Chapter 493: Sphinx Brand Camera

Evelyn had been acting strange since the night before her exam.

In the guest room of the Ashford Residence, she laid out her equipment over and over again: an apron, two towels, the silver baking kit her aunt had given her, a heart-shaped mold, and a notebook with a colored-pencil cake drawn on the cover.

When Richard walked past the door, he saw her wrestling with an egg beater.

"Why are you bringing that? The exam hall provides them."

"The ones there aren't easy to use."

Evelyn shoved the egg beater into her bag, only to pull it right back out.

"...Richard, are you really going tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you shouldn't go." She set the egg beater on the table.

"I'm not a kid. I know the way."

"I know you know the way."

"Then why are you going?"

Richard thought about it for a moment.

"I'll wait for you outside the doors."

At ten past eight the next morning, the entrance to the red brick building was packed.

There were more parents dropping kids off than actual candidates.

One mother squatted on the steps to retie her daughter's apron strings, while a father stood nearby in silence, wringing his hat into a crumpled mess.

A few candidates had come alone, standing silently in the outermost circle while clutching their bags.

Evelyn stopped at the bottom of the steps.

"Go on in," Richard said.

Evelyn turned and ran up the steps, her apron strings flapping behind her. At the door, she turned back and waved.

Richard sat down on the stone steps across the street.

Three and a half hours later, people began filing out of the red brick building.

Richard stood up as the candidates emerged one by one.

Some were crying; others walked out with arms over each other's shoulders. One squatted on the steps and refused to get up, while a girl threw herself into her mother's arms the moment she crossed the threshold.

Evelyn was one of the last to come out.

She walked out with her head down, her apron off and bunched in her hands. Her hair was a mess, and a small patch on the back of her right hand was red from a burn.

She stopped in front of Richard, her lips trembling.

"I think I failed."

"What happened?"

"...What I made didn't look like a dessert," she said.

"Everyone else made these beautifully plated things, decorated with powdered sugar flowers. I just made a plate of rabbits."

Richard didn't ask anything else. He took the apron from her hands.

"Let's go."

They hadn't walked more than a few steps north when someone called out behind them.

"Hey... plaid apron!"

Evelyn turned around.

A round-faced girl rushed down the steps, resting her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath.

"I finally caught up to you."

"You are..."

"I was at the table next to yours." The round-faced girl caught her breath. "Polly Whittaker."

She raised a hand and pointed emphatically at Evelyn.

"The examiner ate two of those rabbits from your plate!"

"...What?"

"He took one look at my soufflé and didn't even pick up a fork."

Polly looked completely indignant. "The person in front of me drew a swan out of powdered sugar, and he just smelled it before putting it down."

Richard watched his sister's expression, realizing her worries had been entirely unfounded.

"Oh, right," Polly suddenly remembered. "If we both get in, we'll be classmates. What's your name?"

"Evelyn Williams."

Polly looked somewhat surprised.

"...Williams?"

"What is it?"

Polly clutched her cloth bag a little tighter and stepped half a pace closer.

"My sister goes to St. Bridge. Her school has been going crazy over someone lately, and his last name is also Williams."

Polly asked tentatively, "Richard Williams from Imperial Capital University. Are you related to him?"

Evelyn lifted her chin. "He's my brother."

The young girl stared blankly for a moment before shaking her head vigorously.

"Impossible."

"Why is that impossible?!" Evelyn grew anxious.

"Why would Richard Williams's sister come take the entrance exam for the Culinary College?" Polly said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The daughter of a family like that would definitely be in a preparatory program. She'd probably enter Imperial Capital University next year."

"You just happen to have the same last name. You could throw a stone on the street and hit a bunch of people named Williams."

Polly looked at her with the expression of someone indulging a vain, naughty child, turning Evelyn's face red with anger.

Richard nearly failed to hold back his laughter. He stepped aside so as not to interrupt the two girls.

"Fine." Evelyn took the headband out of her hair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Then tell me, what exactly have you heard?"

Polly immediately perked up.

"He single-handedly defeated all of Eton College in a debate!"

"..."

"Eton sent five people during Debate Week, and he took them all down by himself."

"He didn't debate all of Eton," Evelyn corrected her. "The one from Eton was named Montagu, and he took first place overall."

