“Did you hear? The Consultant was crying really loudly yesterday.”
“The Consultant cried? For real?”
Margarita flipped through the dossiers, pretending she hadn’t heard the whispering from Patrick and Irene. The two members of the Sacrosanct Circle captured yesterday had indeed had their memories wiped—it was even worse than that. They were unable to execute even basic commands. The dossiers stated they could only instinctively draw patterns of olive branches on the ground.
I’ll have Instructor Crow look into it when she has time... once she finishes reading the letter.
She flipped to the next page. Just then, Erica walked in clutching her copy of 《Introduction to Elemental Magic》. Seeing her, Patrick immediately scurried over.
“Erica, have you heard? The Consultant was crying yesterday like a little kid, sobbing her heart out.”
Erica stood frozen at the door, her deep purple ponytail swaying slightly from the sudden stop. she looked at Patrick’s grinning face, then at the white-haired girl behind the long table, head down over her files. Erica’s lips moved as if she were weighing her words.
So the Consultant really is only fifteen? Erica had thought Margarita was just young-looking because of that perpetual fake smile.
Crinkle. The sound of paper being crushed echoed through the room.
“Joshua.” Margarita looked up, a dangerous smile spreading across her face.
“I’m here.”
Margarita handed a sheet of paper to Joshua, her gaze fixed firmly on Patrick. “Give this to Professor Glion. Tell him it’s a request from the Consultant to increase Patrick’s physical conditioning. I suggest three hundred laps up and down the hill before daily practice.”
“Understood.” Joshua took the paper, wearing a half-smile himself. He gave Patrick a look of mock pity and walked straight out of the activity room.
As the door shut, Patrick’s wails followed Joshua all the way down the hall. “Joshua! Wait! Are we still teammates or what?!”
The activity room fell quiet. Irene tucked her alchemy flasks back into her belt pouch, the glass clinking softly. Erica stood by the bookshelf, her deep purple ponytail hanging behind her shoulder. She shifted her gaze from the door back to Margarita’s face.
Margarita smoothed out the crumpled paper, her dangerous smile slowly fading. She took a deep breath, walked to the center of the long table, and pulled the map down from the corkboard, spreading it across the tabletop.
“Irene, Erica,” she began, her voice lower than usual and devoid of its customary smile. “There’s something I want to ask your opinions on first.”
Irene pulled up a chair and sat. “Go ahead, Consultant.”
Erica didn’t sit, but she closed her book and gave a slight nod.
Margarita tapped her finger on the location of Arlan City on the map. “I want to go to Arlan over the summer break. Not by myself—I want the Special Action Group to go as a unit.”
Irene’s eyebrows shot up. Erica’s gaze moved from the map to Margarita’s face. “Reason?”
“The Sacrosanct Circle,” Margarita said, not mincing words. “The memories of the two people we caught yesterday were wiped clean. They can’t even follow basic instructions, only draw olive branches. I’ve already given the letter to Instructor Crow. I’m not allowed to see the contents, but all the other clues point to Arlan—the Diestwald family. Grey Reed, Lovell’s master, had dealings with that noble family ten years ago.”
She paused, tracing a route from Himlabacken to Arlan with her finger.
“Arlan is a port city with complex trade routes and entrenched noble politics. The Windermere family’s influence is too conspicuous there. I don’t want to investigate alone, and I don’t want Lovell going back alone.”
Irene spun an alchemy flask between her fingers. “Consultant, do you realize what mobilizing the entire group entails? The applications, the funding, the route, the cover stories, and who takes responsibility if things go wrong. Leaving the city during the academy break isn’t exactly a spring picnic.”
“I know,” Margarita said. “I’ll handle the application with the President. We can supplement the funding with commissions along the way; Lovell has channels through the Adventurer’s Association. I’ll handle the routes and cover, but I need you two for combat and support spells.”
Erica looked at her. “You could have finalized this with the President first and then just informed us. Why ask us first?”
The activity room went silent for a moment.
Margarita looked down, her fingers absently tapping the edge of the wooden table.
“Because I used to always make decisions for others,” she said. “I thought that as long as I arranged everything, everyone would be safe. But then Lovell almost died. I don’t want to do that anymore. You aren’t my chess pieces, so I wanted to ask you first.”
Irene watched her for a while, then suddenly let out a laugh. “Fine then. It seems our Consultant has finally wised up.”
Erica glanced at her and said nothing more, simply folding the map and handing it back. “Specifically, when do we leave?”
“I’ll discuss the specifics with the President,” Margarita said, pinning the map back to the corkboard. “If I went in there alone saying ‘the whole group is going,’ she’d probably slap the application form back in my face and tell me to rewrite it.”
...
