Chapter 48: Dark Mist

Lucien was genuinely surprised; he widened his eyes at Billy, frowning as he asked, "How do you know that?" In fact, Lucien knew about Lyra as well—she was not only a high-ranked mage with two talents, but also one of the most beautiful women in the Carol Magic Academy. Lyra was so famous that even a probationary student like him had heard of her. In fact, he’d been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her once before, and of course, he had to admit she was stunning. Billy pursed his lips, saying, "Please, Professor Lyra was the one who drove Lathel’s carriage all the way back to the academy. Obviously, I checked all this before telling you." "I can guarantee this information is completely accurate—100% true." Hearing that, Lucien frowned, his expression growing a little more puzzled and anxious, a sense of unease rising in his chest. "What’s wrong? Are you jealous?" Billy seemed to misunderstand, immediately asking with a lewd grin on his face. "Huh!" Lucien snorted disdainfully, grumbling, "Don’t you think there’s something strange about all this?" "Strange?" Billy scratched his head, his face blank as he stared at Lucien. Lucien sighed and said, "First of all, why would the Church dare to attack the royal family? Even if Lathel is a useless prince, he’s still a member of the royal family, a prince nonetheless." "What the Church did is the complete opposite of everything they preach." Billy shrugged, replying, "Maybe the Church thinks it’s because Lathel is the one who made their followers turn against them, so..." "Nonsense." Lucien snapped. "You think the Church is that stupid? Even if what you said is true, then why is Lathel still alive?" "Uh... well..." Billy stammered, not knowing how to answer. "In the letter your father sent, it was clear..." Lucien frowned, "The Church dared to kill people openly within the kingdom—killing Lathel would have been the easiest thing of all for them." "So why isn’t Lathel dead? And, even more coincidentally, why was it Professor Lyra who ended up rescuing him?" "Don’t you think there’s something off about all this?" "I’m certain... everything is part of Lathel’s scheme." Billy pressed his lips together, shook his head, then sighed and said, "Lucien, I think you just hate Lathel so much that you’re overthinking things." "What would he do all this for? What’s his goal?" Billy asked, confused. "Has he gone mad or something?" "You..." Lucien wanted to say more, but seeing Billy’s expression, he knew... it was impossible to convince him. So Lucien could only sigh and drop the subject. Still, deep inside, he was sure that all of this was Lathel’s plot. ’Lathel...’ Lucien thought to himself, ’I will tear off your mask of lies and make you pay for everything you’ve done.’ ’Those you’ve killed, those you’ve deceived... I swear... I’ll make everyone see your true face.’ "Lucien!" Suddenly, a man appeared at Lucien’s doorway, calling his name. Lucien saw the man’s uniform and instantly recognized him as an official student of the Magic Academy. "Who’s Lucien?" "I am!" Lucien replied, his expression calm—neither arrogant nor servile. The young man smiled at him and said, "Congratulations, you’ve secured a slot for the aptitude test. The person in charge of your test will be Professor Lyra." "This is your admission card. Use this in two days to go to the ’Tower of Trials’ for your aptitude assessment." At the mention of ’Professor Lyra,’ Lucien’s face showed a trace of surprise. The young man grinned, "You’re very lucky, you know just how beautiful Professor Lyra is, don’t you?" "If you’re lucky, you might even be chosen for her class. But... the chances are almost zero. For years, no one has ever actually become her student." Lucien frowned, "Is the test really that hard?" The young man shook his head, "No, the test is the same, but she never wants to accept any students. So even those who pass are assigned to other professors." Lucien nodded, determination and confidence shining in his eyes. "Then I’ll be her student." ... "Um..." Lathel slowly opened his eyes, finding himself in an unfamiliar place. He murmured, "Where is this...?" "Lathel!" Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out, and a soft, warm figure rushed over, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Selvia was crying as she spoke, "Lathel! I thought I’d never get to see you again." "Lathel... Lathel..." Selvia wept like rain, and Lathel could even feel her tears soaking through his shirt. In truth, he was fully aware of what was happening around him—he was simply pretending that he’d tried his best and then fainted. Lathel glanced at Mira, who was standing by the bed, her face flushed and her eyes glistening with happiness. If Selvia weren’t here, she would surely be the one embracing Lathel right now. However, Mira knew well her own status as just a maid; how could she compete with the Princess Consort for the prince’s affection? Suddenly, Lathel beckoned to her, and his gesture made Mira startle—then look deeply moved. She pressed her lips together, hesitantly coming over to Lathel’s side. "Um!" Her small hand was grasped tightly by Lathel, and her heart pounded so fiercely it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Mira’s face reddened as if it might burst into flames, her breath quickening. Selvia didn’t see this scene, too lost in the happiness of Lathel’s survival. This awkward moment lasted for quite some time before Lathel let go of Mira’s hand, then hugged Selvia and said, "Alright, stop crying. I’m still alive." "Uhm!" Selvia sat up, tears still streaming down her beautiful face. "Lathel... what exactly happened?" Selvia asked shakily. "I... when I woke up, I was already here. Professor Lyra said we were attacked by the Church. Is that true?" Inside, Lathel sneered, but his face showed only surprise as he frowned and said, "Selvia, we shouldn’t say things carelessly. How could the Church ever do something so horrible?" "I remember seeing black mist at the time, and then lots of people stepped out of it... They... they were monsters. How could the Church control monsters?" "They can!" Suddenly, another voice rang out. It was a voice both authoritative and tinged with exhaustion and sadness. A woman entered, wearing robes adorned with black patterns that hugged her flawless form. From her radiated an air of noble coldness. Her blue hair fell loosely down her back, her eyes were like a melancholy autumn lake, her face beautiful as if it had stepped out of a painting. A faint scent of medicinal herbs drifted from her—gentle and subtle, intoxicating to anyone who caught it. Lathel looked at Professor Lyra, and for an instant, greed flickered in his eyes before vanishing. He turned to her, his expression surprised, asking softly, "I’m sorry, and you are...?" "I’m Professor Lyra of Carol Magic Academy. We met in the carriage, don’t you remember?" Lyra crossed her arms, her expression somewhat indifferent. Lathel held his head, frowning as if trying to recall something, mumbling, "It seems... I... have a faint memory of you." Lyra wasn’t angry or offended. She replied calmly, "That’s perfectly normal. When you met me, you were on the edge of collapse, so it’s no surprise your memories of me are hazy." As she spoke, she walked to Lathel’s side. Naturally, Selvia and Mira stepped aside to give her space. After all, she was a professor at the Magic Academy—a status comparable to a king in any kingdom. Lyra seemed to have no concept of personal space between men and women. She reached out, gently placed her hand on his chest, and a warm current flowed into his body, moving everywhere as if searching for something. Her hand was soft and warm, and she was close enough to catch Lathel’s masculine scent. ’This is a patient, Lyra, what are you thinking?’ Lyra grew flustered inside, hastily calming herself. After a moment, her expression shifted to surprise as she looked at him: "Lathel, are you an Awakened?" "No!" Lathel shook his head immediately and replied, "I’m just an ordinary person." Hearing the sadness in his voice, Lyra immediately believed him. She frowned and asked, "Can you recount what happened at that time?" Lathel nodded, then naturally recounted everything in a way that benefited himself. Black mist, monsters, Selvia and Mira inhaling the dark mist and instantly falling unconscious, while he, still somewhat lucid, fought on until the very last moment to protect Selvia and Mira. Lathel didn’t lie entirely; he told about 50% of the truth, and the other 50% was fabrication. This way, it would be difficult for anyone to distinguish fact from fiction. Moreover, his account was understated—he didn’t mention the Church at all, nor did he boast about how bravely he had fought. Selvia and Mira, upon hearing it, were deeply moved, tears falling like rain as if they wanted to rush over and embrace him immediately. Lyra listened without suspicion, trusting Lathel completely, because she heard something in his story that very few people would know. Dark Mist.