“Let’s hear it.”

Lucimia held respect like a quiet lantern for Rexi’s ideas, because her wild leaps often opened windows to new winds.

And those leaps had saved them more than once, like a sudden bridge over a rushing stream.

“Knock out the clerk, scribble our names on the form, then you trigger Reversion,” Rexi said, words tumbling like pebbles down a slope. “At the same time, use Devouring to keep the entry from resetting. When we show up, we just say we already registered.”

Lucimia nodded, then shook her head, calm as still water breaking under a reed.

“It looks workable from afar, but the seams fray,” she said, weighing each point like stones in her palm. “What if anyone who leaves needs to register again? And I just checked the entries. There are few names, like sparse stars. He’ll remember who came. Two unknown faces will stir doubt like smoke.”

Rexi slumped, the fight draining out of her like warmth leaving a cup. “Well… fine. I’m out of tricks. I did my best.”

“Let’s use mine,” Lucimia said, voice steady as a beam. “I can Devour the magic ripples of the Teleportation Array. I don’t know if Auril will sense my Authority Power and try to block me.”

“Whatever you say,” Rexi answered, yielding like a willow to the wind.

They settled on a plan. Lucimia gathered two Fuzzy Orbs, misty-soft like dandelion fluff, and dressed them in the skins of Lucimia and Rexi. She inscribed a Teleportation Array on each, the sigils shining like frost.

Rexi stared at her mirror-self, eyes wide as moons. “It’s uncanny. How do we steer them?”

“You don’t,” Lucimia said, cool as snow. “I’ll handle it.”

She looked at the two Fuzzy Orbs, now twin girls under a veil, and smiled like spring sunlight. “You’re Lucimia. And you’re Rexi.”

Both “Fuzzy Orbs” dipped their heads, obedient as shadows.

“Wait, weren’t we using fake names?” Rexi asked, confusion fluttering like a sparrow.

“What Lucimia?” Lucimia lifted her chin like a blade. “I’m Lucimia Lancelot. And you’re not just Rexi. You’re Rexi Ivennie Eloise.”

Rexi blinked, then snorted, laughter popping like a plum. “Hah! You’re right. That’s fun.”

Lucimia nodded, warmth passing like a pat on her double’s shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

—

The academy’s clerk slumped in his chair, boredom hanging on him like damp fog.

“So dull,” he muttered, words drifting like ash.

“Those two didn’t come back,” he mused, suspicion coiling like smoke. “Did they hear about registering and bolt with an excuse? Should I report them to the Enforcement Office?”

As his thoughts spun like leaves, two figures reappeared before him, cutting back in like swallows.

“We’re back,” Lucimia said, her tone clear as a bell.

The clerk blinked, and his doubt thinned like mist under sun. Maybe they really just went to fetch something.

He cleared his throat, a small drumbeat in the quiet. “All right. Challenge me to a Duel, then enter your true names on the register.”

“No problem. Duel,” Lucimia said, steel under silk.

“I Duel too,” Rexi chimed in, spark bright as a match.

A longsword sigil bloomed on the backs of their hands, sharp as ice. It faded after both girls conceded, dissolving like rain in sand.

Rexi took the feather pen first, strokes flowing like a stream, and wrote “Rexi.”

Then Lucimia filled in her name: “Lucimia,” steady as carved wood.

The clerk watched, measured silence resting on him like a stone. He waited to see if the Duel’s sigil rebounded, but nothing bit back. He nodded, convinced their names were true as iron, and swung the gate open.

“You may enter the library,” he said, the iron door yawning like a cave. “If you leave campus, you’ll need to register again to reenter. So it’s best to read and borrow all you need at once.”

“Thank you,” Lucimia replied, a light smile like a crescent.

The two girls slipped into the academy, choosing a small path that wound like a brook. When no one was near, they cast Teleportation Magic.

White light flared with a whoosh, bright as a lightning vein, and Lucimia and Rexi appeared beside their stand-ins. The doubles crumpled at once, strings cut, and turned back into two dopey-cute Fuzzy Orbs, puffballs on stone.

“As expected,” Lucimia said, cool as night. “Foreign casters using magic inside the academy are judged unlawful.”

She invoked her Authority Power, shadow flowing like ink. The two Fuzzy Orbs melted into black wisps and slipped back into her body.

She waited, listening like a fox in brush, but no alarm stirred the air.

“Think the register will show we broke the Duel result?” Rexi asked, scratching her head, worry fluttering like a paper fan.

“Probably not,” Lucimia said, logic neat as stacked tiles. “It’s a normal form, or he wouldn’t ask for the Duel before you write. Even if it does, it’s fine. We can throw out the stand-ins again, let them get chased off like straw dolls, and we stay put. We set a Teleportation Array outside, so we can slip out anytime.”

“Fair point,” Rexi said, nodding, agreement spreading like ripples.

“Oh, right. I should set a Teleportation Array inside too.”

She crouched, hidden as a fox, and etched a Magic Array in a concealed spot, lines twining like vines.

With that done, they headed for the library, steps light as leaves.

—

The library was easy to find, a round tower bearing a book emblem like a moon.

They entered. Heads lifted like flowers toward sun, then dipped back as students buried themselves in magic, calm as monks over ink.

At the counter stood two attendants, faces clear as porcelain. Staff, teachers, or students—hard to tell behind that gentle glaze.

One approached with a bright smile, polite as a bell. “Looking for anything specific? Friendly reminder: outside visitors may only read books on the first and second floors. The third and fourth remain closed.”

Lucimia nodded, untroubled as deep water. She sought common knowledge, not forbidden spellwork, and higher floors were locks held by faculty and students.

“I need books on the history and geography of the Lowegar Kingdom,” she said, request crisp as folded paper.

The attendant nodded, then turned to Rexi, gaze soft as silk. “And you? What do you need?”

“Me?” Rexi pointed at herself, surprise popping like a bubble. She’d come as company, not a reader, but the moment invited her like an open gate. “Beginner-level magic books, please!”

Lucimia’s brow pinched, a leaf curled by heat. “Didn’t you read the magic books I lent you?”

“About that…” Rexi rubbed her head, sheepish as a cat. “Your level’s too high. Your notes are detailed—like a map covered in runes—but I still don’t get it. I should start from the basics.”

“…Fine,” Lucimia sighed, surrendering like rain.

The attendant’s smile held steady, lantern-bright. “Would you like me to fetch them while you wait? Or shall I point out where they’re shelved, and you browse at your own pace?”