I Loaded the Occult Panel

The Williams family had a landline, but it rarely rang.

His father’s factory occasionally called about overtime.

His eldest aunt sometimes called his mother to chat, but the rest were just sales pitches and wrong numbers.

When the telephone suddenly rang, Evelyn poked her head out of the kitchen.

”Can you get that? I’ve got flour on my hands.”

Richard closed his dictionary, left it on the sofa arm, and crossed to the small table to pick up the receiver.

”Hello, Williams residence.”

”Richard?”

The woman’s voice sounded faintly familiar.

Richard drew a blank for a second before placing it.”Aunt Isabella?”

”Yes.” Isabella got right to the point.

”Mr. Hutton reported the situation with your signature artifact. I’ve read his evaluation.”

Richard frowned.

The old gentleman hadn’t mentioned doing that, but it made sense.

”He recommended the Bronze Sphinx Lamp?”

”Yes.”

”Tell me the specifics of the lamp.”

Richard repeated everything he was allowed to share.

He had to avoid mentioning the Panel and the ”seed,” but the objective information about the supernatural item itself could be shared in full.

”The lamp came from an auction house’s clearance list of unsold lots.”

Richard continued, ”The appraisal tag read: ’Age unknown, suspected to be unearthed from the Black Soil River Basin.’”

Isabella hummed softly.

”Mr. Hutton mentioned the lamp ’resonated’ with you?”

”Yes.”

Richard didn’t deny it; that was an unavoidable point.

”How long have you been in contact with it?”

”About two months.”

The line went quiet.

Richard could tell she was thinking.

”Two months isn’t long enough to explain that level of resonance.”

Isabella reached the exact same conclusion Mr. Hutton had.

Richard’s heart skipped a beat.

He was still assembling an excuse when her voice returned.

”But ether compatibility can’t really be tested, and causal connections are even harder to trace.”

”Regardless, it’s a good thing. Much better than I expected.”

Richard hesitated.

”What were you expecting?”

”Usually, Mr. Hutton would allocate you a standardized supernatural item from upper inventory.”

Isabella’s pace slowed down a fraction.

”Standardized supernatural items have clear functions and controllable risks, but their upper limits are mediocre.”

”But this lamp you have...” she continued, ”if Mr. Hutton’s evaluation is accurate, its ceiling could be much higher.”

”How much higher?”

”It’s pointless to guess right now,” Isabella said. ”We won’t know until the Signature ceremony is complete.”

”A Signature is a lifelong commitment.”

Her tone softened.

”Settle now, and you’ll pay for that compromise with every step you take.”

”It took me nearly a year to choose my own signature artifact.”

”A year?”

”A year and three months.”

Isabella remembered it exactly.

”I went to dozens of auction houses and antique shops. I handled almost every available antiquity.”

”In the end, I settled on an early alchemical manuscript from the Alexandrian School.”

Isabella sounded a little proud.

”I used that fragment as the basis for my early academic research, and published quite a few papers on it.”

”By the time I completed my Signature, I had read that parchment hundreds of times.”

Richard understood.

Isabella was using her own experience to warn him: the compatibility between a signature artifact and a practitioner dictated the stability of the Signature brand, which in turn dictated the stability of all future Rank transitions.

Settling was just setting yourself up for failure.

”I understand.”

”Good.”

Isabella slipped back into work mode.

”I might be taking a trip up north this winter.”

”A trip?”

”The Northern Industrial Zone has a few areas with high rates of ether anomalies. The department sends people for routine field investigations every year.”

”This year, I’m applying to lead the team.”

”Will you be coming through Briston, then?” Richard asked knowingly.

”...Yes, I’ll stop by since it’s on the way.”

Isabella confirmed.

”I need to see your lamp with my own eyes. For a Signature, relying on a report isn’t enough—I have to examine it personally.”

”Alright.”

”The exact dates aren’t set yet. Mid-January at the earliest, early February at the latest.”

Isabella shifted gears.

”Speaking of which, Mr. Hutton mentioned something else in passing.”

Richard tightened his grip on the receiver.

”What was it?”

”He said you had more than just the one supernatural item to choose from.”

Isabella’s voice didn’t betray any emotion.

”Those supernatural items don’t have much ether left in them,” Richard answered cautiously. ”I’ve basically absorbed it all.”

”Mm.” Isabella didn’t press the issue.

”Many Newcomers have this misconception. They think once the ether is depleted, the supernatural item itself becomes useless—tossed in a drawer to gather dust like an empty toothpaste tube.”

