Violet before me huddled in the corner, yet a trace of expectation glimmered in her eyes.

"Don’t leave me…"

she whispered.

Things hadn’t unfolded as I’d expected. Shouldn’t Violet fear or despise me?

After all, a millennium of Church propaganda had long painted Mages as the devil’s representatives.

"Sleep now, Sister Myra," the girl in a light pink nightgown said, taking my hand. "Uncle Gry told me you suddenly left the manor while I slept. I thought you’d abandoned me."

Violet wore a joyful smile, as if regaining something precious.

"So I waited here, wondering if I’d done something wrong to make you dislike me."

"But… I’m a Mage, Violet. You know this identity…"

I remained conflicted, drowning in regret—all because of that Radiance Spell.

She shook her head. "Sister Myra is gentle. Whether she’s a Mage or anything else, that won’t change."

Her delicate hand gently held mine, conveying comfort and trust.

I froze, then realized: Violet held no Church-bred prejudice against Mages. To her, that identity was secondary. She saw me—myself, Miroa Aranxiene.

Perhaps I’d overvalued this Mage title.

"Is that so? Then I’m truly lucky," I said, stroking Violet’s soft hair with a light smile. "Violet, my sudden departure from Morse Manor was an accident. I’ve never disliked you. I worried you’d grow to hate me for being a Mage."

"I could never hate you, Sister. With you, I feel so safe—utterly safe. All fear vanishes."

Violet pulled me onto the bed, lying beside me with her arm looped around mine. Her smiling eyes curved like crescent moons.

"I get to sleep with Sister Myra again today. I’m so happy."

Feeling the tender touch of the young girl beside me, I breathed a sigh of relief.

My carelessness hadn’t ruined things; it had drawn us closer.

"Good night, Sister Myra."

Violet leaned against me, eyes closed, a faint smile lingering on her lips.

Exhausted from waiting, her breathing soon grew steady and deep.

Admittedly, up close, Violet’s modest frame held a quiet allure. Yet her innocent sleeping face stirred only protective warmth.

But my mind circled the recent events, making calm elusive.

Violet now knew I was a Mage.

For now, she trusted me deeply, showing no hostility, fear, or disgust.

I glanced at her childlike, peaceful face, pulled the thin blanket higher, then slipped out of bed. Shoes on, I turned off the Moonstone switch, dimming the room.

Only after returning to bed did I close my eyes.

Tomorrow should be ordinary.

A calm, uneventful life was what I truly wanted.

Falling asleep beside Violet, I drifted hazily into dreams.

I slept deeply; battling demonic beasts had drained me utterly.

The next day, a door’s creak startled me awake. Rubbing blurry eyes, I saw Eunice frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with shock.

Damn!

Sleep vanished instantly. I glanced beside me—Violet hugged me intimately, eyes closed, still asleep.

Her loose pink nightgown had slipped, revealing glimpses of pale skin—a scene of pure innocence.

Eunice snapped out of shock, her expression turning cold and unreadable.

"Sister… answer me. Why is Miss Violet here with you?"

"No, Bro… Brother, it’s not what you think!"

I fumbled to explain.

"No need. Get up; breakfast is soon." Eunice turned away. "Find me later. I have things to say."

"O-okay, Brother," I whispered, biting my lip.

Eunice shot me a quick glance, then left, closing the door.

I forced a bitter smile, hoping she wouldn’t suspect anything. I hadn’t misused her body; instead, Violet knew my secret.

I gently tugged Violet’s nightgown collar higher, covering her skin. Her delicate collarbone still caught the light.

I nudged her softly, but she only mumbled, turned over, and slept on.

Speechless, I leaned to her ear. "Time… to… get… up~"

She shivered. Her blue eyes fluttered open.

"Sister Myra… morning already?"

Violet sat up drowsily, rubbing her eyes.

"Mm, breakfast time. Dress and wash quickly." I pulled the curtains; white sunlight flooded the room, bathing her in a silvery glow.

"Eh… I wanted more sleep with you," she said reluctantly.

"Skipping breakfast harms your health. Up you go."

Persuaded, Violet rose and shuffled to her room in her nightgown.

I tidied my clothes, put on shoes, and approached Eunice’s door. Hesitating, I knocked.

"Who is it?"

"Brother, it’s me," I replied softly.

After all, she’d seen everything. She might suspect impropriety. Her earlier coldness worried me.

Truthfully, I’d never seen Eunice truly happy—always detached, burying her feelings.

The door opened. Eunice scanned the corridor, spotting only a distant maid.

"Come in."

Inside, she locked the door.

I sat at the rosewood table, heart skipping. Why lock it?

Was she planning something unspeakable?

"Krein…"

She stood before me, black eyes fixed on mine.

"I have much to tell you."

"Mm… I’ll listen."

Please, not about Violet.

"What level Mage are you now?" Eunice asked. "The five demonic beasts in that mansion were all level three."

I gathered my thoughts. "By spell strength, I’m likely a level two Mage."

With the Mind Amplification Ring, casting level two spells felt effortless with enough mental energy.

"When did you start learning magic?" Eunice frowned, doubtful.

"Mm… the day before yesterday? I began formally that night."

"Are you certain?"

I shook my head.

Eunice sat, studying me. "Cast a spell for me."

"No problem."

Confident, I recalled the Radiance Spell that exposed me.

Magic surged; a blue light ball formed in my palm.

"This is Radiance Spell—a non-combat, non-formal magic."

I cut the flow; it dissipated.

Eunice nodded. "Real magic. But… do all Mages advance this fast?"

"No, I… probably not?" I stammered. "I’m an exception. Untalented people take one to two years to become Magic Apprentices. Advancing to Formal Mage takes over three years… I think?"

How long had my own rise taken?

Two days.

Precisely: two nights and one day.

Eunice’s calm shattered; she stared, puzzled.

"Did drawing the Demonic Sword grant you magical talent? But what’s the connection?"

"I don’t know…"

"Perhaps it’s your unique gift, Krein. You’re incredible—harder to understand by the day."

Her ink-black eyes regained stillness.

You’re the one hard to read, I thought.

Relief washed over me. She wasn’t here about earlier. The weight in my chest lifted.