"Doesn't that mean he lost?"

"That was the Cicero Cup. Even though my brother came in second," Evelyn retorted, entirely unconvinced, "he overtook him during Debate Week. First place in the Preparatory Group."

Polly ignored her entirely and held up a second finger.

"He was admitted to Imperial Capital University as an exception. The director of admissions personally took a train to pick him up."

"Nonsense!" Evelyn frowned again. "He took the summer study exam. Second place."

"Second place again?"

"Second place out of all the top students in the nation!"

"And there's more!" Polly's voice grew louder. "That essay, Our Island, was personally awarded a prize by the King. They shook hands, and the prize money was five hundred pounds."

"...It was fifty pounds," Evelyn said helplessly. "And the award was presented by the Empire Cultural Promotion Committee, not the King."

"There was also a gold-plated badge. I've seen it. It's only this big." She made a circle the size of a copper coin with her fingers.

"Fifty pounds is still a lot!" Polly marveled. "My dad doesn't even make fifty pounds in a year."

She opened the cloth bag in her arms and pulled out a dog-eared pamphlet.

"And this."

Seeing the copy of the Collection of Strange Tales, Evelyn's eyes flickered.

"My sister gave it to me. I brought it today as a lucky charm." Polly held the pamphlet up. "I heard every patrolman in the Imperial Capital has a copy, and they get fined if they can't memorize it."

"There aren't any fines," Evelyn continued to correct. "The Department of Internal Affairs bought five thousand copies."

Polly hugged the pamphlet back to her chest like a holy relic.

"And that jump-rope song the kids sing is his too, right? The one about 'no answer on the first call, no answer on the second call.'"

"He wrote the lyrics, but his classmate came up with the name." Evelyn snorted. "He thought it was embarrassing and wanted his name crossed off."

"Why cross it off? Everyone on our street can sing it. I heard the Ministry of Education is going to put it in textbooks!"

"That's just a blind rumor."

"One last thing." Polly leaned in closer. "I heard he's related to Ashford House. He's an illegitimate child of theirs."

"...What did you say?!"

Evelyn exploded on the spot.

"He's my mother's biological son! My mom is from the Ashford family..."

She abruptly swallowed the second half of her sentence, nearly choking on it.

"...Anyway, he's not an illegitimate child."

Polly stared at her for a long time, the suspicion in her eyes undiminished.

"You've even made up all these detailed lies about his family."

"I didn't make anything up!"

"Then does he eat ten sandwiches and drink a whole bucket of milk for a meal?"

Evelyn's expression faltered for a moment.

"...Six," she said reluctantly. "And more than half a bucket of milk."

"It's actually true!" Polly jumped excitedly.

Evelyn finally realized what she had just said and cleared her throat.

"He's not as amazing as you all say. In middle school, he had to lean against the wall before he could even run half a kilometer."

"...Huh?"

"His aunt is an associate professor at Imperial Capital University." Evelyn curled her lip. "She tutored him every single day, forcing him to do stacks and stacks of test papers. If you had an associate professor for an aunt, you could do it too."

My grandfather gave him that overcoat. He can't even afford one himself.

And I knit the wool socks on his feet.

"He memorizes Latin until midnight. Listening through the door, it sounds like he's chanting curses. Even the cat next door is too scared to jump onto the windowsill."

Polly listened to all this and shook her head forcefully. "You're definitely not his sister."

"I am!"

"If you were really his sister, would you talk about him like that?"

"I talk about him however I want!" Evelyn was so angry she couldn't find the right words. "Besides, all I have to do is call, and he comes running!"

Polly laughed. "Then call him."

Evelyn turned, raised her hand, and pointed across the street. "He's right there..."

Polly followed her gaze. Sitting on the stone steps across the street were three people: a fat man selling lemonade, an old woman carrying a basket, and a young man in a white shirt.

The young man had a girl's apron draped over his arm and was tossing cherries into his mouth.

A cherry rolled around on his tongue, making him look incredibly goofy.

Polly watched for a moment, her face taking on an "I understand, say no more" expression. She patted Evelyn on the shoulder sympathetically.

"It's okay. My sister likes making up stories too. She told her class she saw Mr. Montagu's carriage once, but it was actually a coal cart."

Evelyn's hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Just then, someone shouted from the intersection.

