I Loaded the Mysticism Panel
Chapter 11: I Am a Student

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: I Am a Student

Richard pushed open the door, and a Copper Bell tinkled.

The shop wasn’t large, maybe twice the width of his living room at home.

All four walls were lined with shelves, and the shelves were filled with all sorts of objects:

Copper Artifacts, porcelain, old clocks, picture frames, candlesticks, oil paintings, small statues missing a leg, and silver cutlery so tarnished you couldn’t tell its original color.

A gas lamp hung from the ceiling, its frosted glass shade Filtering the light, making it dim and soft.

An old man sat behind the counter, his sparse white hair combed back, a pair of copper-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

He was holding a magnifying glass, examining something.

Hearing the bell, the old man looked up. He sized up Richard’s clothes and said, with a distinct lack of interest, "Good morning."

"Good morning." Richard glanced at the counter.

The old man was looking at an old coin, greenish with patina, its edges worn.

"What are you looking for, young man?"

"Just looking around."

The old man grunted and returned his attention to his old coin.

Richard slowly walked a lap around the shop.

Compared to the stalls at the flea market, you could see the difference in quality here at a glance.

The goods sold at the stalls were all about volume. Their quality was inconsistent, and they were displayed as just a jumbled pile of junk.

Clement’s place was different.

A comfortable amount of space was left between each item on the shelves. The wall near the window even had a few framed old prints hanging on it.

The lighting was artfully arranged. Clearly, someone who knew their business was running the place.

He glanced again at the old man behind the counter.

In a corner of the counter was a stack of old coin catalogs and auction house publications. One was half-open, with several handwritten notes tucked between its pages.

Warren had said he used to be an Appraiser for an auction house in the Imperial Capital.

’Judging by how he’s working, he’s still practicing his old trade even in retirement.’

’A man who has seen the world in the Imperial Capital wouldn’t be mistaken about the true age of the items in his possession.’

’In other words, if there’s an object in this shop that looks ancient, it’s most likely genuinely old, not a modern reproduction meant to fill the shelves.’

Richard pulled his gaze away from the old man and began to seriously inspect the shelves.

He kept half his attention on the Available Points on his panel, starting from the door and scanning his way along the left wall.

Copper candlestick, no reaction.

Old pocket watch, no reaction.

A row of ceramic tea sets, still no reaction.

A small bronze statue missing half an arm. This one looked the most mysterious, but still, no reaction.

On the shelves along the wall by the window were even older-looking objects.

A copper Oil Lamp caught his eye.

The body of the lamp was about the size of an adult’s palm, shaped like a crouching Sphinx.

Its wings were folded against its back, its head was raised slightly, and its open mouth served as the spout for the wick.

The Sphinx’s back had a shallow, saucer-shaped groove for holding oil.

The entire artifact was covered in a thick layer of patina, but its color was uneven.

The patina on its belly and base was a normal greenish-copper, but the rust on the Sphinx’s wings was darker, almost black, with a layer of dark red, like long-dried bloodstains.

Its style was typical of artifacts from the Black Earth River Basin.

Mr. Hutton had mentioned in class that the Priest Class of the Black Earth River Basin used a great number of items featuring the image of the Sphinx.

In their mythology, the Sphinx was the guardian of the "gate," watching over the worlds of both light and shadow.

As Richard drew closer to the Oil Lamp, his panel flickered.

[Available Points: 0.01]

He stopped in his tracks.

The number was climbing, but extremely slowly, much slower than the pendant and the Divination Disc.

0.01... After more than ten seconds, it was still 0.01.

After waiting another half a minute, it changed to 0.02.

’There’s something inside, but it’s being suppressed by some mechanism. The permeation rate is extremely low.’

Richard picked up the Oil Lamp and turned it over in his hands.

The body of the lamp was heavy, solidly cast, and a ring of Inscription was carved around the edge of the base.

The strokes were angular, the structure was dense, and each character seemed to have been deliberately squeezed into a uniform square.

