Chapter 216: [Death]

Richard opened his eyes.

The notebook on the desk lay open to a blank page. His fountain pen rested beside it, the ink on its nib still wet.

He raised a hand to his chest.

The Silver Ring hanging from a leather cord felt cold to the touch.

Sitting up, he glanced at the wall clock.

It had been ten-thirty when he entered the dreamscape; now, it was a few minutes to midnight.

According to the rules of the Theogony Salon, the actual exchange of goods didn't happen during the gathering. They only finalized the terms.

The physical items were delivered separately by Spirit Realm Messengers. He had to wait.

He didn't dwell on those "high-rankers" and the invisible chessboard they played on.

Knowing too much would draw their gaze.

He was not going to take a single unnecessary risk.

He lay in bed a while longer until there was movement by the windowsill.

His Inspiration caught the shift in ether density in the corner of the room before his ears heard a thing.

Richard looked up.

A wisp of pale gray mist seeped through the crack in the window, condensing on the floor into a gray-robed figure with indistinct features.

It extended an arm from an empty sleeve and gently set two items on the desk.

These were the goods he had traded for from Ares and Nemesis, wrapped in two separate bundles.

The gray-robed figure took his Spell Formula manuscript. Making two rubbings of it was the messenger's job; Richard didn't need to worry about it.

Its task complete, the messenger offered a slight bow and dispersed back into mist.

Richard looked at the two bundles on the desk, making no immediate move to touch them.

Selling [Moon Nail: Reflection] actually came with another benefit.

Both Ares and Nemesis had included three remote after-sales consultations.

This meant that from now on, he had acquired two free test subjects.

So far, he had only tested the [Moon Nail: Reflection] Spell Formula on himself and Coleman.

His sample size was pitifully small.

But every time those two came for a consultation, they would have to detail their usage, circuit reactions, and the length of their weakness periods in full. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to offer them any advice.

This was all first-hand data that Richard couldn't buy with any amount of time or money.

He had sold one Spell Formula, collected two payments, and scored two long-term data sources as a bonus.

Even Richard felt this deal was an incredible bargain.

He pushed down that little bit of smugness. He still had real business to attend to.

He needed to perform a divination.

He shifted the Sphinx Lamp by his bed.

This was his signature artifact. He needed to keep it at a distance while appraising other items.

With that done, he sat at the desk and probed the items using the most basic methods.

He first flipped over the relatively harmless Bronze Mirror. The shallow relief carving around its edge was largely obscured by oxidized verdigris.

[Erudition] automatically retrieved the data. The winding curves connecting end to end were a "Thread of Fate" motif, belonging to the Web Weaving Tradition.

The mirror's surface was black and cast no reflection. Something deep inside it shifted sluggishly, and he immediately withdrew his gaze.

The Ebony Box was more troublesome.

Ares's words still rang in his ears: he couldn't identify exactly what was inside, and he wouldn't be responsible if something went wrong.

Richard placed the box in the center of the desk and inspected the temporary seal Ares had added.

The carving strokes were hurried and the finish was sloppy—hastily etched on the way out of the Ash Belt.

Richard could read this one. It was an extremely crude seal he could easily replicate himself.

However, another layer covered Ares's crude work.

It had been added by Hecate.

When the items passed through her hands, she had casually slapped a seal on both suspected supernatural items, attaching a tiny slip of paper detailing the removal steps.

Richard picked up the slip to read.

He understood every word on the paper, but the seal itself...

He pressed close with his Spirit Vision, attempting to trace the seal's structure according to the instructions.

By the third stroke, his Inspiration began to slip.

The inscription strokes interlocked flawlessly, pivot points hiding within the shadows of other pivot points, overlapping several seals onto the exact same surface.

The "stress fatigue" method he had used to crack the Sphinx Lamp was completely useless against this seal. He couldn't even locate the pivot points.

This seal was a total black box.

Richard stared at it for a long while before actually feeling relieved.

It made sense. It was perfectly normal for Hecate to casually set a seal he couldn't unravel at his current stage.

