Chapter 155 - 144: Christmas Eve

Christmases in the Williams household were usually simple.

His father’s factory only closed for three days at Christmas, and his mother ran the household, meticulously accounting for every last penny.

In previous years, the Christmas dinner table would only feature a small chicken, a vegetable chowder, some mashed potatoes, and the Christmas pudding his mother baked herself.

A small fir tree, less than a meter tall, would stand in the corner of the living room, decorated with a few tin bells and some paper-mâché stars.

The two siblings would each receive a small gift.

In years past, it was always new socks or a picture book—never anything valuable.

This year was different.

Their mother, Margaret, made a decision.

"This year, we’re celebrating Christmas in proper holiday fashion."

His father stopped turning the pages of his newspaper.

"Proper holiday fashion?"

"Turkey, all the trimmings, new clothes, and a proper gift for everyone."

His mother snapped the ledger shut.

"This year, our family can afford it."

Evelyn was sitting at the dining table peeling potatoes. When she heard this, a potato slipped from her hand and CLATTERED into the sink.

"Mom, are you serious?"

"Of course I’m serious."

His mother put the ledger away in a drawer.

"You two have worked hard this year. Richard hasn’t had a single day off since he got back from the Cicero Cup."

"Evelyn also needs to prepare for her higher education after the holidays."

"This Christmas, we’re going to celebrate it properly."

So, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Evelyn burst through the gate from the yard, carrying a fir tree.

Their father had gotten the fir in a trade with a colleague from the factory.

The tree was as tall as a grown man, with thick branches and lush needles.

"Brother, quick, help me!"

Evelyn had her arms wrapped around the trunk, half of her body buried in the pine needles.

Richard came out of his study and went into the yard to take the tree from her.

The tree was heavier than it looked, but thankfully, his physical condition was much better than before. He wrapped both arms around the trunk and carried it into the living room with brisk, powerful steps.

Their father was in the living room, moving furniture to clear out a corner against the wall.

Their mother brought the box of old Christmas decorations down from the attic.

The box contained tin bells, paper-mâché stars, and a few faded streamers.

There was also a glass orb gifted by a distant relative years ago, with a small golden Angel embedded inside.

On Christmas Eve, the turkey was ceremoniously removed from the oven.

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

Juices leaking from the incisions mingled with the aroma of mushrooms and basil, filling the entire living room.

The four of them sat around the dining table, crystal glasses filled with a splash of red wine.

The parents had full glasses, while the two children each had just a finger’s depth poured for them—a symbolic gesture.

"To this past year."

His father raised his glass.

"To Richard," said his mother.

"To Evelyn," his father added.

"To Mom and Dad," the two siblings said in unison.

After dinner, it was time for gifts.

Evelyn had been covetously eyeing the boxes tied with red ribbon in the corner of the living room.

Her mother took the first gift from under the tree and handed it to her.

"This is from your father."

Evelyn unwrapped the package.

Inside was a heart-shaped tin mold, finely crafted with neatly hammered edges.

"...A pastry mold?"

"Aren’t you interested in baking?" her father said, taking a sip of tea.

Evelyn was thrilled. She knew this was her father’s way of partially approving of her future plans.

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

"Or a heart-shaped pudding," her mother said with a smile.

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

"Try it on."

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

The red dress made her skin look even paler, and by contrast, her grey eyes seemed all the more vibrant.

Her mother’s gift to Richard was an exquisitely made suit jacket.

"Your maternal grandfather had it custom-made. You probably can’t find another one like it in any store."

Richard put the jacket on.

The tailoring was a perfect fit, and it had even been made with room for him to grow taller.

His father gave him a leather-bound notebook with a locking clasp on the cover.

"The corners of the pages in your current notebook are all curled. Time for a replacement."

"Thanks, Dad."

Finally, the siblings exchanged gifts.

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

Evelyn had mentioned once a while ago that she wanted to learn a few desserts from the Eastern Continent.

"In a bakery, knowing how to make Eastern-style desserts will make you a rare commodity."

Richard handed her the book.

"When you open your own shop, you can use it to stand out from the competition."

Evelyn’s eyes immediately lit up.

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

Her gift to Richard was in a small cloth bag.

"It’s not worth much. I made it myself."

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

The stitches were much more even than Grey’s scarf; his sister had been learning these things from their mother since she was little.

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

...

His winter internship was set to begin on the twenty-seventh.

Mr. Hutton had already informed him of the location and reimbursed him for the train tickets.

On the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth, Richard spent his Christmas holiday in his bedroom, packing everything he needed for the trip.

He dragged his suitcase out from under the bed and placed it in the middle of his bedroom floor.

The suitcase was an old one his father had used for business trips in his early years. It looked old on the outside, but the lining was still fairly clean.

He put the Marvels in the very bottom.

He wrapped the Sphinx Lamp in three layers of old flannel and placed it in the innermost corner of the suitcase.

The lamp itself wasn’t very heavy, but the process of nurturing it could not be interrupted.

Mr. Hutton had said that from the day he was chosen until the day he was formally ’signed,’ daily nurturing was a mandatory lesson.

According to the old man’s instructions, the internship would take at least a week.

A week without nurturing it, and the attunement he had built up would be whittled away. The loss would far outweigh the gain.

By bringing the lamp and spending ten minutes nurturing it before bed each night, he wouldn’t fall behind on his progress while he was away.

The Gargoyle, however, he left on his desk.

