Chapter 5

"Well, you might have noticed, Young Master is becoming…" Maylie hesitated.

"…Yes, I've noticed. Our young master is far from a gentleman."

The taste of the chocolate pie melted on Azriel's tongue, but her expression soured.

Maylie took a deep breath. "I heard from the coachman that after his coming-of-age celebration, the quality of the places he frequents has deteriorated. He's drinking more and has even picked up some unsavory habits."

Azriel, while finishing her chocolate pie, mentally calculated the money she had saved thus far.

"I still need to complete a few more tasks. I have enough to settle in a nearby dominion now, but I'll be apprehended quickly if I do. If I wish to go farther, then I should…"

"I'll lend you some. Please, make your escape quickly," Maylie offered.

"Don't be absurd," Azriel rebuffed Maylie's proposal with a serious expression. "What about your siblings?"

Maylie had started taking on odd jobs at the castle around the same time Azriel had been brought in as a slave, all because of her ailing mother and younger siblings. The meager wages of the young maid were barely enough to support her family.

Maylie swallowed hard, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "I've saved up some money. Use that."

It was painfully evident what the money was meant for.

Maylie's mother had been suffering from an unknown illness for a long time, and she often expressed her desire to take her mother to the capital, where renowned wizards might offer a cure.

Azriel was choked up; she couldn't accept such money, nor did she wish to.

"It's alright," she said, clearing her throat. "You've been saving that money for your mother's medical treatment."

"I'll lend it to you, and you can repay me after you've escaped and settled down. Can you do that?"

"You don't know when I'll be able to pay you back."

"You'll earn it soon. You can even translate Lemm, after all."

"You're right. So, I just need to hold out a little longer."

"What if something happens to you? It's not like you're in the best health either!" Maylie's face twisted, as if on the verge of tears.

Maylie's genuine concern touched Azriel deeply, and she turned her head away.

"If I sense that something major is about to happen, I'll escape no matter what. So you don't need to…"

In the direction she was facing, Azriel noticed the top of the box she had carelessly stashed away earlier. She paused. Suddenly, she thought of a way to make money quickly.

"…Maylie, do you know anything about the wizard visiting tomorrow?"

"Hmm? Like what?"

"Does he have silver hair?"

"The wizard is indeed a man, but he doesn't have silver hair. They say he's old enough to have a child around our age."

The wizard named "Rhema Reshith" appeared to be in his early to mid-20s at most. If he stood next to Damon, who seemed older than his age, Rhema would undoubtedly appear younger.

I'm sure he's not the wizard coming from the capital. Who is he, then? If he can give me something like this as if it's nothing, he must be extremely wealthy. It's rare for a wizard to be that affluent, though.

Wizards were generally well-off compared to commoners, but it was unusual for one to be as rich as a noble.

Is he a wizard from a foreign country who came here after hearing about the ruins? Why did he show kindness to me?

Azriel quietly retrieved the box from its hiding place.

"But why the wizard all of a sudden?" Maylie sniffled. "And what is that?"

"A peculiar wizard I met today gave this to me… I should trade this for money."

These shoes were crafted by a renowned boutique that Deborah often boasted about to her aristocratic peers. Since they were a new pair, they would undoubtedly fetch a handsome sum if she sold them.

Azriel felt uneasy about receiving such an expensive gift, so she contemplated returning them. However, the current circumstances required her to use them for her own benefit and find a way to repay him later.

She knew his name, his face, and the fact that he was a wizard, so she should be able to find him in the future.

Having made up her mind, she untied the ribbon on top of the package. The intricate knot unraveled effortlessly.

Maylie noticed the emblem on the lid of the box and her eyes widened, nearly bulging out of their sockets, as Azriel opened it.

"Whoa, whoa," she exclaimed, "Just look at those…"

"My goodness," Azriel marveled at the shoes, utterly speechless.

These shoes were adorned with crystal flowers so transparent that they appeared crafted from glass. Surrounding the flowers were jewels, resembling a serene constellation of stars, radiating a blinding brilliance.

Even her dim, basement room seemed to bask in their luminance.

"A-A-Azriel, th-this… I don't believe it's c-c-crystal, it's d-d-diamond," Maylie stammered, her voice choked with disbelief.

Azriel gazed vacantly at the glass shoes, shifting her attention to the crystal flowers. They were roughly the size of silver coins. If they were indeed genuine diamonds… She felt as though she might faint.

"That can't be… They must be crystals."

"I've heard of a test before to determine if they're real," Maylie whispered. "If you spill a drop of water on them, and it forms a round droplet instead of running off, then it's a real diamond."

Still whispering, Maylie tilted a nearly empty water bottle toward the shoes. She gave it a shake, and a small trickle of water dripped, forming a droplet on the gem. Azriel had to quickly cover Maylie's mouth to prevent her from letting out a scream.

The shoes alone are enough to make my heart leap into my throat, and those are diamonds? I can't just take these.

"Have you just received these?" Maylie gasped, struggling to regain her composure. "From who, and for what reason?"

Azriel attempted to recount her encounter with Rhema.

"I don't know," she began. "I had never met him before. He was a wizard named Rhema Reshith. I was at the bookstore…"

Maylie rolled her eyes. "Could this wizard have fallen in love with you at first sight?"

"That's preposterous. It didn't feel that way."

"He bestowed upon you this extravagant gift. It can't be without significance!"

