Mr. Hutton’s signature arrived by express mail.
When the express package arrived in the Imperial Capital, Richard was in his aunt’s office.
Clara brought the letter in. Richard opened it. Inside was a signature form from the review committee.
Mr. Hutton’s name was signed in the space for the second guarantor, his penmanship neat and precise.
A small note was also enclosed.
Mr. Hutton was a man of few words, and the note held only a single line:
"I’ve read the manuscript. You handled the ’return’ section very well.
Claiming authorship is a momentous step. The path forward is your own now, so walk it steadily. —H"
Richard put the note away carefully.
His aunt had already signed two days ago.
She was the first guarantor.
The two Scholars had staked their names on Richard’s analysis.
If anything went wrong, they would both have to bear the consequences alongside him.
With the evidentiary text passing review, the final hurdle to claiming authorship was cleared.
His aunt said something this momentous deserved a proper celebration.
She booked a private room at the Royal Hotel.
.........
The private room at the Royal Hotel was magnificent.
Carved wainscoting, a crystal chandelier, and a dining table draped in a snow-white cloth and laid with a full set of silverware.
The windows overlooked the busiest street in the Imperial Capital, which teemed with traffic below.
The four of them took their seats.
His aunt took the head of the table with Richard seated beside her. Sofia and Clara sat on the other side.
The waiter presented the menus.
Richard took the menu with its gilt-stamped cover and scanned the pages.
Intimidatingly long dish names were listed one after another.
"Slow-Cooked Beef Brisket with Herbs de Provence and a Parmesan Crisp."
"Brandy-Flambéed Highland Red Deer Tenderloin with a Black Truffle and Potato Mille-Feuille."
Richard’s gaze landed on the final entry in the dessert section.
"Madagascar Vanilla Bean Crème Br?lée."
He recalled his sister’s scrawled letter.
"When you finish your studies and come home, I want to have the ’Madagascar Vanilla Bean Crème Br?lée’ from the Imperial Royal Hotel."
Richard asked the waiter beside him.
"Can this be kept at room temperature for half a day?" he asked, adding, "My sister wants some."
Sofia chuckled beside him.
"Richard, you really are a good big brother."
She rested her chin on the back of her hand, her eyes crinkling in a smile.
"Here you are, having a feast, and you’re still thinking about packing some up for your sister."
"If my sister knew I came to the Royal Hotel and didn’t bring anything back for her," Richard laughed, "she’d probably tear the door to my room right off its hinges."
At the side, the corner of his aunt’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
As usual, she ordered with practiced ease, barely glancing at the menu.
After ordering, she closed the menu and handed it back to the waiter.
"This meal," she said, looking at Richard, "is to celebrate your authorship."
The food arrived quickly.
During the meal, Sofia single-handedly kept the conversation lively.
She vividly recounted gossip from Imperial University—which associate professor was feuding with whom, and so on.
Clara was quiet as usual, occasionally chiming in with a word or two.
His aunt seemed at ease, her usually stern expression softening somewhat in the private room.
After a few rounds of drinks, the main courses had all been served.
His aunt put down her knife and fork.
"It’s about time." She glanced out the window. The sky had already grown dark.
"I chose this private room for a specific reason."
Richard understood.
The Royal Hotel was in the busiest area of the Imperial Capital.
Countless people came and went every day. In a building hundreds of years old, a great deal had settled in its foundations.
The Ether concentration in this private room was considerably higher than in ordinary places.
It was more than enough for a Newcomer’s claiming.
His aunt rose, walked to the door, and pressed an inconspicuous knot in the doorframe’s wood grain.
Through Richard’s Spiritual Vision, he saw an extremely thin barrier rise along the four walls of the room.
The clamor from outside was instantly silenced.
"All set," his aunt said, returning to her seat. "You may begin."
Richard took out the Sphinx Copper Lamp.
The lamp wasn’t large. It was shaped like a sphinx and mottled with a green patina.
But the moment he brought the lamp out, the Ether within it surged eagerly toward him.
The gazes of the other three people at the table fell upon the lamp.
Sofia’s playful demeanor vanished. Clara lifted her head. His aunt’s expression grew solemn.
"Begin," his aunt said.
"The claiming is simple. Just do as your Guide taught you and inscribe your imprint onto the Marvel.
There’s no need for a ceremony or any incantations."
Richard nodded.
He cupped the lamp in his palms.
He began the Quadruple Breathing. The inverted Light Tree in the Throne of the Sun, located just behind his sternum, swayed gently with each breath.
A wisp of Ether flowed slowly along the inside of his right arm to the palm of his hand.
Richard closed his eyes.
He could feel the lamp.
He had pried open its Seal, drawn from its Ether, and then, day by day, nourished it with his own purest Ether.
The "resonance" between him and the lamp had long since grown beyond what mere compatibility could explain.
He didn’t need to "inscribe" any kind of imprint.
The moment his wisp of Ether seeped from his palm into the body of the lamp, the lamp... reached out to meet it.
A jolt went through Richard.
The lamp had long been waiting for this moment.
The instant his wisp of Ether seeped in, something sleeping within the lamp awakened. It surged back toward him, following the path his Ether had just created.
Two streams of Ether twisted together in his palm, indistinguishable from one another.
The Light Tree in the Throne of the Sun began to tremble violently.
An intangible "declaration" was sent out from the lamp, toward the world behind the Curtain.
The Curtain was now aware of his existence.

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