Chapter 25: News

Let us set aside for now how Miranda and the others are enjoying themselves, and not dwell on how Nansi seethes with jealousy. Teresa and Benita, after a morning of plentiful spoils, rode their horses back to the estate’s annex, accompanied by their hunting cats. After washing up, Benita dragged Teresa into the sunlit solarium where the two of them settled in cozily—one sprawling across the soft daybed and stretching every limb, the other seated in a wicker chair, slowly drying her damp long hair with a thick towel. Sunlight poured through the clear glass walls of the solarium, illuminating Teresa’s dark, sandalwood-colored hair with a gentle halo. Watching Teresa carefully and methodically dry her slightly wavy locks, Benita suddenly thought how blissful that mane seemed. On a whim, she leapt up, dragged a wicker chair beside Teresa, and giggled, “Hey, Tess, why don’t you help dry my hair too?”

Teresa turned to flick at Benita’s head of purple hair and, finding it indeed slippery and wet, shot her an exasperated look and poked her forehead. “Didn’t I tell you? After washing, you need to dry your hair till it’s almost dry, or you’ll end up with a splitting headache when you’re older.”

Benita grinned sheepishly, her silver eyes blinking at Teresa with utter dependence, looking for all the world like a clever little puppy eager to please.

Teresa could never resist this side of Benita. With a flick and a toss, she pulled the towel from her own shoulders and wrapped Benita up in it, then began to help her dry her long, wet hair with just the right amount of force.

Stroke after stroke, she dried it until it was more than halfway done, then swapped in a fresh towel brought by the servants and stuffed it into Benita’s hands. “My arms are tired. Do it yourself now.”

Benita simply grinned and, without protest, imitated Teresa’s motions, though her technique was clumsy and far less patient, making one wince for the fate of that waterfall-like hair.

The afternoon sun lingered in the solarium until late, which was why the two girls loved to eat, play, and nap there these past few days, only moving elsewhere once the sunlight faded. Today was no exception. After a leisurely afternoon tea, as Benita and Teresa were discussing how to spend the rest of their time, the housekeeper knocked and entered, bringing unexpected news—

Something urgent had arisen at the Aubrion household, and a carriage with servants had come to fetch Teresa home!

Such an arrangement would normally be a breach of etiquette, but it made clear that whatever required Teresa’s return was truly urgent.

Teresa hurriedly changed her clothes. Eschewing the carriage, she mounted her horse, Sweet Beet, and galloped away, putting all her hard-learned riding skills to use.

As soon as she entered Maple Grove, she saw from afar a familiar carriage stopped in front of the main house—a carriage emblazoned with the Brento family crest, unmistakably the one Jeff used for business travels.

At the sight of this specially modified carriage, Teresa’s heart pounded wildly, threatening to leap from her throat, her blood surging so fast it made her head spin with confusion. She reined in, dismounted, and entered the house. Strangely, the moment she saw Jeff in the parlor, it was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her—she instantly calmed, her heartbeat steadying, her breath evening out, her mind sharper than ever.

“Uncle Jeff, good afternoon.” Teresa sat down across from him, eyeing his haggard face. “Uncle, you don’t look well. Haven’t you been resting?”

“It’s just been busy lately, nothing serious,” Jeff replied with his usual gentle smile. “I heard you’ve taken up alchemy?”

“Yes, Teacher Carol is a level six alchemist. He says I have great talent.”

“If you’re interested and talented, that’s wonderful. But don’t push yourself too hard—remember to rest, don’t wear yourself out.” Jeff offered this concern as he handed her a thin metallic card. “This is a secondary card for the Trade Guild. Since you’re studying alchemy, you’ll probably need all sorts of materials. If you need anything, just order through the Guild—the funds will come directly from me.”

The Trade Guild, as it was known, was a purely civilian commercial organization with branches in every major city across the Empire, the Orcish Alliance, the Dwarven Tribes, and the Natural Kingdoms. Membership granted favorable prices and convenient access to goods. For Jeff to offer Teresa a secondary card meant he himself was a member—a fact that surprised Teresa, given the Brento family’s modest means.

But that was not her concern. She gratefully accepted Jeff’s gesture of care.

Seeing Teresa accept the card without hesitation, Jeff relaxed a little—at least she was not keeping him at arm’s length. Only then did he bring up the main reason for his urgent visit: “Tess, I went to Motiya recently. The ships from Motiya to Valienda only depart during June and July—only then are the weather and currents suitable for crossing Devil’s Strait.”

