Chapter 480: The Force Quit Button

On the afternoon of June 16th, Richard's family had all arrived in the Imperial Capital.

There was a saying about playing hard before a big test and taking it easy before a small one. The closer it got to such a tense moment, the more Richard felt he needed to keep a level head.

They ate early. Gerard sat at the head of the table, with Margaret on his right.

Evelyn sat next to her mother, while Richard and his aunt took the other side.

Isabella had rushed back from the university just for this. She was still clutching a stack of ungraded exams when her sister snatched them away and slapped them down on the sideboard.

"No looking at these while we eat."

"I'm only going to look at two pages."

"Every time you say two pages, you keep looking until the soup goes stone cold."

Gerard coughed, and both sisters instantly fell silent.

Evelyn lowered her head to stifle a laugh, only for Margaret to kick her under the table.

The meal turned out to be quite lively.

Rogers talked about reinforcing the railway bridges up north.

His hands were never idle while he spoke, using a pair of forks to demonstrate load-bearing directions on the tablecloth.

Halfway through, he noticed Gerard watching him and hurriedly set the forks down.

"...I've made a fool of myself."

"Not at all. When I was young, I saw a bridge up north built in the eighteen-seventies. The man who built it used two branches to draw in the dirt just like that."

"Is that bridge still there?"

"It is."

Evelyn opened the Tin Box and handed out a piece to everyone.

Gerard took his and bit into it.

"This isn't honey."

Evelyn's eyes went wide.

"Grandpa, how could you tell?"

"Honey's sweetness hits the back of the tongue. Beet sugar hits the front." The old man finished the remaining half.

"How much did you mix in?"

"...Six to four."

"Did you add mint?"

"Two leaves!"

Gerard nodded.

"Next time, add three."

Evelyn immediately fished her notebook out of her pocket and sprawled over the table to write it down.

Margaret slapped the back of her hand.

"Eat!"

"Mom! This is important data!"

"Your important data can wait until later."

After dinner, Richard and his aunt headed back to the university.

The family saw them off at the porch, where Rogers patted his son on the shoulder.

"I'm heading back today. I have the early shift at the factory tomorrow."

"You're not going to stay a few more days, Dad?"

Rogers waved his hand.

"Your mother is staying here for at least half a month this time. I'll be fine eating at the factory cafeteria by myself."

Margaret glanced at him but said nothing.

"I'll take Evelyn to handle her enrollment procedures in a few days," Richard said.

"After that, I'll see Mom back to Briston."

"I'll trouble you with that, then." Rogers chuckled at his own words.

"...I can't believe I'm saying 'trouble' to my own son."

Evelyn stood on the steps, having been completely quiet the whole time.

Richard walked over and rubbed her head.

"Don't touch!" She jumped half a step back. "You'll mess up my hairstyle!"

"What hairstyle?"

"I'm going to visit the school tomorrow!"

Richard smiled.

Before they got in the carriage, Gerard suddenly spoke up.

"Richard, come here for a moment."

The old man walked over to the stone pillar on the left side of the porch.

Isabella stood up at almost the exact same time and followed him over.

Richard found himself sandwiched between the two of them, one on the left and one on the right.

"Tomorrow night." Gerard got straight to the point.

Richard nodded.

"I'm going with you."

"Dad!" Isabella became instantly anxious. "Why are you going? Look at your age!"

"What does my age have to do with this?"

"I fought perfectly well that night in March." Gerard straightened his back.

"That guy holding the broom at the pit entrance—I took him down in three strikes."

"So what if it was three strikes! You came back and rested for half a month!"

"I didn't rest for half a month."

"You rested for eleven days. The butler told me."

Gerard turned his head and glanced at the entrance hall.

The butler immediately turned to face the row of holly bushes in the yard, intently studying the patterns on their leaves.

"I'm going anyway. He's a Scholar. He needs someone beside him who can block a blade."

"What blade can you block?" Isabella exposed him ruthlessly. "You have to lean on your knees just to bend over and loosen the soil for the holly bushes."

"That was because the soil was too hard."

"Last month the soil was too hard. The month before that, the shovel wasn't handy."

Richard stood between them, unable to get a single word in.

Isabella turned to him. "Richard, I'm going."

"Auntie..."

"You've never even fired a single Enchanted Bullet," Gerard said from the side.

Richard finally found a chance to speak.

"Grandpa, Auntie."

They both looked over.

"There's a quota on the people invited to this."

Isabella's expression stiffened.

"What quota?"

"The rules are strictly set to only one outside helper. You have to invite them yourself, and they have to take the field with their real body."

"Then I'll go," the two of them said in unison.

