"Stop worrying about that damned invoice—let's talk about ritual magic instead." Neil the Elder calmly gathered up the candles, the large cauldron, and the silver knife, among other items. Crain really wanted to emulate the American from his previous life and raise his shoulders in a graceful gesture, but ultimately settled for not doing so—something he felt wasn't quite gentlemanly. He refocused his attention on ritual magic itself, raising one after another of his earlier detailed questions, and received clear, reassuring answers: the incantations followed a certain format, and as long as the essential meaning was clearly conveyed in Hermesian, the rest could be freely improvised—though any disrespectful or undignified descriptions were strictly forbidden. This "mysticism lecture" continued until noon, when Neil the Elder cleared his throat and said, "We must return to Zothlan Street now." As he spoke, he vaguely complained, "For the materials I needed to collect, I missed out on that lovely breakfast." "Clayne looked around puzzled and amused. 'Mr. Neil, doesn't your household have a chef, or a housekeeper responsible for cooking?' A weekly salary of twelve pounds is quite sufficient to employ several servants! According to the newspapers, a regular chef costs only twelve to fifteen shillings per week—sometimes even less than a pound—when provided with accommodation and meals, and housemaids handling domestic duties are even more affordable, ranging from three shillings and six pence to six shillings per week. Of course, one cannot expect much in terms of culinary skill from them." Well, actually, that’s not quite right. Given Mr. Neil’s current situation—still owing 30 pounds—having neither a chef nor domestic staff would be quite normal. I seem to have asked questions that didn’t belong. As克莱恩 regretted this, Mr. Neil merely shook his head with no concern: “I frequently attempt ritual magic at home, study rare objects and relevant texts. I simply cannot—or never could—hire ordinary people to serve as chefs, male servants, or female maids. I only arrange for regular cleaners. And if they weren’t extraordinary, do you think they’d be willing to undertake such work?” “I must have asked a rather foolish question—perhaps because I’m simply not accustomed to doing things that involve the mystical at home,”克莱恩 self-consciously explained. Mr. Neil had already risen, donned his round-brimmed felt hat, and was walking toward the door, murmuring as he went: “I can almost smell the seared duck liver… Once the bills are settled, I’m going to treat myself to a proper meal!” "I'm definitely going to finish off an entire roast pork with apple sauce, no—wait, that's not enough! I need a sausage with mashed potatoes too..." I'm so hungry just hearing this. Klein swallowed a lump of saliva and hurried after Old Neil to the nearby public carriage stop. Back on Zothlan Street, as Old Neil stepped down from the carriage, he suddenly exhaled, "What did I just see? Goddess, what did I just see?" He suddenly moved with the agility of a young man in his late teens, swiftly reaching the roadside and picking up an object. Klein approached curiously, and upon closer inspection, noticed it was a finely crafted leather wallet. With his eye and experience, it was hard to tell whether the dark brown wallet was made of cowhide or sheepskin—what he did notice was a small blue emblem embroidered on it, depicting a white dove in flight. That was his first impression. From the second glance onward, however, his eyes were drawn and held fast by the stacks of bills swelling the wallet. It was gold pounds with gray backgrounds and black patterns—no less than twenty facing up! Neil opened his leather folder, pulled out the bills, and examined them carefully, then exclaimed, "Ten-pound notes featuring William I, the revered 'Founder' and 'Protector'—oh, goddess, thirty of them! Plus several five-pound, one-pound, and five shillings notes." Over three hundred pounds! That was truly a substantial sum—something I might not accumulate in ten years... Caine's breath grew noticeably heavier. Given the high value of the pounds, finding such a folder was as significant as discovering a whole chest of cash in later times. "Must have been dropped by some gentleman—certainly not an ordinary person," Caine assessed calmly. Clearly, this wasn't a woman's folder. "Who he is doesn't matter." "Old Neil chuckled lightly, "We won't be trying to claim these funds that aren't ours. Let's just wait here a moment. I'm certain that gentleman will soon return to retrieve them—after all, no one finds it easy to part with something truly valuable." Klein breathed a quiet sigh of relief, gaining a fresh appreciation for Old Neil's moral integrity. He had previously worried that the man might use the excuse of 'divine grant' to settle his bills with the money, and had been struggling to figure out how to stop him or persuade him otherwise. This was truly 'doing what one wishes, without causing harm,' wasn't it? Klein suddenly felt a clear understanding. Less than a minute later, a luxurious four-wheeled carriage sped into view, its side panel bearing a pale blue emblem