When she heard Hill sneeze, Otis, who had been deep in thought, immediately turned a concerned gaze toward her and asked in a gentle, caring voice, “Are you sick, Hill?”
She should have expected this—Hill lived in an apartment on the edge of town, a place surely drafty, with water possibly dripping from the ceiling when it rained. The living conditions were only a little better than those of the scavengers. With winter fast approaching, the air already carried the breath of frost and wind these days; it was easy to catch a chill.
“Sick? No, no.” Hill shook her head at once, not wanting her good friend to worry for nothing. “It’s just a sort of gift I have? Whenever someone with bad intentions is targeting me, I can’t help but start sneezing.”
“There’s… a gift like that?” Otis found it hard to believe.
But then she thought back—could the disaster that had befallen the Hamilton family have spared Hill because of this very talent for evading misfortune? Was that how she became the sole survivor?
“Those wretched vampires always prefer the blood of virgins, but that night only Hill’s parents died. The most enticing food for those beasts was left untouched. No wonder…”
Otis touched her chin, pondering with her head lowered. When she looked up again, she saw Hill sneeze once more right in front of her. The petite figure trembled, her eyes narrowed, and she cupped her hands over her nose and mouth, the sneeze sounding as adorably soft as a little animal’s purr.
Watching this, Otis couldn’t help but marvel. Just which goddess’s proud creation was this girl before her?
How could anyone be so beautiful, so endearing?
“All right, Miss Otis, shouldn’t my attention be on something other than a mere sneeze?” Hill pulled out a well-worn handkerchief and wiped her hands before bending over her desk as before. “That formula I gave you just now—have you found the answer yet?”
“Ah? Oh… oh, the magic formula, yes, the formula…” Well-mannered Otis became instantly tongue-tied. She stared at the neat handwriting Hill had left in her notebook, green eyes almost swirling with confusion.
“Can’t solve it?” Hill’s smile remained gentle. “This is a very basic magic formula, you know. You just have to understand the properties of each magic rune. With your intelligence, you should be able to work it out with just a little thought, shouldn’t you?”
Otis could only moan helplessly, “Uu, Hill, please don’t tease me, I’ve never even seen a formula like this in class.”
“Eh?” Hill paused, then realized and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, sorry, I overlooked that. Teacher Inks only talks about what’s in the textbook in class, but the formula I just wrote down actually comes from the manuscript he gave me.”
“Teacher Inks gave you his manuscript?” Otis’s cherry lips parted, her face full of disbelief. “That’s the manuscript of a Sequence II mage! It can’t be bought for hundreds or even thousands of gold coins! The teacher just… handed it over to you so easily?”
“Is it really that valuable?” Hill’s eyes sparkled at the mention of hundreds or thousands of gold coins. She almost wanted to discuss selling the manuscript with Madam Anna downstairs.
“Of course it’s valuable. A manuscript like that could hold a mage’s lifetime of research.”
“It’s not that big a deal. Teacher Inks said this was something he wrote in his youth. I’ve read all the contents—it stops at the Sequence I level and is only suitable for students still at the apprentice stage.”
Hill gently steered Otis’s attention back to the formula in her notebook, patiently explaining, “Actually, this formula isn’t much different from the examples in the textbook. It’s just a variation Teacher Inks created based on his own understanding. It’s simpler, more efficient, and works for most magic arrays.”
Otis whispered, “Hill, it’s only been a few days. Don’t tell me you’ve already learned everything in the manuscript?”
Hill replied casually, “How could that be? I’ve only skimmed through it. No matter what, I’m still just an apprentice—how could I compare with the teacher?”
The rest of their studies went fairly smoothly. Hill didn’t face the difficulties she had imagined, and she knew Otis was by no means a dull student—she just, unfortunately, lacked magical talent.
There was nothing shameful in that. After all, before Hill received the goddess’s blessing, her understanding of magic was probably even more “unfortunate” than Otis’s.
She never attributed the goddess’s favor to anything about herself.