After speaking, the two of them glared at each other.

Richard hurriedly continued, "I've already invited someone."

It went quiet beneath the stone pillar again.

"Who." Gerard asked.

"Professor Mortimer arranged it for me," Richard said.

"I can't say exactly who it is. The professor instructed me not to."

This half-sentence was true; Mortimer really had instructed him.

As for whether the content of those instructions was the same thing as what he was saying now, that was another matter.

"Additionally, Madam Marie also made introductions for me."

Isabella's eyebrows rose.

"The one on Flower Moon Street?"

"Yes."

"She promised to act as your safety net?"

No, the one acting as his safety net was the professor.

Richard had accidentally spoken amiss, so he could only find a way to stitch the two together: "She said if something goes wrong, her side will know about it."

...Strictly speaking, this sentence was also true.

As for whether she would do anything about it after knowing, that was another matter.

Isabella's shoulders slowly relaxed.

Gerard put both hands behind his back and glanced up at that stone pillar. Whatever marks had once been on it were long gone.

"Then I won't go."

"Dad?"

"Since he's put it like this, forcing my way in would just cause him more trouble." Gerard turned around.

"Richard, make things a little clearer for your aunt.

The person you invited—can they block the most ruthless one on the other side?"

Richard thought of that man with hair like a clump of dry grass, hands in his pockets, saying "I want fun."

"They can."

He said this without feeling the least bit guilty.

Gerard looked at him for a long time, and finally nodded.

"Then go."

The old man took two steps toward the entrance hall and stopped.

"Right, use that thing I gave you when you need to. Don't lose your life over trying to save it."

He walked into the entrance hall.

Isabella stood in place, wiping both hands on her skirt.

"Get in the carriage, we're going back to the university."

The carriage travelled along Chelsea Road toward the Academy District, the shadows of the plane trees brushing past the windows.

Isabella sat opposite him and didn't speak the whole way.

Halfway there, she suddenly spoke.

"Richard, do you want to make a pallet on the floor in my dorm."

Richard raised his head.

"...What?"

Isabella didn't look at him, just talking to herself.

"I'll bring out that camp bed, it'll be enough for you to sleep on."

"I'll keep watch by the side, and if anything happens I can wake you up immediately."

She lowered her head. "I'm used to staying up late anyway."

Richard looked at his aunt. Her usually cold face didn't have the slightest bit of coldness left on it right now, leaving only a blank helplessness about what to do.

"Auntie, during a dream ritual a person is pulled away, so where I sleep doesn't have much impact."

"Even if you keep watch beside me, you can't keep watch over there."

"I know." Isabella turned her face toward the carriage window.

"But if I sit by your side, I'll feel a little better."

The wheels rolled over a junction in the tracks, and the carriage swayed.

"Then I still better go back to my own dorm," Richard said.

"Why?"

"Because the professor can look after my dorm room."

Isabella turned her head to glare at him.

"You're using the professor to block me now? Do you think your aunt is useless?"

"I'm not blocking you," Richard slowly explained. "He said he would be my safety net; if I change locations, he might not be able to look after me anymore."

Isabella opened her mouth, but she couldn't find a single flaw with that sentence.

"...Then leave your curtains open a crack."

"What for?"

"So he can see clearer when he's looking after you."

Richard couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"All right, I'll leave them open a crack."

After arriving at the place, Isabella got out of the carriage, walked two steps, and turned back again.

"Tomorrow night, call me when it's over."

"It might be very late."

"However late is fine. I'll be waiting."

..................

The light was still on in that third-floor office of the Petrie Building.

Mortimer sat in that old armchair and handed him a pen without saying anything.

That pen was whittled from a reed, and the barrel had developed a patina from being held.

"What is this?"

Mortimer pulled out a cloth and wiped the pen again, treating it somewhat like a treasure:

"The old president left it behind for me; I'm only lending it to you this once."

Richard's hand paused.

"That one from the Royal Anthropological Society?"

"Yes, there's a portion of the old president's mystery inside this."

Richard's breathing slowed down.

"...The mystery of a Virtuoso?"

"A portion," the old professor corrected him.

"A mystery is a Virtuoso's lifetime of things; no one can take it away.

This is the pen the old president used for decades before becoming a Virtuoso, so there will be a little residue."

"How exactly do I use it?"

Mortimer picked up his teacup.

"Research it yourself. If you can't figure it out, it doesn't matter."

"At the very least it can serve as an Anchor point. If something happens to you, I'll rely on this to pull you back."

The office was quiet for a moment.

"A forced detachment," Richard understood.

"Yes."

"The price?"

"The power you obtain at that table will be completely voided."