Hearing Flandre's words, Hong Meiling felt her entire vision go dark.
This was arguably the most devastating insult she had ever endured in her life.
Patchouli's mouth twitched slightly as she looked at Hong Meiling. She naturally didn't believe a single word of Flandre's outrageous claim. Meiling was a seasoned martial artist, after all—controlling her own muscular reflexes and bodily functions was second nature to her. A normal person possessed total control over their bladder, let alone an elite gatekeeper of her standing.
Seeing Meiling looking as though she were about to combust on the spot, Patchouli reached out and gently patted Flandre's head.
"Flandre, stop teasing Meiling first thing in the morning."
She then turned her gaze to the gatekeeper. "And you—sleeping on the couch with your clothes in such complete disarray. What kind of behavior is that? Go tidy yourself up quickly."
With Patchouli stepping in to take charge, a chaotic morning brawl between the two was successfully averted.
Massaging her temples, Patchouli felt a mild headache coming on as she looked at Flandre, who wore a smug, triumphant grin after her successful prank. The current Flandre was undoubtedly far more lively, grounded, and emotionally stable than she had ever been during her days back at the Scarlet Devil Mansion. But in exchange for her newfound mental clarity, she now possessed an endless penchant for pull-your-hair-out mischief that left everyone around her unsure whether to laugh or cry.
"Alright, go run along and play," Patchouli sighed, patting Flandre's head before heading toward the bathroom to wash up.
Flandre immediately held her forehead and followed closely behind her like a little shadow.
"Why are you following me?" Patchouli asked, eyeing her with a wary glance as if suspecting she had become the next target.
"To wash my face, of course!" Flandre declared righteously. After all, her attention had been completely hijacked by Meiling the second she tumbled out of bed.
After everyone finished washing up and gathered around the table for breakfast, Patchouli looked across at Flandre.
"You seem to be doing nothing but playing games every single day lately. I think it's time I assigned you some real schoolwork."
Flandre blinked her large, crimson eyes in mild confusion. "Schoolwork? Can I do it after I finish playing?"
"It must be done before you play," Patchouli stated firmly, setting down her teacup. "You can only play after you complete your assignments."
Flandre scratched her mess of hair, looking slightly torn. "I guess that's fine. When do we start?"
"Aren't you upset?" Patchouli asked, somewhat surprised by her easy compliance. "Having schoolwork means you'll have significantly less time for games."
"Hehe! Isn't doing schoolwork just another kind of game?" Flandre giggled, completely unfazed by the prospect.
A strange, calculating gleam flashed across Patchouli's violet eyes. "Oh? A game, is it? Coincidentally, I've been researching a new theoretical subject recently: Replicating Banshee Incantations Through Originium Arts. Since you've already had direct contact with Banshees, you can serve as my research assistant."
"Umu~!" Excitement flared in Flandre's eyes. "How do I help? Do you need me to go bring Brother Logos over?"
"Why would we need him?" Patchouli asked, looking at her.
"Because he's a Banshee!" Flandre explained earnestly. "And his mother is the current Banshee Queen. Having him help us study Banshee Incantations will make everything way easier!"
"Ah?"
Patchouli was well aware that Logos was a Banshee—and a rare male Banshee at that—but no one had ever mentioned that he possessed such an extraordinary background. The direct scion of the Banshee Queen... No wonder his foundational mastery over Arts had impressed her so thoroughly during their previous conversations.
However, after considering it for a moment, Patchouli shook her head.
"There's no need to rush. We can conduct our preliminary research independently first. Later on, we can find an opportunity to visit Rhodes Island, see Logos, and verify whether our theoretical framework is correct."
Her original intention was simply to use this complex topic to tie Flandre down so she wouldn't spend all day wandering the streets of Lungmen, transforming from a studious Magical Girl into a local street loafer. Bringing Logos into the fold right now would indeed solve the research problems overnight, but wouldn't that completely defeat the purpose of disciplining Flandre?
Hearing Patchouli's rejection, Flandre couldn't help but let out a tiny sigh of disappointment. She actually enjoyed collaborating with Logos quite a lot—back when they rescued Talulah, his seamless weaving of Incantations and raw Arts had left a lasting impression on her.
"Then when do we start?" Flandre asked, swinging her legs beneath her chair.
"Do you have any plans today?" Patchouli countered.
"Hmm... Nope!" Flandre pondered for a moment, unable to think of anything on her schedule.
"How about this," Patchouli proposed, offering a deal. "There's roughly a month left before the New Year. Spend this month focusing on this research topic at home, and when the New Year arrives, I will personally take you out for a real holiday. How does that sound?"
It was a condition Flandre simply could not refuse. "Deal!"
The moment Flandre agreed, Patchouli waved her slender hand. Through a gentle flick of her Arts, four heavy volumes floated off the far shelf and landed neatly along the edge of the coffee table with a soft thud.
"These are the foundational texts I've curated for you," Patchouli said, pointing a finger toward the stack. "Read through them first and aim to finish all four within a week. Once the week is up, I will prepare an examination paper for each volume. If you fail even a single test, humph..."
"Oh!" Flandre leaned over to inspect the books. None of them were particularly thick, so skimming through them within seven days wouldn't be much of a challenge.
However, passing Patchouli's rigorous examinations required far more than superficial reading—she would have to thoroughly master every underlying concept. Slacking off was out of the question.
Flandre's competitive drive was instantly ignited, and she resolved to master every page before test day arrived.
Just then, Hong Meiling, having just emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, strutted over and gloatingly picked up the top volume.
"Hiss... Pure theoretical mechanics! Flandre, you are in serious trouble!"
Although Meiling claimed to be a pure martial brawler, she was a brawler with ambition, ideals, and the ability to launch devastating energy blasts. It wasn't as though she was completely illiterate when it came to advanced theory.
Flipping through the first few pages, Meiling cast a look of deep pity toward Flandre.
As everyone knew, the study of Originium Arts shared a striking resemblance to advanced mathematics. And when studying math, the most horrifying hurdle wasn't memorizing formulas—it was tackling pure, abstract theoretical proof.
The volume currently in Meiling's hands was a dense theoretical treatise on the linguistic architecture of Incantations. From the refined prose style alone, it was clearly something Patchouli had painstakingly transcribed from the archives of the Liches. Reading a book like this could make anyone's brain numb and induce instant, heavy sleepiness; it was practically designed to be used as a pillow.
While the book wasn't overly thick, Meiling felt that truly comprehending its contents in just a couple of days was an impossible feat. That was why she felt Flandre was destined to crash and burn.
This was, in fact, precisely what Patchouli had intended.
The four books she selected were all of exceptionally high difficulty. Based on her assessment of Flandre's current academic level, if the little girl focused all her energy on mastering one or two volumes, she could pass those respective exams with flying colors, but the remaining two would suffer. Averaged out, she might fail the entire set.
It was a stealthy lesson in time management and strategic prioritization. Of course, Patchouli hadn't told Flandre any of this, intending for her to realize it on her own.
What Patchouli had forgotten, however, was that whether back at the Scarlet Devil Mansion or here in Terra, Flandre possessed an utterly stubborn, unyielding streak.
Flandre picked up the four books, flipped through the dense pages briefly, and completely wiped the playful smile from her face.
(Fumina: Apologies for my recent inconsistent updating schedule. It's just that it's that time of the year again, End of Semester Final Exams. I'll still update when I have time, of course. It should go back to normal after Oct 3.)