Chapter 63: Taste Tester
Isabella stood up straight, the strap of her handbag leaving a faint impression on the shoulder of her coat.
Her fingers tapped the silver chain once more.
The invisible curtain in the corner dissipated, and the sound of voices rushed back in.
The entire process was silent and unnoticed. No one around them had realized this area had just been isolated.
Isabella pulled something else from her coat pocket and handed it to Richard.
It was a small, palm-sized tin flask. The cap was screwed on tight, and the body was engraved with a minimalist daisy design.
"What’s this?"
"Medicine, for my sister." She tapped the flask with her fingernail.
"This is more effective than the medicine I sent before. Take one pill every night before bed. Don’t use more than that."
’The medicine she sent before... So that’s it. That explains why Father made regular trips to the post office back in Brighton.’
"Your mother’s breathing problems aren’t entirely physical."
Isabella pushed the flask into his hand.
"She gave up her practice, but the residual circuits in her body were never completely closed. Ether has been circulating idly within them for over a decade, causing chronic damage to her lungs.
"The coal smoke from the Northern Industrial District is just an aggravating factor. The root of the problem is internal."
"So just treating her lungs won’t cure it..."
"Correct." Isabella admitted bluntly. "In her current physical condition, all we can do is alleviate the symptoms."
"This bottle should last about three months. When it’s used up, write me a letter, and I’ll figure out a way to send more to your home."
Richard put the tin flask away, placing it securely in an inner pocket.
"Thank you, Aunt."
"Mm." This time, she didn’t correct Richard’s form of address.
"Regarding your mother’s old ailment, you could have her come stay in the Imperial Capital for a while.
"The environment in the Imperial Capital is better than in Brighton, and so are the medical facilities."
The air in the Imperial Capital was indeed better than in Brighton. Most importantly, the Ether concentration in the Imperial Capital was far higher than in any industrial city.
"I understand," Richard said.
Isabella slung her bag over her shoulder, preparing to leave.
"The debate week is held every other year. Some of the Classics Departments at the Imperial Capital’s universities have recommendation spots."
"If you’re interested, you can try for it in the future. Of course, you’ll have to get into a university first."
With that, she turned and left.
Richard tucked the business card into the inner compartment of his schoolbag, placing it with the recommendation letter.
Only half a cup of tea was left, and it had gone cold.
He downed it in one gulp and set the cup on the low table.
The crowd around him was still moving about. The judges were gathered in small groups near the long table, chatting with cups in hand.
Some of the contestants were gathered around Montague, the golden-haired boy surrounded by a circle of people.
He handled them with ease, occasionally letting out a laugh and lowering his head to listen to what they were saying.
Catherine was standing by the window farthest from the crowd, her red hair tucked behind her ear, an empty cup in her hand.
Her gaze traveled over the heads in the reception hall and met Richard’s.
As Richard walked over, he passed the long table of refreshments and casually picked up a scone.
"Williams, do you actually believe what you said in your speech?" Her gaze was direct.
"Which part are you asking about?"
"That ’inquiry itself is civilization.’ Do you believe that?"
"I do."
Catherine stared at him for a moment.
"The version I believe is a little different."
"As I see it, there are two kinds of people who inquire.
"One kind finishes their inquiry, goes back into the room, patches up the wall, and pretends nothing happened. The other kind finishes their inquiry and moves to live on the other side of the wall."
"Which kind are you?"
Richard took a bite of the scone in his hand, chewed a couple of times, and swallowed.
"Haven’t decided yet."
That wasn’t an honest answer.
’I moved over long ago, from the moment I first touched the Copper Pendant on the nightstand.’
But saying something like that to someone he’d only met twice wasn’t a wise move.
Catherine didn’t press him.
She picked up her empty cup from the windowsill, started walking toward the long table, then tossed a remark back over her shoulder.
"My name’s Catherine. My friends call me Kate."
"I’m Richard."
"Of course I know your name. The host announced it twice."
The red-haired girl waved at him and disappeared into the crowd.
Richard stood by the window, finished the other half of the scone, and dusted the crumbs from his hands.
The tea party was still going on, but there was no longer any need for him to stay.
He’d gotten on the recommendation list, secured the prize money, and received Isabella’s business card.
He’d gotten everything he came for and met everyone he needed to see.
He pushed open a side door and walked out. The cold autumn evening wind rushed in, blowing away the polite pleasantries of the social gathering.
