“Did Ludmint really oversee The Grand Formations?” Iris said.

“Without her contribution, Evil Punisher Grand Formation wouldn’t be as efficient as it is.”

“She never mentioned the specific to me.”

Cilvia grasped Iris’s hands, grinning smugly. “She’s under a confidential contract; some detail can’t be leaked to outsiders.”

Iris harrumphed. She understood well Cilvia’s smugness, yet it still annoyed her. Although she was Ludmint’s fiancée, she’d only known Ludmint recently. Her relationship with Ludmint, even if deep and endearing, couldn’t be as far-reaching as a long-lasting friendship.

“Can you introduce to me her co-researchers?” Iris said. “I wish to know more about her hidden side.”

The reluctant Cilvia introduced to Iris Ludmint’s teams. She briefly described their duty while pointing at them if they were in the room.

“And that man is Travion, Royal Magic Academy’s graduate. His thesis on the fluctuation of magic in spell formations is quite perceptive.” Cilvia gestured at a gloomy researcher. “Although he appears dismal, he has no problem speaking his thoughts.”

“Your praise got me curious,” Iris said. “Does Ludmint praise him often?”

“She rarely comes to this place now. Her teams can only meet her during the monthly progress meeting.”

“Do you want Ludmint’s praise?”

“Of course—” Cilvia covered her mouth. “Iris, you almost got me. I can see why Ludmint chose you now.”

Iris chuckled. “Are we alike?”

“She’s much more mischievous, taller, and her charm is different.” Cilvia’s cheeks faintly pinkened. “Anyway, do you have any more questions?”

“I want to talk to Travion. His thesis piques my interest.”

“It’s . . . an old thesis, almost ten years old.”

“He’s been here for almost ten years?”

“He’s a humble man.” Lidoac coughed. “His passion for knowledge never burns out.”

Iris narrowed her eyes, her mouth bending into an undetectable smile. She excused herself, looked at Travion, who had long since felt her amused gaze, and made her way toward him. Her skipping steps, soft yet audible, gave rise to a rhythm as if she were playing an instrument with the whole world as her stage.

His messy black hair clinging to his face, Travion adjusted his shirt collar and swiped away his loose strands of hair. He forced out a stiff smile while greeting Iris. Although he was taller than her, his slanted posture made him appear shorter.

“Pardon my interruption, Mister Travion,” Iris said. “Hope I don’t halt anything important?”

“Be assured you haven’t done anything wrong, Miss. I’m merely checking my calculation.” Travion placed down the notes. “Is there anything you’d like to ask?”

“Have you ever felt down?”

Travion raised his right eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Almost ten years, yet you still haven’t published anything that could come close to your graduation thesis. Why is that?”

“Life sometimes refuses to give out anything.”

“But the fire of ambition still burns. How?”

“You must be jesting. Fire of ambition?”

“A genius never falters. He either dies trying or changes his target.” Iris tilted her head. “What’s keeping your amber ignited?”

Travion looked into Iris’s eyes, which glittered like snowflakes drifting in midwinter morning. At the corner of his vision, Lidoac and Cilvia stood watching. To have two senior researchers accompanying her, she must have a significant background.

He mustn’t offend such a figure. If he lied and got exposed, he might lose this job.

“It might sound cliché, but I found love.” Travion’s dull eyes quavered, its shade shifting toward red. “She gave me hope, so I gave her my flame.”

“There’s no fuel greater than love.” Iris slightly lowered her head. “Is she now at peace?”

“I hope so. Our son’s going to attend high school soon. If she were still here, she must’ve been overjoyed.”

Iris gave her blessing to Travion’s son and changed the topic to his thesis. She asked, and Travion cleared her doubt with simple yet concise explanations. Despite his radical idea, Iris maintained her propriety. Her graceful manner revealed nothing of her thoughts.

After bidding farewell, she returned to Cilvia and Lidoac and asked them to introduce her to their research topics. They enthusiastically entertained her curiosity, imparting their knowledge to her. She greedily devoured every bit of information, her speed shocking even Cilvia and Lidoac.

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She only gave up when her breathing grew rigid, her mind tired. She apologised to those she’d taken their time for granted, especially her two interviewers, who had to stay with her, waiting for her as if she were a spoiled child.

“Why have I never heard of you before?” Cilvia said.

“Have you fallen for me?” Iris giggled.

Cilvia hmphed. “I’ve fallen for your talent. If you weren’t already a Master, I would’ve made you my pupil.”

“I’m just adventurous and lucky.”

Because of Cilvia’s insistence, Iris recounted her prepared backstory, from an orphan in a rural town to a Mage Apprentice of a wandering Mage. Though extraordinary, her life had little defining detail and traceable moment. She spent most of her time alone, with Ludmint as her sole pen pal.

“If only you decide to come to Donhalgen earlier,” Cilvia said. “Royal Magic Academy would’ve paid you to enrol as their student.”

“Then they should feel happy that I’m going to join them soon.”

“Are you . . . going to become a professor?”

“I find teaching the fundamental of magic to be rewarding. It helps me organise my thoughts and find more ways to evaluate magic.”

“We’ll be sure to visit your seminar.” Lidoac winked. “Just your beauty—”

“Lidoac, don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten that Iris’s engaged to Ludmint?”

Lidoac swallowed, his flirtatious expression turning stiff. “Of course not. I’m just kidding.”

“It’s nothing.” Iris flashed a bright smile. Her eyes fixated on Cilvia’s. “I don’t mind his courting. She won’t mind yours, too.”