But if he wanted the system points, he had to break the seal, even if just a little.

The problem lay in whether he could handle the fallout of undoing that little bit.

Richard decided to do a divination first. He pulled out his Tarot Cards.

Mrs. MacNeil had given him this set the last time she taught him how to read cards.

The deck was brand new. The gold foil on the card backs didn't even have a single scratch.

Mrs. MacNeil had told him that a new deck needed to be broken in.

It didn't recognize a master. Its ether imprint was completely blank. The caster had to nurture it over and over, letting their own ether slowly seep into the paper fibers.

Only when the deck recognized its owner would its readings be accurate.

Richard hadn't been nurturing this deck for long. It was still very raw.

He first took out a Copper Dish and set it in the center of the desk.

He poured out a small pinch of Starfall Sand, sprinkling it around the dish's rim.

He wasn't in a position to craft a sealing parchment right now, but scattering a bit of the sand on the edge to borrow its nature of "suspension" and "reflection" would serve well enough as a foundation for his divination.

With that done, Richard placed the Ebony Box in the center of the Copper Dish.

He began to shuffle the deck.

The new cards felt stiff in his hands, as if an invisible layer separated each one.

Following Mrs. MacNeil's teachings, Richard thoroughly crystallized his question in his mind.

'Is there danger in completely breaking this seal?'

He then let his ether follow the rhythm of his Fourfold Breathing, slowly seeping through his palms and into the cards.

After shuffling seven times, he stopped, cut the deck, and drew the first card from the center.

He flipped it over.

[Death, Reversed].

Richard's face instantly turned incredibly grim.

A skeletal knight astride a white horse, holding aloft a black flag emblazoned with a white rose.

But this card was upside down. The knight's head pointed downwards, and the white horse, which should have been marching forward, had its four hooves in the air.

Richard's breathing slowed.

The upright Death card signified "endings" and "transformation"—a door closing, the old dying to make way for the new.

Reversed Death signified a "refusal to transform."

What should have ended had not ended, and what should have died clung stubbornly to life.

Something that should be resting in its proper place had been forcibly retained.

He didn't dwell on it. He drew the second card, asking, 'Where does the danger come from?'

He flipped it over.

[The Moon, Reversed].

This card again.

In Whitcom, behind Holbrook's cotton carding machine, on the night after the battle at the Unresponsive Pit—the Moon card had been drawn time and time again.

An inverted moon hung between two towers. A dog and a wolf bayed at it, while a crayfish pushed halfway out of the water.

The Moon, Reversed represented "illusions within illusions," as well as self-deception.

You thought you saw clearly, but in reality, you still only saw the layer it wanted you to see.

The ring of Starfall Sand in the Copper Dish shifted ever so slightly.

From the corner of his eye, Richard noticed that the grains scattered at the edge had somehow clustered toward the box, forming an arc pointing toward its center.

Sand didn't move on its own. The thing inside the box was "pulling" the sand over, right through two layers of seals.

Richard's fingertips paused over the back of the deck.

Madam Marie's maxim still rang in his ears: A diviner is a detective. Evidence doesn't speak for itself; you have to deduce the truth.

Death, Reversed: sealed inside was something "refusing to rest."

The Moon, Reversed: it would deceive you with illusions, making you think unsealing it was safe and worthwhile.

He took a deep breath and drew the third card, asking the most direct question possible:

'What will happen if I completely undo the seal?'

He flipped it over.

[The Tower, Upright].

The Tower again. A certain someone who had drawn this card last time still hadn't recovered from the trauma to his Inspiration.

Richard's chest tightened as he stared at the card.

The Tower was the most unforgiving card in the entire Tarot Cards deck.

It represented sudden, irreversible collapse.

Placing it as the answer to the question of "completely undoing the seal"...

Reading the three cards together, a logical chain snapped into place in his mind.

The box held something that refused to rest ([Death, Reversed]);

It would tempt you with illusions to let it out ([The Moon, Reversed]);

Once you actually broke the entire seal, it was all over ([The Tower, Upright]).

