The following day, Abel woke up with a determined look in his eyes. He was ready to delve wholeheartedly into the mysteries of ritual arts.
After what happened to him in the mirror world the previous day, he chose to be more cautious in his actions.
All this while, he had been subconsciously thinking that just because he miraculously got a second chance at life he was impervious to the concept of death.
However, that was simply him being extrely foolhardy.
He got up from his bed and stretched a little. The rays of the early morning sun filtered through the window and gently brushed against his face, making him squint.
His gaze was then drawn to the mirror mounted on the wall, his expression complicated.
"Fuckin’ hell," he cursed under his breath.
The youth reached out for the silver pocket watch that he had placed on his bedside table. Flipping the watch open, he noticed that the ti was 7:00 am.
I have enough ti to go on a morning jog, then return ho, freshen up, and then head to the Club, he thought.
The youth took the Commander’s advice to build up his stamina very seriously.
He quickly got dressed in comfortable clothes before leaving his flat. Just as he was locking his flat, he saw the door to Flat 3B slightly ajar.
Curious, he stepped closer, hoping to finally et his neighbor.
As he approached the door, a pungent sll assaulted his nostrils, causing him to imdiately grimace.
My God, how long has it been since he’s cleaned his flat? He thought.
Then, his eyes were drawn to strange markings made on the floor of the main hall. These markings seed to be drawn with so kind of ivory dust.
There were also other items that he couldn’t quite recognize. Abel’s eyes narrowed and he took another step forward.
What’s that? he thought.
Right at that mont, a tall and lanky young man appeared behind the door, blocking Abel’s vision.
This man seed to be around Abel’s age, probably a little older. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes. He wore a simple linen shirt and trousers. He had dark circles under his eyes and his appearance was a little unkempt.
He looked at Abel with a polite smile and greeted, "Good morning! You are the new tenant next door, yes?"
What’s with that accent? Abel thought.
"Good morning, sir." He nodded. He then offered a handshake. "Abel Bishop. A pleasure to et you."
The young man’s smile faltered as his gaze shifted from Abel to his extended hand. He then shook the youth’s hand and introduced himself, "Sergei Petrov."
Abel’s brows couldn’t help but furrow. "You’re from Ruskovia?"
Sergei’s smile deepened. "Is that a problem?"
"No, of course not." Abel laughed awkwardly. "It’s just that I’ve never seen a Ruskovian here before."
"Ah, yes, Mr. Bishop." Sergei nodded, stepping out of his flat and closing the door behind him. "I must say, there aren’t many Ruskovians in this city. But Winchester... there, you will find many of us."
"I see." Abel nodded. Wanting to know more about his neighbor, he asked, "So what brings you to Albion, Mr. Petrov?"
"I have co for higher education, you see," said the Ruskovian with a charming smile. "I have an interest in languages, Mr. Bishop. Albionese and Gauliennais—I find them very interesting."
Abel’s lips twitched as he thought to himself, This guy ca all the way from Ruskovia to learn the national languages of Albion and Gaulienne. Fuck... Is this guy rich or sothing?
"Alright!" He nodded with a smile. "It was nice eting you, Mr. Petrov. I shall be on my way."
Sergei simply responded with a nod and a smile. He stood standing with his hands behind his back and silently watched Abel descend the stairwell.
After the youth was out of sight, Sergei’s smile vanished. He turned to gaze at Flat 3A for a brief mont before entering his own flat and slamming the door shut.
...
Abel didn’t think much of that brief interaction with his next-door neighbor.
He went for a jog around the Everton neighborhood, and by the ti he was done, it was already close to 8:30 am.
The youth took a shower and quickly got dressed. He reached The Society for Natural Philosophy by 9:00 am.
Although his classes with Madam Whitmore didn’t start for another hour, there was a reason why he had co here early.
Breakfast.
More precisely, free breakfast!
Of course, regular mbers at the Club had to pay to take part in the fine dining option that was provided thrice a day.
However, Abel was no regular mber.
The Club served a scrumptious breakfast tailored to the refined tastes of its mbers. It reflected Albion culinary traditions, offering a hearty and elegant selection.
Abel had been following the sa routine every weekday. He would co to the Club an hour before his occult classes started and enjoy the full Albion breakfast.
He lazily sat on the single-seater leather couch after eating like a king. Suddenly, the chief steward of the Club, Billy Tate, approached him from the side.
The old man, dressed in fine and crisp clothes, bent over and respectfully said in a low voice, "Mr. Bishop, the Madam is here."
Abel imdiately got to his feet. "Thanks!" He nodded at the old steward and quickly made his way to the library on the first floor.
With great familiarity, he navigated the floor and arrived before the bookshelf that concealed the secret path. He then pulled the red hardcover book on the fifth row from the bottom before entering the dimly lit passageway.
Inside the secret room, he found Madam Victoria comfortable seated on the couch by the fireplace and smoking from her pipe.
"Ah, there you are, dear," said the elderly woman as she saw Abel enter. "And how is your work with energy regulation coming along?"
"Not bad." Abel shrugged. He removed his top hat and set his cane aside as he took a seat across from the woman.
"Physical augntation cos easy to ," he added. "I can already coat my entire body with spirit energy."
Madam Whitmore silently nodded, taking a long and slow drag from the pipe and savoring the rich taste of tobacco.
"But sensory augntation..." Abel spoke with a wry smile. "I haven’t been able to progress much in that departnt."
The truth was, he could easily mimic others utilizing spirit energy to physically augnt themselves. Of course, he still had to understand the underlying principles.
However, using spirit energy to augnt one’s senses required a certain level of finesse that wasn’t that easy for Abel to mimic.
"Patience, dear boy," said the elderly woman. "Your progress is already quite comndable. There is no need to rush. All things will unfold in their proper ti."
Abel nodded. He then asked hopefully, "Madam, since we’ve covered the fundantal theories of occultism, do you think we could start studying one of the three pillars?"
Honoria Whitmore deeply looked at the youth before nodding. "Truth be told, I’m quite impressed that managed to grasp the basics in just a week. Very well, what would you like to begin with?"
Abel didn’t hesitate for even a mont before answering.
"Ritual arts!"
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