A great mage once said, even after advancing to Sequence V—with strength and status equal to a king—mages are still only practitioners on the path of [Apprentice]. They are all pilgrims walking the road the goddess once walked. Until they kindle the divine fire and ascend to godhood, they will always remain humble apprentices.
The morning passed in the blink of an eye, quickly slipping away beneath the noses of the two girls. As the distant bell rang, a maid’s voice came from outside the study: “Miss Otis, Miss Hill, the holy meal is ready in the downstairs dining room. Please come down to dine. Madam is waiting.”
Holy meal?
Hill sighed inwardly. Here it was again. She was a bit hungry now—she’d likely be going out to hunt tonight, after all. But no matter how hungry she was, human food was no different from eating dirt or grass to her.
Certainly, as the most prominent noble family in the area, the Monbaton family’s holy meal was bound to be lavish. But no matter how lavish, it was only by human standards.
There was no helping it—she was a guest, and in front of her hosts’ carefully prepared food, she could not show the slightest hint of disdain. Together with the somewhat tired Otis, she followed the maid to the dining room.
The place was still impressively large, much like the canteen at the academy, with a long table stretching before them. The tablecloth was pure white, edged with beautiful lace, and three seemingly silver candelabras stood atop the table, each holding an exquisite vase.
The sense of ceremony was overwhelming…
Hill sighed inwardly again—what a wealthy family the Monbatons were! The Hamilton family’s entire fortune probably wasn’t even a tenth of this, practically a commoner’s life.
She and Otis sat side by side on one side of the long table. Madam Anna sat across from them on the other side.
The seat of honor at the table was empty. As the true master of the house, Baron Monbaton was not present—he was away in distant Mossstone City. Nobles were strict about the etiquette of the seat of honor; even in his absence, his wife, Madam Anna, could never overstep.
As a guest, Hill should actually have sat next to Madam Anna. But the thoughtful lady, considerate of her young guest’s feelings, arranged for Hill to sit beside her own daughter instead, so as not to put pressure on her.
On this, Hill had only one thought: Madam, you’re worrying too much. As a fellow noble, how could the rules just be broken so easily?
But whatever Hill thought, the midday holy meal was about to begin.
Madam Anna was a devout follower of the Church of Plenty, so before every meal, she would lead the family in prayer. The prayers were not as complex as those of the Church of Holy Light, but they still took several minutes. Only afterward would the maids serve the dishes. Nobles always practiced separate servings, so whatever was on one’s plate was all one had for lunch.
A perfectly cooked steak, garnished vegetables, battered and fried chunks of some unknown plant stem, and halved soft-boiled goose eggs…
Goodness, it really was astonishingly rich.
As for drinks, the two underage girls had steaming cups of milk. Madam Anna held a glass of wine—the pure purple-red liquid shimmered enticingly in the glow of lamp and candle.
Hill had no interest in the food on her plate; instead, she quickly finished her cup of milk, even licking her lips with lingering satisfaction. Such an action would be considered terribly improper for a noble, but neither mother nor daughter seemed offended.
After all, this adorable girl seemed to have a special fondness for milk. When she drank it, the flush in her cheeks and the excitement in her eyes were clearly genuine. The trace of milk at the corner of her lips explained the reason for her previous lip-licking.
“Miss Hill really likes milk?” Speaking at the table wasn’t strictly proper for nobles, but as hostess, Madam Anna paid no heed. Smiling warmly, her deep green eyes expressive, she spoke with a hint of unusual charm, perhaps from the wine.
Hill realized her breach of etiquette and quickly explained, “My apologies, Madam. My table manners were lacking just now. It’s just that I’ve lived rather frugally, and it’s been a long time since I last had hot milk.”
Milk sold among the commoners was always diluted and tasteless, but it was the only “beverage” they could afford.
But for the Bloodkin, hot milk’s taste and texture came closest to the fresh blood they craved. And milk was rich in nutrition—far better than the blood of drunks and scavengers that Hill usually subsisted on.
Yet her explanation only brought on a moment of silence from Madam Anna.
Just a cup of hot milk, and this child shows such an expression?
At that moment, a gentle tug seemed to touch the softest place in her heart.