Shade nodded, mentally noting what the doctor had mentioned about getting his Rod card appraised.
Though he didn't place much hope in the card being genuine, he couldn't help but ponder over its potential value. After all, the previous detective had been an avid fan of Rod cards, but he had only been a regular person with an income barely enough to qualify as middle-class. Owning such a valuable card seemed out of reach for someone like him.
As for the museum the detective mentioned before his death, Shade now suspected it might be some sort of underground marketplace for fake Rod cards. Nevertheless, he decided to visit the Prophets' Association for an appraisal first to set his mind at ease. Only after that would he consider checking out the museum.
Having secured a loan from the group to cover the tuition fee, the formal enrollment process began.
Shade had initially thought someone from the academy would come to assist him, but to his surprise, the entire process was handled by Dr. Schneider.
"Remember, we're enrolled as correspondence sorcerers," the doctor explained. "The academy provides us with knowledge, and we earn credits by passing exams and completing academy-assigned tasks. It's somewhat like a specialized employment contract. There's no need to think too much about the academy—at least not until you join us in scaling the northern glaciers and officially enter the academy."
The doctor waved off any further concerns, while the writer, Miss Dorothy Louisa, added, "In a few weeks, you'll understand what we mean."
Both formally trained sorcerers had to inform St. Byrons Comprehensive Academy about the new correspondence student, Shade. The means of communication with the academy was a relic known as the [Poet Cohen's Manuscript], a relic of the "Poet" grade.
Poet Cohen had once been a student at St. Byrons—though that was in the previous epoch. His relic, a manuscript, had hundreds of pages, each capable of transmitting messages or small items to the manuscript's cover.
This was how correspondence between the academy and its students took place, as well as the method by which textbooks and assignments were exchanged. In Dr. Schneider's group, he, as the most senior member, was responsible for the manuscript.
He rolled out the parchment, which was surprisingly large and as old as it appeared. Despite its age, nothing was written on it, and the worn edges gave off a faint impression of moving threads.
"First, we'll handle your basic information and tuition payment," Dr. Schneider instructed.
Shade filled out a simple form on a sheet of letter paper using a blue fountain pen, including basic details like his address, age, occupation, and prior experience. Afterward, the doctor placed the form and an envelope containing a stack of pound notes on the manuscript.
With a flash of light, both the envelope and the paper vanished. A few moments later, a receipt emerged from the manuscript, confirming the payment and stamped with the academy's seal.
"Very professional," Shade muttered.
The receipt remained in the doctor's possession until Shade repaid his loan.
"Now for the trustworthiness test," the doctor announced. "The academy requires this to ensure no correspondence student is involved with any cults or harbors ulterior motives. The academy has its own secrets and can't afford to have them leaked to outsiders."
"How is the test conducted?" Shade asked, feeling a surge of apprehension. He wasn't worried about the original Shade's murky past but rather about his own status as a transmigrator.
Before the doctor could reply, Dorothy Louisa chimed in with a grin. "It's a standard procedure—please write an 800-word essay on your thoughts about good and evil, order and chaos."
"Uh, what?" Shade blinked, thinking he had misheard.
"That's right. It's also a way to confirm that you're literate. The academy doesn't accept students who can't read or write," the doctor explained kindly.
"But why an essay? I thought there would be a polygraph test or something," Shade said, feeling relieved that it wasn't a test that involved lie detection. That would have been a disaster, especially if they started asking about his past.
"Polygraphs can be cheated, but writing an essay reveals a person's continuous thoughts, reflecting attitudes and unconscious beliefs. It's more reliable and, frankly, a unique trait of the times," Dorothy said as she lounged comfortably on the sofa, clearly enjoying the situation.
"Welcome to the age of civility and steam, detective," she added with a teasing smile.
Thus, Shade found himself stuck writing an 800-word essay as part of his "entrance exam." While he could understand the language, both speaking and writing were more challenging, and he relied heavily on the knowledge granted by the mysterious voice in his mind.
Meanwhile, Dr. Schneider wasn't idle. In addition to the essay, the academy's enrollment procedure required the lead sorcerer of the group to accompany the candidate on a mission involving the supernatural to assess their suitability for sorcerer training. The retrieval of the [Life Countdown Pocket Watch] that morning had already been deemed sufficient, but the doctor still had to submit a detailed report.
So, while Shade struggled to write his essay, Dr. Schneider busily drafted his report. Dorothy, on the other hand, was content to sit back and enjoy her tea, watching the men work with a satisfied look on her face.
When both the essay and the report were sent off through the manuscript, it took over half an hour for a response to return. A new document appeared with Shade's full name on it—a formal letter of admission. His assessment was marked as "excellent."
During the wait, the trio had chatted about various topics, including some basic knowledge Shade still lacked.
"Actually, the admissions rating is either 'excellent' or 'unqualified,'" the doctor said in a low voice, smiling.
"It's just one of the academy's little tricks to make you feel more welcome," Dorothy added with a laugh.
Shade chuckled at the subtle manipulation, but the entire process helped him understand that the academy was indeed quite formal—certainly not some small organization.
"So, what's next?" Shade asked.
"Now, I'll formally help you take the first step toward becoming a sorcerer by opening the door to the extraordinary," Dr. Schneider explained. "Once you receive your core rune, you'll be able to choose your specialized academy. Your textbooks and study materials will arrive in about three days, as the academy needs time to prepare them."