Chapter 71: Anyone can do it, but she can’t

After confirming the feasibility of Helos’s plan, Julius and the others immediately went to Eleanor’s room.

At this moment, the Saintess Candidate was sitting upright at the desk, her fingertips gently brushing over a scroll of scriptures.

“Milady, we have an important plan to report to you.”

Upon entering the room, Julius bowed respectfully.

Eleanor looked up, her deep blue eyes filled with a hint of surprise: “Coming to see me at this hour… Is there an urgent discovery?”

Kyle was the first to speak, laying out Helos’s plan in full.

As he spoke, Eleanor’s expression gradually shifted from focused to serious.

When she heard that the antidote wine was to be launched under the Duke’s name, her slender fingers involuntarily clenched tighter.

“Ah… this…”

Eleanor’s voice was hesitant. “The plan sounds thorough, and funding isn’t an issue, but—”

She took a deep breath, scanning the eager faces before her.

“I’m afraid I can’t casually carry out this plan using Father’s name.”

Selina, noticing Eleanor’s hesitation, instinctively asked, “Milady, are you worried that His Grace the Duke will disagree?”

“It’s more than that.”

Eleanor stood up, her usually gentle blue eyes now carrying an unprecedented gravity. “Using the Duke’s name without permission is a serious violation of Noble Etiquette.”

“Moreover, Father isn’t just any Duke—he’s a pivotal figure in the magical academic world. Any action taken under his name could trigger unforeseen chain reactions.”

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Selina’s eyelashes trembled slightly, Kyle unconsciously wiped off his usual teasing smile, and Julius pressed his lips together.

“If this plan is truly to be carried out under his name,”

Eleanor’s gaze swept across the three, “then it must have his personal approval.”

With that, the young lady sighed softly. “But judging by Father’s style… I can’t say for sure whether he’ll agree.”

“… That might be quite difficult, then?”

Julius took over, a hint of undisguised disappointment in his voice.

This plan had been proposed by Helos, and if implemented smoothly, it might finally bring the silver-haired girl—who always hid away in the workshop—the recognition she deserved.

Eleanor studied the varied expressions on their faces, then suddenly made an unexpected decision:

“I’ll go with you to try.”

“Milady?”

Julius looked up in surprise.

“At this hour,”

Eleanor was already heading to the door, her golden hair swaying gently behind her, “Father should still be in the Duke’s Study on the east side, attending to state affairs.”

She turned back to the three, a faint smile curling at the corners of her lips:

“Though I can’t guarantee I’ll persuade him, we should at least give that girl a chance. Shouldn’t we?”

The four of them walked down the long corridor and arrived at the heavy door of the estate’s east-side Duke’s Study.

The thick door was inlaid with the Olivias Crest. Eleanor took a deep breath and gently knocked.

“Come in.”

A deep, authoritative voice came from inside.

Duke Eisend Olivias sat behind a large desk, the magical crystal chandelier overhead illuminating the entire room.

He lifted his head, setting down his pen, his calm blue eyes fixed on the uninvited visitors.

“Father,” Eleanor stepped forward gracefully and bowed, “We have an important matter to report.”

Julius, Kyle, and Selina each bowed in turn and stood silently behind Eleanor.

“Speak, my child.”

Eisend’s gaze softened as he looked at his daughter and spoke gently.

“Very well.”

With permission granted, Eleanor took a deep breath and clearly yet succinctly laid out the entire plan.

She deliberately downplayed the risks, emphasizing the importance of this for maintaining city stability.

The Duke listened in silence. When he heard the name “Helos,” his brows furrowed involuntarily.

***

After Eleanor finished, the study fell into a long silence.

The four held their breath; even usually casual Kyle stood at rigid attention.

Finally, the Duke lifted his eyelids, his gaze—sharp as steel—sweeping over each of them in turn.

His eyes lingered on Eleanor briefly, narrowed slightly at Selina, paused over Kyle, then settled on Julius.

“I have heard about this antidote long ago.”

Eisend’s voice was calm yet unsettling. “Julius, I will ask you once more—who proposed this plan?”

Four pairs of eyes turned to Julius simultaneously.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to meet the Duke’s profound gaze.

“It was Miss Helos who proposed it, Your Grace.”

“Although the plan still needs refinement, the core idea originated entirely from Miss Helos.”

“Helos…”

Eisend nodded and slowly leaned back in his chair, fingers resuming their tapping on the desk.

The rhythmic sound was unusually clear in the silent study.

After a long pause, the Duke’s gaze rested on his daughter’s face, then shifted back to Julius.

“Do you understand the responsibility that comes with using the Duke’s name? If this plan fails, or the antidote causes problems, the entire Olivias Family will be disgraced.”

“I understand, Your Grace.”

Julius’s voice showed no hesitation. “But I have personally witnessed the antidote’s effectiveness and Helos’s dedication.”

“Hmph, you are bold indeed.”

Eisend closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, a strange light gleamed deep within.

“Very well, I agree to this plan.”

Before they could rejoice, the Duke spoke again:

“Eleanor.”

“Yes, Father?”

Eleanor quickly composed herself and looked toward him.

“This matter will be entrusted to you. I trust your judgment and that you will not bring shame upon our family.”

The girl’s fingertips trembled slightly, but she quickly clenched her hands and gave a perfect bow.

“I obey your command, Father. I swear by the name of Olivias that I will not betray your trust.”

“Hmm, but there is one more thing.”

Eisend turned his gaze to Julius, Kyle, and Selina. “Who made the antidote?”

“Miss Helos.”

Julius was caught off guard by the question. After hesitating for a long moment, he answered slowly.

No one present expected what came next.

Upon hearing Julius’s answer, the Duke slowly stood, shook his head, and his gaze swept over the four like a drawn sword as he spoke in a low voice:

“The antidote could have been made by me, by Mr. Kyle and Miss Selina, or even by Eleanor herself.”

He paused suddenly, staring into Julius’s eyes. “It could even have been made by you, Julius.”

“But it absolutely cannot—cannot have been made by Helos.”

“Do you understand?”