Chapter 52: Spectator

Chapter Fifty-Two
Spectator

“Do not think about that damned bill anymore. Let us discuss ritual magic.”

With an easy expression, Old Neil began putting away the candles, cauldron, silver knife, and other objects.

Klein very much wanted to shrug like an American from his previous life, but in the end he restrained the ungentlemanly motion.

He turned his attention back to ritual magic itself, asking one detailed question after another about the points that had puzzled him. Each received a sufficiently clear answer. For example, incantations all followed a certain structure. As long as that structure was satisfied, and the key meaning was clearly expressed in Hermes, the rest could be improvised. Naturally, blasphemous descriptions, or descriptions lacking sufficient reverence, were absolutely forbidden.

This mysticism lesson continued all the way until noon, when Old Neil coughed softly twice and said, “We must return to Zouteland Street.”

At that point, he muttered something indistinctly:

“To collect those damned materials, I missed my lovely breakfast.”

Amused and puzzled, Klein looked left and right.

“Mr. Neil, do you not have a cook at home? Or a maid responsible for cooking?”

A weekly salary of twelve pounds was more than enough to support several servants.

According to the newspapers, if lodging and food were provided, hiring an ordinary cook required only twelve to fifteen soli a week—not even one pound. A maid-of-all-work was cheaper still, only three soli and six pence to six soli a week. Of course, one could hardly expect their cooking to be any good.

Uh. No, that is not quite right. Given that Mr. Neil is still in debt for thirty pounds, not hiring a cook or servants is normal…

I seem to have asked another question I should not have asked…

Just as Klein began regretting it, Old Neil shook his head without the slightest concern.

“I often attempt ritual magic at home, and study extraordinary items and the corresponding documents. I cannot, and will not, hire ordinary people as cooks, footmen, or maids. I only have people come by regularly to clean. And if they were not ordinary people, do you think they would be willing to do that kind of work?”

“I seem to have asked a foolish question. Perhaps that is because I would not do things involving the mysterious at home,” Klein said, explaining with self-mockery.

Old Neil had already stood and put on his round-brimmed felt hat. As he walked toward the door, he mumbled, “I seem to smell pan-fried goose liver… Once that bill is completely resolved, I must have a proper portion! At noon, I could surely eat an entire piece of roast pork with apple sauce. No, that would not be enough. There must also be a sausage with mashed potatoes…”

Now you have made me hungry too…

Klein swallowed and hurried after Old Neil toward the nearby public carriage stop.

When they returned to Zouteland Street, Old Neil had only just stepped down from the carriage when he suddenly gave a soft “hm.”

“What do I see? Goddess above, what do I see?”

All at once, he became as agile as a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old youth. He darted to the roadside and picked up something.

Klein approached in confusion. Looking closely, he discovered it was a finely made wallet.

With his eyesight and experience, it was difficult to distinguish whether the dark-brown wallet was made of cowhide or sheepskin. He only noticed a small light-blue coat of arms embroidered on its surface: above the crest, a white dove spread its wings as if about to fly.

That was the first impression Klein received. From the second glance onward, however, his gaze was glued to the thick stack of banknotes swelling the wallet.

They were gray-based, black-patterned gold pounds—at least twenty of them!

Old Neil opened the wallet, drew out the notes, examined them carefully, and immediately gave a soft laugh.

“Ten-pound notes. The respected Founder, the Protector, William I. Oh, Goddess above, a full thirty of them. There are also several five-pound, one-pound, and five-soli notes.”

More than three hundred pounds?

That is a true fortune in every sense of the word. I might not save that much in ten years…

Klein’s breathing unconsciously grew heavy.

Because gold pounds were so valuable, picking up such a wallet was comparable to picking up a suitcase filled with cash in later times.

“I wonder which gentleman lost it… Certainly not an ordinary person,” Klein analyzed calmly.

Such a wallet obviously did not belong to a lady.

“There is no need to care who he is,” Old Neil said with a soft laugh. “We will not attempt to possess money that does not belong to us. Let us wait here. I believe that gentleman will soon return to search for it. To anyone, this is not something easily abandoned.”

Klein secretly breathed out in relief, and his view of Old Neil’s moral character rose to a new level.

Earlier, he had been rather worried that Old Neil might use the excuse of “a gift from the Goddess” to pay off his debt with the money, and had been desperately thinking of how to stop him, how to persuade him.

Is this what “Do what thou wilt, but harm none” means?

Klein suddenly gained a faint understanding.

The two men waited by the roadside for less than a minute before a luxurious four-wheeled carriage swiftly approached. On its side, upon a light-blue coat of arms, was indeed a white dove with wings spread wide.

The carriage stopped. A middle-aged man in black formalwear and matching bow tie stepped down from the carriage. Looking at the wallet, he removed his hat and bowed.

“Gentlemen, that should be my master’s wallet.”

“Your crest proves everything, but I still need to verify it once more. This is for everyone’s sake. May I ask how much money is inside the wallet?” Old Neil replied courteously.

