"So, changing the subject."
Mary seemed to think of something else, and turned to look at Russell.
"This morning, you bought a newspaper, didn't you?"
"Mm, it was one of the tasks, after all." Russell answered noncommittally, offhandedly. "What about it?"
"Then whose newspaper did you buy?" The girl blinked, her lashes fluttering in the light, watching him curiously.
"The Times, or The Guardian?"
Russell's expression froze as if someone had hit the pause button.
In that instant, an inexplicable drumbeat and melody seemed to sound off inside his head.
Stay calm, Russell Watson, you have to stay calm.
"O-of course I bought both," he said, keeping his composure.
"A newspaper isn't exactly expensive anyway. Buying one extra is like helping one more paperboy—what's wrong with that?"
"I see. So Russell really does have a kind heart." Mary nodded, drawing out her words a little.
Over?
No, that's not right.
Some instinct tapped lightly at the back of Russell's neck—it wasn't over yet.
"Not only kind..."
At that very moment, Mary's voice drifted up once again, carrying a hint of probing.
"...but also very good at keeping everyone happy."
The instant those words landed, that eerie drumbeat and BGM struck up in his mind once more.
I knew it!
Russell's brain spun at high speed, and then he coughed lightly, twice.
"Listen to you. I did take money from both The Times and The Guardian, so I ought to support them a bit, don't you think? Just consider it something I did in passing."
"Mm... that does sound about right." The girl remained noncommittal.
"So this breakfast—was it also just something you did in passing, for me?
Just because you had to make breakfast for Charlotte, so you used the leftover scraps to whip up a portion for me on the side?"
Russell's breathing seemed to halt in that moment.
What on earth should he say, what on earth was the correct answer—was it 42?
Right now, he wished he could pour every last one of the Malice Points in his balance into leveling up his intelligence.
After his thoughts whirled madly at a speed rivaling a centrifuge, Russell drew in a deep breath and gave his final answer.
"I'll make you one when I have time."
"Sure." The girl beamed. "Then it's settled."
The instant those words fell, the oppressive, suspenseful atmosphere vanished all at once.
That meaningless BGM in his head stopped along with it.
Looking at the girl's azure eyes, curved into crescents from joy, Russell felt as though he had just survived a heart-stopping bomb-disposal mission.
He quietly let out a breath, and a faint, barely perceptible cold sweat even beaded at his temple.
"But," Mary's voice rose once again, "I'd still like to have an exact time."
"Hm?"
"You only just said 'when you have time,'" Mary counted on her fingers, like a nitpicking little accountant.
"That's too vague. What if you never have time?"
"How could I never have time? I promise," Russell said, a little helplessly. "As long as I have time, I'll definitely bring you one."
"No," the girl shook her head, and that high-bound silver ponytail swayed along with it.
"You see," her voice suddenly softened, sounding almost coaxing.
"If you say 'when I have time,' then it's like standing on a platform waiting for a train with no known timetable.
You might wait a very, very long time—so long that the flowers on the platform have withered, moss has grown in the cracks between the paving stones, and that train is still nowhere in sight."
The girl leaned slightly forward, and the gentle morning light coming through the glass window fell just so on the side of her face, gilding her silver hair and long lashes with a faint golden halo.
"But if you say, 'I'll come every Thursday at four in the afternoon,' then it's completely different."
Mary's voice grew a touch softer, as though whispering right beside Russell.
"Then, from the moment I open my eyes on Monday morning, Thursday is no longer an ordinary day.
Passing the bakery on Tuesday, I'll think there are two days left.
Seeing the beautiful sunset to the west on Wednesday, I'll think that tomorrow I get to eat the breakfast you made.
At times like that, the waiting itself becomes part of the joy."
Mary lifted her eyes, her clear gaze fixed straight on Russell.
The girl's words were like a gentle poem, flowing slowly through the quiet classroom.
"If you come every Thursday, then starting from Wednesday, I'll grow very happy.
The closer the time comes, the happier I'll be, and by Thursday I'll be restless, listening for every footstep in the corridor.
But if you come whenever you please, then I'll never know when I ought to have my mood ready."
She paused, her voice as light as a snowflake, drifting down without a sound.
"A sense of ceremony is a very important thing, Russell.
It can make one day different from all the others, make one moment different from all the rest.
So—I need an exact time, all right?"
Listening to Mary's words, Russell couldn't help but be stunned for a moment.
He looked at the girl before him, at those azure eyes that seemed especially pure in the morning light, brimming with earnestness and anticipation.
It was just like a lake mirroring the sky, so clear that it held not a speck of impurity.
"All right," in the end he chose to give in, "every Thursday it is."
And so, Mary smiled. "Mm, every Thursday, then."
A smile as brilliant as spring sunshine spread from the corners of the girl's lips, all the way down into the depths of her eyes, lighting up that azure lake within.
She simply smiled like that, saying nothing, and it surpassed any number of scenic views.
The class bell rang at just the right moment, breaking this brief stillness.
The Professor, holding his lesson plan, strolled unhurriedly up to the lectern, his gaze sweeping toward the back row out of habit.
"Good morning, everyone."
He cleared his throat and began today's lesson.
In the afternoon, as the bell rang, it announced that the day's classes had once again come to an end.
Russell yawned and lifted his head from the desk, looking toward the figure beside him who was packing up her things, light and shadow flowing between her moving fingers.
"All done." Mary tucked away the last item, then stood up and smiled at Russell.
"Let's head off."
"Mm." Russell nodded, standing up as well, and casually stuffed the notebook full of a whole morning's worth of notes into his bag.
The glow of the setting sun once again dyed the corridor into a warm golden river.
They bickered idly on and off, passing through the courtyard, and soon reached the school gate.
"Well then," Mary stopped in her tracks, "see you tomorrow."
The girl blinked. "You still remember, right? What you promised me."
"Don't worry, I've got it all in mind." Russell smiled.
The two of them parted ways at the intersection, and Mary took one last look at that figure bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun before contentedly turning around and walking toward her own carriage.
The moment the carriage door closed, she leaned back against the seat and gently touched the corner of her mouth—where the curve of that smile still lingered.
Thursday, huh.
She thought, gazing out at the streetscape flowing past the window.
From now on, every single day could be a bright, luminous journey leading toward Thursday.
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