Camilla arrived late, returning with the evening glow.

She carried the heaviest load of the three, so it took her longer.

“A pile of rotten bones? Is this all you brought?”

Alice silently compared their standings, feeling more favored by their master. The gap hit her hard.

“Don’t tell me the note just said ‘bones’…”

“Indeed.” Emma, like a petrel riding the waves, nodded along with Alice.

After leaving Catherine, they fell back into their familiar routine…

When the master stroked his beard, they led horses; when he raised his cup, they poured tea; when he snorted, they scowled; wherever he pointed, they struck…

“Seems Senior Lenna doesn’t care much about you either.”

Alice’s face twisted in disdain, nearly spitting at Camilla. Her born villainous aura left even Lenna speechless.

See that? That’s professionalism!

No wonder she’d be a future big shot, mastermind of the Crimson Abbey incident.

Lenna admired that perfect mix: seven parts scorn, two parts contempt, one part fawning.

“Ahem. I asked Camilla to bring these dragon remains. Not ‘rotten bones’.” Lenna stepped in before the chill deepened.

Alice instantly switched expressions. “Ah! Senior Lenna is right! I was rash…”

She lowered her gaze, long bangs hiding the panic and fear in her eyes.

They didn’t enjoy mocking others—it was just the trend.

Belittling others while lifting themselves up was their way to prove worth to the master.

But now, their old tricks failed before Lenna.

They needed new tactics…

Lenna differed from past masters. Strong people had quirks, but Alice believed she’d adapt—with Emma by her side.

While Alice pondered, Lenna finished inspecting the dragon bones. She dusted her palms and beckoned the anxious Minas over.

“Try placing your hand here?”

Lenna grasped Minas’s slender wrist. Her bony radius pressed under Lenna’s soft palm, faint purple-green veins visible beneath the skin.

Minas let Lenna press her hand onto a massive dragon leg bone.

“Feel the magic flowing here? You conjure hidden blades from nothing—you must have magic. Yet you claim no class. I saw no class mark during our struggle…”

Lenna muttered, then gasped. “Could it be… Rapid Chant?!”

“What Rapid Chant… I don’t know…”

Minas winced in pain, trying to pull away. Lenna tightened her grip. “Confess. How’d you master a technique even I can’t learn?”

Minas didn’t cry—she’d forgotten how. She weakly repeated, “I see it once and know it, Master. I can’t breathe… Master…”

Like a severe lung patient, Lenna softened and released her. Minas gasped desperately, only inhaling. The pigeon-blood-red Scarlet Lotus trembled with her coughs, then erupted into violent hacking.

Truth was, Lenna hadn’t threatened her. She’d just hugged her, nuzzling with her soft chest. That’s all.

But Minas’s reaction screamed aversion and trauma.

Seriously? Untouchable?

This wasn’t illness—it was an allergy to people.

Lenna thought, *No more naughty fun*. Minas thought, *Master will send me away*.

“Master…”

Minas staggered up, then collapsed toward Lenna.

The frail girl evoked pity in everything. Lenna caught her—with magic.

“How will you protect me with a body no one can touch?”

Teasing, Lenna set her down gently. She reached to stroke Minas’s malnourished, rough black curls but pulled back reluctantly.

Ah… itchy hands… so want to ruffle…

Like withdrawal, Lenna grabbed a nearby novice nun to vent her frustration.

“It’s not like that, Master.”

Minas’s petite frame in the black suit jacket seemed smaller. Her humble tone grew softer. “I…”

She hesitated.

Always faltering at critical moments. She’d planned to sacrifice everything for her family, yet couldn’t decide.

Too selfish?

Probably.

But shouldn’t such selfishness be allowed?

Her friend’s words flashed like slides:

“Who do you live for—you or your family? My answer? Ha! Spend money, dress up, be pampered by a rich master, live a life others can’t dream of! Vulgar? Maybe. But it’s the best I’ve got… Perspective matters. Without seeing the sky’s color, how can you grasp the world’s vastness?”

“Don’t overthink consequences. Just act. Process clouds judgment. Don’t fear wrong paths. Living’s hard enough—why tire your heart? Minas, your talent outshines your dreams. You don’t belong in Capolicca. You belong under bluer skies, in a top-tier magic academy…”

“If I were you, I’d abandon those burdens. But I’m not you. You know what I mean…”

Remembering her friend’s envious yet resigned eyes, Minas’s heart ached.

She knew her friend lacked magic talent—but not how much she’d sacrificed for Minas…

“The bones transported back?”

“Yes.”

“And the girl?”

“She returned. She left a message.”

Listening to Camilla, Lenna stayed calm. A nod prompted Camilla: “She said, ‘I’ll have an answer by tomorrow morning.’”

“…Making it sound like I must have her. Little greedy one.”

Lenna chuckled.

Minas’s pitiful past almost matched her own.

For such a resilient girl, Lenna withheld judgment. She cared about extracting value—Rapid Chant, Minas’s class.

Hmm…

Time to go home.

Lenna habitually touched the Narcissus King—a daily ritual, a subconscious shield.

Today, her fingers met empty air.

“Huh?” Lenna blinked cutely.

Meanwhile, Minas at home stared at the Narcissus King in her palm, lost in thought.

“Master’s?”