The middle-aged man froze for a moment, then smiled self-mockingly.

“As a butler, I should not know how much money remains in my master’s wallet. My apologies. Please allow me to go ask.”

“That is your freedom.”

Old Neil made an inviting gesture.

The middle-aged man returned to the carriage and exchanged a few words with the person inside through the window.

He then came back to Klein and Old Neil, smiling as he said, “More than three hundred pounds, less than three hundred and fifty. My master does not remember the exact amount.”

Does not remember…

What a true rich dog—no, a true tycoon. If I had that much money, I would count it over and over again…

Klein was filled with envy.

Old Neil nodded and handed the wallet back.

“The Goddess bears witness. It belongs to you.”

The middle-aged man accepted the wallet, counted it roughly, then drew three ten-pound notes from inside.

“My master is Sir Deweyville. He says your character is worthy of admiration. This is the reward honest men deserve. Please do not refuse.”

Sir Deweyville?

The gentleman who founded the Deweyville Trust and provided cheap rental housing to lower-class laborers?

Klein immediately remembered the name.

He was the same baronet Benson both respected and believed did not handle matters in a realistic enough manner.

“Please thank the baronet. He is a kind and generous gentleman.”

Old Neil did not stand on ceremony and accepted the three banknotes.

After watching Sir Deweyville’s carriage drive away, he saw no one around, turned toward Klein, lightly waved the notes, and gave a laugh.

“Thirty pounds. The bill is resolved.

“I told you it would be resolved in a reasonable way.

“This is the power of magic.”

…Goddamned power of magic! This works too?

Klein was once again dumbfounded.

Several minutes later, as they entered the stairwell and climbed toward the security company, Klein asked in confusion, “Mr. Neil, why did you not pray for a larger sum?”

“Do not be greedy. Especially not when performing ritual magic. Restraint is the key reason every Mystery Pryer lives long enough,” Old Neil explained in a light and cheerful tone.

…

Inside a vast banquet hall, candles stood burning atop several chandeliers. They gave off a scent that soothed the heart, and through sheer number, accumulated a brightness no inferior to gas lamps.

Long tables were laid with pan-fried goose liver, roast steak, roast chicken, fried sole, Desi oysters, stewed lamb, cream soup, and other delicious foods. In addition, bottles of Mist Champagne, Olmir wine, and Southville red wine gleamed beneath the light, releasing alluring colors.

Servants in red waistcoats carried trays loaded with crystal cups, moving between gentlemen and ladies dressed either elegantly or splendidly.

Audrey Hall wore a pale white long dress with a standing collar, high waist, and leg-of-mutton sleeves. The upper part of her body was tightly bound, her waist drawn extremely slender, while the layered cake-like skirt was perfectly supported by whalebone hoops.

Her golden hair was elegantly pinned up. Her earrings, necklace, and rings all flashed brightly. On her feet were white dance shoes inlaid with roses and diamonds.

“Four petticoats inside? Or five? Or six?”

Audrey touched the hooped skirt with her right hand, which was gloved in white gauze.

In her left hand, she held a glass of crystal-clear champagne.

Unlike before, Audrey did not stand at the center of the banquet, becoming everyone’s focus. Instead, she avoided the bustle and quietly stood in the shadow of the curtains beside a floor-to-ceiling window.

She sipped the champagne. With a posture not belonging to this place, she detached herself and looked at the people before her.

The youngest son of Count Wolf is chatting with Viscount Conrad’s daughter. He likes to wave his forearm to strengthen his tone. Mm. The wider he waves it, the less believable what he says becomes. This conclusion has already been verified… He always cannot help raising himself up while belittling others, yet he cannot control his guilty conscience. That shows through his way of speaking and body language…

Lady Della has covered her laughter with her left hand again and again today. Mm, I understand. She is showing off the pure aquamarine ring on her left hand…

Her husband, Duke Negan, is not far away, discussing the situation with several Conservative nobles. From the start of the banquet until now, he has actively searched for Lady Della with his eyes only once…

They have had almost no true eye contact. Perhaps, mm, they are not as loving as they appear…

Lady Panis has been made to laugh seven times by Baron Larry. That is normal, not strange. But why does she keep glancing at her husband with guilty eyes… Oh. They have separated… No, both of the places they are going can lead to the garden…

…

Within this luxurious banquet, Audrey noticed many details she would never have paid attention to in the past.

For one instant, she almost truly believed she was watching a play.

“Everyone is a fine actor in the theater…”

She sighed silently, her gaze cool and detached.

Just then, she sensed something. She abruptly turned her head toward the spacious balcony beyond the floor-to-ceiling window, toward the dark corner of that balcony.

In that shadow, a large golden retriever sat quietly, its gaze deep and tranquil as it looked inside, looked at Audrey, half its body hidden in darkness.

Susie…

The corner of Audrey’s mouth twitched. Her expression instantly collapsed, and she could no longer maintain the state of a “Spectator.”