"...Polly! Polly!"

A tall girl came running over.

"Sis!" Polly's face instantly fell. "You're twenty minutes late!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Marjorie Whittaker gasped, resting her hands on her knees. "I promise I won't oversleep next time."

"You said that last time!"

The two sisters bickered on the street corner for half a minute.

Then Polly suddenly remembered something and shoved Evelyn forward.

"Sis, look at this... a friend I just met."

"What is it?"

"She says she's Richard Williams's sister."

Marjorie looked up and smiled politely at Evelyn.

"What a coincidence."

"Sis!"

"There are plenty of people named Williams." Marjorie straightened her hat. "We have quite a few at our school."

Evelyn stood there, her chest heaving.

Then she spun around and shouted across the street, "Richard!"

The young man across the street finally strolled over at a leisurely pace.

"I saved you a few cherries. You can eat them when we get back."

After saying that, he turned to the two girls and offered a slight bow.

"My sister just finished her exams today and is speaking a bit out of turn. Please don't take it to heart."

Polly was just about to say, "See, what did I tell you?"

But before the words could leave her mouth, all the textbooks in her sister's arms crashed to the ground.

"!!!"

"Sis?"

"Last time, during Debate Week, at Iliad Hall." Marjorie's voice was airy. "The third debate of the afternoon... our whole class watched the entire thing."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "...Thank you."

Marjorie abruptly bent down and scrambled to pick up her textbooks. From between the pages, she pulled out a newspaper clipping from the Imperial Capital Evening Post supplement.

"This..." She held the piece of paper up, her hands shaking so badly the paper rustled. "Our literature teacher read your essay in class."

Polly stared slack-jawed at her sister, then at the young man in the white shirt.

"...Sis."

"Shut up."

"Sis, didn't you say that person..."

"I told you to shut up."

Marjorie carefully tucked the clipping back into her book, straightened her hat, and offered Richard a perfect, formal curtsy.

Evelyn stood beside him holding the bag of cherries, her chin tilted so high she could barely see the road ahead.

Right before they left, Polly ran after them clutching her pamphlet.

"Sir! Could you... could you sign this?"

Richard glanced down at the pamphlet. There was no author's name on the cover.

"There's no name on this to begin with. It wouldn't be right for me to write on it."

"Then..."

He thought for a moment, took out a pen, and scribbled a line in the blank space on the title page.

Polly looked down.

The line read: "When the sky is bright and the guests are gone, then you may cry."

Beneath it was a single letter: "L."

As the two sisters walked away to the south, Polly's voice drifted back.

"Sis, why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"I told you, but you wouldn't listen!"

"You overslept and you're still acting like you're right!"

Richard stood there, watching their retreating figures turn the corner.

Without realizing it, he had actually become someone people gossiped about.

"See that?" Evelyn said beside him.

"See what?"

"When I call, you come running."

Dinner that evening was served in the grand dining room of the Ashford Residence.

His aunt had brought two students over. The moment Sophia walked in the door, she threw her arms around Evelyn.

"How did the exam go? How did it go?!"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?!"

"I really don't." Unbothered by the sudden intimacy, Evelyn aggressively ground her small head into Sophia's chest, hurting her enough that Sophia immediately let go.

"The examiner didn't say a single nice thing from start to finish!"

Clara chimed in from the side, "My mentor is exactly like that when grading papers."

"Clara!" Isabella looked a bit annoyed.

"I'm just telling the truth."

Halfway through the meal, the butler poured a glass of wine for Gerard.

The old man rarely drank anymore. After he coughed up blood last winter, the family's liquor cabinet had been locked.

Today, he picked up his glass. The butler opened his mouth to speak but ultimately said nothing.

Gerard took a sip.

"Evelyn."

"Grandfather?"

"What was the name of the thing you made today?"

Evelyn glanced at her brother.

"...Professor Rabbit."

......

After dinner, Richard returned to his room and took out the Sphinx Lamp.

The lamp had been hot the entire day. At first, Richard thought it was just the weather, but during dinner, it had grown so hot he nearly embarrassed himself.

Richard set the lamp on the tablecloth and stepped back slightly.

The copper surface had grown smooth and warm from him handling it over the past year. The features of the Sphinx's human face were distinctly clear, its eyes half-closed as if it couldn't be bothered with the mortal world.