of a white dove with outspread wings. The carriage came to a stop, and a middle-aged man in a black suit, with a matching bow tie, stepped out and approached the leather portfolio. He bowed slightly and said, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. This should be my master's wallet." "Your seal speaks volumes, but I'd like to verify once more—this is my responsibility to everyone. How much money is left in the gentleman's wallet?" Elder Neil replied politely. The middle-aged man paused, then chuckled self-consciously. "As a butler, one should know exactly how much money remains in the master's wallet. I'm sorry—may I just check with him?" "This is entirely up to you," Elder Neil gestured warmly. The man returned to the side of the carriage and exchanged a few words with the people inside through the window. He then approached Klein and Elder Neil again, smiling. "More than 300 pounds, but less than 350. My master doesn't remember the exact amount." Unforgettable—truly, a substantial sum. If I had that much money, I'd count it over and over again. Klein was filled with admiration. Elder Neil nodded, and returned the wallet. "By the goddess' testimony, this is yours." The middle-aged man took the leather folder, roughly counted through the bills, then drew out three ten-pound notes: "My lord is Sir Dewey. He has praised your quality, saying this is the due reward for honest service—please do not hesitate to accept." Sir Dewey? The Sir Dewey who founded the Dewey Trust, providing affordable rental housing for the working class? Klein suddenly remembered the name. He was the brother Bensun both respected and felt somewhat detached from reality. "Thank you, Sir," the old Neil said, without ceremony, taking the three bills. After seeing Sir Dewey's carriage drive away and noticing no one else around, he turned to Klein, lightly flicking the bills, and smiled: "Thirty pounds—the invoice is settled." "I said it would be settled in a reasonable way." "That's the power of magic." ...God damn, the power of magic! That works too! Caine was once again utterly stunned. After pausing for a few minutes, the man who had entered the stairwell and was now making his way toward the security company asked with curiosity: "Mr. Neil, why don't you ask for more?" "Don't be greedy—especially when performing ritual magic. Moderation is the key element that allows Seers to live long lives." Mr. Neil explained with ease and cheerfulness. A series of servants in red aprons carried trays with crystal glasses, moving gracefully among the gentlemen and ladies dressed in either elegant or lavish attire. Audrey Hall wore a light white gown with a stand-up collar, high waist, and leg-of-lamb sleeves, her upper body tightly cinched and her waist finely tapered, the layered cake tiers perfectly supported by whalebone stays. Her long golden hair was elegantly coiffed, and her earrings, necklace, and rings shimmered with bright light. She wore a pair of white dance shoes set with roses and diamonds. "Are there four, five, or six petticoats inside?" Audrey touched the crinoline with her right hand, which was gloved in white lace. Her left hand held a glass of sparkling champagne. Unlike in past occasions, when she had always been at the heart of the celebration, drawing all eyes, Audrey chose to step away from the crowd and stand quietly in the shadow of the floor-to-ceiling window curtains. She sipped her champagne, observing the guests ahead with a posture that seemed out of place—Wolf Count's young son was chatting with the daughter of Count Conrad, always gesturing with his arms to emphasize his points. The more he gestured, the less credible his words became—a well-documented observation. He constantly raised himself above others, belittling them, yet struggled to conceal his own insecurity, which seeped into his tone and body language. Lady Della had been using her left hand to mask her laughter repeatedly today. Ah, now I understand—she was drawing attention to the pure sea-blue sapphire on her left hand. Her husband, Duke Negan, was conversing with several conservative nobles nearby, and since the beginning of the dinner, he had only once made eye contact with her—briefly, and with a deliberate search. Their actual eye contact had been sparse. Perhaps, indeed, they were not as affectionate as they appeared. Lady Parnes had been made to laugh seven times by Lord Lary—quite natural, quite expected—but why did she glance at her husband with such a hesitant, nervous gaze? Ah, they had separated. No, they had simply gone to places that both led toward the For a moment, she truly believed she was watching a play. "Each of them is a decent stage actor..." she murmured, her gaze cool and distant. Then, suddenly aware of something, she snapped her head around, turning toward the spacious balcony beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, toward its shadowed corner. There, a golden retriever sat quietly, its eyes calm and steady, fixed on the interior, on Audrey, half concealed in the darkness. Susie... Audrey's mouth twitched, her expression instantly crumbling, unable to maintain the demeanor of an observer any longer.