Chương 14: All the world’s a stage

"Sky blue," said Ophelia.

"The usual academy colors." Rin stood on a podium in the middle of the best tailoring shop in Rosenarte, Miss Ludivine's Couture, with the most uncomfortable expression on her face. Ophelia, on the other hand, was having a splendid time. She was wearing another one of Lady Vyx's impeccably stylish dresses, a slip of white that seemed so simple but accentuated her pale skin, and the fall of her long black hair. She had also found a crown of undying flowers in the closet.

If Ophelia did say so herself, she looked like a maiden of spring, like Persephone herself before she'd been whisked off to the underworld. The boutique itself was something out of a dream. It was a large, circular building, spools of exotic fabrics hanging from the curving wall. Mannequins dressed in ballgowns waltzed in small steps around the shop, displaying the layers and flow of the material. The back of the store opened up into a lovely garden, with tall hedges and white trellises hemming the space in.

The ceiling had unwound above them, revealing the bright blue sky. Ophelia sat at the small table in the garden, halfway through her complimentary martini.

"Of course, my lady," said the eponymous Miss Ludivine, a plump older woman with a gray bun of hair.

"Students are allowed to have their family crest embroidered on the breast of their blazer. Shall I be providing that service as well?" Rin, if possible, became as stiff as the high collar being fitted around her neck. Hm. Did Lady Vyx have a house crest? She must. She was a noble lady, after all, with a castle and everything. Except, Ophelia wasn't sure if it was wise to mark Rin as hers so overtly. She would draw a lot of attention, quickly, and most of it wouldn't be good.

Fake friends, nobles trying to make connections, secret enemies in the shadows plotting after the apprentice to get back at the master. On the other hand, all the students would be wearing a house crest. Rin would look strange without one. Ophelia also didn't want to mark her as an outcast—or worse, a scholarship student. She'd read way too many novels about how poorly snooty rich kids treated scholarship students. As she was thinking, another figure slipped into existence in the seat across.

A teapot popped into view as well, and began pouring hot, steaming earl grey tea into a small porcelain cup. In the background, Miss Ludivine's measuring tape clattered to the floor in shock.

"Your apprentice may wear House Albini's crest, if you'd like," said Bianca in her bored contralto. Ophelia blinked in surprise at the headmistress's appearance. Well, she wouldn't rebuke the company.

"You don't think it would draw too much attention?" asked Ophelia.

"I've sponsored students before. The sight of it will not be shocking." Ophelia smiled.

"Are you saying students would rather wear your house crest than their own?"

"No one has ever refused it, if offered." Miss Ludivine cleared her throat when she sensed a pause in the conversation.

"My lady, I can—"" Lady Archmage," corrected Bianca, her voice suddenly as cold and hard as ice. The tailor's hand leapt to her chest, as if to stave off a heart attack.

"Of course, my sincerest apologies, headmistress. I come from a humble background, I didn't know the proper etiquette." Ophelia wasn't an Empath, but something told her that the woman was feeling a bit intimidated.

"You're scaring her," whispered Ophelia, an undercurrent of irritation in her voice.

"She's the best tailor in the city, I'd like to come back here one day." Bianca paused. She gave Ophelia a look. It wasn't a normal glance, it was something far too intense, something that held magic in it. Those dark eyes seemed to have peeled back the skin of her face, examining the flesh and bones inside. For a second, Ophelia was terrified that the headmistress would know that she was a transmigrator, not the original Lady Vyx. Then, the moment broke.

Bianca let out a soft, muffled huff of amusement, then raised her teacup to her lips.

"You should care about your image more." Ophelia was still reeling from… the skill? That look had turned the darkness of Bianca's eyes into the black of the outer depths. Like she had stripped her bare, gazing into her very soul. Her mind worked slowly, ticking like a clock, as she processed the headmistress's words and realized she found them ridiculous. Care about my image more? Genuinely, no one has ever said that to me before, and judging by Lady Vyx's closet, I can safely say the same for her.

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor, headmistress."

"I don't." Ophelia pondered that for a moment before mentally shrugging. She didn't know if she should bring up the look. Maybe it was just something Archmages did. Maybe calling attention to it would be odd. She covered her unease by addressing Miss Ludivine once more.

"You were saying?" The older woman cleared her throat.

"I can embroider the uniform blazers with House Albini's crest, if that is your desire, Lady Archmage." This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Ophelia sighed and made a dismissive gesture.

"Fine." Miss Ludivine gave her a single very serious nod and went back to work. She held various fabrics to Rin's skin with an analytical eye. Apparently, while the uniforms needed to be a certain, very particular shade of blue, they could be cut from several acceptable materials, each more expensive than the last. Ophelia had decided to leave the decision up to Rin and the tailor, with the demand to embroider every defensive spellstitch that the tailor knew into her uniforms. Bianca's dark gaze slid to Rin.

"She's grown very quickly."

"Lucrezia provided a suitable leveling dummy." The dusky fingers around the handle of the teacup twitched once, imperceptibly.

"You're spoiling her." Ophelia almost snorted into her martini. Lady Vyx's relationship with Rin could be described in a few ways. But definitely not that.

