At seven thirty in the evening, by the dining table in the Moretti home. "Klein, why do you need to arrive early as an advisor? Wouldn't the security company's urgent matters be particularly risky?" Benson picked a piece of potato from his pot roast, subtly bringing up the morning's events with a tone of quiet concern. Klein carefully removed the bones from his seared fish, and responded with prepared ease: "A batch of historical documents that must be urgently transferred to Bekland— I need to be on site to inventory them and ensure nothing is missed. You know, those people who only wave their hands never even recognize the ancient Fussak script." Hearing this, Benson, having just finished chewing, remarked with a sense of appreciation: "Knowledge truly is important." Seizing the opportunity, Klein produced the remaining five-pound note and handed it to Benson: "This is my additional compensation for today— you also deserve a proper outfit." "Five pounds?" both Benson and Melissa spoke at once. He picked up the check, reading it over and over, speaking with a mixture of astonishment and doubt: "This security company truly is generous... " His weekly salary was one pound and ten shillings, totaling six pounds over four weeks—only one pound more than the additional payment! With such a salary, he supported his brother and sisters, provided them with a decent home, ensured they ate meat twice or three times a week, and gave them a few new clothes each year. "Didn't you think I was exaggerating?" asked Caine deliberately. Benson chuckled: "I think you simply don't have the capability—or the courage—to rob a bank." "You're not someone who lies," Melissa replied seriously, setting down her knife and fork. "I, on the other hand, am now someone who habitually lies..." Caine felt a sudden sense of embarrassment. Though this was a reality driven by necessity, the trust of his sister still left him feeling melancholy. "The matters today are both urgent and important, and I played a quite crucial role in them—that's precisely why it's worth five pounds." Caine explained briefly. In a sense, what he said was true. As for the five-pound allocation now to be issued—originally intended for joining the Divination Club—he planned to keep it hidden. First, bringing home an additional five pounds would genuinely surprise his brother and sister, making them question whether he was engaged in some illicit enterprise. Second, he needed to save some funds to purchase supplementary materials for his studies and to deepen his mastery of the mysterious knowledge. Benson savored a bite of his oat bread and thought for several seconds. "Right now, my work doesn't require very formal attire, in fact, rather, clothes made of finer fabrics—what we have at home is quite sufficient." "Without waiting for me to persuade him, he volunteered: "With this extra income, we've truly built up savings. I intend to purchase a few more accounting books for deeper study. Klein, Melissa, I don't want to be back in five years still earning less than two pounds a week. You know, my boss and my manager—both of them are filled with filth; the moment they speak, it's like they're emitting a foul odor." "Excellent idea," Klein agreed, smoothly steering the conversation forward, "Why not take a look at the grammar books in my room? To become a truly respectable person and earn a decent salary, this is a crucial factor." Perhaps not long from now, the civil service examinations will appear in the Kingdom of Luon—preparing early will certainly pay off. Benson brightened up: "I indeed forgot about this. Let's raise a toast to our bright future." He didn’t have black barley beer—he poured the oyster soup into three cups and gently clinked them against his brother’s and sister’s cups. After drinking the soup, Caine looked at his sister, who was struggling with the seared fish, and chuckled. “Besides Benson’s books, I think Melissa also needs a new dress.” Melissa lifted her head, shaking it emphatically. “No, I believe we should—” “Save it,” Caine added. “Ah, yes,” Melissa nodded firmly. “In fact, if we don’t insist on the fabric or the latest designs, it won’t be too expensive. We’ll save the rest.” Caine spoke with an unyielding tone. Benson agreed: “Melissa, wouldn’t you rather wear that old dress to Selena’s sixteenth birthday celebration?” Selena Wood is Melissa’s classmate and close friend, coming from a fairly well-off family. Her brother is a transactional lawyer, and her father is a senior employee at the Tingen branch of the Bank of Beckland. However, what they called a dinner party consisted simply of inviting friends to share a meal, chat, and play cards. "Alright," Melissa lowered her head, mumbled her reply, and then fiercely forked a piece of stewed beef. After a moment of silence, she suddenly remembered something and looked up: "The Mrs. Shode sent a card through her maid, hoping to visit us in a semi-formal manner on Sunday afternoon—tomorrow at four o'clock, to meet our new neighbors." "Mrs. Shode?" Cline stared茫然ly at her brother and sister. Benson tapped the edge of the table with his finger, as if thinking: "The Mrs. Shode from 4 Waterlily Street? I've met her husband—he's a well-established commercial lawyer." "A