Ten minutes later.
A luxurious carriage came flying toward Yumigawa Senki’s group, wheels humming like swallows skimming the wind.
“Miss, what business do you have with me? And why leave this street in such a mess?” Eastern Moon Aotian stepped down, gaze sweeping the road like a cold tide, brows knitting.
“It’s nothing. Here—this should cover it, right?” Senki flicked a stone toward him, casual as skipping a pebble across a lake.
“What is this?” Aotian caught it and stared, puzzlement pooling in his eyes.
The stone was fist-sized, milky-clear, sunlight trapped inside it like frozen dawn, its glow soft as mist on morning hills.
But the true weight lay in its aura. Even Aotian couldn’t gauge it; his senses pressed against it like waves against a cliff—he was a peak Sacred Realm mage.
“Is… is this a supreme magic stone?” He lifted his head after a heartbeat, voice careful, as if speaking near a sacred fire.
“Right. That should cover the damages to your country, yes?”
“Enough! More than enough!” He’d meant to return it, but Senki’s indifference fell like snow on a hot coal. He pocketed it fast—good things never come too many.
And this was a supreme magic stone. Its stored mana could restore a Divine Realm mage in an instant, like a river refilling a dry well.
Each one was priceless, a jewel no market could hold, value blazing like stars across a midnight sea.
One such stone could buy more than a street; it could buy a small town, its walls and wells and winter grain.
The Eastern Moon Empire’s treasury had a few, but they were never drawn lightly, like ancestral blades kept sheathed.
“May I ask what you need from me, miss?” His tone softened, a breeze replacing lacquered formality. Anyone who tossed a supreme stone so offhand wasn’t ordinary. Aotian himself couldn’t.
“Mm. I want to ask you something.” Senki nodded, voice steady. “Has the Emperor been here?”
“The Emperor?” Aotian thought for a moment, then his face settled, grave as stone. “Do you mean Yumigawa Sumeragi?”
“Exactly! We’re here to find our big brother!” Yumigawa Nozomi burst out, joy leaping like a sparrow from a branch.
“Big brother? Then you’re from the Mizumi Clan?!” Aotian’s doubts broke like cloud after rain. No wonder they stirred the city and tossed supreme stones; they were Mizumi.
For anyone, a supreme stone was a miracle. For the Mizumi Clan, it was a pebble—ask and receive, a river with no end.
“Mm, yes.” Senki answered calm as moonlight. “We’re looking for the Emperor. Do you know where he is now?”
“That’s a pity.” Aotian shook his head, regret heavy as a closing door. “If you’d come two days earlier, you’d have met Yumigawa Sumeragi. They went to Egisia Academy.”
“What’s there to pity?” Senki’s smile carried light, unbothered as drifting petals.
“We’ll go to Egisia Academy too. Please handle the enrollment.”
“Uh… all right.” It’s hard to enroll after term starts, but Aotian couldn’t refuse Senki’s request; the word “no” froze in his throat.
“One day at best, two at worst. I’ll get your enrollment done.” He pointed at the carriage behind him. “If you don’t mind, stay at my Proud Moon Palace for a while. Yumigawa Sumeragi’s group lived there a few days ago.”
“A place where big brother stayed?! Let’s go—let’s go!” Nozomi’s excitement fluttered like ribbons in a festival wind.
“Then we’ll stay at that Proud Moon Palace for now.” Elyar took Nozomi’s small hand and walked toward the carriage, steps light as reeds on water.
“Good. Settle in until the paperwork’s done.” Senki also headed for the carriage, her shadow long as a painted stroke on stone.
“Let’s depart.” Once everyone was seated, Aotian sat by the coachman, posture straight as a spear.
“Uh—Your Majesty, yes.” The coachman wondered why Aotian didn’t sit inside, but some questions were better left to dust. He raised his long whip.
“Hyah!”
…
Egisia Academy, in the grand hall.
“That concludes my performance. Thank you for listening.” When the music faded like tidewater, Paruna bowed to the crowd.
Clap clap clap!!
Clap clap clap!!
Clap clap clap…
Applause exploded, a storm under a roof, because almost all the students rose and clapped, palms bright as fluttering wings.
The sudden roar jolted me, heart jumping like a startled deer. But honestly, Paruna sang well; her voice was clear as spring water.
“Same here!” Hill, perched on my lap, nodded, eyes shining like blue glass.
“It’s just okay.” Xinuo sounded bored, her tone as cool as shade under pines.
“How? I think it was beautiful.” Faya looked at her, a question held like a lantern.
“It’s nothing.” Xinuo glanced at Faya and shook her head, her calm smooth as ice. “Among the many songs I’ve heard, Paruna’s isn’t the best—only middling. At least the Elven princess sings better.”
“The princess of the Elven Kind…” Eastern Moon Aixue and Faya went speechless, words swallowed like stones into deep water. Everyone knew: her voice and beauty were first under heaven.
Not just Paruna; even humanity’s top songstress—Qiu Fiyan—couldn’t stand beside the elven princess’s light.
“The opening ceremony ends here. Dismissed!” After Paruna left the stage, the clapping sank like embers in ash. Melusa stepped to center and declared the end.
A dozen minutes later…
The hall had mostly emptied, students flowing out like a river, with small clusters still chatting about Paruna’s song.
“Mm, let’s go too. Formal classes start this afternoon.” Eastern Moon Aixue stood, smoothing her slightly wrinkled skirt, smiling warm as sunlight through gauze.
“Got it.” I set Hill down and rose with a stretch; pins and needles pricked my thigh like tiny thorns.
…
