The hand holding the teacup across from him suddenly jerked, causing the porcelain cup and saucer to collide with a sharp clatter.
The composure on Beatrice’s face shattered completely. Her almond eyes widened into circles, and her fingertips turned white as she gripped the rim of the cup. That feigned steadiness vanished instantly, replaced by an anxiety that was about to overflow. Even her voice cracked:
“What nonsense are you talking about? Who is Camu? Has Senior Lomio had too much to drink?”
‘Oh? Still acting?’
Lomio pulled over a rattan chair and sat down. He tapped his fingertips against the edge of the table, nearly laughing out loud.
Did they really think he had looked at the villain backstories in the game for nothing?
Camille Cromwell, the eldest son of the Cromwell family, had relied on his face to mingle throughout the noble social circles of the Duchy’s capital. From forty-year-old countesses down to noble daughters who had just reached adulthood, there wasn’t a single bedroom door he couldn’t find a way through.
In short—this young noble master was quite versatile.
He was useful for young girls and married women alike.
Of course, those noble ladies and matrons who enjoyed his company would never publicly announce they had “used” him. In a world where the ratio of men to women was severely unbalanced, a handsome “toy” was hard to find.
But what about the players?
The official forums back then had even given him a nickname: “The Duchy’s Public Transit.”
Lomio didn’t believe for a second that someone with Beatrice’s personality would suddenly have a moment of enlightenment. But if there was a man possessing her, attempting to achieve something?
That made perfect sense.
“My mistake, my mistake. I’ve seen too many men living off their looks lately; everyone’s starting to look familiar.”
Lomio arched an eyebrow and reached out to pour himself a cup of black tea. As his fingertips brushed the cool surface of the cup, his tone became nonchalant. He didn’t mention the name “Camu” again, instead sighing with an air of feigned empathy. “Then again, it isn’t easy for men like us to survive in this world, is it?”
He swirled his teacup, the hidden barbs in his words stinging:
“We don’t have the talent of those girls who can conquer the world with their fists.”
“I used to think about it too—drinking tea with this senior today, dancing with that countess tomorrow, all to trade for some credits or magic crystals. It’s just making a living through one’s own abilities. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Unfortunately, my stomach is too healthy; eating soft rice just doesn’t sit well with me. Constantly changing which bed I sleep in… my back just can’t take it.” Lomio spoke with an expression of complete sincerity.
If the meaning behind his words weren’t so insulting, anyone watching would have thought he was having a heart-to-heart about the hardships of a man’s survival.
“Oh, is that so?”
Beatrice’s tone shifted slightly.
Despite her best efforts to hide it, Lomio could still sense her fury through his Mind’s Eye.
“I just can’t do it.”
Lomio shook his head, wearing a look of regret.
“I’m clumsy with words and don’t know how to coax people. Scrambling for a few credits feels like walking a tightrope!”
“It’s not like some people. They can play the pet for noblewomen or welcome a crowd of men. If I had that kind of professional skill, I’d probably be successful by now.”
The disguise on Beatrice’s face finally gave way. A cold, sinister gaze resurfaced, devoid of any trace of a spoiled young girl. She gritted her teeth, her voice dropping into the deep, chilled tone of an adult male:
“It’s not too late for you to start now. Do you need me to teach you how to please women?”
“There’s really no need.”
Lomio threw his hands up and leaned back into the rattan chair with an innocent look.
“Even though we men don’t have much else to offer besides our faces and bodies, right?”
“Oh, wait. I’m still different from some people.” Lomio paused, flashing a brilliant smile. “I sell my skills, not my body. The credits I earn from cutting people down feel much more solid in my hand than things obtained by watching someone’s expressions.”
“At least I’m not afraid of ghosts knocking at midnight, right?”
The moment he finished speaking, a sizzling sound erupted from the rattan railing of the terrace. The black magic seeping from Beatrice’s fingertips corroded the wood, sending up puffs of white smoke.
She stared deathly at Lomio, her eyes so dark they seemed to drip with malice. The black magic at her fingertips surged several times, yet she didn’t dare to actually make a move.
The pressure Altemis had released on the high platform earlier hadn’t dissipated yet. The entire Crystal Hall was within the Headmaster’s range of perception. If he actually started a fight, the first person to be dragged out and turned to ash would be him—the Black Mage inhabiting this young girl’s body.
Lomio watched the other party fuming in silence and almost laughed.
‘Is that it? Can’t even win a war of words?’
He took a sip of tea and glanced down at the chaotic hall below. He happened to see Karenina surrounded by three senior girls. Her face was stiff, yet she was desperately trying to maintain her composure.
‘If not for my good brother… I might have been the one surrounded!’
‘Brothers are for selling… I mean, for being loyal to!’
He turned back to Beatrice, who was still smiling despite the dangerous aura radiating from her. He raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. I don’t care who you are, but if you’re only here to talk about such boring things, I’m afraid I won’t be staying.”
Beatrice took several deep breaths to suppress the surging killing intent. She pulled back every trace of black magic and forced a cold smile onto her face.
“Student Lomio certainly has a silver tongue. I came here today to discuss a collaboration with you.”
“Collaboration?” Lomio arched an eyebrow and tapped his cup. “A multi-person exercise with rich women? No thanks.”
“The Celestial Pivot draw.” Beatrice leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low whisper, a seductive smile dancing in her eyes. “You’ve accumulated so many credits; I assume it’s for this, isn’t it?”
“Aren’t you?”
Lomio touched the side of his teacup, comfortably feeling the warmth against his fingertips.
“Since we’ve reached this point, why keep playing riddles? Are you going to make me guess your conditions?”
The Celestial Pivot was, to put it simply, the game’s weapon lottery system.
In the Academy, it primarily manifested as a system where credits could be exchanged for Spirit Souls, which were used as alchemy materials or for weapon forging.
Due to the instability of the Celestial energy flow, what came out was entirely random.
Although Lomio had the Talent Tree system… Dragon materials were extremely scarce. Even though he could obtain some materials by sparring with Tai Lan or challenging other powerful enemies, it was still too little for his future goals of reaching Rank 5 and breaking through further.
From that perspective, if he wanted to upgrade his Dragon Sword and various skills, he really couldn’t skip the “gacha” phase.
What was even better…
Lomio was half an alchemist himself. Even if he pulled junk, he could still put it to use!
He could pull for items while turning the unwanted materials into alchemy cards to sell, thus recovering his credits.
Just the thought of it was incredibly tempting!
Seeing that he was interested, the smile on Beatrice’s lips deepened. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping even lower:
“The Celestial Pivot pool opens next week. The first pool of every year contains a limited Rank 6 Spirit Soul.”
“I can increase the probability of pulling that Spirit Soul to 60%. I can give you this chance, but it isn’t free.”
She paused, tapping her finger on the table, her eyes turning predatory.
“I only want one thing.”
“Cafnir. Who exactly is he?”