The arc of Starfall Sand clustering toward the center of the Copper Dish edged forward just a tiny bit more.

Richard pressed his hands against the edge of the desk. He didn't draw a fourth card to probe deeper into what lay behind the "Tower."

Mrs. MacNeil had tried to draw a fourth card behind the Chief Responder and had nearly been dragged over by a pupilless eye.

He remembered that lesson well. Divining matters involving higher Ranks instantly invited backlash... He had drawn that line for himself and stuck to it firmly.

The warning was crystal clear: completely undoing the seal carried extreme danger.

But he still had one more question to ask.

He gathered the two cards representing "danger," leaving only the box in the Copper Dish, and reshuffled the deck.

This time, he approached the question from a different angle.

Instead of asking "can I dismantle it all at once," he asked "can I take it slowly."

He applied his experience with the Sphinx Lamp to this situation.

Back then, he hadn't dared to smash the lamp's seal all at once. He had relied on repeatedly applying stress, exhausting the pivot points bit by bit.

In the end, he had cracked open a tiny fissure and slowly siphoned out the ether within, bit by bit.

In batches, letting it seep out, without lifting the lid all at once.

He crystallized this method in his mind, letting it seep into the cards. He shuffled seven times, then drew.

After flipping the card, Richard's expression softened slightly.

[Temperance, Upright].

An angel stood with one foot in the water and the other on the shore, holding a cup in each hand.

Water was poured back and forth between the cups in perfect measure.

Temperance, harmony, patience. Bringing two things into balance, little by little, without rush or impatience.

He flipped the second card: [The Star - Upright].

Richard's eyes lit up.

The Star card signified hope and guidance—a pool of living water being replenished after a drought.

It had appeared in the answer position for his question about "unsealing in batches."

Yet, staring at the pitcher of water the woman was pouring back into the river, Richard remembered that he had drawn this same Star card the last time he divined whether his manuscript would be published.

That time, after the woman poured the water back into the river, her hands were empty.

He could succeed, but he would have to pay a price.

Unsealing this box in batches carried the price of time and patience. It meant applying stress over and over, then stopping to rest over and over. He absolutely couldn't get greedy.

Inside the Copper Dish, the arc of Starfall Sand that had clustered toward the box's center sluggishly loosened and receded back to the edge after [Temperance] and [The Star] were revealed.

Richard let out a long breath.

The imagery was clear enough.

Opening the box completely was the Tower: collapse and a dead end.

But if he handled it like the Sphinx Lamp—in batches, slowly, leaving most of the seal intact and only letting the contents seep out by a hairsbreadth at a time...

The cards yielded [Temperance] and [The Star]. It would work, but it demanded the price of patience. He couldn't rush a single step.

As for the Bronze Mirror... He set the box aside, replaced it with the mirror, and ran through the process again.

The cards drawn for the Bronze Mirror were much milder.

There was no [Death], nor was there a [Tower].

The first card was [The High Priestess, Upright].

The High Priestess sat upright between two pillars of black and white, a half-concealed scroll of law spread across her lap.

The second card was [The Moon, Upright].

This time, the Moon was upright, indicating a fog waiting to be explored but temporarily harmless.

The Bronze Mirror was much safer than the box.

Richard gathered the Tarot Cards one by one and returned them to their box.

He had only been nurturing the new deck for half a month, and this was his first time using it to divine such crucial matters.

He was a little surprised himself that the reading had been so clear.

Perhaps it was to the credit of the Starfall Sand, or perhaps the deck was slowly beginning to recognize him as its master.

He carefully packed away the ring of Starfall Sand from the Copper Dish as well.

The material was precious and needed to be stored separately.

By the time he finished all of this, it was already very late.

Richard put away the Ebony Box and the Bronze Mirror.

He would wait until his divination skills improved before coming back to pry it open, little by little.

He blew out the gas wall lamp.

Outside the window, a light snow began to fall, landing silently against the glass.