After school, Richard queued up at the school bus stop.
Today, he didn’t go to the library to study, nor did he take a detour to the flea market.
He had important business tonight and needed to conserve his energy.
Evelyn squeezed through the crowd to his side, a small yellow flower of unknown origin pinned in her hair.
"It’s rare to see you taking the bus today."
"Yeah."
"Not going to the library?"
"Not today."
"Did the sun rise in the west or something?"
"The sun has always set in the west. Nothing strange about that."
Evelyn huffed and decided not to bicker with him.
The bus arrived. The two of them squeezed on and found seats, one behind the other.
Richard leaned against the window, watching the street scenes of Brighton recede outside.
Factory chimneys spewed smoke, and coal ash drifted in the air.
Back home, the siblings went to their respective rooms to change out of their school uniforms.
After changing, he waited a moment before taking Grey’s box of pastries out of his school bag. He walked to his sister’s door and knocked twice.
The door opened a crack, and Evelyn’s face peeked out from behind it.
"What do you want?"
"Afternoon tea." He passed the tin box to her.
These pastries didn’t have a long shelf life. The fruit tarts, in particular, would spoil if not eaten the same day.
Evelyn took the box, opened the lid, and looked down at the arrangement inside.
"Who made these?"
"A classmate."
"Which classmate?"
"A classmate who bakes."
Evelyn picked up a lemon scone, flipped it over, and examined the color of the bottom.
"This mold was handmade." She then held a cookie up to the light.
"The edges aren’t uniform. A factory press wouldn’t make them like this."
Richard hadn’t expected her to be so perceptive.
"The custard base for the fruit tarts uses gelatin sheets. Compared to thickening with cornstarch, the cost is much higher."
Evelyn brought a tart to her nose and sniffed. "This is good flour, and the butter isn’t cheap either."
She closed the lid. "This classmate who bakes... is it a girl?"
"...What makes you say that?"
"The mold is shaped like an owl. A guy probably wouldn’t cut out something like that."
Evelyn placed the tin box on her desk and pulled over a chair to sit.
"The craftsmanship is excellent, and they were made with a lot of care."
She said this with a serious tone, devoid of any teasing.
"If this person tried to get into one of the baking schools in the Imperial Capital, they’d probably get in."
"Why don’t you say the same about yourself?"
"Me? I’ve never even used gelatin sheets. We can’t afford them."
Evelyn picked a fruit tart from the box and took a bite.
After a few chews, her expression changed subtly.
"It’s delicious."
She took another bite, then spoke hesitantly, "Richard."
"Yeah?"
"That classmate of yours... are you two..."
"We’re just classmates."
"I haven’t even finished my question."
"I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is the same."
Evelyn shot him a glare.
"Fine, fine. Classmates. Whatever you say, classmates."
After dinner, he returned to his room, drew the curtains tight, and switched on his desk lamp.
Richard took out his notebook and opened it to where he had left off the previous night.
The last line on the white page was still clearly legible: "Because at this stage, you are not required to perform any rituals."
The next paragraph of the document provided the answer for what lay beyond the Practitioner stage.
"Beginning with Minor Mastery, everything starts to change."
"Minor Mastery is the first true hurdle on the entire path of ascension."
"If inscription is writing your name on a Marvel’s nameplate, then the Minor Mastery ritual is you knocking on the Curtain’s door for the first time and saying to what’s behind it: ’I’m here.’"
"This is the first true ritual, and also the first time you are required to pay a price."
"After the ritual, what you gain and what you lose will both be irreversible."
The document went on to explain the general process of advancing from a Practitioner to Minor Mastery:
"The Practitioner stage is a long period of accumulation, lasting from several years to over a decade, or even longer.
During this time, a Cultivator must continuously deepen their study in their chosen direction until they touch a critical point known as the ’Path’ (Limen)."
"The Path is not a specific value; it is a state.
One day, you will suddenly realize that your accumulated knowledge, skills, and Ether reserves have been blocked by an invisible wall."
"You clearly know the method, yet you cannot improve;
You can see the outline of the answer, yet you cannot grasp it;
Your Ether is plentiful, but it lacks vitality."
"This wall is the Path. It will not appear on its own, nor will it disappear automatically. You can only feel it when you are ready.
And the moment you feel it, you must make a choice: stay on this side of the wall, or break through."
"Those who choose to stop will live out the rest of their lives as Practitioners.
There is no shame in this. It is the fate of most Practitioners, and the wisest choice."
"Those who choose to break through must complete the Minor Mastery ritual."
The document referred to the Minor Mastery ritual as the "First Oath" (Prima Juratio), deliberately distinguishing it from inscription.
Inscription is signing your name; an oath is making a pact.
The fundamental difference between the two is this: inscription does not disturb the Curtain, but an oath does.
"The core of the Minor Mastery ritual has only one step: the Cultivator places a Marvel in a location where the Curtain’s influence is strongest and, using their own Ether as a medium, issues a declaration to what lies behind the Curtain through the Marvel."
"The content of the declaration varies from person to person, but the core meaning is the same: ’I am ready to bear a deeper gaze.’"
"The Curtain will respond."
"The manner of its response varies from person to person, time to time, and place to place. No two Minor Mastery rituals are ever exactly the same.
But one thing is universal: the moment the Curtain responds to you, the structure of the Ether within your body will undergo a fundamental change."
"This change is irreversible."
This brief passage condensed decades of cultivation, simplifying the entire process.
Richard knew exactly why the author had written it this way.
The author believed that anyone reading this introductory text was still a long, long way from Minor Mastery.
From the author’s subjective tone, it also seemed they hoped the book’s readers would stop at the Practitioner stage.
But the document still offered a description of what came after ascending to Minor Mastery:
"For one of Minor Mastery, Ether is no longer just a tool; it becomes an extension of the body.
A Practitioner calls upon Ether as a craftsman picks up a hammer; one of Minor Mastery wields Ether as a person swings their arm.
The gap between the two is the difference between proficiency and instinct."
Further on, the section about advancing from Minor Mastery to Grand Mastery no longer discussed technical details. It began to speak of tradition.
"From the Tier of ’Minor Mastery’ onward, a Cultivator is no longer an isolated individual."
"Everyone who attempts to advance from Minor Mastery to Grand Mastery must connect to a system far greater than themselves.
Cultivators call this a ’Tradition’ (Tradition)."

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