The mages who barged into Slowe's residence were mortified—they hadn't expected a girl to be living there.
Paige, having been summoned privately by Slowe, hadn't informed anyone through the Nightmare Corps' official channels. Being tight-lipped by nature, she never spoke ill of her superiors, let alone touched on sensitive matters like an alleged illegitimate daughter. The mages assumed that Duke Nightmare and Slowe had arranged for the young duke to stay here and planned to simply lock him in a bedroom. They were clueless about the girl occupying the only unlocked room in the house.
The sound of the door opening startled Anmora, leaving her face-to-face with a group of strangers in her small space. Both sides were frozen in awkward silence.
Greene, the lead mage of the group, quickly noticed that the girl's hair was still damp, suggesting she'd just bathed and was about to head to bed. Embarrassed, he led his team in dragging the young duke out of the room. Outside, he glanced at the carvings on the doorframe—it was indeed the master bedroom. And the single bed inside confirmed his worst suspicion.
Slowe Lampez is harboring a minor in his bedroom.
Greene wanted nothing more than to cover his eyes, pretend he hadn't seen anything, and leave as quickly as possible. But he couldn't. The young duke, now standing at the doorway, was glaring at Anmora with a piercing gaze that screamed, "I always knew Lampez had issues."
Anmora noticed no movement from the divine kingdom, indicating these individuals weren't enemies. She quickly composed herself.
"Are you mages of the Nightmare Corps?" she asked calmly. "Please show your identification."
Greene fumbled out his mage credential from his chest pocket. It identified him as a "Special Magic Consultant to Fernland County." Essentially a desk job, its primary purpose was to handle the duke's countless inconveniences, which ranged from landscaping his garden to neutering his castle cats, ensuring his safety, and mediating conflicts between the duke and his son.
After verifying the credentials, Anmora turned her attention to Xiu. "And this would be the young duke?"
Greene nodded silently, then discreetly downed half a vial of sedative, fearing his heart might give out from the stress.
Few people visited Slowe's private residence, and those who did were either from the duke's household or the Nightmare Corps.
Despite having his head bandaged to the point where most of his face was obscured, Xiu's identity was unmistakable to Anmora. After all, she had seen his projection before—back when he was bundled in a scarf and hat, with only his eyes visible.
And his strikingly pale legs.
Anmora's gaze shifted from Xiu's face to his calves. Xiu instinctively stepped back, but the mages surrounding him offered no room to hide.
He endured her scrutinizing gaze with a mixture of humiliation and anger before snapping, "What are you staring at?"
"You are indeed the young duke," Anmora concluded matter-of-factly.
Xiu's pale face, drained of blood, flushed a deep red. He shouted, "What are you using to identify me? My lower half?!"
Greene nearly spat out the sedative he'd just swallowed, coughing violently at the unintended innuendo.
While Anmora remained unbothered, Xiu seemed on the verge of a breakdown. Clutching his head, he began pacing furiously. "This is insane! Everyone around Lampez is insane!"
"Who let you in?"
A calm voice cut through the commotion. Anmora turned toward the source and saw the space at the doorway distort slightly before Slowe's figure materialized. She couldn't immediately tell if it was him, a projection, or a conjured avatar. However, the fact that his voice preceded his appearance suggested it wasn't a simple illusion but perhaps a more sophisticated form of physical manifestation.
Greene, still coughing, took several steps back before stammering, "The duke ordered us to—"
Slowe glanced briefly at Anmora, who stood by the bed in her pajamas. He calmly shut the bedroom door and addressed Greene. "Understood. You can leave now."
Without hesitation, Greene saluted sharply and led the mages out. He had no desire to linger.
Meanwhile, Xiu leaned against the wall opposite the bedroom door, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Pointing at the now-closed door, he sneered, "Can I report you for abducting a minor?"
Slowe's gaze landed on the bandage around Xiu's head. In a tone cold enough to freeze, he replied, "It seems the duke failed to teach you obedience."
He then raised his hand and slapped Xiu across the face before retreating into the bedroom, leaving Xiu stunned and speechless.
Inside, Anmora tensed upon hearing Slowe's footsteps. She had already crawled into bed, her hair still damp, and used it to partially obscure her expression.
"Apologies. That was my mistake—I disturbed you."
With a snap of his fingers, Slowe lit a small bedside lamp, its warm glow spreading across the room and catching the damp sheen of her hair. "Get up and dry your hair. Sleeping like this isn't good."
