I Loaded the Mysticism Panel
Chapter 21: Surrounded by Beautiful Girls

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Surrounded by Beautiful Girls

"It wasn’t a note, it was study material," Richard corrected.

"Study material?" Mason speared a piece of potato and popped it into his mouth. "How many sentences has she ever said to you? In total?"

"Before today, probably... less than ten."

"An acquaintance of ten sentences, and she’s already giving you handwritten study notes?"

"It just shows she’s eager to help people."

Mason rolled his eyes and turned to Warren. "Do you believe that?"

Warren cut his steak into small pieces and said slowly, "I choose to believe Richard."

"Believe my—"

"But I also believe a girl could be interested in him." Warren forked a piece of meat into his mouth. "The two aren’t mutually exclusive."

Grey was eating quietly beside them. Her fork scraped lightly against her plate.

"What are you all talking about?" Her tone was no different than usual.

"We’re talking about Richard’s miserable life, being surrounded by beautiful girls," Mason said with a mischievous chuckle.

"Oh." Grey’s reply was cool, and she started cutting her steak with a bit more force than before.

Hugh, sitting on Richard’s other side, hadn’t joined the conversation at all.

He stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth, brushed the crumbs off his clothes, and said quietly,

"Richard, you really are something else."

"What do you mean?"

"A month ago, you were a nobody in class. Now you’re the center of the gossip mill. Did the script skip a few Chapters?"

"You should be happy. When I get famous, you’ll get to share some of the glory."

"What glory? It’s not like any beautiful girls are passing me notes."

"They will."

"Don’t try to comfort me." Hugh drained his cup of hot tea in one go, with the grand air of someone who had given up completely.

At the other end of the dining hall, Lillian was sitting at her usual spot by the window.

The standard fare of thin soup and bread was in front of her. She was eating with her head down, her gaze not drifting toward the central area.

But the girl’s ears were pricked.

Mason hadn’t controlled the volume of his "surrounded by beautiful girls" comment very well.

Lillian set her spoon on the edge of her bowl, her lips pressed tightly together.

’The note I gave him was just study material. My intentions were completely pure.’

’Mr. West’s advice on the day of the trial lecture was right, and I just happened to find the corresponding reference passage. I was just thinking of giving it to a classmate.’

’After all, Richard is participating in the Cicero Cup. It’s only right that I help.’

’That’s all.’

’That’s all there is to it.’

She stirred the soup in her bowl forcefully. This time, the soup was still hot.

.........

The days pushed forward, one by one.

Classes during the day, tutoring sessions at lunch, and whenever there was time in the afternoon, he’d hole up in the library.

At night, he’d go home to do his homework and decipher new books, ending the day with fifteen minutes of Breathing Technique practice before bed.

The numbers on the panel were the most faithful progress bar.

[Breathing Lv.2] Progress: 12%

[Scholarship Lv.1] Progress: 98%

Breathing was advancing steadily thanks to his cultivation, and Scholarship was about to hit its ceiling.

During geography class on Friday morning, Richard sat in the classroom, listening to the teacher explain the ocean current patterns of the Albion Imperial’s East Coast.

His brain could now skillfully operate on two threads at once:

One thread followed the teacher’s lecture, automatically attaching the names and directions of the currents to the map of the coastline he had already memorized;

The other thread quietly digested the content he had restored from another steganographic text the previous night.

That book was about the classification of mineral-based mediums. It wasn’t directly related to the Breathing Technique, but it was helpful for understanding the Sealing mechanisms of supernatural items.

The circle-enclosed-triangle with short lines extending from the triangle’s sides on the base of the Sphinx Oil Lamp was a perfect match for a standard Seal symbol described in the book.

Knowledge was building bridges in his mind, and the bridge was growing wider and wider.

The panel flickered.

[Scholarship Lv.2] Progress: 0%

The change was quieter than when Breathing had leveled up.

There was no warm current, no vibration in his chest.

But when Scholarship jumped to Lv.2, he felt as if someone had adjusted the contrast on his brain.

The names of the currents written by the teacher on the blackboard became clearer, and his information processing speed increased.

When a new concept came in, related old knowledge would automatically pop up and line up, the connections between new and old highlighted.

If Level 1 was upgrading a search engine from dial-up to broadband, Level 2 was swapping the broadband for fiber optics.

His absorption speed for foundational knowledge across multiple languages and academic fields had increased once again.

