The body of the lamp warmed, a hint of eagerness emanating from within as it actively began to draw from Richard’s palm.
"...Just as I thought."
Richard withdrew his hand.
"What is it, Auntie?"
"It’s nothing."
She sat on the edge of the table, pouring herself half a cup of tea.
"Your signature can be granted early. You’ve long since met the requirements."
Richard was just about to breathe a sigh of relief.
"However."
Isabella set down her tea.
"For a Scholar’s signature, your substantiating text—this manuscript—has to go through an academic review platform and be approved by at least two other relevant Scholars."
"A review platform?"
"Mm-hmm." Isabella nodded.
"Once your substantiating manuscript is submitted, designated reviewers will assess it."
Richard frowned.
"Isn’t the signature just a matter between me and the Curtain? If the Curtain acknowledges me, why do I need someone else’s approval?"
Isabella set down her teacup and glanced at him.
"You sound exactly like I did more than a decade ago."
"The signature is a matter between you and the Curtain. It perceives the traces left by the ’deciphering’ on the Ether Layer.
You can’t fake that step, and it doesn’t require anyone’s stamp of approval.
But the moment you receive that brand, you are no longer alone.
If this interpretation of yours is wrong, plagiarized, or can’t stand up to scrutiny... the Curtain can still acknowledge it, but as you go further, the tradition will not."
Her tone grew somber.
"When Hunters like Vincent get their signature, their proof is to cleanly and decisively eliminate an Evil Being.
The result is immediate. When an Evil Being is dead, it’s dead."
"A Scholar’s proof is a ’judgment,’ and you can’t tell if a judgment is wrong until a certain amount of time has passed."
"That’s why for the first interpretation you submit, you need two people willing to stake their names on your judgment.
Their approval is their guarantee... If something goes wrong down the line, they share the blame with you."
Richard fell silent.
A Hunter entrusts their life to the training camp and their back to their comrades.
A Scholar entrusts their first judgment to two seniors willing to endorse them.
It all clicked into place.
"That said, I’m not worried about you. It’s just a matter of when."
Isabella placed the manuscript Richard had given her on the table, her finger pressing down on a particular section.
"Your thesis touches upon the ’annual decay rate of the Curtain,’ the most critical topic right now, and you have Whitcomb’s primary data to back it up.
The reviewers will most likely take note of your contribution."
Before the afternoon tutoring session, Isabella sat down at the dedicated phone in the department office and placed a call to Mr. Hutton.
"In that case, I approve of moving it up." Mr. Hutton’s voice crackled with static.
"The Old Continent is heading for war," the old gentleman stated bluntly.
"A Practitioner needs, at the very least, basic means of self-preservation. They’ll be able to use the industry’s credit system, access more locations on the Mysterious Side, and take on legitimate work."
Richard stood to one side, listening in.
"Let’s establish a timeline," Isabella said, steering the conversation to concrete details.
"The first three weeks of the advanced course are lectures and exams. I’ll submit his substantiating manuscript to the review platform in the first few days. We should have the results in a little under half a month."
"Half a month," Mr. Hutton calculated. "And the last two weeks are for practical application, correct?"
"Correct," Isabella replied. "Once it’s approved, he can receive his signature just before the practical application starts."
"Then it’s settled," Mr. Hutton concluded on the other end.
The line went dead.
The room fell silent, leaving only the soft rustle of plane tree leaves in the evening wind.
Isabella could read the look on his face.
"What’s on your mind?"
"I was just thinking..." Richard chose his words carefully. "You all used to tell me to slow down, but today, everyone’s telling me to hurry up."
"’Slow’ is a strategy for peacetime." His aunt’s expression was grim.
"In times of peace, being slow and steady can help you live a few years longer."
"But these are not peaceful times."
She pressed the manuscript from the table into his arms.
"Go on now. Prepare the final copy."
Registration for the advanced course was on Friday.
Imperial University was on summer break, and the vast campus felt deserted.
The row of Greek columns belonging to the Classics Department was empty of its usual crowds of students.
As Richard walked across the stone slabs of the portico, the empty corridor amplified his every footstep, making them echo into the distance.
Registration was set up in the hall just inside the entrance.
A long table was situated in the center of the hall, with two registers laid out on top.
The two books had different covers.
The one on the far left was a crimson hardcover with the gilt words "Recommended Students."
The one beside it was plainer, with a slate-blue cover that read "Scholarship Students."
A different registrar sat behind each book.
Richard stood in a corner of the hall and quietly activated his [Hidden Spiritual Vision].
He used the Ether already flowing through the hall, letting his Inspiration Lines drift through the crowd.
There were quite a few people reporting for the course, about a hundred in total.
Most of them were top students handpicked from various elite schools, their speech and dress impeccable.
But with a single sweep, Richard discovered that of the hundred or so people present, fewer than half actually possessed an Ether Loop.
To his Inspiration Lines, the vast majority were no different from ordinary people.
They could study, memorize, and fight their way through exams, but they had no connection to the world behind the Curtain.
’On the surface, this is an academic selection process. Underneath, it’s just about sorting and labeling people.’
’The moment they hand over their documents, each person is silently filed away.’
Scions of prominent families placed their documents on the red "Recommended Students" register.
Attendants immediately came forward to guide them to a waiting area at the side of the hall, furnished with soft cushions.
There were refreshments, and the seating was comfortable.
The hardworking students lined up before the slate-blue "Scholarship Students" register. After signing in, they were directed to wait on a row of benches in the corridor.
The benches were hard wood, with no cushions.

Comments

Loading...