Anmora, while outwardly composed, felt her nerves fraying. Being alone with this man was unnerving.
But she had to maintain her composure.
Because she needed to survive.
Anmora climbed out of bed, placing a white towel over her head, and softly said, "I hope I haven't caused you any trouble."
It was said that Slowe had been preoccupied with handling his resignation and tying up the many loose ends his departure from the Nightmare Corps would leave. That he could react so quickly to an intrusion and appear here was no small feat.
Slowe leaned over and began gently drying her hair with the towel. "It's nothing."
Anmora struggled to find a topic for conversation. Sitting in the dimly lit room in silence felt awkward, so she tried talking about the young duke. "Is it okay to leave him outside like that?"
"He can't move. Let him stand out there all night; it'll cool his temper."
Lowering her gaze, Anmora couldn't see Slowe's expression from this angle, but his tone suggested a lack of concern for the young duke. When Slowe had spoken about Xiu on the boat, his attitude had been similar, dismissing him as a brainless, powerless figure unworthy of her attention. There was always a subtle undertone of contempt and mockery in his words.
"When will lessons begin?" she asked.
Slowe, slowly working the towel over her hair without using any magic, replied, "I should finish everything by tomorrow afternoon. We can start tomorrow evening."
Anmora thought about asking what would happen to the person standing at the door but held back. Slowe didn't seem interested in discussing Xiu further, and she didn't want to appear too curious about him.
"It's a lot to handle. You could take a few days to rest," she suggested, hoping to buy more time to investigate both Mengel and Slowe's hidden identities and to find an opportunity to ask Xiu about Laien.
If Slowe finished his duties, he would likely spend more time supervising her and Xiu, leaving no room for discreet maneuvers.
Satisfied that her hair was mostly dry, Slowe removed the towel. "There's nothing worth resting for. Don't worry about me."
*I wasn't worried.*
"Alright…" Anmora lay back down, her nerves easing as she accepted the way Slowe tucked the blanket around her.
But Slowe's next question caught her completely off guard.
"Do you not like pink?"
"…"
Slowe continued, "All your sleepwear is pink except for this white lace one. Did you choose it because you don't like pink? Or perhaps because you prefer lace?"
"…"
Anmora stared at him in stunned silence. *How does he notice such details? No—why does he know this? Did he personally select these outfits?!*
Slowe, seemingly puzzled by her silence, asked, "Why didn't you say something earlier?"
"…" Anmora had no response. Mengel and Laien had never cared about her preferences, let alone something as trivial as her favorite color.
"Alright then," Slowe said, patting her hair before switching off the bedside lamp. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, I'll let you pick out your clothes."
"Thank you, but there's really no need," Anmora said, thinking her tastes and his eccentric choices were worlds apart.
"Sleep well. I'll include a variety of colors."
As Slowe's figure faded from view, it became clear this wasn't him physically present—it was likely some form of conjured projection.
Finally, Anmora sighed in relief. She glanced at the door, closed her eyes, and willed herself to rest. She needed to be at her best for the first lesson tomorrow.
The next morning, when Anmora groggily stepped out of her room, her foot landed on something soft.
"Ahhhhhh!"
Xiu's scream was so high-pitched it could rival any soprano's.
Startled, Anmora quickly lifted her foot from his face. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were sleeping here."
Xiu scrambled to his feet, his white feathered cape now covered in disarray. His head was wrapped in bandages, his cheek still bore a red handprint, and now there was a footprint on his face. Humiliated, he glared at Anmora, feeling as if his most wretched state had been laid bare before this child.
"I'm truly sorry," Anmora said, startled by his expression, which looked on the verge of tears.
Xiu raised his head, choking back his tears and anger. "If apologies were enough, why would gallows exist?"
"They're for hanging those who don't apologize."
Anmora's serious response caught Xiu completely off guard. She enunciated the word *"hanging"* so clearly that he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Apologies. I was in your way."
Yes, always maintain principles.
"It's fine. I'm going to wash up now."
Anmora calmly closed the door behind her and headed down the hall toward the restroom. Although her bedroom was connected to a small ensuite bathroom, she opted for the hallway restroom to avoid using one Slowe might have used.
Xiu stared at her closed door, his eyes unblinking. He had been lying against it all night, and he was sure it hadn't opened once.
*Does that mean Lampez stayed in there all night?*
Clenching his fists, Xiu felt his teeth grind in rage. "That beast…"