“I—what?” Cilvia vigorously shook her head. “What are you saying, Iris? Ludmint, she’s engaged with you. How could I possibly date her?”

“She taught me not to get jealous, that love shouldn’t be restricted.”

Lidoac snickered. Cilvia desperately denied the accusation, yet Iris’s collected expression defeated her. She could lie to others but not to herself. Her heart clenched her chest, telling her to come clean, telling her that it was all right.

Iris allowed it, and Ludmint didn’t mind it, right?

“Was it that obvious?”

“I’m a little sensitive to these things. Ludmint said it’s my good point.” Iris coyly tilted her head. “She also said she liked sweet, loved when I placed her hand on my chest, and had a soft spot for pitiful looks.”

Cilvia froze. Her pinkish face, as if burning up, puffed. She glared at Iris, who met her eyes with equally compelling, charming pupils. Iris’s wicked smile told Cilvia that she’d fallen into this lovely trap and that Ludmint, too, would have done this. Such similarity.

The two ladies argued and argued and argued until Lidoac had to step in, for they’d been fighting while walking through the main hallway. The other researchers, witnessing their shenanigan, had to suppress their amazement; the usually strict Cilvia’s embarrassed countenance wasn’t something they thought they would see.

“You’ve done it now, Iris!” Cilvia stopped in front of the reception counter. “I hated how similar you two are. She must have been a narcissist.”

“I cheer for your success, Cilvia. Please don’t lose hope.”

Speechless, Cilvia dismissed Iris and returned to her work, dragging Lidoac with her. Silence returned to the building entrance, leaving only Iris with the receptionist, who had already cleared Cilvia’s smile out of her head. She offered to escort Iris out and call a carriage for her.

Iris accepted her service and, walking with her, teased her about her reaction to Cilvia’s unintentional flirts. Despite Iris’s gentle push, the receptionist couldn’t bring herself to chase after her feeling. She hastily called for a carriage and escaped.

The ordinary wooden carriage stopped before Iris. She grabbed the handle, pulled open the door, and peered inside. A silver-eyed lady rested her back on a soft cushion. Her long snow-white hair fluttered with the winds coming from the outside. She adjusted the strands which tainted her perfect expression and smiled at Iris.

Iris’s eyes contracted, her Corruption Power stirring. She swept her gaze across the surroundings and found nothing but quiet buildings and innocent pedestrians. She told the carriage driver her destination and got in.

“Apology for the unannounced visit,” the lady in white said. “Will you forgive me, Iris?”

Her snowfall tone lingered. The atmosphere, filled with wintry soul and minty fragrance, pleaded with Iris not to do anything but listen and contemplate her choices. She should relax and let the chill envelop her body, freshen her skin, and soothe her heart.

“I shall if you tell me your name.” Iris closed the door but parted the curtain. Sunlight warmed half of her face. “Our last meeting wasn’t too pleasant. I don’t wish to experience it the second time.”

“I was too hasty. Our time together was too short that I’d neglected to introduce myself. I’ve known you since you read my book, Iris. My name is Delicate Snow.”

Iris’s eyes twitched. “You’re the author of . . . that book?”

“Is it tantalising?”

“Your writing style is immersive.” Iris lowered her head. “And such a romantic topic, it’s haunting.”

“Does it resonate with your experience? The Monsterisation, it sounds terrifying, and it might be, but don’t you think it’s special?”

Iris looked at her hands. “The birth of a new identity, the death of the old one.”

“Do you . . . regret your change?”

“Is it even possible?”

As the driver turned around a corner, the carriage swayed. Iris’s mind also wavered. She closed her eyes, her head leaning on the cushion, and imagined a version of herself, one that retained humility and virtue, one that refused temptation and change.

Was such Iris possible? Would she still be herself? Would she look at this Corrupted self and deny it?

“Have I changed?” Iris said.

“Only you can answer that question.” Delicate Snow took out a napkin with a pink heart knitted on it. “Do you need a napkin?”

Iris opened her eyes. Though downtrodden, she wouldn’t cry, not in front of a stranger. “This little doubt can’t defeat me.”

“A little doubt is essential for your progression, Dear.” Delicate Snow handed the napkin to Iris. “Compensation for the ruined love.”

At first, Iris refused to accept a stranger’s gift, but Delicate Snow’s determined, troubled expression won over her. Combined with that pair of sincere eyes, Iris accepted the napkin.

“You’ve compensated me, but what about the guide and my date?”

“I’ve already given your guide my present, and I’ll have to trouble you to bring this little gemstone to your date.” Delicate Snow gave Iris a black diamond. “I can also gift you my kiss if you want.”

“I . . . don’t think I should wish for or take it.”

“Indeed. My kiss will leave a mark on your soul, and if you become complacent, you might fall for me. Although I wouldn’t mind taking care of your heart, it wouldn’t do me any good.”

“What would, then?”

“Your pure, innocent love.”

The carriage slowed its pace, reaching its destination. Delicate Snow beamed at Iris before her figure dissipated into fluffy white clouds, which seeped out of the carriage and dispersed along with the winds. No one could detect her presence or track her path. She was never here.

“When your love blossoms, I’ll be there to congratulate you.” Her delicate tone lingered in Iris’s heart.

Iris deeply inhaled. After clearing her head of the gloomy thoughts, she exited the carriage, paid the driver, and entered a humble flower shop. She’d promised Lorient to come here.