Chương 25: "Catching a Scent”

The Chapel of Light was quiet in the late evening. Rows of polished wooden pews stretched toward the altar in a neat rows, their surfaces gleaming faintly under the flicker of candles arranged along the walls. The stained glass windows were dark from the outside, but from within, the moon's pale glow filtered through the colored panels, casting fragmented patterns of blue and gold across the stone floor. In the first row, a young man knelt in prayer.

His hands were clasped before him and his eyes were closed, lips moving in a murmur too soft to hear. At first glance, one might mistake him for a woman. His frame was slender, almost delicate, with narrow shoulders and a thin waist. His facial features were also striking in their own regard: high cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that held a gentle, almost sculptural quality. His hair was cut short, white as fresh snow, and it caught the candlelight in a way that gave it an almost ethereal sheen.

He was, by any measure, beautiful. The soft echo of footsteps broke the chapel's silence. A woman in the modest habit of a nun appeared at the entrance, her shoes clicking against the stone as she walked down the center aisle. She stopped a respectful distance behind the kneeling reverend and waited, hands folded in front of her. A few seconds passed before the young man opened his eyes.

"How did the auction go, Reverend?" the nun asked. The reverend exhaled slowly through his nose.

"A failure, I'm afraid," he replied. His voice was soft and clear. He unclasped his hands and placed them on the pew in front of him.

"I left before the final auction. The elemental egg was claimed by another bidder who was willing to spend far beyond reason." He paused.

"And the air in that place…" A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"I couldn't endure it any longer. The faithless, the profane, and the wretched were all crammed into place, buying and selling as though the Lord's creation were mere currency. It was a suffocating experience." The nun said nothing, sensing he was not finished. The reverend rose to his feet and he walked to the center aisle. He faced the altar once more, and as he did, the moonlight streaming through the stained glass caught him fully. Colors washed across his body.

Blue across his shoulders, gold down his chest, and a band of deep crimson along one sleeve, as if the window's saints were draping him in their own robes. His white hair shone almost silver in the light. The effect was devastating; for a brief moment, the young reverend looked less like a man of the cloth and more like a figure stepped out of a holy painting. Then he spoke.

"Sister."

"Yes, Reverend?"

"The one who outbid us was most likely a young female noble," he said, his tone shifting from reflective to precise.

"Her spending choices and habits suggest an arrogant upbringing." He turned from the altar to face the nun. The moonlight still framed him from behind, casting his shadow long down the aisle.

"I'll need you and a few others to investigate who among the female nobility currently at Summit is capable of squandering 15, 000 gold on a single evening's indulgence." The nun lowered herself to one knee before the reverend, her head bowed. One hand rested over her heart.

"Your word is the Lord's, Reverend," Her voice carrying the quiet fervor of absolute conviction.

"Your will shall be done." The reverend inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"Go in peace, Sister." The nun rose and departed the way she came. Her footsteps receded down the stone aisle until the chapel doors opened and closed with a muffled thud, leaving the reverend alone once more. An eerie smile appeared on his face.

"I'll be sure to pay back this debt." He went back to one of the pews, kneeling again. He clasped his hands and resumed his prayer. * Late that same evening, Celestia von Reingarde sat behind the desk of her main office within Summit, a stack of documents spread before her and a cup of tea growing cold at her elbow. Outside the window, the capital's streets had long since fallen silent. Even the servants had retired, save for a few guards and patrols wandering around.

"Achoo!" Celestia blinked, caught off guard by her own sneeze. She touched the back of her hand to her nose and frowned. She wasn't falling ill, was she? No, the air wasn't particularly cold, and she'd been indoors all evening.

'Someone must be talking about me.' It was a silly superstition from her previous life, the old wives' tale that a sudden sneeze meant someone, somewhere, was speaking your name. She dismissed the thought with a slight shake of her head and returned her attention to the documents before her. Her headache had been growing worse over the past few days. It was a dull, persistent pressure behind her temples that no amount of tea or rest seemed to alleviate.

She pressed two fingers against the side of her head and exhaled. There was too much to think about, and far too little time. Tomorrow, she would return to Summit Academy. The thought alone was exhausting. She still needed to check on Arthur to confirm the story's progression hadn't deviated too far from the original. If the aftermath of the academy demon attack wasn't unfolding as it should, she would need to make more changes to her plans. Then there were her elective courses to consider.

She had deliberately selected a spread that would maximize her exposure to this world's knowledge. There was still so much about this world that the original novel had glossed over or never bothered to explain, and learning directly from accomplished professors was not an opportunity she intended to waste. Every scrap of information could prove useful down the road. She picked up the cold tea, took a sip, grimaced at the temperature, and set it back down.

'I should sleep,' she thought, though her hand was already reaching for the next document. Knock, knock.

