Richard had been to the outer section of Huayue Street with Vincent before.
Number seventeen was at the corner at the end of the street, with a faded wooden sign hanging there.
It had an eye painted on it, along with the words "Spirit Medium Lady Mary."
Beneath the sign was a short flight of stone steps.
The last time he was here, a year ago, a black cat had been lying on the stone steps. It had stared at him for a while, sending a chill down his spine.
Today, the stone steps were empty.
Richard walked to the foot of the steps and stopped.
The door beneath the sign was unlike any of the other wooden doors on Huayue Street.
The copper plate on its surface was polished to a mirror shine, clearly reflecting the stone steps at his feet.
Yet when he stood before it, the copper plate reflected the entire street behind him—everything except for his own reflection.
Richard’s breathing slowed.
A single phrase was embedded in the center of the copper plate: "Please Enter."
Richard stared at the words "Please Enter" for a moment.
’"Please Enter," and yet the door had no visible means of entry.’
’No lock, no handle, not even a seam. The door was perfectly sealed.’
’Am I supposed to break it down?’
He pressed his Spiritual Vision against it, only to find that, just like with Hecate’s black box, it was completely unreadable.
’That wasn’t surprising.’ Richard drew his hand back.
Staring at the copper plate that refused to reflect him, an idea surfaced in his mind.
’I’ll perform a Divination on the door.’
The moment the thought formed, the silver ring on his chest grew cold.
Richard immediately quashed the thought.
’The Silver Ring is warning me that it won’t work.’
But Richard remembered a particular annotation from Lady Mary’s manuscript very clearly.
"You cannot see the bottom of the well, but you can see the hand you lower into it.
What you cannot ask about directly, ask about by way of yourself."
’A roundabout approach to Divination. An indirect query.’
He wouldn’t ask about the door. He would ask about himself.
Richard took a step back, moving off the main street.
He took out the Copper Disc, placed it on his lap, and pinched a small amount of Dangling Star Sand, sprinkling it in a circle along the disc’s rim.
He formulated the first question clearly in his mind.
’In what capacity should I pass through this door?’
The subject was "I."
He grabbed a handful of Talisman Stones and cast them into the Copper Disc.
The stones rolled around in the disc before settling.
Richard leaned over to read them.
Closest to the disc’s center was a double circle: relationship.
Next to the double circle was a crescent moon: change and growth.
So far, the meaning leaned toward "identity" and "relationship."
The hammer, representing action, had rolled out of the Copper Disc and landed on the stone steps.
Following the hammer was a spiral, representing repetition.
Richard stared at the two stones outside the disc for a moment, and understanding slowly dawned on him.
’Action is out.’
’The path of prying, pushing, or forcing my way through with Ether was never an option.’
’Repetition is also out.’
’Pacing back and forth, analyzing its structure, trying to find a pivot point—the more I overthink it, the further I get from entering.’
What remained in the center of the disc were relationship and identity.
Richard gathered the Talisman Stones without casting a second time.
The meaning was clear enough.
He stood up, put away the Copper Disc, and walked back to the copper-plated door.
Only then did his [Rationality] truly kick in.
’The collective human consciousness behind the Curtain, and that phrase, "the mysterious recedes"...’
’On the Mysterious Side, things exist as you define them.’
’This door is no different.’
’If I define it as a locked door, my own definition will lock it shut.’
’She is the host. She said, "Please Enter." I am the invited guest.’
Richard relaxed all his resistance.
He reached out and pressed the spot on the copper plate where a handle should have been.
The copper plate softened beneath his touch, slowly forming into a door handle.
Richard pressed the handle, opened the door, and stepped inside.
The room he stepped into was filled with mirrors.
Full-length mirrors, wall mirrors, hand mirrors, round mirrors... They reflected the room in overlapping layers, but they did not reflect people.
Richard stood in the center of the room. His own reflection was absent from every mirror.
An upright piano stood against one wall, its key cover closed and coated in a thin layer of dust.
Deeper in the room, two high-backed armchairs sat before a marble fireplace, separated by a small tea table draped in a lace cloth.
A woman sat in one of the armchairs. She, too, had no reflection in the mirrors.
Richard looked toward the woman.
The contours of her face were clear—eyebrows, eyes, nose, and lips were all present.
His [Perception] granted him excellent vision, yet he could not see her features distinctly.
"Sit,"
the woman said.
Richard sat down opposite her at the tea table and took out a leather case.
"Lady Mary."
He offered the book to her with both hands.
"I’ve come to return the book and to thank you. It has been a great help to me."
Lady Mary reached out and accepted the book.
She raised a hand and gestured toward a corner of the room.
An automaton standing in the corner stood up.
It had wooden joints and a featureless, porcelain-white face.
It picked up a tray and began to prepare tea.
The entire process was utterly silent.
Richard looked at the cup of tea before him, and a thought surfaced.
’There isn’t a single living person in this house to even make tea. Everything is tended to by a faceless wooden doll.’
’How lonely must a person be to keep her house in such a state.’
He did not voice this thought.
"Drink your tea." Lady Mary lifted her own cup and took a sip.
Richard also lifted his teacup and took a sip.
’This is probably the best tea I’ve ever had in my life.’
’If Philips knew about this, he’d probably try to find a way to get his hands on some.’
The two drank their tea for a while, making small talk.