Above its forehead lay three zigzagging water-wave marks; tonight, the latest carving finally closed its loop.

Ether surged out of the lamp, fast and aggressive, traveling up the inner side of his right arm and crashing into the Seat of the Sun.

Richard's first instinct was to reject it. He was just about to activate his breathing method when he stopped himself.

This wasn't some foreign invader. All the ether he had slowly nourished the lamp with day by day was now returning to him.

[Spiritual Capacity] shot back up to 50/50, and the ether circuit of his Micro-circulation grew as it was continuously washed over...

When all the changes ceased, the eyes on the human face in the center of the lamp opened.

A wave of heaviness pressed against Richard's chest, forcing him to lean against the edge of the table to catch his breath.

Once the stifling feeling passed, he looked up and noticed something wrong with his room.

The water-stained yellow spot on the wallpaper was still there. The ink bottle on the desk, the half-ruined sheet of paper, the bag of cherries Evelyn had shoved back into his hands... everything was still there.

But everything looked as though it had been cleaved down the middle and realigned, with a layer of double images bleeding out around the edges.

He tried blinking, and the overlapping images in his vision blinked back.

Richard raised both hands, separating his index fingers and thumbs to unconsciously frame a square in front of his eyes... He couldn't explain why he did it; his hands moved on their own.

"Click!"

The sound was crisp and loud, identical to the click of the shutter on the Colton 120 Sophia had given him.

On the table, right next to the ink bottle, a photograph appeared.

Richard picked it up. It showed exactly what he had just been looking at: the ink bottle, the scrap paper, the cherry bag, and the stems of two cherries sticking out from the top... It was absurdly clear.

Richard flipped it over. There was an image on the back as well.

It was the same scene, but the colors of everything had changed.

The ink bottle was the brightest object on this side. The bag of cherries was completely blank, and the words on the scrap paper floated above the page.

This scene had to represent the other side of the veil.

Holding the photo, Richard scratched his head, at a loss for words.

The Sphinx Lamp had completed its second molting, and he had taken a massive step toward becoming a Minor Adept. This was a great thing.

Yet, the mounting confusion in his heart made it hard to celebrate just yet.

Logically, every time a signature artifact molted, it was supposed to draw one step closer to its master.

The first molting had given him a wide-area mirror that automatically reflected everything behind the veil.

That ability was incredibly useful. The moment the Shadow stood in the shallows, everything within a range dozens of times wider than his normal Perception was reflected entirely, all without drawing any attention.

What had this second molting given him?

Richard raised his hands and formed another frame, pointing it at the curtains.

"Click!"

A second photo dropped onto the table. The front showed the folds of the curtain; on the back, the side of the veil remained unchanged.

Curtains weren't supernatural items. There was naturally nothing to see on the other side of the veil.

He framed his own shoe.

"Click!"

Then he framed the Gargoyle on the bedside table.

This one was more interesting. The Gargoyle on the back looked far more honest and dim-witted than the actual physical sculpture, its fangs entirely retracted.

Just like his tests when he first left his Signature on it, this was an honest Gargoyle.

Three photos in, he had figured out the rule: taking pictures consumed ether. The more ether something had on the other side of the veil, the more ether it cost him to photograph it.

Richard lined the three photos up in a row and rested his chin in his hand, staring at them for a long time.

"...So, I basically got a Polaroid?"

In this era, even portable cameras had only just hit the market, let alone Polaroids.

The more he thought about it, the weirder it felt.

If it was just taking pictures, he already had a camera.

The Colton 120 that Sophia had scrounged out of last year's research funds was sitting right in the side pocket of his canvas bag.

It had followed him through the Western Suburbs Unresponding Pit and the Black Trench... That machine didn't burn ether. You just loaded film into it, snapped the picture, and soaked it in a chemical bath to get results.

And for the side behind the veil, Clara had given him a Rubbing Machine.

That Rubbing Machine had also played a critical role in several of his recent incidents.

Yet now, the core ability granted by this second molting could only take pictures?

...Even if it was two-sided.

Richard let out a low sigh, interlaced his hands behind his head, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

The ceiling was perfectly clean. It didn't have that crack like the one back in Slag Alley.

