Speaking of trouble...
I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking under my weight.
That brother of hers—Prince Cedric—didn't strike me as the kind of man to accept failure with a polite nod. In fact, his meticulously crafted plan at the ball had been chillingly efficient in its design: stage a chaotic kidnapping, allow his sister to be abducted, play the concerned brother injured in the rescue attempt or during the frantic search, but ensure Princess Sara "accidentally" died in the process, all while neatly pinning the blame on his convenient political rivals - his other siblings. With dozens of high-society witnesses, it would have been the perfect, believable tragedy.
And the sick bastard would've likely gotten away with it too, his hands clean of any direct involvement.
But the Phantom Prison, and my unexpected intervention, had thrown a rather large wrench in his well-oiled machine, ruining his carefully orchestrated timing.
And I directly foiled the kidnapping itself.
But it wouldn't matter in the long run.
A prince with that kind of ambition wouldn't stop at just one attempt.
The journey back to the capital?
Perfect opportunity.
A staged bandit attack. A carriage "accident" on a mountain pass. Plenty of ways to make a twelve-year-old girl disappear.
My fingers curled into fists.
She's twelve damnit.
Twelve, and already a pawn in her brother's game.
That muttering I'd heard during the illusion—"Mother, please... Don't leave me again..."— painted a clear enough picture of a lonely and likely traumatic childhood.
Her twisted brother had probably preyed on that vulnerability, weaponizing her loneliness, perhaps even subtly convincing her to push for that marriage alliance with Cassandra, knowing it served his own dark agenda.
All while meticulously planning to stab her in the back, both literally and figuratively. He would probably even try to get close with Cassandra afterward, using the guise of a grieving brother missing his lost sister. The sheer audacity of it made disgust churn in my gut.
What kind of person looks at their own sister—a kid—and sees nothing but an obstacle to remove?
Money? Power? A cheap crown?
Was that cold, unfeeling ambition truly worth such monstrous betrayal?
I never understood people like him, nor will try too.
The ones who seemed to have everything—privilege, comfort, influence—and yet still hungered for more, willing to scheme and murder to obtain it.
Were they even remotely human?
Speaking of which, there was that message from the scenario completion related to all this, wasn't there?
Was it the hidden storyline: [The Merchant Queen's Wrath – Locked]?
Right.
And maybe it was the system's way of reminding me that Sara's fate wasn't easy to escape. That her survival yesterday didn't mean she was totally safe.
Sigh.
Guess I'd be making a trip to town sooner rather than later. If the prince was indeed planning another move, I'd need to warn a certain per—
Hmm? I sensed another presence approaching me.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was. That presence—cold, sharp, like a blade resting against your neck—was unmistakable.
"Oh, you're here," I said, glancing up as Zephyr approached.
He gave a barely perceptible nod before sliding into the chair opposite me.
"How did it go?" I asked, tapping a finger against the book's cover.
"Done." Zephyr's voice was its usual winter-steel tone. "Told them I handled the prison. Didn't mention you."
I nodded. Of course he'd keep his word. Zephyr wasn't one for empty promises.
"I said it was the work of a Mystic Resonator. However," a slight narrowing of his intense eyes hinted at something more, "they decided to actively suppress the information. They promised to pay extra to keep quiet."
Well, now that was interesting. Not just the usual bureaucratic sweeping-under-the-rug, but an outright attempt to bribe a student into silence.
In my mind, the pieces clicked together with cynical clarity:
- Admitting they'd been targeted by such a sophisticated attack would expose their security measures as utterly worthless.
- Acknowledging that their entire staff had been outplayed by mere illusions while a student had single-handedly resolved the crisis? Utterly embarrassing and a significant blow to their authority.
- Actually investigating a powerful and unknown Mystic Resonator would require actual work, resources, and potentially expose uncomfortable truths. Bribery was undoubtedly the easiest choice.
"Heh." The sound escaped before I could stop it.
When had academies in these kinds of stories ever been truly competent or helpful? The teachers were always either glorified set pieces, oblivious to the real dangers, or actively incompetent, creating more problems than they solved.
Yesterday was no different - I spent half the time dragging unconscious faculty out of harm's way like some underpaid janitor.
I sighed, leaning forward slightly. "What about the other matter?" My voice dropped lower. "Do you know if the captives revealed anything?"
Zephyr's golden eyes locked onto mine for a long moment before he shook his head. "Not talking."
I nodded slowly, understanding immediately.
Of course they'd stay silent - rotting in prison was infinitely preferable to whatever fate awaited them if they implicated their client - the prince.
Though if Cedric has half the cunning his twisted personality suggests, I thought darkly, he'll have them silenced permanently soon enough.
Dead men tell no tales, after all.
"...World's cruel indeed," I muttered, shaking my head after a pause.
A small comfort - I'd fought those kidnappers at night, ambushing them from the shadows. Most wouldn't be able to identify me since they probably didn'tt see my face. Except...
Except their leader.
That brief but intense face-to-face clash replayed in my mind. The way his masked face had twisted in fury when I'd headbutted him.
Had he seen enough to identify me later?
Probably not.
And even if he had, with the academy so determined to bury this entire incident, any such claims would likely get lost in the bureaucratic shuffle. Right?
...
Right?
I exhaled through my nose. No, I couldn't be certain.
Tap.
A small pouch slid across the table, pushed toward me by Zephyr's gloved fingers.
I blinked at it, then up at him. "What's this?" A slow smirk curled my lips. "Are you trying to bribe me now?"
Zephyr's eyelids twitched—the barest flicker of irritation. "No." His voice was flat. "For your help."
I chuckled, nudging the pouch back toward him. "Don't worry, I'll keep my lips sealed. It's the best way for me to stay out of trouble, after all." Leaning back, I added, "And I didn't exactly help you or the others for any rewards. So keep it."
Zephyr didn't move. His golden eyes bored into me, unreadable. "You saved my life."
"And you saved mine," I countered. "Consider it even."
A beat of silence. Then—
"No." His voice was firm. "All debts must be repaid."
"Stubborn, are we?" My lips twitched.
But then an idea struck me—one that made my pulse jump.
I went quiet for a moment, weighing it. Then, slowly, I met his gaze again.
"You really want to repay me?"
"...Yes."
"Then," I said, leaning forward slightly, "can I ask for something else?" Before he could react, I added, "Don't worry, it's not something outrageous."
Zephyr studied me, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "...Tell me first."
I exhaled.
"Alright." My fingers tapped the book's cover once. "Then... can you help me get stronger?"
"I mean train me."
A pause.
"...No."