"Fool who does not belong to this era, mysterious ruler above the Gray Fog, King of Yellow and Black who wields good fortune."
"Your faithful servant begs for your attention:
Begs you to accept his offering;
Begs you to open the gates of your kingdom."
The natural forces stirred by the incantation whipped up a howling gale around them, making the flame of the candle in the center, representing the Fool, suddenly surge.
Amid an illusory "whoosh," a phantom door shrouded in gray fog and covered in mysterious patterns swung open.
Then a tremendous suction came from beyond the door, drawing in the azure, jelly-like thing placed on the floor in front of the ritual.
After two or three seconds of silence, the phantom door swung open again, and a leather suitcase was flung out from beyond it, landing at Cyril's feet.
Then the phantom door closed with a "whoosh" and disappeared.
"Thank you for your help."
Cyril pressed a hand to his chest and bowed solemnly. He waited until every trace of the gray fog around him had vanished, then bent down, picked up the leather suitcase, and opened it to check its contents.
Inside were neatly arranged banknotes of various denominations, along with a small number of gold coins.
"Looks like Mr. Hanged Man has practically emptied his coffers to scrape this money together."
"With these £4,000, plus the £400 from Miss Justice and my previous savings, I've got about £5,000 in savings now."
"Phew, with that much saved, I'm richer than most middle-class families in Backlund, aren't I?"
As he muttered to himself, layered, ethereal prayers suddenly sounded in his ears.
"A young man's voice. Owen?"
After murmuring the name, he pulled over a chair, sat down, and closed his eyes to enter a meditative state.
Then