The next day, early morning.

“Huuuh…”

Accompanied by a light exhale, Ariel slowly opened her eyes.

She was currently seated cross-legged in an enormous wooden bathtub filled with a medicinal concoction made from rare and valuable herbs. However, the liquid, once saturated with potent healing properties, had now turned completely clear, resembling ordinary bathwater.

After briefly sensing her own state and confirming that all of the medicinal essence had been fully absorbed without a trace left behind, Ariel gave a satisfied nod. She rose from the bathtub.

Crystalline droplets clung to her fair skin and fell along her frame, resembling strands of pearls cascading from a delicate veil.

Ariel turned her gaze to the mirror. Her long hair tumbled freely over her shoulders, her eyes were sharp and piercing, her figure balanced and proportionate. The slim curve of her waist and her smooth, toned legs were nothing short of perfection—an artistry rarely visible to anyone but herself.

…Though, the two small “buns” on her chest still left something to be desired.

Even so, beneath the alabaster-like soft surface of her skin and her otherwise petite physique, there was an unmistakable hint of an immense, terrifying power concealed deep within.

“Congratulations.”

A wisp of blue smoke drifted from a nearby ring resting on the table. The smoke coalesced into a faint, ethereal image of a stunning woman.

The apparition studied Ariel closely before offering a heartfelt compliment:

“Your body refinement has shown significant progress. Among your peers, I doubt anyone can match you in this sphere now.”

“Is that so?”

Ariel clenched her fist, feeling the invigorating strength coursing through her limbs. Her lips curled into her signature roguish smirk.

“Looks like all those days of extra effort finally paid off!”

“Don’t celebrate too soon,” the silhouette smiled thinly, calming down Ariel’s pride. “While your physical cultivation has stabilized, what about your magical prowess? Tell me—how long have you been stuck at the edge of the Secret Ritual realm? And have you prepared the resources for the next breakthrough?”

“Uh…”

At the mention of materials, Ariel immediately wilted, her earlier bravado vanishing in an instant. She looked as though she'd just been scolded.

“Not… not yet.”

Broke. Flat-out broke.

“…”

The woman’s spectral form gazed at her deeply troubled disciple, her expression briefly blank.

In so many ways, Ariel was the ideal student. Remarkably composed, unyielding in perseverance, and possessed of outstanding natural gifts—qualities rare even among the countless individuals the woman had mentored for years.

There was no hardship, no obstacle Ariel couldn’t overcome. Even when faced with adversaries stronger than her, she met them with an unflinching demeanor, calmly devising tactics to outwit or overpower them against the odds.

And yet… for reasons unclear, Ariel had recently been rendered utterly powerless when confronted by one particular enemy: **money**.

At this point, her mentor was almost tempted to believe some divine malediction was at work, a curse laid upon Ariel that prevented her from amassing wealth. After all, with such an experienced master—a guru of financial acumen—why was her disciple always impossibly strapped for cash?

“Well, never mind. No need to stress too much about it—this shortage of funds is only temporary,” the specter reassured her.

“This upcoming trip to Holy City isn’t just crucial for Lea, the little girl—it might be an opportunity for you as well.”

“Mm!”

Ariel nodded firmly, her eyes lighting up with resolve. She quickly shook off her earlier gloom.

That’s right. A minor setback like this couldn’t defeat her.

Money? That was small stuff. The most important thing right now was helping Lea achieve her dream of becoming a Saintess.

One day, she was certain she’d make so much money she wouldn’t even know what to do with it all. When that day came, she’d bid farewell to black bread forever. She’d feast on drumsticks instead. Heck, she’d throw one away after every bite if she wanted to!

“Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Lea in several days.”

The momentary weight of her financial troubles dissipated, and the joy of growing stronger swelled within Ariel anew. She swiftly dressed, packed her things, and dashed off, eager to surprise her closest childhood friend.

“I’ve got to go find her right now. Hehe, she’s bound to be thrilled.”

…

…

Early morning, Moen stepped out of his dormitory.

