Sid patted her chest, still shaken as she eyed the ominous magic gun in Graves’s hand. She rolled her eyes in irritation.
“Senior, your reaction is way too much! I risked getting caught, came all the way to this stinking sewer in the dead of night to fish you out.”
She pinched her nose in disgust, kicking a moss-covered stone nearby with her toe.
“Let’s go. The smell here is unbearable.”
Graves slowly lowered the magic gun.
Elsa’s potion had worked well—the wound was mostly healed—but the exhaustion from overdrawing his magic power and the lingering weakness in his body were still strong.
He straightened up against the wall, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Did you bring that big oaf swordsman along?”
“No, why would I?”
Sid smiled smugly, then stepped forward and naturally supported Graves’s uninjured left arm.
“Come on. I rented a house with an attic in a secluded commoner district in the Eastern District. It’s not big, but it’s definitely clean and safe, and it won’t draw attention.”
She lowered her voice, grinning like a sly fox.
“Big Boss Balke paid the rent. Right now, he thinks I’m in my room doing deep divination meditation that can’t be interrupted.”
Graves’s mouth twitched violently.
He stared at this woman—a habitual liar who had completely fooled a second rank peak swordsman into being her gullible sucker—and a wave of absurd resentment welled up inside him.
He was working for that Silver-haired Demoness, fighting for his life in the sewers, while she got to live in a clean, comfortable house on someone else’s money, handling logistics without a care…
‘Screw those mental workers…’
Graves muttered through gritted teeth, but with his body so weak, he had no choice but to let Sid support him as he limped toward the sewer exit.
***
Eastern District of the Royal Capital, a slightly rundown but still tidy commoner neighborhood.
The wooden door to the attic opened, and Sid helped Graves inside.
A faint magic lamp flickered in the room.
“Who’s there?!”
Balke, who had been snoring on the sofa, sprang up like a spring at the sound of the door. His broad blade greatsword was already in his hand as he stared warily at the entrance.
When he saw Sid supporting a man in a tattered cloak, he froze.
“Sid? Weren’t you meditating?”
Balke lowered his greatsword and stepped forward, puzzled, his gaze falling on the pale, half-masked face.
“Wait… isn’t this the senior who crawled out of a manhole last time? Why are you in such a mess?”
Graves’s eye twitched. He wished he could find a crack in the floor to disappear into.
‘What the hell meditation!’
“Ah, Big Boss, it’s a long story!”
Sid immediately put on a pitiful expression, her eyes slightly red.
“Senior ran into some rivals from competing factions at the Diviners’ Association in the Royal Capital. They ganged up on him! If I hadn’t felt something and gone out to meet him, he might not have made it back!”
“What?! Diviners in the Royal Capital are that dishonorable? Assassination?!”
Balke was instantly indignant.
“Those spell chants really have black hearts! Don’t worry, Sid, I’ll handle this! Tomorrow, I’ll find some contacts on the street and tear down that damn Association’s sign!”
“No, no, no! Big Boss, calm down!”
Sid quickly grabbed the enraged Balke.
“Senior is seriously injured. What he needs most is rest. Those people have a lot of power, and we’re new here—we shouldn’t stir up trouble.”
She looked at him pleadingly.
“Big Boss, Senior has nowhere to go. Can he stay in the attic for a few days to recover?”
Balke looked at the weakened Graves. Though he found this “senior” a bit odd, since he was a senior of Sid’s, he couldn’t refuse.
“No problem! If he’s Sid’s senior, then he’s a friend of mine!”
Balke puffed out his chest generously.
“Senior, feel free to stay here. Let me know if you need anything!”
Graves watched Balke, completely fooled by Sid’s act, and silently swallowed a mouthful of blood.
“Thanks… cough.” He cleared his throat twice, playing along with Sid’s performance.
***
Several days later.
Kastian Villa.
The first rays of morning sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains, spilling across the wooden floor of the guest room on the second floor.
Ailiya had just finished nine hours of meditation.
She stood up from the bed, wearing only a thin white tank-top nightgown that outlined the slender yet resilient curve of her waist. Her silver-white short hair was slightly disheveled, hanging loose over her shoulders.
She walked to the wardrobe, about to change into the signature black-and-white maid outfit.
A soft knock came at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Miss Ailiya, are you awake? I’ve brought hot water and a towel for you to wash up.”
Liz’s voice sounded from outside.
“Come in.”
Ailiya replied in a flat tone, holding the shirt of the maid outfit in her hands, about to put it on.
The door opened, and Liz entered carrying a basin of water and a towel.
She placed the items on the washstand and gave a respectful bow.
“Miss Ailiya, the hot water is ready. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
“Mm, thank you.”
Ailiya nodded.
Liz turned and walked toward the door, about to close it.
“Haha! The Young Master is here!”
Accompanied by a spirited and even somewhat arrogant shout, a golden figure burst into the room like a whirlwind from the corridor.
Leo had gotten up very early today and felt he had made a major breakthrough in magic over the past few days. He couldn’t wait to show off to someone, and the first person that came to mind was Ailiya.
Seeing the door open and Liz about to come out, he swaggered in with full confidence, barging right past her.
“Wait! Young Master Leo, you can’t go in! Miss Ailiya hasn’t—”
Liz panicked and reached out to stop him.
But Leo was too fast. Liz was a step too slow.
As he strode into the room, Leo raised his short wand, striking what he thought was a cool starting stance.
“It’s been days! I’m not the same as before! Come duel me, Ailiya! Let me show you the results of my hard training—”
The last word died in Leo’s throat.
He froze, his wand still raised, like a petrified statue.
The air in the room solidified completely.
Ailiya had already put on the black-and-white maid outfit.
But that wasn’t the end.
Her appearance wasn’t fully arranged.
Her usually neat, cool silver-white hair was now lazily ruffled, with a few strands playfully sticking to her cheeks.
Worse still, the furry silver wolf ears she usually kept well hidden were now standing up among the strands, twitching in displeasure. Her fluffy silver tail also swished behind her in irritation.
Ailiya was sitting on the edge of the bed.
She was slightly bent over, pulling a pair of pure white stockings up her pale, slender, perfectly shaped legs, inch by inch.
One could faintly catch a glimpse of the slight blush at her delicate ankle from the effort of pulling.
Leo’s eyes widened into saucers, his amber pupils trembling violently.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away from those legs putting on the stockings.
The morning air in the guest room was dead silent, suffocating.
Ailiya stopped.
She slowly raised her head.
Her icy-blue eyes held none of her usual sardonic amusement or feigned indifference.
It was clear that this Head Maid, whose dressing process had been forcibly interrupted, was now in a very, very bad mood.
“Young Master.”
Ailiya’s voice was as soft as a cold wind, but it sent Leo’s blood plummeting to freezing point.
“Has your upbringing been left behind in that dirty mine pit along with your pitiful magic power?”
“Barging into a lady’s room without permission.”
Ailiya tossed the unworn stockings onto the floor carelessly and stood up slowly.
She grabbed the practice wooden blade with its blunted edges from the table.
“It seems you’re not here this morning to show off some laughable training results.”
Ailiya took a step toward Leo, the wooden blade whistling through the air in a chilling arc.
“But to experience the punishment a man with no boundaries deserves.”
Leo swallowed hard, cold sweat soaking through his back.
RIP