This was the script of the Black Earth River Basin Priests. He had seen similar characters in the illustrations of that book by EVM.

When his palm was pressed against the copper surface, the number on the panel rose at a rate of about 0.01 Points per minute.

’Too slow.’

The pendant had absorbed 1 Point in just a few minutes, and the Divination Disc had been about the same.

’This Oil Lamp has obviously been treated somehow. The residue sealed inside is locked away, with only a minuscule amount leaking out.’

He turned the lamp over and examined the bottom carefully.

The inside of the base was carved with another set of symbols, arranged differently from the outer Inscription, more like a geometric figure.

A circle enclosed a triangle, and short lines extended from each of the triangle’s three sides.

’A Seal mark?’

’If the Inscription is the "lock," then this geometric figure might be the "lock core."’

He wasn’t sure, but it was logical.

For an artifact that came from a legitimate channel, it was unlikely a merchant would leave the sealed contents completely exposed.

Applying a Seal was like putting a Wax Seal on a wine bottle, ensuring the contents wouldn’t leak during circulation and wouldn’t harm any customers who happened upon it by mistake.

He placed the Oil Lamp back on the shelf, then picked it up again, and put it down again.

It rose when he held it and stopped when he put it down.

’Alright then.’

He took the Oil Lamp, sat down in a nearby chair, placed the lamp on his lap, and cupped it with both hands, beginning the slow wait.

0.03... 0.04...

The light outside the window shifted. Someone walked past in the alley.

0.05... 0.06...

It was quiet in the shop. The old man behind the counter occasionally flipped through his old coin catalog, the pages rustling softly.

0.07... 0.08...

Richard’s hands started to ache. He switched them, supporting the lamp’s base with his left hand and covering its top with his right, as if warming a small animal.

After about another half an hour, the number finally climbed to 0.1.

He put the Oil Lamp back on the shelf, stood up, and walked to the counter.

"How much for this lamp?"

The old man looked up from behind his magnifying glass, squinting in the direction Richard was pointing.

"Oh, that one." He set the magnifying glass down. "It’s from the Black Earth River. Quite old. Three pounds."

Three pounds.

Richard had left the house with only seven pence in his pocket.

"Three pounds is a bit steep."

"Considering its age and condition, the lamp’s Sphinx was made with an old casting method, not a modern reproduction."

"The tail and wings were cast separately and then welded on. It’s a technique from at least five hundred years before the New Era."

The old man tapped the counter with his finger. "Three pounds is a very fair price."

"But it’s missing the upper half of the floral scrollwork on the spout, and there are signs of repair at the wing joints. Those aren’t the original welds."

"The black patina on the wings indicates it was kept in a hot, humid environment for a long time. Grave goods like this are usually discounted."

The old man took off his glasses and sized him up again.

"You actually know about Copper Artifacts?"

"I know a little. We went over how to appraise artifacts from the Black Earth River Basin in history class."

That was half-true. Mr. Hutton had indeed mentioned the basic characteristics of Black Earth River artifacts in class.

But Richard was only able to use specialized terms like "separate-casting and welding" and "Inscription preservation" because of the various related books he had memorized after enhancing his [Scholarship].

"Then do you recognize the Inscription on the base?" the old man suddenly asked.

"It’s Priest script. I’m not sure of the specific content, but based on the character density and repeating patterns, it’s likely a prayer or ritualistic phrase."

"Several batches of these inscribed lamps have been unearthed at Divine Hall ruins in the middle reaches of the Black Earth River. There are records of similar artifacts in museums."

The old man put his glasses back on, the way he looked at Richard had changed.

He was no longer looking at a student just browsing; this was a knowledgeable customer.

"You’ve got a good eye." He pondered for a moment. "Two pounds, seven shillings."

"The damaged spout ornamentation and the major repairs to the wings affect its value and integrity. One pound."

"Who haggles like that? Two pounds, five shillings. That’s the lowest I’ll go."