"Enter," she called. The door opened, and Martha stepped into the room, and behind Martha, half-hidden by the maid, stood a small figure. Celestia's hand froze over the document she'd been reaching for. The girl was small, looked to be no older than twelve, and dressed in a freshly laundered maid's outfit that was clearly a size too large for her. The sleeves had been rolled up twice at the cuffs, and the hem of the skirt pooled slightly around her ankles.

But those details barely registered, because what Celestia noticed first was the hair. White. Soft, fluffy white, like spun cotton, framing a small face with features that could only be described as cherubic. Wide eyes peered out from beneath those pale tufts, still carrying the hollow emptiness Celestia remembered from the auction. The girl's horns had been trimmed down considerably, filed and smoothed until they could no longer be seen. She looked nothing like the wretched creature in the cage from hours ago.

"Milady," Martha began, and there was a note of barely suppressed enthusiasm in her voice. She placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder as she guided her further into the room.

"I didn't ask when you suddenly brought her along earlier, but I did as you instructed, she is now fed and washed." Martha paused, tilting her head as she regarded the child beside her with open fondness. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"You couldn't have imagined, Milady. Her hair was only black due to the layers of dirt and grime stuck to it. Once I washed it properly, well…" Martha gestured to the girl's pristine white hair as though presenting a completed work of art.

"Quite the transformation, wouldn't you say?" The girl stood rigid under Martha's hand, her trimmed horns just barely peeking through her hair. Her small hands were balled into fists at her sides, gripping the fabric of her oversized skirt. Celestia studied her in silence for a long moment. It seemed that Martha was thoroughly taken with the child.

Her personal maid had always carried herself with a stern behavior around everyone, but Celestia had noticed that Martha's composure had a tendency to soften around anything small and helpless.

'She's already thinking of her as a protégé, isn't she?' The corner of Celestia's mouth twitched. Celestia glanced at the girl for another moment before speaking.

"For the time being, arrange tutors for her, the ensure that she knows the basics: reading, writing, arithmetic. And have her assist you with your daily tasks." Martha's eyes lit up at the instructions.

"Of course, Milady. I'll see to it personally."

"Paimon." The name left Celestia's lips as naturally as breathing. And then the girl's body stiffened. Paimon's hands flew from her skirt to clutch at her own chest. Her breathing turned rapid, each gasp coming faster than the last.

"M-my N-nam—" The girl's mouth opened and closed, but the words wouldn't form properly. Her eyes, which had been hollow and vacant since the auction, were suddenly wide and wild with something Celestia hadn't seen in them before. Terror.

"Milady!" Martha reacted instantly, dropping to her knees beside the child.

"Easy now, easy. Breathe slowly." Celestia was already out of her chair and moving toward them. The girl's unfocused gaze searched for Celestia's face, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Through the ragged gasps, she forced out a question.

"Name… how…?" Then her eyes rolled back and her body went limp. Martha adjusted the girl in her arms and pressed two fingers against the side of Paimon's neck, checking her pulse. After a few seconds, she looked up at Celestia.

"It seems she's fallen unconscious due to a panic attack, Milady," Martha reported, her voice calm but her brow creased with concern.

"She should be fine once she rests." Celestia nodded slowly, staring down at the unconscious child cradled in Martha's arms. Inwardly, she was kicking herself.

'Stupid. Absolutely, monumentally stupid.' No one knew this girl's name. The underground auction had explicitly informed Celestia that the child had no known identity; she had been catalogued as a nameless half-blood. And yet Celestia had just called her by name without so much as a second thought. Of course Paimon had panicked. A stranger who had purchased her from a cage had just addressed her by a name that no one should have known.

To someone in Paimon's position, already broken and distrustful, that was terrifying.

'She probably thinks I'm involved with whoever hurt her. Or that I've been watching her this entire time.' Celestia's head throbbed again.

'God, fuck this headache.' She pressed her fingers against her temple and exhaled through her teeth. There was nothing she could do about the slip now. The damage was done, and she'd have to find a way to address Paimon's suspicions later. For now, damage control.

"Tell her when she wakes up that the auction house knew more about her than they let on," Celestia said to Martha. It was a flimsy excuse. But Martha, loyal as she was, simply nodded.

"Have one of our doctors examine her," Celestia continued, rising to her feet.

"If nothing serious happened, put her to bed. You can begin with her duties and lessons tomorrow."

"I understand, Milady." Martha adjusted Paimon's weight in a princess-cary, the girl's small body was barely a burden for the experienced maid. Celestia watched them leave. The door clicked shut, and the office fell quiet once more. She stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then she returned to her desk and sat down. The documents hadn't gone anywhere so Celestia picked up where she had left off, pulling a another pile towards her. She worked as minutes bled into hours.

At some point, the pen in Celestia's hand slowed. Her eyelids grew heavy. She blinked once, twice, trying to focus on the letters and numbers in front of her.

'Just a few more pages...' Her head dipped forward." Milady." The voice came from somewhere far away.

