At night, he organized the results of his three improvements.
Three manuscripts lay side-by-side on his desk.
The first was titled *Shadow Armor: Variant Discussion (Draft)*. The cover was already written.
For the second, he took a piece of cardstock of the same thickness and wrote *Stone Armor: Batch Pushing Technique* on it.
On the cardstock cover of the third, he wrote *Moon Nail: Multiple Preheating and Derivative Attacks*.
He wrote the inner pages of each manuscript in a formal academic format.
Abstract, research background, methodology, experimental records, conclusion, and future research directions.
Richard sat at his desk, looking at the stack of papers. It all felt a bit surreal.
’This "secondary processing" of knowledge is the true value of Rationality.’
’Erudite solves the "raw material" problem, allowing my mind to hold enough source material.’
’Rationality solves the "processing" problem, allowing me to see the load-bearing structures within that material—things the original authors might not have even seen themselves.’
Even if others got their hands on these three papers, they wouldn’t necessarily be able to fully replicate the thought processes within.
The working process of Rationality itself cannot be recorded.
In the papers, he could only write down the "conclusion" and "experimental records."
The deductive process behind the conclusion—the "why"—was something the reader would have to figure out for themselves.
’I wonder if I can trade these improved models for anything at the gathering.’
Now, with Rationality, the snowball had started to roll.
As long as he had enough original source material, he could improve and process it to generate additional value.
Then, through continuous exchange, he could get knowledge and wealth flowing freely...
...
「At two o’clock on Tuesday afternoon,」 Richard stood punctually at the entrance of the Branch Office.
He had intentionally worn his most respectable suit jacket, and his leather shoes had been polished twice.
Just as Mrs. MacNeil had specifically instructed him over the phone the night before, the Guild took money for its services, so you had to look the part.
Mrs. MacNeil came out of the Branch Office’s revolving door, and her eyes clearly lit up when she saw him.
"Not bad. A handsome young man."
She patted Richard’s shoulder and lifted her chin. "Get in the car."
A familiar sedan was driven up. The driver was the old man from the front desk—the one who was always reading the horse racing magazine.
Inside the car was the faint scent of cedarwood, an incense commonly used by Spirit Mediums.
"Today, we’re going to the Hallbrook Textile Factory."
Once the car had bumped its way off the main street, Mrs. MacNeil spoke. "It’s the one in the West Suburb with the densest cluster of smokestacks."
"Mm."
"The owner’s surname is Holbrook. He inherited the family business twenty years ago and expanded with a night shift workshop last year when orders picked up."
She stroked the wooden box in her hand.
"The trouble started only after they added the night shift. The female workers all say someone is counting behind the carding machines. Two foremen have already quit in a row, and now the orders are at risk of being late."
"Did he try hiring a Spirit Medium himself?" Richard asked.
"He hired two groups, plus a Parish Priest."
A faint hint of sarcasm touched Mrs. MacNeil’s face. Richard couldn’t tell if it was aimed at the two groups or at Holbrook.
"The Priest’s methods were useless. The first two Spirit Mediums were from some unofficial guilds, the kind who take shortcuts. They went, took a look, and came back with two words."
She lifted her eyelids to glance at Richard.
"’Nothing. Stable.’"
Richard understood. This was the standard line from the half-baked practitioners in the unofficial guilds.
If you can’t get a reading, just say nothing’s wrong to avoid losing face.
"Holbrook runs a sizable business, so he has at least some common knowledge of the Mysterious Side."
"He didn’t fully believe them and had the case referred to me through Old Big’s channels."
Mrs. MacNeil thought for a moment before adding:
"Frankly, if it were truly a dangerous Evil Being, the Branch Office would have automatically taken extermination measures."
"But this time, the target is a neutral Spirit Body. If we use overly harsh methods to disperse it, a lingering resentment that’s difficult to cleanse might remain on us."
Richard nodded. He had also been wondering about that. Even though Brighton had no one at the Minor Mastery level, there were still a fair number of Practitioners around. It seemed odd that they couldn’t handle a simple haunting.
It seemed the issue wasn’t dangerous, just troublesome.
"What was your quote?"
"A five-pound call-out fee, with the service fee to be determined based on the situation."
Richard mentally calculated that five pounds was enough for him to buy a very basic Marvel.
That number sounded like a lot, but considering she was a Spirit Medium at the Minor Mastery Level, the price wasn’t actually high.
Mrs. MacNeil saw through his calculations and added coolly:
"I’m just passing through. I have to participate in Brighton’s spring Seal maintenance, and this job just happened to come up.
"My teacher also has a rule: no overcharging for side jobs you take while on an official assignment."
"Why?"
"You’re already poaching business from the local Practitioners. If you overcharge on top of that, you’ll just make enemies."
Richard nodded in understanding.
Mrs. MacNeil changed the subject. "You’re with me today, so your cut is one pound."
"Whether you actually get that one pound depends on your performance this afternoon."
Outside the window, the stone-paved road receded block by block, and the density of the smokestacks grew visibly greater.
After a moment, she spoke again. "I’ve said it before: the range and precision of your Spiritual Vision are good, but you use it without any cover."
Richard pressed his lips together. He’d heard that from many people.
"When you look at someone, the act of ’looking’ itself distorts the Ether Flow."
She made a vague wiping motion in the air of the car.
"To an expert, being looked at by you feels like getting shoved. They immediately know someone is watching them."
"On this trip today, I’ll teach you a little something called ’Hidden Spiritual Vision.’"

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