Knowledge Contamination

Mr. Hutton's class was the last one in the afternoon.

It covered the politics of city-states during the decline of Aegeus Sea civilization. It had little to do with the Occult Side and fell squarely within the scope of proper history.

But Richard listened closely. Mr. Hutton could plant foreshadowing around every turn in any of his classes.

When the bell rang, the students poured toward the door like floodwaters released from a dam.

Richard deliberately packed his bag slowly.

When only he and Mr. Hutton remained in the classroom, he zipped up his bag and walked to the front of the lectern.

"Sir, I have a question I'd like to ask."

Mr. Hutton was filing away his handouts. "Go ahead."

"Last class, you mentioned the Delphi Oracle. I've recently been reading materials on ancient priests' systems of knowledge, and there's something I haven't been able to figure out."

He chose his words carefully, running every word through his mind before releasing it.

"Do you think those priests' 'predictions' came purely from information synthesis, or were there other factors?"

Mr. Hutton set the folder on the desk. The way he looked at Richard changed.

It was no longer the way a teacher looked at a student. It was closer to how one might look at a potential peer.

"The question you're asking goes beyond the textbook."

"I know."

The old man took out his pipe and was about to light it. He glanced at Richard, then ultimately did not.

"Williams, have you ever heard the term—Aether?"

Richard gave the answer he had prepared long ago.

"The Greek pneuma, Spirit Breath or vital breath.

"The Stoic School used it to refer to the rational force permeating all things. Aristotle also used a similar concept in his discussions of celestial motion, as another name for the fifth element."

"A textbook answer." Mr. Hutton smiled. "Not bad, but incomplete."

"The ancients chose that term because, through certain kinds of training, people really can perceive something that is not air."

Mr. Hutton rubbed the pipe in his hand.

"Of course, there is no evidence for this within the framework of modern science. The professors at the Royal Society would call it psychological suggestion, and I have to teach it that way in class as well."

He set the pipe back on the desk and perched on the edge of the lectern.

"But personally, I believe a truly rigorous Scholar should not declare something nonexistent simply because current instruments cannot measure it. What do you think?"

"I think you're right," Richard said. "The range of what instruments can measure is constantly expanding. People three hundred years ago couldn't measure electromagnetic waves either."

The old man nodded, somewhat gratified.

Richard seized the opening and cautiously steered the conversation aside.

"Sir, I ran into Lillian Hayward on the third floor of the library. She seems to go there often too."

The old man's brows rose, and he teased him.

"Williams, isn't it a little inappropriate to ask me about a female classmate?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Young people noticing pretty girls is perfectly normal."

Mr. Hutton waved a hand, wearing an expression that said he understood. "But asking me about it? I can't exactly play matchmaker for you, can I?"

Richard was somewhat helpless. The old man had diverted the topic cleanly and decisively.

Yet precisely because the diversion had been so smooth, Richard became certain that he had no intention of revealing any information on the matter.

Of course, that was information in itself.

He put away his probe and turned to what he truly wanted to ask. "Sir, I've finished Appendix C."

"Three days, including restoring the Ciphertext."

Mr. Hutton turned serious. "Three days?"

Richard did not deliberately hide his ability. Only by letting the other man know his true level could he obtain guidance for the next step.

"The second part mentioned classifications of Breathing Techniques, but it didn't provide specific methods of practice. I want to find those methods."

The old man stared at him.

"Do you know why I made you decipher it yourself in such a roundabout way rather than telling you the contents directly?"

"To screen me," Richard said.

"Explain."

"You needed to confirm two things.

"First, whether I had enough foundational knowledge to understand those materials.

"Second, whether I was sufficiently cautious in handling them."

"Not entirely correct, but close enough." Mr. Hutton stood and pushed his chair back beneath the desk.

"There is a third thing. I needed to confirm whether you had sufficient sense of boundaries—whether you knew what could be asked aloud and what answers you could only seek for yourself."

He walked to the window and shut it tightly.

"Williams, some knowledge is encrypted, written in Ciphertext, and hidden in the appendices of obscure books not because the writer enjoys being mysterious."

"It is because that knowledge itself carries a kind of... contamination."

"Occultism knowledge written in plain text creates a tremendous burden when read by someone without the proper foundation.

"In mild cases, headaches and hallucinations. In severe cases... you probably wouldn't want to know."

"Ciphertext encryption is a protective mechanism. Those capable of deciphering it generally possess the foundation needed to withstand its contents."

Richard marked this information as his highest priority.

Knowledge contamination. Combined with the words "Wandering Soul" in the warning at the end of the third part of Appendix C, the world behind The Veil was indeed extremely dangerous.

"So, the specific contents of the Breathing Technique..."

Mr. Hutton interrupted him.

"Have you counted how many books are on that shelf you saw on the third floor?"

Richard recalled it. "A little over twenty."

"Right. What you can decipher from them depends on your own ability."

The old man picked up a red pen and began marking notes on his lesson plan.

"Some books contain nothing at all—just proper academic literature.

"Some hide appendices, some hide things in the main text, and some contain only half a sentence."

Without looking up, he said, "I pointed out the shelf's location. The rest is up to you."

"And I suggest you cultivate deciphering texts as a long-term skill."

The pen drew a red line across the paper.

"If you want to go farther in this field, you'll encounter only more encrypted texts, and more complex ones. If you cannot read them, you cannot enter the next door."

Richard nodded. "I understand. Thank you, sir."

He turned and walked toward the door.

"Williams."

"Sir?"

"The Cicero Cup is more important than you think. Prepare well, and don't lose focus."

The door closed.

Mr. Hutton set down his red pen, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the old map on the opposite wall.

It depicted the coastline of the New Continent. Its edges had curled, and the rusty thumbtacks had left brown stains.

In his mind, he placed the two students on opposite ends of a scale.

That girl Lillian had decent learning ability and sufficient sensitivity to concealed texts.

Last month, she had taken that book and spent two weeks restoring the Ciphertext in the appendix, achieving roughly seventy percent accuracy.

For a student with no foundation in deciphering, that was already very good.

But Lillian had not come to him on her own after that. He did not know whether she had been too afraid to ask or simply did not wish to delve deeper.

Richard Williams had deciphered all the Ciphertext in three days, including that second layer of nested Replacement.

And now he had proactively asked about the Breathing Technique, with precision and restraint.

The boy knew where he stood and where to go next. Clearly, he possessed clear self-direction and enough drive to act on it.

Mr. Hutton screwed the cap onto the red pen and slipped it into his breast pocket.

When he was young, he had studied in the Imperial Capital. The cleverest people from across the entire Empire gathered there, and geniuses were as common as copper pennies.

But beyond talent itself, the difference between people lay in that drive to keep pushing forward.

Lillian pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. Finding it too dark, she backed away.

Richard opened the door, called inside first, judged the size of the space from the echo, and only then decided whether to enter.

The latter was far more dangerous than the former, but it also yielded more.

The old man sighed and closed his lesson plan.

"This young man..." he murmured to himself.