He had spent the last two months practicing the Touching and Leading phase of his Stone Armor until he could activate it without relying on the Gargoyle.

The Gargoyle was a crutch, necessary for the Newcomer stage but disposable once he became proficient.

Taking the Gargoyle with him would just be a burden.

The middle layer was for miscellaneous items.

The Copper Disc, Talisman Stone Bag, and Wax Sticks from Old Big were placed on top, wrapped in an old handkerchief.

He still had to practice Wax Reading and Stone Reading every day; the practice couldn’t stop.

The Silver Needles were packed separately in a long, narrow cardboard box.

The set contained twelve needles. He had used up three of them practicing Moon Nail so far.

Two had their tips broken, one was bent, and the remaining nine were still in good condition.

In truth, with Enchanted Bullets as his main combat method for the winter internship, the Silver Needles might not be needed.

But the Silver Needles took up almost no space in the suitcase and added little weight.

Bringing a box along was better than suddenly lacking an option.

In case he encountered low-level Evil Beings where Enchanted Bullets weren’t necessary but he had to act, Moon Nail was a much cheaper option.

Every needle he shot consumed only a tiny bit of his own Ether, and the needles could be retrieved and used again.

Firing an Enchanted Bullet, however, was a true expense of cold, hard cash. He only had six, and each one he fired was gone for good.

Richard pulled the notebook down from the bookshelf and flipped to the pages with his Moon Nail practice records.

In the last week, his formation time had stabilized at two seconds, and his throwing distance was close to five meters.

These stats weren’t bad for a Newcomer and were sufficient for actual combat.

He hesitated for a moment over the bottle of Deep Ether Condensate from Prometheus, but decided to bring it.

The bottle was only the size of his thumb, completely unnoticeable when carried in an inner pocket.

The Condensed Liquid could be used to save one’s life in a critical moment, but its other function was as a catalyst for Techniques.

Stone Armor was a passive defense with stable effects, so it didn’t need a catalyst.

Shadow Armor was actively cast, its effect directly proportional to the amount of Ether consumed.

At the Newcomer stage, the total amount of Ether he could pour into a single Casting was limited.

If he were to inject a whole bottle of Deep Ether Condensate as a catalyst during Casting... the intensity would be boosted significantly.

A normal Shadow Armor would only make a target feel weighed down. A catalyzed Shadow Armor, however, could potentially pin a target to the ground.

If he could immobilize a target at a critical moment, his fellow Hunters or Secretive Ones could use those few seconds to do a lot.

This was the most valuable use for the bottle of Condensed Liquid.

Carrying it was like having a trump card that could turn the tide for the entire team.

The top layer was for daily items.

He tucked his Trainee Inspector commission papers into an inner fold of his wallet, keeping it close to his body.

This document was his only proof of legal firearm possession. Losing it would be a huge problem.

The Webley Military Mark III was wrapped in two layers of oilcloth and placed in the outermost layer of the suitcase for easy access.

Next to the gun was a tin box for bullets.

The tin box was divided into two compartments: one held thirty regular bullets, the other held six Single-Ring Enchanted Bullets.

’Six rounds. Just enough to empty the Bullet Nest once.’

That’s what Old Big had told him.

’Enchanted Bullets are your lifeline in a crisis. Use regular rounds for everyday situations.’

’In any situation that actually requires Enchanted Bullets, six rounds will be enough.’

Richard knew the subtext: if six rounds couldn’t solve the problem, then having more wouldn’t help either.

He stuffed five pounds in cash into his wallet, and his loose change was put in a separate small cloth bag, convenient for buying tickets, newspapers, and snacks.

With the entire suitcase packed, he lifted it to test its weight.

Without the Gargoyle, its heaviest component, the overall weight was much lighter than he had originally estimated.

His training at the Fighting Club this month hadn’t been in vain. He could carry this suitcase for a few miles without feeling strained.

...

At six in the morning on the day of his departure, Richard was already awake.

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

Lying in bed, he closed his eyes and focused on the day’s departure time, and his consciousness roused his body.

The sky outside was still dark.

At six in the morning in winter, the Sun was still a full two hours below the horizon.

Richard got up quietly, got dressed, and moved the suitcase he had packed last night from the head of his bed to the bedroom door.

When he went downstairs, he found someone was already in the living room.

His mother was sitting at the dining table, a plate of freshly baked bread and a pot of hot milk in front of her.

"Mom, you’re up this early too?"

"I’ve been up since five-thirty."

His mother poured the milk into a cup.

"Hurry up and eat, or you’ll get hungry on the train."

On the table, besides the bread and milk, there was also a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, filled with leftover slices of roast turkey and cucumber from last night.

"I don’t know if there will be a place to eat on the train."

His mother pushed the sandwich toward him.

"Put this in your pocket for now."

"Okay."

His father came down from upstairs, already wearing his coat.

"The platform is more than a half-hour walk from here."

His father’s tone was calm.

"I’ll walk you there."

"Dad, you’re going too?"

"I won’t be at ease if I don’t see you off."

Evelyn also came running down the stairs, shuffling in her cotton slippers, her hair a mess.

"Brother, wait for me! Wait for me!"

She darted into her room, changed her clothes, and came out again, holding a small tin box.

"For you!"

His sister shoved the tin box into his hands.

"What is it?"

"Christmas gingerbread. To eat on the way."

Richard opened the lid and took a look.

Inside the tin box were several gingerbread cookies, neatly arranged, each cut into a different shape.

Stars, moons, little angels, and a rather crudely shaped little dog.