Lady Mary asked about his family, and Richard answered all her questions.
The woman listened, nodding occasionally. The atmosphere was remarkably serene.
An elderly woman sitting in her own home, serving tea and making pleasant conversation with a junior who had come to visit.
But Richard didn’t want to make small talk forever. "Your house... it’s so quiet."
"Quiet is a good thing," Lady Mary said, setting down her teacup.
"The longer I’m in this profession, the more I feel that living alone has its own kind of tranquility."
Richard didn’t respond.
Old Big had told him the exact same thing at the Brighton morgue.
’The master and apprentice even say the same things.’
"Your book."
Lady Mary seemed to understand what he was thinking and pulled the manuscript from the corner of the tea table.
"Have you finished it?"
"I have," Richard replied.
"I skimmed the first three Chapters and then worked through the later ones slowly, just as Mr. Bigelow instructed."
Lady Mary opened the book.
She flipped to a certain page and stopped.
The footer on that page had been blotted out with ink by Lady Mary herself.
"You couldn’t understand this Chapter, could you," she said.
"I couldn’t," Richard admitted honestly.
"In the other sections, I could understand every word, and putting them together, I could grasp the meaning.
But in this Chapter, while I recognized all the words, I had no idea what they meant when put together."
"That’s because you haven’t arrived yet."
Lady Mary turned the page toward him. "Today, I will explain it to you."
Richard sat up straighter.
"This Chapter is about how to deal with something stronger than yourself without being rewritten by it."
"Last night, you encountered something far stronger than you, didn’t you?" Lady Mary asked suddenly.
Richard held his teacup.
"...I did."
"There was a great disturbance in the city. I shut down all my extended inspiration, and it brushed right past me."
"You did the right thing." Lady Mary nodded.
"No one looks at an extinguished candle. That’s the safest method."
She closed the book. "But you can’t stay extinguished your whole life."
"One day, you will have to come face-to-face with something stronger than you and have a conversation.
When that time comes, you won’t be able to extinguish yourself or hide. You will have to speak.
This Chapter is about what to say when that time comes."
"Things on the Mysterious Side," Lady Mary began to explain.
"Exist as you define them."
Richard listened with utmost concentration.
"If you call it a ’monster,’ it will bite you according to the rules of monsters."
"If you call it a ’riddle,’ it will wait for you to solve it according to the rules of riddles."
’It was almost the same principle Professor Mortimer explained when he was dismantling that ebony box.’
"When you give it a ’name,’" Lady Mary continued, "you become bound to it."
She raised her indistinct face and looked toward Richard.
"A name is a two-way street. Once you name it, it recognizes you."
"So, the key to this Chapter," Lady Mary said, placing the book on the tea table.
"is, to put it plainly, a single principle: when dealing with something stronger than you, you must seize the ’right of definition.’"
Richard sat, pondering her words.
’Today’s test at the door was a perfect example of this principle.’
’I defined "Please Enter" literally, and the door opened.’
"A student of mine," Lady Mary said, suddenly changing the subject.
Richard’s heart skipped a beat.
"The one who disappeared. You’ve likely heard Mr. Bigelow mention her."
"A little," Richard could only nod in response.
"She wanted to do something."
Lady Mary lifted her teacup but did not drink, merely holding it.
"She wanted to prove that ’the mysterious can be designed.’"
"Other Cultivators are led by the nose by the things behind the Curtain."
"She refused to accept that. She wanted to do the defining herself—to build her own ’Divine Hall.’"
"She learned a set of rituals from somewhere, and extrapolated the principle of ’how to deal with a thing’ into ’how to create a thing from scratch.’"
Richard’s fingers tightened around his teacup.
"Create it with what?" he asked.
"With people." Lady Mary set her cup down. "Using people as bricks and stone."
"She planned to take a group of people who had crawled out of the established system, people who thought they’d found a shortcut, give each of them a divine name, and then stack them up, one by one.
Once the Divine Hall was complete, she would have proven that the mysterious can be designed."
"I cannot do that." Lady Mary shook her head.
"My whole life I have learned how to survive them, how to understand them, and how to avoid being rewritten by them. I never once thought of ’creating’ one."
"And I would not permit her to do it while she was my student."
At this, she stared at Richard.
"She sent out many invitations."
"Whoever receives an invitation and accepts it will have to start laying bricks for her."
"They don’t realize that from the moment they accept, they become the raw materials for this god-making experiment."
Richard sat motionless, but his heart sank.
Lady Mary did not continue the topic.
"The book says one’s micro-circulation must be stable for a year before they can sign on. You know this, don’t you?"
Richard nodded.
"One year is a conservative buffer."
Lady Mary continued to flip through her manuscript.
"That advice is for those whose cultivation of their circulation has been rough and who lack confidence.
It gives them a round number to put their minds at ease."
"Your micro-circulation is very stable. Mr. Gerald must have tested it."
"After your summer training, you can consider signing on to become a Practitioner directly."
Richard was tempted.
Although the book said a year, and Mr. Hutton had also said a year, the person speaking to him now was a Grand Mastery.
"I will go back and ask my grandfather and my aunt. I’ll make a decision after hearing their opinions,"
he replied. ’It’s best to get multiple opinions on something as important as signing on.’
Lady Mary nodded. "Good. Cautious people are the ones who live long in our line of work."

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