Curio

He paused at this point:

"However, the matter I want to discuss with you today has nothing to do with the Gatekeeper."

"What I am about to say concerns that illness of yours."

Gerald held the small booklet in his hand: "Are you familiar with the terms 'Curio' and 'Infection'?"

Richard shook his head.

Gerald flipped the booklet in his hand to a certain page:

"Under normal circumstances, Aether circulates through the world, and most of it naturally dissipates back behind The Veil, but a tiny fraction of Aether can be trapped by objects."

"Paracelsus named this process Tinctura, or Infection."

"After an object has been subjected to years of infection, the Aether forms stable deposits that can assist in cultivation or serve as a medium for spellcasting; even secret texts inscribed upon them are difficult to corrode.

Such objects are what we in the trade call 'Curios'."

Gerald's gaze landed on Richard:

"The pendant Vincent gave you is a Curio; under normal circumstances, it would not cause harm to anyone."

"For a Muggle—no, for an ordinary person—who has absolutely no latent circuits in their Physique, they could wear a Curio around their neck for a lifetime and nothing would happen.

Once the Aether seeps out and passes through their body, it simply dissipates, much like splashing water onto an iron plate; not a single drop can penetrate."

His words carried a pointed meaning:

"But those with latent circuits are different. The Aether seeping from the Curio flows along the latent circuits, scouring and expanding them until the circuits are activated.

This process is accompanied by rejection reactions, fever, fatigue, and muscle soreness..."

"So, my illness back then was because of a rejection reaction." Richard understood what the other party meant.

Gerald nodded, then shook his head.

"Usually, a rejection reaction ends in one or two days; it is uncomfortable, but by no means fatal."

His gaze lingered on Richard's face for a few seconds, his brows furrowing:

"I had Vincent bring that pendant to you with the intention of testing whether you had latent circuits.

If you did, then after the rejection, you would have the qualifications to step into the mystical side;

If you did not, then that pendant would be no different from an ordinary piece of copper to you."

His voice lowered:

"But I did not anticipate that your physical foundation would be so poor."

The charcoal in the fireplace quietly gnawed at itself, the red light flickering, casting deeper shadows into the wrinkles on the old man's face.

"A rejection reaction that a normal person could endure after two days of fever nearly overwhelmed your body.

A low fever dragged on into a high fever, and the high fever dragged on into a coma... this is my responsibility."

Richard looked at his grandfather's face; the guilt the other man displayed at this moment did not seem like an act.

He also did not believe he currently possessed the status to warrant such a performance from him.

The silence lasted for a few seconds before the old man's expression turned serious once again:

"But you survived in the end."

"To be frank, when I received the letter your mother sent from Briston, I had already prepared for the worst."

The "worst" probably did not mean that his grandson would simply be killed off.

The death of a grandson he had barely seen a few times since childhood was not worth mentioning.

Rather, the waste of the Curio used for the test and the loss of one more option in the family's reserve of young blood—that was the true loss.

Once he grasped the key point, he could not say he felt any great anger.

The other party's behavior was less about being cold-blooded and more about maximizing efficiency.

Anyone who manages resources would calculate things this way; it has nothing to do with whether one is kind or not.

If the test was passed, he was a reserve talent; if not, he was just an ordinary grandson. Both outcomes were within the controllable range.

The only variable not accounted for was that his physical constitution was so poor that the rejection reaction nearly dragged him to his death.

This was a misjudgment caused by information asymmetry, not an intentional attempt at murder.

Richard sorted out this account in his mind, and his heart calmed down completely.

This is the greatest benefit of dealing with intelligent people.

There is a clear logic of interest behind every step the other party takes; understanding that logic is enough.

He turned his gaze back to his grandfather.

Gerald did not seem to intend to linger on this topic for too long; the guilt had already been expressed, and what followed was the real business.

"Since the circuits have been activated, you have taken the first step on your own."

His gaze landed on Richard's chest.

The existence of the Aether Micro-circulation was, to him, likely as intuitive as looking at someone's face to see if they had a beard.

"Then the next question is... which direction do you intend to take?"

"The court and administrative system have a group of non-public committees that specifically handle extraordinary affairs; you could consider them the imperial authorities. Our Ashford family has served in this system for generations."

"Official? Are they the strongest?"

"They have the most resources, the strictest organization, and can mobilize the greatest power."

Gerald was precise with his word choice:

"But how 'strongest' is defined depends on how you look at it."

He did not reveal more, turning instead to introduce the other side:

"Besides the official authorities, some departments within the top universities appear to be classical literature, archaeology, or linguistics on the surface, but are actually academic institutions researching occult theory."

The academic system maintains a cooperative relationship with the official authorities, but they are highly independent in their research.

The old man looked up and glanced at Richard.

"The Classical Society, which hosts the Cicero Cup you are participating in, belongs to an peripheral organization of the academic system."

He smiled and asked casually, "Someone over there should have already reached out to you, right?"

Richard concealed the key information: "There are some teachers at school who are quite enthusiastic."

His grandfather did not press the matter: "Let's just say that's the case, then."

"Apart from the official and academic systems, there are those in the private sector—mediums, diviners, alchemists, herbalists... people from all walks of life who touch upon the occult loosely form private guilds, each with their own spheres of influence."

"I personally recommend you take the official route." He leaned back into his chair:

"Follow the path of our Ashford family, enter the civil service, and start from the bottom; I will arrange the resources and connections."

His gaze shifted to the window, where the curtains were drawn tight, a sliver of light leaking from beneath the fabric.

"You could also take the academic route through the Classical Society."

"The two paths are not mutually exclusive."

"Many people are active in both systems simultaneously. You will meet some people when you go to the competition, including your aunt; she is active in both."

Richard noted the word "aunt," as his mother rarely mentioned her siblings.

Gerald looked Richard straight in the eyes:

"Even if you choose not to enter the official system, the family will still provide you with the necessary support."

The study was quiet for a few seconds.

"Is this considered compensation?"

"Consider it a debt I owe you."

After saying this, he stood up from his chair, walked to the far right side of the bookshelf, and bent down to rummage for something.