Because he still had last-minute preparations to finish, he had got up early. As a result, despite it being a departure day, the campus was still eerily quiet during this hour.

In the dim lighting of the dawn, he immediately noticed a figure standing in the snowy landscape.

Although her hair was a silver-white, purer than the snow around her, her crimson student council uniform stood out vividly, a striking bloom upon a white winter canvas.

“Celicia?”

Moen blinked in mild surprise and approached.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“For me?”

Moen stared at her, puzzled. He studied her cool, emotionless face for a moment before a playfully mischievous grin spread across his own.

“Don’t tell me… you’re here to personally see me off?”

“…”

Celicia shot Moen a cold, sidelong glance without saying a word and turned on her heel to walk away.

Moen, thoroughly baffled, could only follow after her.

The path they took led off-campus. It stretched long and far, a road blanketed by layers of snow—despite numerous clearings—more piles had accumulated overnight.

Originally, Moen had planned to pester Teacher Mela into giving him a "kick" along the way. But with Celicia present, naturally, such antics were unnecessary.

And yet, gazing at her figure ahead of him, her silvery hair dancing with the flow of her skirt, he suddenly felt like taking his time.

“The incident where you were attacked…”

As they passed under a canopy of bare wintry trees, Celicia spoke unexpectedly:

“I followed the information on the assassin you captured.”

“Hmm?”

Moen quickened his pace to match hers.

“You did? I thought I handed that matter over to Viscount Shawn?”

“There were too many pending issues stacked up in Lower City District; he was overwhelmed after his appointment. When I assisted him with official duties, I looked into it as well.”

“Just lending Viscount Shawn a hand, huh?”

Moen tilted his head and scrutinized Celicia’s cold, flawless profile. Then, he broke into a small, knowing smile.

“And? What did you find out?”

“By tracing the connections, I linked it to a certain viscount. But by the time I arrived, he had already committed suicide.”

“Suicide?”

“Yes. He left behind a note. The gist of it was a confession about harboring resentment toward the Campbell family due to past persecution. That resentment, he claimed, motivated him to orchestrate the attempt on your life. The note also included evidence implicating him as the sole party who hired the assassins.”

“Persecution?”

Moen scratched his head. “That’s a pretty broad accusation. I seem to recall Father cracking down on quite a few nobles back in the day. What exactly did the note say?”

“Not much detail. Conveniently—or perhaps not—at the time of his death, the viscount’s only son had left for an exchange program abroad, accompanied by his wife. With no family present, the viscount remained behind alone. By the time we found him, he had been hanging from the rafters for two full days.”

“So that’s how it is… a scapegoat?”

“Most likely.”

“Well, that’s just… unsettling.”

Moen let out a heavy sigh.

The fact that someone could so easily appoint a viscount as a scapegoat highlighted not just the terrifying power of the forces operating behind the scenes. It also illustrated how determined they were regarding his assassination. It probably wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened.

“That’s why I fail to understand why the emperor would allow you to leave Belland under these circumstances,” Celicia said, coming to a halt. Turning to him with a meaningful look, she added, “When I confronted him about it, he merely rambled on about warning you not to get too obsessed with girls’ chests and thighs. Care to explain?”

“Uh… what?”

Moen’s gaze darted nervously, clearly deflecting. “You’re overthinking it. How would I know what His Majesty is really planning?”

“Is that so?”

“Of course.”

Moen’s eyes seemed to wander aimlessly, eventually resting back on the icy yet radiant girl before him.

“In fact, because of… certain reasons, I have to visit Holy City no matter what. So, to me, whatever intentions His Majesty has don’t really matter.”

“Oh? Then what does matter to you?”

“What matters is…”

As the morning sunlight began to pierce through the frigid air, Moen suddenly took a bold step forward. Closing the gap between them, he leaned in ever so slightly, close enough to feel the delicate warmth radiating from the snow-haired girl. With a mischievous smile, he teased:

“Celicia, don’t tell me… you're worried about me?”