Lovell’s injuries healed even faster than Irene had anticipated. By the third day, she could get out of bed. By the fifth, she started practicing punches in the infirmary, only to be caught by Irene and threatened with being “tied to the bed if you move another muscle.” After that, she behaved, and was now currently focused on finishing all the wild berries Margarita had brought her.
Margarita sat on the edge of the bed, watching Lovell munch on the berries. “We’re going to Arlan this summer.”
Lovell’s chewing stopped. She swallowed and turned her head.
“Say that again.”
“Summer break. The Special Action Group is preparing to go to Arlan as a unit,” Margarita said. “To find your master.”
Lovell stared at her for a long time.
“Are you serious?”
“The application is already with the President.” Margarita pulled a folded piece of paper from her coat and smoothed it out. On it was Constance’s elegant handwriting: “Approved. Seven percent of funding must be self-funded; the Student Council will cover the rest from fieldwork funds. If something goes wrong, I’ll cover for you.”
Lovell reached out and took the paper, checking it over several times; she recognized Constance’s signature and seal well enough. She handed the paper back to Margarita and suddenly grinned, her little canine tooth showing.
“Little Mari, you’re finally treating me like one of your own.”
“I never treated you as an outsider,” Margarita said. “I just... I used to think protecting you meant keeping you out of things.”
“And now?”
“Now I think you’re stronger than me. You have to protect me.”
“Now you’re talking. But I’m not competing with Joshua for his job.” Lovell patted Margarita on the head, the force of it making the girl lurch forward.
“Then let’s go find Joshua.”
Lovell nodded and followed her through the small path bordering the training grounds toward the Swordsmanship Department’s Advanced Class training area. The afternoon sun beat down, heating the ground, while the dull thuds of wooden swords and Professor Glion’s thunderous shouts echoed across the fields.
Joshua seemed to have just finished a sparring match. He was sitting in the shade wiping off sweat, looking a bit more tanned than before, the muscle lines on his arms more defined. Seeing Margarita and Lovell approaching, he stood up to meet them.
“You’re out of the infirmary?” he asked, looking at Lovell.
“Minor injury,” Lovell said, waving it off. “What’s with that look? You’re acting like I’m a patient. I’m tougher than you.”
Joshua didn’t respond, turning his gaze toward Margarita. He waited for her to state her purpose.
Margarita took a deep breath. In the past, she would have rehearsed the plan in her head until she was sure it was foolproof before speaking, but she didn’t want to do that today.
“We’re going to Arlan over summer break,” she began. “To investigate Lovell’s master. The Special Action Group is going as a unit; the President approved it.”
Joshua draped his towel over his shoulder and looked at her.
“You’ve decided?”
“I’ve decided,” Margarita said. “But I came to ask if you’re coming.”
Joshua tilted his head, the afternoon light reflecting in his blue eyes.
“You wouldn’t have asked me before.”
“That was then,” Margarita said. “This is now.”
Joshua looked at her for a moment. Then he reached up and pulled the blue stone pendant from inside his collar, clutching it in his palm, the crack pressing against his thumb.
He looked back at Margarita.
“Okay.”
Why is he always like this?
Margarita blinked in surprise, and then her lips slowly began to curve upward.
That smile was completely different from the gentle, practiced one she usually wore. The corners of her mouth twitched first, as if she hadn’t even realized it was happening, and then the curve widened bit by bit, revealing a neat row of upper teeth and crinkling the corners of her eyes. Her blue eyes shone brilliantly in the afternoon light, like the pendant on Joshua’s chest, and the small tear mole beneath her eye became strikingly prominent in her joy. Her white side-braid rested on her right shoulder, its silver-grey satin ribbon swaying gently in the breeze. A few stray strands of hair escaped from behind her ear, clinging to her cheeks, which were flushed pink from the smile.
She didn’t make a sound, but her entire presence seemed to brighten.
On the training grounds, a boy in the Advanced Class suddenly botched his swing, his wooden sword scraping harshly against the wooden post with a jarring screech. Another boy, who had just finished sparring, stood frozen with his water skin in mid-air, oblivious to the water leaking from the corner of his mouth. Patrick, standing by the hill, had his mouth hanging open, having forgotten to continue his wails of agony over his laps.
Joshua stood in the formation, sweat sliding down his forehead. He stared at her, his blue eyes unblinking. Instinctively, he touched the blue stone pendant again, his fingertip tracing the crack, and his own mouth curved into a smile.
Lovell let out a tsk from the side and nudged Margarita in the ribs with her elbow. Margarita snapped out of it, pulling back her smile and glaring at her, though her face remained flushed.
The air in the training grounds felt as though it had been stirred by that smile. Several students couldn’t quite regain the rhythm of their sword strokes.
“Tsk, tsk. The Training Grounds’ White-Haired Succubus.”
“Shut up!”
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