Chapter 57 : Chapter 57
Chapter 57 : Too Deliberate
A few minutes later, Cecilia folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. Her fingers lingered on the seal for a moment before she raised her eyes.
“Ilis.”
The black-haired girl turned around. Morning light slanted through the glass roof of the greenhouse, casting shifting leaf-shaped shadows across her profile.
Cecilia lowered her voice, as though afraid of disturbing the hanging vines beneath the corridor.
“The Wilier family. Investigate all their dealings with the northern merchant guilds over the past three months. Especially the ones that did not go through official channels.”
Ilis gave a faint nod. A flash of cold sharpness flickered in the depths of her violet eyes, like the glint of a blade the moment it leaves its sheath.
“And one more thing.” Cecilia paused, lightly tracing a circle on the wicker tabletop with her fingertip. “What happened in the potion class today should already be spreading. At the appropriate time… add a little fuel.”
Ilis understood immediately. Her violet gaze lifted, briefly meeting the Princess’s blue eyes in midair. The black-haired girl pressed her lips into a thin line—that was how she indicated acknowledgment.
She turned and left, the hem of her dark green attire cutting a clean arc through the air.
“Wait.”
Cecilia stopped her.
The morning light fell from the side, dividing the Princess’s face into halves of brightness and shadow.
The illuminated half was porcelain-white like fine glaze; the half submerged in shadow had contours as deep as the carvings on an ancient castle wall.
Her fingers tapped the table unconsciously—tap, tap, tap—the rhythm steady like a heart monitor.
“As for Velt,” she said slowly, weighing each word, “there is no need to deliberately approach him for now.”
Ilis’s shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.
Cecilia lifted her gaze. At the border of light and shadow, her blue eyes appeared particularly profound. Her sight rested on the black-haired girl’s face as though reading an open book.
“I know what you are thinking, Ilis,” the Princess said calmly, her voice as still as a frozen lake. “I have not forgotten your matter. You want to get close to him and find a chance to take that thing back—for the sake of your people.”
Ilis’s eyelashes trembled slightly. Something stirred in the depths of her violet eyes, only to be forcibly suppressed.
“But we have an agreement now,” Cecilia continued. “I provide you with protection and forge an identity for you, allowing you to walk beneath the sunlight. And you—”
She paused, her fingertip stopping on the tabletop.
“—you work for me. Until our agreement is fulfilled, your actions and your goals must prioritize my plans. That is the foundation of our transaction, Ilis. You understand this very well.”
The greenhouse was quiet. Only the distant murmur of a fountain and the faint rustling of unknown insects among the leaves could be heard.
Ilis stood within the shifting light and shadow. The dark green uniform made her complexion appear even paler. Her lips pressed into a straight line. Her fingers slowly curled at her side, then gradually relaxed.
After several seconds, she lowered her head.
“I understand.”
Her voice was soft, yet perfectly clear.
Cecilia watched her. A trace of complicated light flickered through her blue eyes.
“Just keep an eye on his movements,” the Princess said as she stood. The pale platinum hem of her dress fell gracefully, gleaming with a gentle luster in the morning light. “Especially his preparations for the selection tournament. As for the rest… do nothing for now.”
She walked to the edge of the terrace and rested her hand on the wrought-iron railing. The morning breeze stirred the loose strands of hair before her forehead, the golden strands almost transparent in the light.
Below, on the stone plaza of the training ground, a dark-brown figure moved through the morning mist.
Ryan Velt carried a canvas satchel over his shoulder, his pace neither hurried nor slow. The wind lifted the corner of his uniform, revealing the darker shirt beneath. He did not glance around, nor did he walk in laughing groups like the other students. He simply headed straight toward the dormitory building.
Like a ship silently advancing along its predetermined course.
Cecilia watched that figure for a long time.
Deep within her blue eyes, something slowly began to turn—not emotion, not calculation, but more like the interlocking gears inside a precise instrument. Slowly, perfectly aligned.
Then she withdrew her gaze.
The glimmer vanished, like a stone sinking into a deep pool, leaving behind only a few fading ripples.
“Let us go,” she said, her voice returning to its usual clear calm. “It is time for the next class.”
The two women walked down from the terrace one after the other. The pale platinum and deep green figures moved through the shifting light of the glass corridor like two fish gliding through deep water. As they passed the dense plants, leaves occasionally brushed their skirts, leaving faint rustling sounds.
Eventually, they disappeared around the corner.
The sunlight remained bright, pouring through the glass roof and carving patches of light across the stone floor. The plants in the greenhouse stretched their branches, vines climbed along the frames, and flowers slowly bloomed beneath the morning dew.
Everything seemed quiet and ordinary.
Yet somewhere deep beneath the surface, unseen gears had already begun to turn—slowly, steadily.
The sound of a door latch turning was especially clear in the quiet corridor.
Ryan pushed the door open. Warm yellow light flowed out like a tide that had long been waiting, instantly washing over the threshold and wrapping around the chill he had carried in from outside.
Cosette was sitting on the carpet just inside the door, a fairy-tale collection with a pale blue cover spread open on her knees. When she heard the sound and looked up, her dark brown pupils contracted slightly in the light before softening with familiar warmth.
“Master.”
She closed the book and stepped forward, taking the satchel from Ryan’s shoulder with both hands.
Ryan entered the room and closed the door behind him. The sound of rain was shut outside, turning into a muted background murmur.
He removed his uniform coat, and Cosette immediately reached out to take it, standing on her toes to hang it on the rack.
Ryan walked to the desk. The wooden chair creaked softly as he sat down. His gaze fell upon the open lecture notes—tomorrow’s lesson for 《Introduction to Principles of Magi-Engineering》, concerning the mathematical model of Mana resonance.
Professor Brent’s handwriting was neat and rigid, the formulas and diagrams arranged like military formations.
But Ryan did not read a single word.
His fingers unconsciously turned a page, the paper making a soft rustling sound. His eyes rested on those complicated mathematical symbols, yet his focus had long since drifted away.
His mind replayed the scene from the potion class earlier that day.
The classroom bathed in morning light, the mixed scent of ingredients, and that porcelain-white face that had looked almost transparent in the glow.
Cecilia Ishtar stood beside the experiment table, the pale platinum hem of her dress brushing the edge.
“When you heard that you would not be in the same group as me, you seemed to sigh in relief.”
“That sigh just now was rather obvious.”
“Is working in the same group as me really such a troublesome matter?”
Then there was the nearly inaudible cold snort, the remark about “the Velt family’s manners,” and the elegant yet icy arc her skirt traced when she turned away.
It had been too deliberate.