"...It is convenient, though," he muttered to the ceiling.

"I don't have to load film or deal with chemical baths. I don't need rubbing paper or Ether Condensate. I just frame my fingers and snap."

Richard sighed again. This was a critical breakthrough phase, yet all it gave him was a camera-slash-Rubbing Machine that didn't need film. Honestly, he was a little disappointed.

The next morning, Richard was awakened by Evelyn hammering on his door.

"Richard! You're still sleeping?!"

"...What time is it?"

"Eight thirty!"

"Don't you have to wait three days for your exam results?"

"I don't care! I can't sleep!"

Richard opened the door a crack.

His sister stood in the hallway holding a small plate, her hair sticking up every which way.

"Taste this."

"What is it?"

"A new batch I made this morning." She shoved the plate toward him. "Polly said the examiner ate two, and I want to figure out which ones they were."

"You made an entire plate yesterday, and you numbered all of them."

Evelyn looked intensely serious. "I have to recreate all of them and eat them one by one. Once I taste the one that matches the flavor of the exam room, I'll know which one he ate."

Richard looked down at the plate. Sitting on it was a single Gingerbread Rabbit, its hat tilted so far it was about to fall off.

"...If I eat this one, won't you be missing a sample?"

Evelyn froze for half a second before decisively pulling the plate back. "...Then I'm not letting you eat it."

At the breakfast table, Sophia and Clara had arrived again.

Isabella had to take her two students to the department to turn in their field settlement invoices today. Since they were passing by, she casually dragged them into the Ashford Residence's dining room.

Richard sat at the corner of the table, remaining mostly quiet.

He had stashed those three photographs in his inner pocket. He could feel the stiff little stack pressing against his shirt.

Gerard noticed first and shot his grandson a meaningful look.

After breakfast, Margaret could tell the group had business to discuss, so she took Evelyn away early.

"There was a disturbance in your room last night," Gerard said, setting down his knife and fork.

"...You felt it?"

"I got up for a glass of water." Gerard nodded.

Richard passed the three photos around for everyone to see.

Clara was the first to reach out.

She picked up the top one, stared at the front for two seconds, and flipped it over.

When she saw the back, her deep brown eyes slowly widened.

"...Are these from the exact same moment?"

"The exact same moment."

"The front is the material world. The back is the veil side."

"Correct."

Clara set the photo down, pulled a very thin probe needle out of her handbag, and tapped it against the picture.

"This isn't paper."

"It's not copper, either," Richard chimed in. "I tested it last night. It won't melt in fire, won't soften in water, and a knife only scrapes off a tiny bit of dust.

"Its basic texture isn't actually that hard, though, and it instantly dissipates if hit by an ether-based attack. It's useless as a weapon."

Isabella reached out and picked up the third photo, the one of the Gargoyle.

"This side." She tapped the back of it with the butt of her pen. "The flow of ether on this Gargoyle doesn't match a rubbing."

"What doesn't match?"

Isabella explained, "A rubbing only captures a cross-section of a single instant."

She held the photo up to the light coming through the window.

"This... is still flowing. The density of this small patch of ether is shifting."

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "It's very slow. So slow that you wouldn't notice it unless you stared at it for a solid half-minute."

Richard had noticed that last night too, but he hadn't been sure if his eyes were just playing tricks on him.

"So it isn't a photograph," Clara murmured softly. "It is a sealed segment of time moving at an incredibly slow pace."

Silence filled the dining room until Sophia raised her hand.

"Um..."

"Yes?"

"Can it take pictures of people?"

Richard looked up.

"...I didn't try last night."

"Why not try it now?"

"Because I was the only one in the room last night."

Sophia let out an "oh," then slumped across the table, blinking her large eyes.

"Well, there are several people here right now."

At nine in the morning, everyone was lined up in front of the row of hollies in the backyard.

The butler had made three trips to carry out chairs.

Gerard sat upright in the center chair. Margaret sat on his right, and Isabella on his left.

Evelyn stood behind her mother, still clutching a half-eaten Gingerbread Rabbit.

Sophia and Clara stood on the far right. As she took her spot, Sophia tugged at Clara's collar.

"Clara, this part of your collar is sticking up."

"Leave it."

"Mr. Butler." Evelyn turned around. "You come get in the picture too."