"I couldn't very well send her to the Royal Mage Academy as a classless iron-rank, now could I? She'd get eaten alive."

"Do not forget that crossing the Level 100 threshold is significant," chastised Bianca.

"In her year, only the royals who have been training since birth would match her level." Ophelia smiled, lilting her voice in a sing-song manner.

"Perks of being an Archmage's apprentice." Bianca looked into her teacup, as if she could divine answers from its surface. Maybe she could.

"Even the Beast King would be hard pressed to find a high-level summons willing to simply lay down and be killed by a child. Only a Necromancer would be able to provide such a service."

"I suddenly have a business idea…"

"Trust me, I've tried to convince Lucrezia to loan the Academy some of her minions. She won't bite."" You trying," emphasized Ophelia, "is not the same as me trying." A fine white brow arched.

"And were you able to convince Lucrezia to tell us what she knows about Azazel?"

"Funny. That Azazel thing." Ophelia waved a toothpick which speared an olive in small circles.

"Turns out that Lucrezia is far more concerned about Death God Nyxian. Says that the Cycle has ended, his return is imminent…

'the waters of death are polluted with resentment', to quote her directly." Bianca froze." What?"

"A Death God might be involved?"

"And you didn't think to lead with that?"

"I brought up Lucrezia first. You danced around the topic. Whose fault is that?" Dark eyes glowered at her from beneath a fan of snowy lashes. She made a soft noise of disbelief and stood up, sweeping away in her pristine white robes. Ophelia snickered a bit before realizing that the Archmage hadn't taken her teacup with her. The lonely piece of porcelain looked quite sad without its teapot.

"Bianca, hang on, you forgot your teacup! Bianca!" Ophelia grabbed the teacup and tried to catch up to the Archmage. She paused briefly to shoot Rin and Miss Ludivine a smile.

"I'll be right back." The door opened up into a very busy intersection. Boutiques and expensive shops lined the streets. Wealthy men escorted their wives, who held dainty parasols to shield them from the sun. Here and there, Ophelia saw a Royal Mage Academy student in their sky blue blazer, or someone in the formal sky blue robes of the institution's faculty. The spires of the academy rose in the nearby distance, spearing the clouds. What she didn't see was Headmistress Albini.

When people started gawking at her, pointing at her head, Ophelia curled her lip and hid the [Level 1000 - Archmage]. Apparently, there was a lot of etiquette surrounding where and when to show your class and level. In polite society, it was uncouth to brag. However, it was also considered discourteous to hide your identity, if treating you beneath what your identity requires would make others seem like fools.

There was a lot of nuance that hadn't been explained in the story - or, perhaps, Rin cared so little about this stuff she never paid attention to it, always hiding her class anyway - Ophelia did care, though. Somewhat. It was interesting story flavor. But she was an Archmage and she did not want the entire street to fall into a hush when they noticed her. It got old after the first few times.

"Bianca!" she called. There was no response. Only a few side-eyes. Ophelia didn't see Bianca anywhere. She'd lost her. The woman had probably [Warped] back to the academy. She exhaled loudly, resting her forehead against the heel of her palm. Why had she chased the headmistress, as though she were back in the mortal world and someone had left their phone on a starbucks table? Magic existed. She could've just used the magic mirror she'd bought to ring her up.

Or mailed it back to her via owl, or hawk, or hell, maybe there was even a phoenix delivery service. Ophelia was about to turn back when she heard something strange. Really strange.

"Hehehe so many figurines of my waifu. It was really such a brilliant touch to include figurine collecting in my setting. I must rescue my waifu from these glass cages!" Ophelia couldn't believe her ears. That was - What. She crept around the corner to see a luxury figurine store. There weren't many customers, despite the building's premium location. Glass shelves lined the walls, holding boxes with tiny depictions of the high-level characters from the story inside.

Bianca, Lucrezia, even Dietfried von Orsainvillea, the Duke of the North. Ophelia felt like someone had struck her in the head. She watched as a familiar man with long golden hair clutched several boxes. He'd grabbed an entire line of figurines. Azazel? At the figurine store? Ophelia's eyes bulged. And the boxes he held all contained the same figurine - a very beautiful lady with a long fall of black hair, and molten gold eyes.

Azazel's smile was wide and giddy as he went up to the counter with a flourish, paying for them all in a simple sweep of his chequebook. Oh my god. Her mind spun as she thought back, several notions forming in her head. She carefully went over what she'd overheard the man say just now. The extremely anachronistic word "waifu" he was muttering. The mention of this being "his setting". Unless Azazel was completely insane… Azazel might be xX_DemonWrath_Xx? Azazel might be… the author of Slayer's Requiem?

Ophelia might have forced the author of Slayer's Requiem to transmigrate into their own setting? As the Demon Lord who was so fucking dead?? Another question also couldn't help but surface in her mind. The author, Ravenfall, was definitely a woman. Even though the author was tight-lipped about personal information, Ophelia had never doubted her gender. A man couldn't possibly write such evocative, well-written female characters, many of whom were powerful with agency.

Only a woman could write a story so removed from the male gaze… Azazel could shapeshift into anything. So… why was Ravenfall cosplaying as a guy?