At half past seven that evening, at the Moretti family's dining table.
"Klein, why did you need to go in early when you're a consultant? Could the security company's urgent business be dangerous?" Benson speared a potato from the beef stew and brought up that morning's events with an undertone of concern.
Klein carefully spat out a bone from the pan-fried fish and gave the answer he had prepared:
"A batch of historical documents needed to be transported to Backlund immediately. I had to be there to inventory them and make sure nothing was missing. You know, those fellows who only know how to swing their fists can't read Ancient Feysac at all."
Hearing his answer, Benson finished chewing his food and could not help remarking:
"Knowledge really is important."
Taking the opportunity, Klein took out the remaining five-pound note and handed it to Benson.
"This is the extra pay I received today. You need a decent suit of clothes too."
"Five pounds?" Benson and Melissa exclaimed together.
He picked up the note and examined it over and over, saying in mingled surprise and bewilderment:
"This security company really is generous..."
His weekly salary was one pound and ten soli, making exactly six pounds in four weeks-only one pound more than this extra payment!
And with that salary, he had supported his younger brother and sister, given them a reasonably good place to live, let them eat meat two or three times a week, and bought them a few new clothes every year!
"You don't doubt what I said?" Klein deliberately asked in return.
Benson chuckled. "I don't think you have either the ability or the courage to rob a bank."
"You aren't someone who lies." Melissa put down her knife and fork and answered earnestly.
I... I'm someone who's gotten used to lying now... Klein immediately felt a little ashamed.
Although circumstances had forced him into it, his sister's trust still left him feeling melancholy.
"Today's business was quite urgent and very important. I played a fairly crucial role in it... That's why it was worth five pounds," Klein briefly explained.
In a certain sense, everything he had said was true.
As for the five pounds in funding he would soon receive-the sum previously intended for joining the Divination Club-he planned to keep it secret. First, bringing another five pounds home really would frighten his brother and sister, making them suspect he was engaged in some illegal business. Second, he needed to save up money to buy additional materials for his studies as a Seer and his mastery of mysticism.
Benson took a satisfied bite of oat bread, thought for a dozen seconds, and said:
"My current job doesn't require particularly respectable clothes. Well, to be precise, clothes made from very fine fabric. What I have at home is enough."
Without waiting for Klein to persuade him, he volunteered:
"With this extra income, we finally have some real savings. I plan to buy a few more accounting books and study the subject more deeply. Klein, Melissa, I don't want my weekly salary to still be below two pounds five years from now. Heh, you know, my boss and my manager both have heads full of shit. Whenever they open their mouths, out comes a foul stench."
"That's an excellent idea," Klein agreed, taking the opportunity to steer him further. "Why not look at the grammar books in my room? If you want to become truly respectable and earn a sufficiently generous salary, that's a very important factor."
Perhaps it wouldn't be long before civil service examinations appeared in the Kingdom of Loen. Preparing in advance would offer quite an advantage...
Benson's eyes lit up as he listened.
"I really did forget about that. Come, let's drink to a wonderful future."
Rather than drinking rye beer, he poured clear oyster soup into three cups and clinked his with his younger brother's and sister's.
After drinking the soup, Klein looked at his sister, who was battling the pan-fried fish, and said with a quiet laugh:
"Apart from Benson's books, I think Melissa needs a new dress too."
Melissa raised her head and shook it repeatedly.
"No, I think it would be best to..."
"Save it," Klein finished for her.
"Yes." Melissa nodded emphatically.
"Actually, if we don't insist on fine fabric or the latest designs, it won't be too expensive. We'll save the money left over," Klein said in a tone that brooked no refusal.
Benson chimed in as well:
"Melissa, surely you don't want to wear an old dress to Selena's sixteenth birthday dinner?"
Selena Wood was Melissa's classmate and close friend. Her family was reasonably well-off. Her brother was a solicitor, and her father was a senior employee at the Tingen branch of Backlund Bank.
Their so-called dinner party, however, merely meant inviting friends to share dinner, chat, and play cards.
"All right." Melissa lowered her head and muttered her answer, then forcefully speared a piece of stewed beef.
After a moment's silence, she suddenly remembered something and hurriedly looked up.
"Mrs. Schodde next door had her maid bring over a visiting card. She hopes to pay us a semiformal visit on Sunday afternoon-tomorrow afternoon-at four, to get acquainted with her new neighbors."
"Mrs. Schodde?" Klein looked at his brother and sister in utter bewilderment.
Benson tapped the edge of the dining table with his fingers and said, seemingly in thought:
"Mrs. Schodde at 4 Daffodil Street? I've met her husband. He's an experienced solicitor."
"An experienced solicitor... Perhaps he knows Selena's brother," Melissa said with a little delight.