"One pound, five shillings. I’m a student!"

The old man chuckled at the "I’m a student" line.

"Alright, alright... you’re a student. Let’s make it an even two pounds. Any lower and I might as well just give it to you."

Now that he’d put it that way, haggling any further would be pushing it.

Richard couldn’t afford two pounds at the moment, but it wasn’t like he had to buy it right away.

"I’d like to reserve it. Could you hold it for me?"

"Sure." The old man pulled a notebook from under the counter. "Student, Copper Lamp, two pounds. What’s your name?"

"Richard Williams."

"The name’s Clement. Albert Clement." The old man closed the notebook.

"I’ll hold it for two months at most. After that, it’s fair game."

"Okay."

As Richard walked out of the shop, he was doing the math in his head.

His current savings definitely weren’t enough for two pounds, but if he could place in the Cicero Cup, that would be enough to cover it.

Of course, that was assuming he placed at all.

He looked up at the sky. The Sun was blocked by clouds, but the sky was still brighter than usual.

Evelyn’s voice came from the direction of the alley entrance:

"Brother! What on earth were you doing in there? I’ve already wandered down three whole streets!"

She hurried over from the direction of the candy shop, clutching a paper packet in her hand, which probably held a few cheap candies.

"Looking at antiques."

"For how long? I waited long enough to buy two rounds of candy."

"Was it that long?"

Richard rubbed the back of his neck.

To be honest, he had spent a considerable amount of time squatting next to the Oil Lamp.

To get a few more Points on his panel, he had turned the lamp over and over, cupping it in his hands for over half an hour.

Over half an hour, and he had only absorbed 0.1 Points.

The efficiency was appallingly low, but it had at least confirmed two things:

Not everything in Clement Antiques was an ordinary old object; there were indeed items that "carried a payload."

And for artifacts with a Seal, the absorption speed was drastically suppressed.

"Why are your hands green?" Evelyn stared at his palms.

’Crap. I held it for too long. My hands are stained with several patches of verdigris.’

"...I was handling an old lamp."

"Why were you handling an old lamp for over half an hour?"

"I was studying the Inscription on it."

Evelyn’s gaze shifted from his palm to his face, back to his palm, and then back to his face again.

"Brother, have you really been keeping a diary lately?"

"Yes."

"Then you’d better make sure you write ’Today, I handled an old lamp for half an hour’ in it."

"Fine, fine, I’ll write it."

"You know, I think you should find a new hobby. Collecting antiques isn’t something a family like ours can afford."

"I think you should meddle less in your brother’s business."

Evelyn sighed, pulled a toffee from the paper packet, and stuck it by his mouth.

"Here, eat up. To console you for not getting your old lamp."

Richard accepted it with his mouth.

The toffee was sweet, almost cloyingly so.

The siblings walked home side-by-side.

After a few steps, Evelyn spoke up again.

"Brother, you’re not really hiding something from us, are you?"

"What?"

"I don’t know what, it’s just... you’ve been like a different person lately."

"You used to just lie around when you got home, but now you shut yourself in your room until midnight every day."

"You couldn’t even toast your own bread before, but now you’re quicker at it than I am."

"You used to wish you could bury your head in your desk when you were called on in class, but now I hear that when the teacher calls on you, you can talk for ages..."

She listed off a string of changes, and when she was done, she turned her head to look at him.

"If there’s something you can’t tell Mom and Dad, you can tell me. I might be a year younger than you, but you know..."

She didn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear: ’...you know who the reliable one in this family is.’

Richard smiled to himself.

"I was seriously ill. It made me figure a lot of things out."

"What did you figure out?"

"I figured out that I can’t let you and Mom worry about me all the time."

The girl’s steps faltered for a moment.

She didn’t reply, just lowered her head and walked on for a few steps.

Suddenly, she pulled another candy from the paper packet and shoved it into his mouth. "Who’s worried about you!"