"Yes. Ten minutes ago, Heavenward Tower recovered a new Great Secret Treasure! After comparison, they confirmed it was fake. That makes five confirmed counterfeit Great Secret Treasures now!"

"We can’t rule out the possibility that it was genuine, but they deliberately called it fake to throw us off. Increase surveillance—watch their every move!"

"Understood!"

The subordinate reporting the news withdrew. Pierskori scribbled notes in his ledger while Sanelis let out an irritated sigh.

Five confirmed Great Secret Treasures had already been recovered.

The first was found inside Butcher’s corpse. The second lay beneath his body. The third was discovered by bystanders near the square—all fakes.

Then came results from the investigation teams led by three powerhouse figures. Pantheon’s team intercepted the fourth Great Secret Treasure from a band of outlaws—also fake. Just now, Heavenward Tower seized the fifth counterfeit from a group of adventurers, eliminating two Battle Spirits and a Sorcerer who tried to meddle.

So far, Lord’s Mansion and the Knighthood led by Sako had found nothing.

Sanelis raked his fingers through his hair, struggling to connect the dots. First, Butcher’s death—why were two Great Secret Treasures on his corpse? Had he stolen them, and his killer simply left them behind? His blood-written message—"Follow the Great Secret Treasure"—had spread like wildfire. Was it literal, or a hidden clue? How many fakes existed? Five? Six? A hundred? Was the real one still in Kasol, or long gone? Should he personally lead a team like the other factions?

The biggest hurdle: Lord’s Mansion lacked a Magic Trace Sample of an unclaimed Great Secret Treasure. Even if they found one, they’d need the investigation teams to verify it—and if genuine, a bloody scramble would erupt…

Annoying complications piled up. Sanelis forced his thoughts away from the treasure.

Speaking of which…

"Where’s Aisia? It’s dangerous outside. I should’ve ordered her to stay in the Lord’s Mansion." Sanelis turned to Pierskori.

"Young Miss has been well these past days. She mostly stays in her room, occasionally joining for afternoon tea."

"She hasn’t been fraternizing with riffraff—especially men from the investigation teams? No contact at all?"

"None whatsoever, sir. I’ve never seen her speak to any of them."

"Good."

"But—" Pierskori’s tone shifted, "—she’s grown quite close to a servant recently."

"…Hah?"

A terrifying killing intent flared from Sanelis for a split second before he suppressed it.

"A servant? Which little bastard—"

"A maid."

"A maid?"

Relief washed over Sanelis—briefly—before unpleasant memories surfaced.

Come to think of it… when he’d visited Aisia’s room days ago, intending to get closer to her, a damned maid had interrupted them…

"Piers… what does this maid look like? Silver-gray hair? Exceptionally beautiful?"

"Precisely, sir. How did you know?"

Pierskori blinked in surprise. Sanelis clicked his tongue sharply.

"Elaborate, Piers. How ‘close’ are Aisia and this maid?"

"Well… nothing overt. Young Miss seems keen on making her her personal attendant. I’ve seen them chatting like friends—or sisters. And if I’m not mistaken…" Pierskori hesitated, "…Young Miss appears reluctant to let the maid stray far from her side."

"…"

Sanelis frowned deeply, then shook his head in frustration.

Obviously, Aisia was protecting that maid.

The maid had witnessed his… moment with Aisia. If she gossiped, the fallout would be disastrous—Sanelis knew this well. Normally, a mere servant could be disposed of with a flimsy excuse. He’d planned exactly that.

But now Aisia kept the maid under her wing, likely out of misplaced kindness and guilt. Eliminating her would be tricky.

Still… the maid showed no signs of blabbing. Should he turn a blind eye?

…No. Absolutely not.

For some reason, the thought of that maid cozying up to his daughter filled Sanelis with visceral disgust—as if a buzzing fly had landed on his precious child.

"Pierskori."

"At your service?"

"Keep a close eye on that maid and Aisia. Understood?"

"Perfectly, sir. Leave it to me."

The elderly steward bowed elegantly, his movements betraying no trace of age.

Somehow, he resembled a hawk scanning for prey.

—

"Ah, ladies! What a coincidence running into you here."

"Eep!"

Chumila flinched at the voice behind her, turning around warily—

The dignified young lady with ink-blue hair.