The Ashford Family carriage was already parked in its usual spot in the square.
The coachman was on his seat, leaning against a pillar of the roof, his hat askew. He was probably dozing.
He woke up as Richard approached, straightened his hat, and half-rose from his seat.
"Young Master, back to the mansion?"
"Yes, let’s go back."
The carriage entered the Imperial Capital’s evening rush-hour traffic.
Richard leaned back against the seat, looking at the business card in his hand: Petrie Building, Room 314.
He was almost done with the Greenwood library. He had a very clear sense of the ceiling represented by those twenty-six books.
The door here in the Imperial Capital had just cracked open, and the information his aunt revealed today had suddenly and dramatically deepened the view beyond that crack.
He connected the clues in his mind, and a clear path emerged:
Cicero Cup → High-level Academy → Debate Week → Speaker → A key step in Tier Transition.
Each step was built upon the last, and the stakes were higher each time.
The carriage turned onto Cheer Road, and the jolting on the gravel lane pulled him from his thoughts.
The lights of the Ashford Mansion were already on.
A small head bobbed in a second-floor window for a moment, then disappeared.
The carriage hadn’t even come to a complete stop, and the coachman was still pulling on the reins, when the side door of the mansion was pushed open from within.
Evelyn stood on the steps in her house slippers, her braid half-undone and draped over her shoulder, clutching the box of chocolates in her hand.
"You’re back!"
"Yeah."
"What place did you get?"
Richard pulled the envelope from his schoolbag and waved it in front of his sister. "Second."
The girl’s mouth formed an "O," and the chocolate box nearly slipped from her fingers.
"Second place?! Second in the entire Empire?!"
"The entire Empire is probably an exaggeration, but yes, second among all the contestants."
"This..." Evelyn took the envelope.
She opened it and glanced inside. The "thirty pounds" on the money order reflected in her gray eyes.
Evelyn closed the envelope and handed it back to him properly.
"Brother, you’ve really changed so much."
She had looked at him with that same expression many times over the past two months.
Today, her gaze was different.
The confusion was still there, but it was mixed with something else.
Perhaps it was acceptance, or perhaps trust.
Or maybe she was just tired; questioning someone who would never give a straight answer was exhausting.
"You can keep the money for the gloves," Richard said, patting the envelope. "The two-shilling woolen ones. I’ll buy them myself."
"Huh? You don’t have to..."
"And with this prize money, I’ll buy you a pair of proper-fitting shoes when we get back to Brighton."
Evelyn didn’t say thank you, nor did she refuse.
She thrust the box of chocolates into her brother’s hand. There was only one piece left inside.
"Here, to celebrate."
Richard stood on the steps and popped the chocolate into his mouth.
When he bit down, something was off.
The hazelnut in the center had gone bad. It had the stale, oily taste of something that had been sitting out for too long.
He chewed a couple of times but didn’t spit it out.
"Evelyn."
The girl walking ahead of him stiffened slightly.
"This box of chocolates... you’d pretty much finished it by the second day, hadn’t you?"
Evelyn turned around, her expression a mixture of emotions.
She opened her mouth to deny it, but her eyes had already pleaded guilty.
"...There were only two pieces left by the afternoon of the second day. I held back for a long time and couldn’t bring myself to eat the last one."
Richard glanced down at the half-eaten piece of chocolate in his hand.
"After a box of Valentine’s chocolates is opened, they’re best within three to five days. This one has been sitting out for almost a week."
Evelyn looked a little embarrassed and reached out, trying to snatch the other half from his hand.
"Then don’t eat it! It must taste wrong..."
Richard pulled his hand back, dodging hers, and popped the entire remaining half into his mouth.
"Brother!"
But he had already swallowed it.
It really didn’t taste good. Compared to the silky, melt-in-your-mouth texture it had when first opened, it was like a completely different food.
"It’s fine."
"I told you not to eat it..." The girl looked down, shuffling her feet in her slippers.
"If you feel bad about it..." Richard reached out and ruffled her messy hair.
"...then when you open that bakery of yours someday, you can just let me eat for free."
Evelyn slapped his hand off her head and glared at him.
After a moment, she couldn’t keep a straight face and broke into a smile.
"You just remember that. When I really do open my workshop, you’ll be the taste-tester for my first batch of chocolates."
"Deal."
"No take-backs."
"No take-backs."