There were also improvements in depth. Although not as effective as Rationality, at least he wouldn’t hit a wall so quickly when tackling tough problems.

The most direct benefit was that his speed at deciphering the steganographic texts would increase again.

A workload that previously took three days could now be completed in a single evening.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Richard closed his textbook. He already had a plan for the evening.

.........

That night, after the whole family had gone to sleep, Richard turned on his desk lamp and got to work.

As usual, the window was open a crack. A cold breeze slipped through the gap, making the corners of the papers on his desk curl up slightly.

Spread out before him was another book he had taken from the third-floor bookshelf.

This was the third candidate he had screened, one he hadn’t had time to examine closely before.

With *From the Sanctuary to the Pulpit*, gifted by Mr. Holland, as a reference, combined with the experience from the previous two deciphering sessions and the boost from Scholarship Lv.2, his progress this time was much faster.

He had become familiar with the substitution patterns for religious terms, and the paths for etymological tracing were getting shorter and shorter.

Obscure word roots that used to take him half a day to look up in an etymology manual now came to mind instantly.

Two hours later, all the encrypted passages in the new book’s appendix were fully restored.

The content consisted of supplementary explanations for the Breathing Technique, including answers to several common questions and notes on advanced cultivation.

One particular line caught his attention:

"When a Cultivator can stably perceive warmth in their chest while holding their breath, and that warmth lasts longer than the breath-hold itself (i.e., it still lingers upon exhalation)...

...it indicates that the trapped Ether has begun to form a stable micro-circulation. This is the first milestone of the introductory Breathing Technique."

He recalled his cultivation experiences over the past few days.

The warmth in his chest had indeed become more pronounced with each session, but it hadn’t yet lasted into the exhalation phase.

He was still a ways off from the first milestone, but he was heading in the right direction.

Richard folded the translated draft, locked it in his drawer, and turned off the desk lamp.

He lay in bed for a while and did one last set of Breathing Technique practice.

.........

On Saturday morning, Richard went out alone.

The reason was the same as last time: just taking a walk, looking around.

Evelyn didn’t come with him this time; she had to help their Mother with chores at home.

Before he left, she specifically warned him from the top of the stairs, "Don’t go touching other people’s old lamps!"

"I know."

"And don’t get a ride in anyone’s car, either!"

"...I know."

In the small alley around the corner from Grafton Street, the wooden sign for "Clement Antiques" still hung in its place.

There was a new splotch of bird droppings on the copper kettle design, probably from a nearby pigeon.

The Copper Bell on the door chimed as he entered, and the old man looked up from behind the counter.

Seeing it was Richard, he grunted "Oh," and lowered his head again.

"The lamp’s still here."

"I know. I just came to have a look."

"Looking is fine. No touching."

Richard went straight to the Sphinx Oil Lamp.

The lamp was still on the shelf, its position unchanged, the patina on its surface the same as before.

He reached out, took the lamp down, and sat on a nearby chair.

The panel flickered.

[Available Points: 0.11]

He began to cup the body of the lamp with both hands, waiting for the numbers to increase.

0.12... 0.13... The speed was even slower than last time.

Last time, it was about 0.01 per minute. Now, three minutes had passed, and it had only gone up by 0.01.

Richard changed his position, resting the lamp’s body on his knees and covering the wing section—the area where the dark red patina was most concentrated—with his palms.

0.14... Another long wait.

Five minutes passed before the number crawled to 0.15.

’At this rate, I could sit here all day and not even absorb 0.5.’

Worse, this antique shop wasn’t his living room.

The old man peeked out from behind the counter again.

He watched Richard sitting in the corner, cradling the lamp, his hands covering it tightly as if he were giving CPR to a bronze cat.

"Young man."

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Feeling the Inscription," Richard lied smoothly, his expression unchanging.

"You don’t need to cup it with your hands to feel an Inscription." The old man was getting impatient.

"Your palms will sweat. Sweat touching the bronze surface will accelerate corrosion, and the patina on this lamp’s wings is already unstable."

"Sorry."

Richard put the lamp back on the shelf.

0.15. He had only managed to absorb 0.15.

He did a quick calculation in his head.

To completely absorb everything inside the lamp at the current rate, he would need to come to the shop more than a dozen times and stay for several hours each time.

’...At this rate, just handling it so much would give the lamp a whole new patina.’

Never mind whether the old man would kick him out; the time investment alone wasn’t worth it.

He decided to change his approach.

"Mr. Clement, do you have any other old things in the shop?"