”In reality, supernatural items with very little ether left still hold value.”

Richard’s interest was piqued. ”Empty supernatural items have value too?”

”When using a supernatural item as a sealing vessel, the last thing you want is for the vessel to have ’its own opinions.’”

Isabella offered an example.

”If you use a supernatural item that’s fully loaded with ether to seal something else, the old ether inside will fight whatever you’re trying to seal.”

”When seal masters perform sealings, they actively look for old items with very little ether left to serve as the base.”

She chuckled and elaborated.

”The same logic applies when using a supernatural item as a casting medium.”

”If you want a Spell Formula to flow according to your intentions, you need an ’obedient’ medium. The milder the medium’s temperament, the better. The older its bones, the better.”

As Richard listened, he slowly worked through the logic.

A supernatural item’s ether reserves and its structural foundation catered to two completely different markets.

”So...” Richard ventured. ”If I have a few empty supernatural items on hand, could you...”

Isabella was completely straightforward.

”I don’t handle those kinds of transactions, but there are dedicated channels within the academy system that collect them.”

”If your items are running low on ether, rather than leaving them in a drawer to gather dust, you might as well let me recover them for you when I visit.”

”If you’re lucky, I can exchange them for a new supernatural item that still has ether.”

”If you’re unlucky, you’ll at least get some money back.”

Gripping the receiver, Richard gave a soft hum of agreement.

”I’ll have to take inventory.”

”Up to you. I’m just offering to take a look since I’ll be in town,” Isabella said noncommittally.

”By the way, is your mother nearby?”

Richard glanced toward the kitchen.

His mother was still inside. The faucet was running, and he could hear the clinking of dishes.

”She’s in the kitchen.”

”Put her on.”

”Hold on.”

Richard left the receiver on the table and walked over to the kitchen door.

”Mom, Aunt Isabella wants to talk to you.”

Margaret turned off the tap, dried her hands on her apron, and picked up the receiver.

”Isabella.”

A faint voice murmured from the other end of the line.

Richard couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was entirely different from the cool professionalism she had used with him.

She had been strictly business before, but now she sounded as sweet as cotton candy.

”Have you eaten yet?”

A muted buzz came from the receiver.

His mother’s eyebrows shot up.

”It’s past five in the afternoon and you still haven’t eaten lunch? Do you think you’re eighteen?”

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

”If your stomach started growling halfway through the lecture, you brought it on yourself.”

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

”Cookies don’t count as a meal. Isn’t there a cafeteria downstairs in your building?”

Richard stood next to the sofa, pretending to flip through his dictionary while eavesdropping.

His mother dispensed a few more instructions: be careful on the way, don’t get so engrossed in a book on the train that you miss your stop, and call ahead when you reach Briston.

The person on the other end obediently agreed to every instruction.

Evelyn peeked out of the kitchen, her face clearly asking, ”What happened?”

Richard shushed her with a gesture.

Evelyn slipped out quietly and tiptoed behind the sofa.

”What’s Aunt Isabella saying?” she asked in a tiny whisper.

”I don’t know,” Richard murmured back.

”Then what’s Mom listening to?”

”I don’t know.”

”...How do you not know anything?”

”Aunt Isabella asked for Mom. How should I know what they’re saying?”

Evelyn puffed her cheeks but stayed put.

She perked her ears, straining to hear the voice on the line.

”...I know, I’ll be careful.”

Their mother gave one last response before hanging up.

As soon as she turned around, she found her two children sitting on either side of the sofa, staring right at her.

”What are you two doing?” she asked.

”Nothing,” Evelyn said, shrinking back.

”Reading.” Richard held up his dictionary for proof.

Margaret pointed at the diced onions on her daughter’s hands.

”Evelyn, you haven’t finished chopping the onions.”

”...Oh.” Evelyn slipped back into the kitchen.

Margaret walked over and sat across from Richard.

”Your Aunt Isabella will be visiting soon.”

”Yeah, she told me on the phone.”

Margaret rested her hands on her knees.

”There’s no need to be nervous around her. She’s always just had a sharp tongue, even when she was little.”

”When she was a kid, she wove a daisy crown in the garden, put it on, and called herself the Daisy Queen. A few of her cousins teased her—they said, ’How could a queen wear wildflowers?’—and she threw the crown on the ground right then and there.”

”But after a while, she ran back out, picked it up, and put it back on her head. She told them, ’Daisies are exactly what queens wear, you just don’t understand.’”

A bright smile spread across their mother’s face as she recounted her younger sister’s childhood antics.