister, what is there to apologize for?"

"How is there not?" She looked up.

"When my uncle opened the door last night, his face was terrifyingly grim. At the time, I thought he was just annoyed that I woke him up, but thinking about it now..."

She stopped mid-sentence and pursed her lips. "I should have explained things to him sooner!"

"Has he never known that I was the one who cured your ears?"

"I didn't dare say."

Clara sat down on the nearby steps, pressing her folded hands into her lap.

"If I told him a prep student had cured me, he would have sent me right back to the sanatorium on the spot, and dragged you over for an interrogation while he was at it."

"Is he the one in charge of your family?"

Clara gave a soft hum of agreement.

"In our family's current generation, he's the only one who became a Minor Adept craftsman.

"My parents are rarely in the Imperial Capital. Their business trips for the mystical side take years at a time, and they barely even send letters.

"Since I started school, I've gone to my uncle for everything, big or small."

Clara lowered her head.

"So I'm really sorry about this time."

Richard abruptly changed the subject.

"Senior Sister, that Rubbing Machine you gave me has been really handy.

"The feel of the hand crank is much better than the ones in the department."

Clara bit her lip, then suddenly said:

"My uncle modified that one. He said the original version was too tight, and a girl wouldn't be able to turn it."

After saying that, she added somewhat sheepishly, "He probably didn't know that one was meant to be a gift for you."

"Well, he knows now."

Richard smiled. Clara's face flushed red once more, and she promptly stood up from the steps.

"I'm heading back to school."

After walking seven or eight steps, she looked back.

"Richard."

"What is it?"

"Don't be late for next week's makeup classes."

"Next Wednesday, I have to work at Mr. Donner's shop."

Clara frowned, her large, dark brown eyes slowly narrowing.

"What scheme do you have in mind now?"

"I just want to learn a trade."

"Fine. Just remember to keep Thursday open."

"I have to copy books on Thursday. The professor gave me two more stacks."

"Why did he add two more stacks?"

"Because I tired him out last night."

Clara looked at him and suddenly smiled, the faint scar at the corner of her eye crinkling with the motion.

"Then figure it out yourself."

"If you can't finish copying them, find a way. Either way, if the advisor asks, I'll tell him the truth."

She turned and walked away.