well-established commercial lawyer... perhaps he knows Sirinna's brother," Melissa said, with a touch of delight. We're at No. 2 Waterlily Street... Klein nodded slightly. "It's necessary to know your neighbors, but as you know, I still have to go to the security company on Sundays—only on Mondays can I rest. So please excuse me to Mrs. Shao." As he spoke, he recalled his neighbors from his childhood, the ones he had lived with in the Cross of Iron Apartments, and chuckled softly, exhaled, "Isn't it odd that a formal visit is expected—shouldn't neighbors simply know each other naturally, come to know one another through daily interaction?" "Benson explained easily and cheerfully, 'These magazines have simplified many of the rituals of noble society, making them a mark of the middle class. The distinction between informal visits, semi-formal visits, and formal visits stems from this.' As he spoke, he shook his head and chuckled. 'Generally, gentlemen, ladies, and young ladies who see themselves as belonging to this class pay close attention to such details. They refer to visits to neighbors and friends between 2 and 6 in the afternoon as "morning visits."'" "Morning visits?" both Craine and Melissa asked in surprise. What kind of morning visits were visits between 2 and 6 in the afternoon? Benson set down his knife and fork, spread his hands, and smiled. "I honestly don't know why—having only glanced at a few magazines brought by my female colleagues, perhaps because one is expected to wear a morning dress for such visits..." Originally, the morning dress was the attire worn for Mass and gatherings; later, it came to denote daytime formal wear, distinguishing it from evening dress. "Very well, remember to buy some good coffee beans and tea from the neighbors tomorrow morning, and pick up a few small scones and lemon cakes from Mrs. Slin—don't want to be rude in front of your neighbors." Klein smiled, dipped the remaining bread into the meat sauce, folded it into a potato, and took a bite. ………… The next day, on Sunday morning. After finishing his last cup of poor tea and setting down the newspaper, Klein donned his half-high silk hat, took his silver-embossed black cane, and slowly stepped out of the door, arriving at Zothlan Street by public carriage. He greeted Rosan, who had just finished her night shift and was heading to the lounge to rest, and proceeded down the street to the underground. At the corner, he encountered a member of the night watch team, "The Unsleeping" Lo-Yao Leiting. A composed woman with long, slender eyebrows, large eyes, and hair as smooth and lustrous as silk. "Good morning, Miss Leiting," Klein bowed politely. Lo Yao glanced at him with deep blue eyes, giving a barely perceptible nod. As they were about to pass each other, Lo Yao suddenly stopped, looking straight ahead and said: "Ritual magic is a very dangerous undertaking." Ah... Caine paused, and when he turned around, he could only see the fading back of the other. "Thank you," he murmured, frowning slightly, as he called out to Lo Yao-Laiting's retreating figure. Turning left, he soon spotted the elderly Neil stationed in the weapons storage room, and Bright, who had been expected to be absent. "Come on, let's go to my place. I've already secured the necessary materials, and Bright has agreed to watch over the room," Neil said cheerfully. Caine was immediately surprised. "Not here?" Neil held up a small silver box, and sighed. "There's no space here to practice ritual magic." Caine didn't press further, and followed Neil back down to ground level. Then, the two took a public carriage and journeyed all the way to the outskirts of the northern district. Neil's home was a standalone house, with a garden in front featuring roses, golden mint, and other materials. As soon as you entered, you were greeted by a foyer carpeted with a soft rug, housing two high-back chairs and a umbrella stand. Beyond the foyer lay a spacious living room, with pale wallpaper on the walls, deep brown flooring, and a small patterned rug in the center. A substantial round table stood in the middle. Comfortable armchairs surrounded the table, along with a piano. "My late wife loved music," Neil said, pointing to the piano, as a casual aside. "The sofa and side table are in the living room—our ceremony magic will take place right here in the living room." "Certainly," Klein replied, somewhat reserved. Neil then placed a silver box down and smiled. "I'd like to demonstrate a ritual magic for you. Please observe and remember it carefully." As he spoke, he removed a sheet of vellum-like paper from a silver box and drew strange patterns on it using a specially prepared black ink that had a calm, soothing fragrance. Crawford looked at it again and again, and realized that old Neil—perhaps, maybe—was drawing a bill! Once Neil filled in the figure "30" and the corresponding pound symbol at the appropriate places, Crawford could no longer hold back his curiosity and confusion, and asked with a mixture of doubt and bewilderment: "Mr. Neil, what ritual magic are you performing?" Neil cleared his throat and answered seriously: "I'm using magic today to settle that debt of thirty pounds." That's it? Crawfords' eyes widened, and his mouth hung slightly open.