“Sigh, not again…!”
The Steward leisurely pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it symbolically against his smooth forehead.
His expression was so accustomed to this that the black smoke rising in the distance seemed no more troubling than a passing cloud during afternoon tea.
“This is the third time this month already.”
His sigh did nothing to ease Julius’s vigilance.
His fingers still rested on the sword’s hilt, the cold gleam of the blade tracing a silver arc along the corridor wall.
“Over there……..?”
“Ah, no need to worry.”
The Steward waved a hand, the keys jingling at his waist. “Miss Eleanor has a younger sister, and that is her… well, ‘laboratory.’”
He twitched the corner of his mouth slightly when saying the word, as if reluctant to mention it.
Leaning closer, his voice lowered with the weariness of experience:
“Child, listen to my advice—”
He pointed toward the smoking west side. “If you don’t want to suddenly get blown away, stay as far from that area as you can.”
This wasn’t empty talk; after all, the gardener’s unfortunate explosion accident just last month while tending the plants was still fresh in memory.
At that moment, a muffled bang came again from the distance, accompanied by the clatter of scattered parts falling.
The Steward reflexively shrank his neck, like a frightened turtle.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor’s far end.
“Lord Julius!”
A breathless maid hurried over, lifting her skirt. “Miss Eleanor is looking for you. She said it’s about discussing tomorrow’s trip to the church.”
The Steward gave Julius a meaningful pat on the shoulder:
“Go, child. The safety of the young lady rests with you.”
“Remember my words,” he lowered his voice, “curiosity comes with a price.”
Julius nodded slightly and followed the maid, but his eyes involuntarily flicked to the west side.
Could it be her?
***
Helos was curled up in the corner of the workshop, her silver hair tied loosely into a messy ponytail, strands clinging to her dust-covered cheeks.
Cradled in her hands was a palm-sized metal device, carefully inspected by the flickering candlelight.
It was a delicate metal disc, engraved with intricate patterns so complex they could easily be mistaken for a magic circle by any scholar.
At the center of the disc was set a dull Magic Crystal Shard, surrounded by miniature gears that clicked out of sync.
“It should be right according to the Foundational Principles of Magic…” she muttered.
Biting her lip, she flipped through a book and gently turned one of the gears with a simple screwdriver. “Who knows how the mana flow is supposed to work!”
Suddenly, the Magic Crystal Shard erupted in unstable blue light, startling her into throwing the device into an iron bucket filled with sand.
Bang!
After the muffled explosion, the workshop filled with the acrid smell of burnt metal.
Helos drooped as she fished the smoking wreckage from the bucket; the embedded Magic Crystal Shard was shattered into shards.
“Failed again……..”
She kicked a pile of failed prototypes by her feet—these were all her secretly dismantled and modified No-Magic Power Starters, made from broken Magic Lamps.
In theory, this device was supposed to allow a powerless person like her to use magical tools—or at least be able to activate a Magic Lamp by herself.
Of course, only in theory.
The Curse of Silence suppressed magical power and naturally interfered with the use of magical tools.
She slumped over the cluttered workbench, pressing her head down on an open notebook.
Next to the messy notes was a cartoonish doodle of a little figure with wild hair holding a sign that read, “Failure is the mother of success.”
Helos stared at the doodle for a long time, then poked the little figure’s face.
“You make it sound so easy……..”
She muttered, “Without magic power, I can’t even beat a three-year-old.”
Sunlight streamed through the grimy window, illuminating the pages of her notebook.
She flipped back to the previous page, densely filled with experimental data—the types of Magic Crystal Shards, connection methods, even the blast forces during explosions.
The handwriting gradually degraded from neat to chaotic, ending with some formulas borrowed from Earth.
“If only I could get a bigger Magic Crystal Shard… maybe then I could successfully power it.”
Helos murmured, reaching for the small cloth pouch at her waist, which now contained only scraps.
Including discarded Magic Lamps, these were scavenged from the warehouse in the dead of night.
There was no other way. Unlike her sister, she had no money at all.
Some of the Magic Crystal Shards were secretly funded by Eleanor, so she couldn’t ask for too much.
Recalling Eleanor’s recent birthday banquet, Helos propped her chin up with a sigh.
Should I steal a couple of Eleanor’s birthday gifts for materials?
There were so many gifts… maybe missing one or two wouldn’t be noticed?
The thought briefly crossed her mind, but she quickly shook her head.
…No, that won’t do.
Those were other people’s presents—stealing was wrong no matter what.
Besides, what if I got caught? What if I got kicked out?
At my current skill level, leaving the Duke’s Mansion would be a death sentence.
Helos’s stomach gave an uncooperative growl.
Because everyone avoided her, and no one wanted to be her personal maid, she had to handle most things by herself.
As a noble daughter, her situation was truly miserable.
Rubbing her throbbing temples, her silver hair swayed gently.
Just as she was about to search for her secret stash of supplies in the workshop—a cookie tin labeled “Danger! Do Not Touch!”—a rustling sound came from the corner.
Alert, she looked up to see a plump gray mouse dragging away the buttered bread she had saved yesterday, still marked with her bite.
The cookie tin had somehow cracked open without her noticing.
The mouse’s beady eyes met hers arrogantly, as it leisurely pulled the bread into the wall hole, flicking its tail with pride.
“Even you dare bully me?!”
Helos grabbed the carving knife beside her but hesitated mid-raise.
Staring at the mouse’s sleek fur, she remembered seeing it a few days ago with a litter of baby mice.
The knife clanged back into the toolbox.
“Forget it, a good man doesn’t fight a bad mouse.”
Standing up, her stomach growled loudly again.
She looked out the window and suddenly realized she hadn’t had a drop to drink since morning.
“People are made of iron, but rice is steel…”
Rubbing her empty stomach, she muttered an old saying from her previous life, “Even the greatest inventor has to eat first.”
“But it’s already this late… I guess I should check the kitchen for something to hold me over.”
Helos grumbled, her mind flashing back to the boy at the banquet:
“Ah! I shouldn’t have saved that apple pie for him!”
“Damn it! That really made it easy for that kid!”
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