The dreamlike maid with silver-gray locks.

The lady stood ahead; the maid lingered two steps behind her left shoulder. Together, they looked like a painting.

"Tch… so unfair…"

"Hm? What was that, Miss Chumila?"

Aisia leaned closer. The maid mirrored her movement. Their chests shifted slightly beneath their clothes, making Chumila’s jaw tighten.

"Hmph! Ignorant mortals! Do you even know why you’re chained to this earth, barred from ascending to heaven?"

Chumila struck a dramatic pose, her eyes blazing with sudden intensity.

"Why?"

"Because the gravitational pull on those twin burdens chains you to the earth—OW!"

"Chumila-chan, what nonsense are you spouting?!"

Clara smacked Chumila’s head. Tears welled in Chumila’s eyes as Clara bowed apologetically to Aisia.

"I’m so sorry, Miss Cotis! She’s always saying weird things, but she’s a good kid at heart!"

"It’s fine, really…" Aisia waved it off with a wry smile. "Actually, I was about to unwind with some tea. Would you two join me?"

—

Lord’s Mansion rooftop—

Outside, chaos reigned: clashing blades, wild magic, and skirmishes everywhere.

Here, peace reigned. Beneath a glass dome, a miniature garden bloomed with ornamental plants. At its heart sat a round tea table for four, nestled among flowers.

Maid Nelis poured tea with practiced grace. Sunlight filtering through the dome made her silver-gray hair shimmer. Her expression remained serene, effortlessly likable. Chumila and Clara stared, transfixed. Aisia watched Nelis intently.

"You pour tea beautifully."

"Thank you. It’s an honor to serve you, Young Miss."

"Well, you’d be perfect if you dropped the formalities."

Aisia chuckled, sipping her tea. Chumila and Clara followed suit.

After a pause, Clara ventured carefully, "Um… Miss Aisia, what did you need us for?"

"Who says I need something? A girls’ tea chat—isn’t that normal?"

"Why not invite Coco and Cocolia?"

"After everything happened, the others have been hiding in their rooms. Or they’re stuck as errand runners for Heavenward Tower."

"We just happened to be out… our guest room doesn’t have a toilet."

"Eh? My friend Clara, didn’t you say you were upset about your—*mmph!*"

"AAAAH! Stop talking!!"

Aisia burst out laughing. Clara’s face burned crimson. Chumila blinked innocently.

"How nice…"

"Hm?"

"I said… how nice it is. To chat and drink tea with girls my age like this…"

Aisia took another sip, her eyes slightly narrowed as she gazed through the glass dome at the sky.

A flicker of loneliness lingered in her gaze.

"…Miss Aisia?"

"Nothing. Let’s chat! Nelis?"

Nelis immediately presented a small plate of adorably shaped pastries.

"What’s this…?"

"Macarons. A sweet from the Baseline World, brought over a decade ago. Delicious."

"They look expensive…"

"It’s not imported directly. Just our chefs replicating the recipe that reached Marae. Don’t worry—eat up."

"Then I won’t hold back… Mmm! So good!"

"Hmph! This humble one shall deign to taste mortal fare… wow. It’s amazing!"

Clara and Chumila beamed with childlike delight. Girls’ stomachs were easily won.

Watching their smiles, Aisia spoke softly.

"Let’s chat. I’ve never left Kasol. I’m curious about your homelands."

"Really? I thought you were the adventurous type!"

"I’m a homebody… Miss Clara, where are you from?"

"Osleva," Clara reminisced. "A modest island nation in the southeast seas. Born and raised in the capital. Father ran a small shop; Mother was a homemaker."

"A commoner’s home. Sounds warm~"

"It was… though Father always hoped I’d rise above it. When the local Mage Association said I had high magical aptitude, my whole family celebrated! Though ‘high aptitude’ just meant compared to other commoners. At Misra Academy, I’m… average."

Clara’s shoulders slumped. Chumila patted her arm.

"D-don’t be sad, my friend! Average is fine! Honestly, I’m worse than you!"

"Chumila-chan, if you don’t know how to comfort people, just stay quiet."

"Eh? But I meant well—"

"Just kidding! Don’t take it seriously!" Clara flustered, unsure who was comforting whom now.

Aisia interjected gently.

"By the way… Miss Chumila? I’ve always been curious about you. Where do you come from?"