When Irene placed the small wooden box on the inn’s long table, moonlight was slanting in through the window.
She was just about to reach out and lift the lid when a series of hurried footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp—
Margarita ran down the stairs, her long white hair fluttering behind her like a small flag. Her blue eyes were exceptionally bright, her gaze locked firmly onto Irene’s wooden box.
“Irene, Irene! Let me try one first!”
She bounced right up to Irene, both hands gripping the edge of the table as she leaned forward, her white hair draping down to brush against the surface. Irene couldn’t help but think Margarita looked exactly like the little white cat that was always perched on her instructor’s shoulder.
“Consultant, you haven’t even put your shoes on properly,” Irene noted, looking down.
Margarita glanced down and realized her slippers were on the wrong feet. Without missing a beat, she hid her right foot behind her left. “Let me see it first.”
Irene couldn’t help but smile. She took a lens from the wooden box and handed it over, cradling it in a soft cloth. The lens was only the size of a thumbnail, circular, made of an alchemical glass she had formulated herself, with a small circle of silver-gray runes embedded in the center.
“Just wrap the rune ring on the back with mana and inject it inside,” Irene instructed, pointing. “Not too much, just enough to maintain it.”
Margarita held the lens in her palm and took a deep breath. A pea-sized point of pink light condensed at the tip of her right index finger, which she gently pressed against the rune ring on the back of the lens.
The pink mana seeped into the glass, and the rune ring lit up.
Irene held her breath. She had spent nearly two months making these lenses, repeatedly adjusting the formula for the alchemical glass and the carving angles of the rune rings just to maximize mana conduction efficiency.
A film of light surfaced in the center of the lens, looking like ripples on a lake.
Then, the film began to tremble.
It wasn't a normal vibration; it was as if someone had skipped a stone across the lake. Just as the blurred outlines of an image began to surface, they scattered. The pink light on the rune ring flickered unsteadily.
Energy supply instability. Irene understood the moment she saw it.
She tilted her head, her gaze falling on Margarita’s profile. The Consultant was staring intently at the lens, her blue eyes reflecting the flickering light of the runes. The night breeze blew in through the window, slowly whisking away her excitement.
“I’ll try again,” Margarita said, her voice still carrying the residual warmth of her previous enthusiasm.
She injected mana into the lens once more, increasing the output this time.
The rune ring flashed even more violently. This time, the image condensed into distinct outlines—a blurry, high-altitude view looking down at the ground, all in shades of gray.
Then the mana supply suddenly cut out for an instant—the entire image shattered like the surface of a lake struck by a heavy stone. A hairline fracture appeared on the surface of the lens, extending from the edge to the center.
Irene’s heart tightened. She had spent two months on these; the mana she had seen from the Consultant was enough for a battlefield, but alchemical instruments didn’t need “enough”—they needed “stability.”
Margarita’s hand froze in mid-air. The pink point of light still hovered at her fingertip, but the lens had gone dark, leaving only a scorched black circle on the rune ring.
She didn't speak. She just flipped the cracked lens over to look at it, then flipped it back, as if confirming it was truly broken. Then she looked up at Irene like someone who had already guessed the answer but still wanted to hear the result for themselves.
“I’m sorry, Consultant,” Irene said, looking at Margarita’s face. “I didn't consider...”
The lens was ruined.
“It’s not your fault.” The professional smile was back on Margarita’s face, but it felt as if the mask had grown thicker. “My soul magic is unstable and difficult to sustain. I can’t handle precision instruments like alchemical tools.”
Irene lowered her gaze to the cracked lens. She desperately wanted to find an excuse for Margarita, but the crack spreading from the rune ring was silent proof—the Consultant was right.
The little white cat was too smart; she couldn't be fooled.
Margarita stood up straight. She gathered the shards of the cracked lens together and pushed them toward Irene with a very gentle motion.
“Put it away. Try another test subject later; Erica’s mana supply is very stable. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Having said that, she turned toward the stairs, her slippers pattering against the floor. After a few steps, she stopped and tilted her head.
“I’m sorry for breaking the result of so much of your hard work.”
Irene watched her silhouette disappear around the corner of the stairs. Her long white hair flickered in the shadows of the second-floor corridor before vanishing. On the table, the broken lens lay silent, the crack reflecting tiny bits of starlight.
...
Dammit.
This shitty game... I was looking forward to that so much...
I’ve worked so hard, yet even a single lens has to mess with me.
Margarita curled herself into a ball under the covers.
She thought about the words she had said to Lovell. Who could say those things to her, even if she knew they were a lie?
She wiped her tears against the blanket.
...
When Lovell pushed the door open, Margarita had wrapped herself into a white cocoon, with only a few strands of hair visible on the pillow.
“Little Mari~” Lovell plopped down on the edge of the bed, making the bundle of blankets bounce. “Time to get up, stop sleeping~”
There was no movement from inside the blankets.
Lovell reached out and poked the bulge. “I heard everything from Irene. Hey, who was the one who pulled me onto her shoulder last night to comfort me? All that stuff about ‘you’ve worked hard’ and ‘you’ve done well’—you sure talked a big game, yet here you are curled up today?”
The blankets wrapped even tighter.
“Little Mari, be reasonable.” Lovell started tugging at the corner of the blanket. “You were so good with words when you were comforting me; why can't you do the same for yourself?”
A muffled voice came from inside: “...That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“You’re worth it.”
Lovell’s hand paused for a moment.
Joshua leaned against the doorframe, listening to that muffled voice. He didn't know exactly what had happened last night, but seeing Lovell sitting on the edge of the bed tugging at the blankets, he could guess.
That voice was muffled by the blankets and carried a hint of a nasal tone, yet it stubbornly insisted, “You’re worth it.” She was always like this—curled up into a ball herself, yet still reaching out to offer warmth to others.
But even a pillar could get tired.
“You are also worth it,” he said. “Without you, Percy Village would be gone.”
The blanket bundle shifted slightly.
“That’s right, Little Mari,” Lovell said, gently patting the blankets. “It’s just a lens. I’ll buy you ten more later—made of iron!”
“Get up now, the commission is waiting for us.” Lovell hugged the blanket bundle. “If we don’t get moving, our funds are going to fly away—”
The blankets remained quiet for a long time.
“I know.” Margarita poked a pair of blue eyes out from the covers. Those eyes curved slightly, followed by a muffled laugh from within. “Thank you, everyone.”
Rate on N.U.