At those words, Teresa froze. Her mother, Renee Brento, had died in late August. Those who had taken “her” would only have arrived in Dimarca in late August or later—meaning the timelines did not match at all!

A jumble of chaotic thoughts rushed through her mind, buzzing endlessly. Noticing her ashen face, Jeff hurried to explain, “Tess, don’t worry. I checked—there are other ways to reach Valienda besides ships: interprovincial teleportation arrays, airships… It’s even possible they’ll stay in the Empire until next June or July and leave from Motiya then. You see? Many things are possible. Don’t get stuck on one thought.”

With Jeff’s reassurance, Teresa gradually regained her composure, forcing a wry smile. She had always told herself to prepare for the worst—after all, her mother had “died once already.” If no miracle came, nothing would change; if a miracle did happen, it would be better to rejoice then than to hope now and be crushed by despair later. Yet no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, that fierce hope in her heart refused to be denied.

Snapping out of her daze, Teresa deliberately steered the conversation to lighter topics, sharing amusing stories from her studies. Jeff, pressed for time, could only stay for about an hour before he hurried off to his next destination. Once he left, Teresa collapsed onto the sofa, burying her face in the cushions. It was a long time before she let out a deep sigh, rubbing her cheeks as she slowly sat up. The news Jeff brought only strengthened her resolve to apply for the exchange program—she had to go to Valienda herself to find peace, to believe in miracles… or to give up entirely.

☆☆☆

Silvery-green blades of grass were clasped in slender, pale hands. The leaves, thin as paper, seemed so fragile they might shatter under the slightest pressure. The hands closed gently, kneading and turning the grass with soft, measured motions. Red lips murmured incantations, and slowly, a green glow seeped from between the fingers, flowing across the curve of the hand. As time passed, the green radiance grew denser, intertwining and gathering at the tip of the middle finger, where a tiny, luminous sphere of green light began to form. From the size of a grain of rice, it gradually grew as more green gathered, until it was the size of a mung bean. When the last wisp of green vanished into the orb, the pale hands opened, releasing a dusting of fine white ash to the ground, leaving only the little sphere of green light hovering in her palms. With a flicker of iridescence, the light faded, and only a gel-like bead the size of a mung bean remained.

“Whew…” Teresa let out a long breath, pinching the bead between her fingers and dropping it into a collecting vial already opened at the top. The vial, about a finger long and two wide, was nearly three-quarters full, containing beads of various colors—green, yellow, red, and a rare few in white. These were the fruits of Teresa’s alchemical extractions for the day: mostly plant essences, with a fifth being magical elemental essence. Such extracts were indispensable for alchemical synthesis and enchantment experiments.

“Chiu-chiu, wait, chiu-chiu, play.” No sooner had the green moon-tear grass essence been placed in the vial than Chiu-chiu, who had been waiting impatiently, darted before Teresa’s eyes, urging her to come play.

Teresa caught Chiu-chiu in her hands, feeling the creature’s warm little body, and idly kneaded and squeezed it until it squeaked with laughter. Only then did she release it, and, half-dragged, half-led by the playful creature, left the alchemy lab and headed for the garden.

On the west side of the old estate was a patch reserved for Chiu-chiu and its friends to play. Lately, Chiu-chiu had become obsessed with spinball; if it didn’t play several rounds a day, it was listless and unmotivated, unable to focus on any chores. Yet in the house, it had the weakest skills and was always chased around the grounds by Kaka and Mumu, who were much better players. As a result, Chiu-chiu had set its sights on Teresa—she was the only one whose skills were worse than its own!

No sooner had they reached the play area than Chiu-chiu gave an excited squeal, and a pink-blue ball shot from the grass, spinning through the air toward Teresa’s head. Used to Chiu-chiu’s ambushes, Teresa didn’t dodge, instead focusing her mental energy into a semicircular shield around her head. The ball, upon reaching ten centimeters from her, was gently blocked by the shield, and with a thread of mental energy, she sent the ball spinning rapidly in place before hurling it back at Chiu-chiu.

But clearly, Chiu-chiu’s mental prowess far surpassed Teresa’s. Before the ball even reached within half a meter, it suddenly halted, reversed direction, and shot back at Teresa even faster. This time, Teresa was more prepared—she coalesced her mental energy into a whip, and when the ball was at its optimal angle, she struck, sending it flying back the other way.

Such was the game of spinball—using mental energy to control the ball and strike the opponent. Within the allotted time, whoever was hit the most lost. Teresa always lost; the ball always left her bruised in blue and purple, but she never tired of the game—for it was not only play, but also the finest form of training.