He opened his eyes, his gaze catching the angle of the sunbeams stretching across the wall. His internal clock synchronized with the shadows. Magic Engineering starts soon, he realized, the clinical demands of his schedule crashing back into his mind. And I haven't had my dose of Sivanamine yet.
Arthur sat up gracefully, brushing a wrinkle from his uniform.
Celeste instantly propped herself up on her elbows, her brow furrowing into a spectacular pout. "You're leaving already? Don't you have any questions you want to ask me?"
Arthur stood, his back to her for a fraction of a second as a rapid, cold deduction finalized in his mind.
I've spent entirely too much time here, and I've already investigated everything I could. His thoughts operated with ruthless efficiency. It's highly unlikely that Celeste is the Ash Mage. Everything from her erratic behavior to the disparities in the timeline point firmly away from suspicion. The perfection of her alibi is almost suspicious in itself... but that suspicion is entirely eliminated by one glaring discrepancy.
He glanced back down at the bed, looking at the girl who possessed enough wealth to hire an army, who had stalked him for three months, and who had just cornered him in an empty room with his guard seemingly down.
Why didn't she try to kill me? he reasoned. She is the closest I've allowed anyone to get to me. She had the perfect opportunity just now. Yet, there have been no threats to my life. Therefore, she is not the enemy. It would be wise to delegate my time elsewhere.
Arthur turned to face her, his gentle, porcelain smile firmly back in place. "I have to go."
Celeste scrambled off the bed, her teal hair flying as she landed lightly on her feet. Her pout instantly transformed back into a wide, demanding grin.
"What?" she declared brightly, stepping right back into his personal space. "I'll go with you then."
Arthur's smile didn't waver, but his clinical intellect rapidly went to work. He couldn't refuse her outright—that would only provoke her chaotic stubbornness. He needed to weaponize her greatest weakness: boredom.
"You are more than welcome to accompany me, Lady Celeste," Arthur said, his voice a soothing, pleasant hum. "However, I must inform you of my destination. I am headed to the Magic Engineering laboratories under Instructor Vigo. We will be spending the next four hours dissecting the thermodynamic decay of artificial mana crystals."
Celeste's bright grin twitched. A microscopic fracture in her enthusiasm. "For four hours?"
"Yes," Arthur lied effortlessly, weaving the dullest reality he could construct. "And following that, I must attend to my obligations as a Saint Candidate. That consists of two hours of motionless meditation in a darkened room. No speaking. No moving. Just staring at a blank stone wall, reciting ancient scriptures in my mind."
He took a slow step closer, letting his amber eyes soften with a manufactured, apologetic warmth. "During the academic day, I am more than happy to indulge your company. But after the final bell... my life is incredibly, agonizingly tedious. If you follow me into the laboratories, I will not be able to look at you, speak to you, or entertain you. You would be trapping yourself in a cage of absolute silence."
He watched her mind process the information. To Celeste, whose entire existence was fueled by whimsy, chaos, and vibrant stimulation, he had just described a literal torture chamber.
Her shoulders slumped. The radiant, overwhelming energy completely fizzled out, leaving a surprisingly normal, crestfallen expression on her face. Her teal hair seemed to lose a bit of its wild bounce.
"That sounds... terrible," she mumbled, her lower lip jutting out in a genuine, deeply disappointed pout.
"It is my burden," Arthur said gracefully, dipping his head with practiced martyrdom. "Which is why I must carry it alone. I would not subject you to such dreary isolation."
Celeste kicked lightly at the plush carpet, her amber-gold eyes dropping to the floor. She was genuinely sad that the fun was over, but completely deflated by the impenetrable wall of his tedious schedule.
"So... just during the day, then?" she asked, a lingering trace of reluctance dragging out her words.
"During the free periods of the academic day," Arthur corrected gently, pressing his advantage while he had it. "During lectures, I must maintain absolute, uninterrupted focus. My studies require complete silence. I would hate for you to sit there, terribly bored, while I am forced to ignore you."
Celeste's head snapped up. Her amber-gold eyes narrowed, the sad pout instantly hardening into a fierce, indignant scowl. The chaotic energy around her flared. No one dictated terms to the heir of the Devreux line. She opened her mouth, a bratty, furious retort ready on her tongue, genuinely mad at the restriction.
But the invisible, looming threat of his four-hour crystal-watching torture chamber hung heavy in the air.
She clamped her mouth shut, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She kicked the plush carpet with a sharp, angry huff. "Fine," she snapped, practically vibrating with reluctant fury. "Only between classes. But you better not be boring then!"
Perfect. "I look forward to it," Arthur confirmed softly, cementing the boundary into law.
He watched her pout stubbornly at the carpet. A strange, phantom weight tugged at his chest—an irrational glitch in his clinical detachment. He recognized it, distantly, as a flicker of guilt. A tactical error to leave an ally dissatisfied, he rationalized quickly, suppressing the uncomfortable emotion.
He paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "However," he added, his tone shifting into a measured, solemn promise. "If you maintain your standing as Rank Two for the remainder of the semester—which means dedicating genuine effort to all of your classes—I will officially accept your challenge for a duel next year."
Before she could fully process the magnitude of the offer, Arthur reached into his uniform pocket. He withdrew the gleaming platinum Academy Credit from earlier that day—a minted piece holding the staggering equivalent of ten thousand standard credits—and gently set it on her nightstand.
"A gift," he said softly. "To commemorate our first competition."
The bratty fury evaporated instantly. Celeste's amber-gold eyes widened, locking onto the shimmering metal. Her blinding, overwhelming grin returned in full force, vibrating with chaotic joy as she practically bounded toward the coin.
"It's a promise, then!" she cheered.
Arthur opened the heavy oak door. He paused in the threshold, casting a glance over his shoulder. The warmth bled out of his voice, replaced by a quiet, chilling gravity.
"One last thing, Lady Celeste. Avoid those in black after dusk."
He stepped into the corridor, the heavy door clicking shut behind him and finally severing the suffocating weight of her presence.
Arthur exhaled a long, cold breath. The porcelain smile instantly vanished.
A costly transaction, but a necessary one, his calculating mind noted, pivoting immediately to the night's grueling agenda. Now, to the laboratory.