The butler clutched his tray to his chest and took a half-step back.

"Miss, that is against the rules."

"You've been with this family for forty years."

The old man stood frozen for a long time. Finally, he had no choice but to set his tray on a stone bench and take a spot in the back row.

Richard pulled out the Colton 120 to serve as a cover for activating his ability.

Evelyn immediately frowned. "Why aren't you getting in the picture? Just have someone else press the button."

"Not this one. The lens was modified when Sophia gave it to me." Richard looked down and pretended to adjust the lens barrel. Lying came to him as naturally as breathing now. "The aperture has to be held down manually, and you have to hold the shutter for three full seconds. Nobody else knows how to do it."

"Then what about you not being in it?" Evelyn asked.

"I'll take a second one right after. I'll have the butler press the button for the second one, and I'll jump in.

"For the first one, I'll just take a picture of you guys."

"Little Evelyn, quickly, stand still!" Sophia hurried to back up Richard's lie. "It really is hard to press! I ruined a whole roll doing it myself last time! All twelve pictures were ruined!"

Clara placed a hand on Sophia's shoulder and chimed in, "I've repaired this machine. It's true that only Richard knows how to use it."

Seeing them all sing the same tune, Evelyn shut her mouth.

Richard activated his Condensed Mirror Method. The ether in the backyard spread out across the surface of that Still Water.

The hollies, the brick wall, the goose by the pond that refused to enter the water, the coal-smudged clouds in the sky... everything fell into the frame.

And finally, the people.

"Nobody move."

"Click!"

The shutter really did click.

At the exact same instant, all the ether inside his Micro-circulation was drained completely empty, and the drain immediately shifted to his Spiritual Capacity.

[Spiritual Capacity 50/50] -> [Spiritual Capacity 1/50]

Everything in the backyard warped toward the edges of his vision, and a loud ringing filled Richard's ears.

He instantly realized that trying to capture Gerard, a Major Adept, had been a colossal mistake. He had wildly overestimated his own ether reserves. He had seriously overplayed his hand!

He could even feel the Sphinx Lamp radiating intense heat, verging on burning out.

"Richard!"

Evelyn broke away from the group and grabbed his arm to hold him steady.

"Your face is completely pale!"

"He didn't eat enough for breakfast." Margaret walked over and felt her son's forehead, casually feeding the lie.

"It's easy to get dizzy in the morning sun!" Sophia shouted loudly. "I was the same way across the sea! One time I was just standing there and—"

"Sophia."

"...Sorry."

Evelyn didn't let go. She looked down at the camera hanging around Richard's neck.

"That shutter clicked awfully slow just now."

"It's a slow shutter speed," Richard forced out through gritted teeth.

Evelyn stared at him for a moment before letting go. "Can we still take the second one?"

The second photo was taken by the butler. The old man's hands shook terribly, and Sophia had to physically guide his hands through the steps several times.

"Click!" That one was taken with actual film.

"How long until we can get it?"

"If we drop it off at the photo studio on Central Avenue, it should take eleven days to develop."

After taking the photos, Margaret sent Evelyn upstairs to catch up on her sleep. Only those associated with the mystical side remained in the backyard.

Richard pulled the first photograph out of his inner pocket. The front showed the yard full of people from just a moment ago.

Gerard sat perfectly straight. Margaret had a hand resting on her daughter. Evelyn had crumbs at the corner of her mouth.

Sophia was smiling so hard her eyes had vanished, and Clara's collar was still sticking up on one side.

The butler stood in the very back row, his tray set down and his hands hovering as if he didn't know what to do with them.

Richard flipped the photo over. This was the main event.

When he saw the back, his eyes widened.

Everyone's position in the yard remained exactly the same, except that on this side, the living didn't quite look human anymore.

The color of Gerard's ether was terrifyingly dense, and his body was covered in marks that looked like they had been gouged by knives and axes.

Isabella was noticeably weaker, but well-worn classical texts and ancient volumes floated around her.

The space around Margaret was completely dark, with a severed thread spinning idly in place.

Clara was clearly a notch stronger than Sophia, but neither had manifested anything physical at the Practitioner stage.

Evelyn was completely clean, possessing nothing at all.

On the photograph, there were actually several extra people standing in the back row.