We're at 2 Daffodil Street... Klein nodded slightly and said:
"Getting to know the neighbors is necessary, but as you know, I still have to go to the security company on Sundays. I only get Mondays off. Please apologize to Mrs. Schodde for me."
At this point, he recalled his childhood neighbors in his previous life and his neighbors when he lived in the apartment on Iron Cross Street. With an amused sigh, he said:
"A semiformal visit... Aren't neighbors supposed to get acquainted and interact naturally?"
"Haha, Klein, you don't understand. You've read quite a few newspapers lately, but you haven't encountered those magazines for households and women. They call families with annual incomes between a hundred and a thousand pounds the middle class, proclaiming them the backbone of the entire kingdom. They praise the middle class for lacking the arrogance of aristocrats and the wealthy, while not being as coarse as the lower-income classes."
Benson explained in a relaxed, cheerful manner, "These magazines simplify many of the formalities of aristocratic socializing and use them as distinguishing features of the middle class. That's where the distinctions between intimate visits, semiformal visits, and formal visits come from."
As he spoke, he shook his head with a chuckle.
"Generally speaking, gentlemen, ladies, and young ladies who consider themselves part of this class pay particular attention to such details. Their visits to neighbors and friends, between two and six in the afternoon, are called morning calls."
"Morning calls?" Klein and Melissa both asked in surprise.
How could visits between two and six in the afternoon count as morning calls?
Benson put down his knife and fork and spread his hands with a smile.
"I don't know why either. I've only read a few magazines my female colleagues brought in. Well, perhaps it's because you have to wear morning dress for the visit..."
Morning dress had originally been formal attire for Mass and gatherings, and later came to mean formal daytime clothing, as distinct from evening dress.
"All right, remember to buy some good ground coffee and tea leaves tomorrow morning, and get some small muffins and lemon cake from Mrs. Slin. We mustn't be discourteous in front of the neighbors." Klein chuckled, dipped the remaining bread in gravy, tucked some potato into it, and put it in his mouth.
The following day, Sunday morning.
Klein finished the last mouthful of inferior tea, put down his newspaper, donned his silk half top hat, picked up his silver-inlaid black cane, and strolled out the front door. He took a public carriage to Zouteland Street.
He greeted Rozanne, who had just finished her night shift and was planning to sleep in the recreation room, then headed all the way down underground.
At a corner, he encountered a member of the Nighthawks team, the Sleepless Loyao Letting.
She was a very aloof-looking lady, with long, fine eyebrows, large eyes, and jet-black hair as smooth as silk.
"Good morning, Ms. Letting." Klein greeted her with a smile.
Loyao glanced at him with her dark blue eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod in greeting.
Just as they were about to pass each other, Loyao suddenly stopped and said, looking straight ahead:
"Ritualistic magic is very dangerous."
Ah... Klein froze for a moment. By the time he turned around, all he could see was her retreating back.
"Thank you." Frowning, he called softly after Loyao Letting.
Turning left, he soon saw Old Neil in the armory's duty room, along with Brett, who should not have been there.
"Let's go to my house. I've already collected the appropriate materials, and Brett has agreed to cover my watch," Old Neil said with a chuckle.
Klein was immediately surprised.
"Not here?"
Holding a small silver case, Old Neil clicked his tongue.
"There's no room here to practice ritualistic magic."
Klein asked no more questions and followed Old Neil back to the surface. Then the two took a public carriage all the way to the outskirts of North Borough.
Old Neil's home was a detached house, with "materials" such as roses and golden mint planted in the front garden.
Just inside was a carpeted entrance hall furnished with two high-backed chairs and an umbrella stand.
Beyond the entrance hall lay a spacious parlor. Pale wallpaper covered the walls, and the floor was painted dark brown. A small patterned rug lay in the middle, along with a solidly built round table.
Comfortable benches, chairs, and a piano stood around the round table.
"My late wife was very fond of music." Old Neil pointed at the piano and mentioned it casually. "The sofa and coffee table are in the sitting room... Let's perform today's ritualistic magic in the parlor."
"All right," Klein answered, a little stiffly.
Old Neil set down the small silver case and said with a smile:
"I'll demonstrate a ritual first. Watch carefully and remember it."
As he spoke, he took a sheet of imitation parchment from the silver case and drew strange patterns on it using specially prepared black ink with a calming fragrance.
Klein looked again and again, discovering that Old Neil seemed, probably, possibly, to be drawing a bill!
Once Old Neil filled in the number "30" and the corresponding pound sign in the appropriate places, Klein could no longer restrain himself and asked in bewilderment and confusion:
"Mr. Neil, what ritualistic magic are you going to perform?"
Old Neil coughed twice and answered very solemnly:
"Today, I'm going to use magic to settle that thirty-pound debt."
That works too? Klein's eyes widened, his mouth half open.
PS: Third update-please vote with your recommendation tickets~