The sound of a pen tip rapidly scratching across paper reverberated continuously in the confined room. Normally, such a faint sound would be hard to hear, but it was clear and distinct in the extreme silence of the room.0

Curtains were drawn over the windows, allowing only a sliver of sunlight to penetrate into the room and casting its entire interior in dim light.0

The surface of the wooden desk was cluttered with various drafts filled with patterns, symbols, and text, deliberately categorized despite their seemingly haphazard placement. However, due to the sheer volume of material and its obscure contents, the desk looked overwhelmingly chaotic at first glance.1

"Dammit, dammit, it shouldn't be like this. The results are different each time I try to scry. How's that possible? Even if I made a mistake, it's impossible to be wrong and have different results each time."0

Charles frantically threw the pen in his hand toward the corner of the table as he pulled on his curly hair in frustration, making it even more disheveled.0

"How can this be? Our house's ability certainly can't predict the future fully, but it's easy enough to see images and gather information to deduce the future....0