With a resigned sigh, Azriel closed the lid of the box. "In any case, I absolutely can't sell this."

"Why not? After all, it was given to you as a gift!"

"This is excessive. I fear the consequences."

Gifts came in various forms, but this one was far more extreme than Azriel had anticipated. She resolved to locate the wizard by any means necessary and return the shoes. Maylie wore a regretful expression but ultimately concurred with Azriel's decision.

"Well, you might indeed face trouble for accepting this. So, how do you plan to make up for the shortfall…?"

"I'll find a way to manage it. Don't worry."

"Somehow? Do you have a plan?"

"I have something in mind, so don't fret about me. Now, go to sleep. You know tomorrow will be another busy day due to the guest."

"Are you certain? Please inform me if there's anything I can do, okay?"

"Very well, I will."

"Alright then. Good night, Azriel!"

"Good night, Maylie. Thank you for the pie and bread."

Maylie discreetly checked outside for any signs of onlookers before returning to her room.

After bidding her farewell, Azriel turned her attention to the box resting atop a pile of straw. She contemplated the enigmatic wizard with a serious expression, recalling the fleeting embarrassment that had crossed his face as if a mask had momentarily slipped.

This sense of déjà vu…

Could I have encountered him during that period of my life that I can't remember? Could he be the one who named me…? No, I promised myself not to expect that person to return.

Azriel halted her thoughts before they could take root, clearing her mind and retrieving the book she had acquired from the bookstore earlier.

Despite reassuring Maylie not to worry, she had yet to devise a concrete solution. She needed to act swiftly and raise the necessary funds for her escape.

Deep into the night, she embarked on the task of transcribing Lemm into Limble until fatigue finally overcame her, and she succumbed to slumber.

***

The following day, a wizard hailing from Modjankle, the capital city, made his arrival at Colte Castle. From the early hours of the morning, the entire castle bustled with activity as preparations for a grand banquet to welcome him were underway.

Today, Deborah was set to attend the banquet, which meant no classes were scheduled for her. While Azriel, in her capacity as Deborah's whipping child, was relieved from her usual duties, she was by no means granted respite.

"Hurry up! What are you gawking at? Hey, you! Wipe this again!"

Azriel found herself running errands in a kitchen that resembled a battlefield. Amid the chaos, she hadn't even noticed the absence of the head maid throughout the day.

"Quickly now! Take this to the banquet hall! Deliver this to the wizard! Make it swift!"

A fellow maid thrust a tray bearing a fresh napkin into Azriel's hands before darting off to attend to another pressing matter. Azriel paused her task of wiping down the cups and accepted the tray before exiting the bustling kitchen.

The entire castle echoed with activity, but a noticeable contrast greeted her upon entering the banquet hall. Here, only subdued conversations and the occasional clinking of tableware filled the air.

She took a deep breath and gently pushed open the door to the banquet hall.

An orchestra had been stationed nearby, their instruments poised, but they had ceased playing, as the guest had deemed them too noisy. An uncomfortable hush pervaded the room.

The wizard, despite being indoors, kept his hood firmly in place as he quietly consumed his meal.

Count Colte, portly and perspiring, continually mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

Damon Colte, sporting a scowl, meticulously dissected his steak.

Deborah Colte managed to muster a smile, though it was more of a twitch at the corners of her mouth.

Only Countess Colte, adorned with a feigned smile, engaged the wizard in conversation.

"Mr. Tarbo Tameion, I've heard that you're a member of Aurora. How marvelous! Surely, someone like you wields formidable magic, akin to the legendary wizards…"

"Do you even comprehend what Aurora represents?" the wizard retorted, his voice laced with phlegm.

"I… I do," the countess stammered, embarrassed. "Isn't Aurora a social club for accomplished wizards? A place where individuals such as yourself, Mr. Tameion, come together to foster friendly relations…"

"Indeed," Tarbo smirked, lowering his head toward his bowl, "You have absolutely no inkling."

A flush of embarrassment washed over the countess, and once more, an uncomfortable silence descended upon the hall.

Holding the tray, Azriel keenly observed the atmosphere. The butler, donned in a tailcoat, stood near the entrance and caught sight of her. He narrowed his eyes as he assessed her disheveled attire, soiled from her labor.

"How dare you, a lowly servant, enter the banquet hall in such a filthy state! Hand it over to me; I'll take care of it."

He extended his hand with a tinge of irritation. Though his words were uttered softly, they were audible to all in the quiet hall.

The hooded wizard glanced toward the entrance, having initially missed Azriel passing the tray to the butler.

Hastily, he turned his attention to her, and his eyes bore into her. Tarbo Tameion glared at her as she was about to depart, bowing to the butler.

His shaggy brown beard, the only visible part of his face beneath the hood, trembled with intensity.

Before Azriel could close the door behind her, he suddenly exclaimed, "Wait!"

The occupants of the banquet hall were taken aback. Azriel, too, was startled and turned back to face him.

"You," Tarbo spoke with a commanding tone as he removed his hood, revealing a ghastly burn scar that marred his entire face.

Deborah nearly let out a scream but managed to suppress it under her mother's warning glare. Even Azriel flinched slightly at the sight. Tarbo remained unperturbed by the reactions of the others and fixed his intense gaze on Azriel—particularly her eyes.

After a moment of heavy silence, he inquired, "Who are you?"