"Milady, please wake up." Celestia's eyes cracked open, and she was immediately punished for it. Bright morning sunlight streamed through the office windows, hitting her directly in the face. She winced and lifted her head from the desk, peeling a document that had stuck to her cheek.

'I fell asleep.' Her neck ached from the angle, and her back protested with a few cracks as she straightened. The ink on the page she'd been writing on had smeared where her arm had rested on it. Martha stood beside the desk, arms draped with fabric. A selection of dresses hung over her forearm.

"Good morning, Milady," Martha said, finding her mistress slumped over a desk at dawn was an entirely normal occurrence.

"I've prepared several options for your return to Summit Academy." Celestia rubbed her eyes and glanced at the dresses and picked one that was practical and elegant enough.

"That one," she said, pointing.

"An excellent choice, Milady." The morning routine proceeded with its usual moments. Martha helped Celestia change, fixed her hair into a presentable state, and arranged for the carriage to be brought around to the front of the office. Within the hour, Celestia was dressed, packed, and seated inside the Reingarde carriage as it rolled through the Summit's morning streets toward the road leading to Summit. Martha sat across from her, hands folded in her lap, waiting for whatever her mistress might need.

Celestia leaned her head against the cushioned wall of the carriage and closed her eyes. The gentle rocking of the wheels on cobblestone should have been soothing, but the headache that had plagued her had not subsided. The dull pressure had sharpened into a persistent, pulsing pain that radiated from her temples to the space behind her eyes. She pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead.

'It's getting worse.'

"Milady!" Martha's voice was sharp, cutting through the fog of discomfort with an urgency that snapped Celestia's eyes open. Martha was leaning forward in her seat, a napkin ready. Her gaze was fixed not on Celestia's eyes, but lower, on her nose and mouth. Celestia frowned and touched her upper lip and it felt wet. Her fingers came away red.

'A nosebleed?' She stared at the blood on her fingertips for a moment, then reached for the handkerchief Martha was holding and pressed it beneath her nose.

"It's nothing serious," Celestia said, "I'll visit the medic hall at Summit and have it looked at."

"Milady, perhaps we should turn the carriage around and see the office's physician—""Martha." Celestia's tone left no room for discussion.

"We are continuing to Summit Academy." Martha pressed her lips together but relented with a stiff nod.

"... As you wish, Milady." The rest of the journey passed in tense silence. Celestia kept the handkerchief pressed to her nose, watching the scenery shift from city streets to the forested road leading toward the academy. The bleeding stopped after several minutes, but the headache still remained. By the time the carriage rolled through Summit Academy's outer gates, Celestia was operating on something close to autopilot.

She stepped down from the carriage, offered Martha a few instructions on what to do, and made her way across campus toward the medic hall. The medic hall was identifiable by the green banners hanging above its arched entrance. Inside, the air smelled of herbs and antiseptic. A young woman in the white robes of an apprentice healer approached Celestia almost immediately. She couldn't have been much older than Celestia herself, perhaps a year or two at most, with mousy brown hair tied back in a practical bun.

"Good morning! How can I help you?" The apprentice's smile was bright and earnest.

"Headaches," Celestia said flatly.

"It's been god-awful persistent and has worsened over several days. I had a nosebleed this morning." The apprentice's gestured towards one of the rooms.

"Please, enter here." Entering it, it was a small modest room with a single bed and a curtain. Celestia sat on the edge of the bed as the apprentice placed both hands near Celestia's temples, not quite touching. A faint green glow emanated from her palms, the telltale sign of healing magic at work. After a long moment, the apprentice pulled her hands back and frowned.

"I can apply a standard soothing spell to address the immediate symptoms," she said carefully, "but I should be honest with you. The cause runs deeper than what I'm able to fully treat. The spell will ease the pain for now, but it won't fix the root issue."

"Just do it," Celestia said. The apprentice nodded and placed her hands near Celestia's head once more. The green glow was warm and tingling against Celestia's skin. The pounding behind her temples dulled, but it was still annoying enough to distract her.

"You need proper rest," the apprentice added as Celestia stood. Celestia grunted in response, which they both knew meant she had no intention of following that advice. She stepped out into the corridor of the medic hall and everything sounded a bit clearer than earlier; the distant shouts from the training grounds, the chime of a bell marking the start of the first class period. But Celestia's mind was already cycling through her list. Arthur's status. Elective enrollment. The Paimon situation.

Preparing to hatch the egg. Responding to the latest correspondence from— Tap. Someone touched her shoulder.

"E-excuse me…!" The voice came from behind her, high-pitched and trembling with nervous energy. Celestia stopped walking and turned. A girl stood right behind her, fidgeting with the strap of the satchel slung over her shoulder. She had a slender build, with delicate features and pale blue eyes that darted between Celestia's face and the ground. Her silver hair was long and flowing. Celestia's expression didn't change, but behind her crimson eyes, recognition was immediate. It was Liana.

Arthur's childhood friend; the shy romantic interest with the rarest element in the world. Harem Member No. 1.